Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Our story begins as many good stories do. With an impulsive decision made at 4 o'clock in the morning.

Roxanne stared at herself in the bathroom mirror. The lights were off. Her whole flat was quiet enough to hear a pin drop. And she'd just buzzed all her hair off.

She couldn't tell you what made her do such a thing. She didn't even know if she knew. If she had to guess, her distinct lack of sleep probably had something to do with it. Just as well could the amount of thoughts swarming her mind just before she picked up the clippers. 

You probably wouldn't be able to tell that she had no idea what she was doing, though. Despite how little thought she put into the act as a whole, the sudden haircut was executed nicely enough. It was even, smooth, and the guard she'd more or less slapped onto the electric razor in a brief moment of clarity (the kind that said 'just in case' like it meant anything) left enough fuzzy, short hair that she could still see the lighter silvery-blonde color amidst the low light. It felt nice to run her hand over. It felt a bit like velvet— kind of prickly in one direction and smooth in the other. 

It's important to note that Roxanne was much more a person of thought than action. Everything she did required a strict routine of preliminary mental tangents before it finally manifested. It hadn't always been that way, she'd note, and part of her felt as though that was what motivated her to do something so...unplanned. Maybe.

And before she knew it, she'd made a bed to lie in. In this case, the bed was having to stare at herself without the clean-cut bob that, at some point, stopped feeling like her's— and wrestle with the mixed feelings that went along with that. One part of her was excited at the change. Another dreaded it. Another wondered what people would say about it. Another came up with a scenario of being recognized again; what that might feel like. And another, and another, etcetera etcetera. There was a part of her, the littlest part in the back of her mind, that declared she'd made a stupid mistake. That it was too unexpected. That her choice was surely going to bite her.

Just like every decision she'd made in recent memory before it.

Roxanne wanted to deny how that thought stuck with her. She wanted to remind that piece of her that there was more good that'd come recently than bad. But..she couldn't bring herself to commit to what felt just as much like a lie.

The problem, she decided, was that 'recent memory' didn't correlate at all with recent events. 

She didn't remember anything from when she was.. absent.. in her own life. She recalled brief glimpses of something— and something she couldn't quite place; perhaps a sensation or a memory that felt as muffled and ineffective as she did whenever she looked back. Anything she tried to rustle up from.... however long she was out of control was useless. Like trying to recall a dream in perfect detail.

It made everything frustrating. She was grateful that no one wanted to talk about it whenever she was around— she suspected that no one wanted to talk about it at all— but the beating around a bush came to a point. A point she'd take note of before she shuffled off to do something else and save the people around her from having to make awkward small talk. 

A point Roxanne wasn't ready to confront. Not yet.

She sighed, pulling herself from her wildly spinning rabbit hole of thought. Just as she pulled herself a step back from the sink. It was almost as if she could hear her heart beating in her ears. Her gaze raked over herself in the mirror again, though she resolved herself to one final once-over. Roxanne took another sharp breath in, and walked back toward her bedroom. 

She lifted a hand to her face as she released the air in her lungs. Why was she shaking? When did her throat start feeling so tight? Why did she feel so…

The exact word for it didn't never sprung to mind.

Roxanne let herself collapse back into bed. The pillows felt odd without all her hair. A good kind of odd. Roxanne felt her doubts hush for a moment in favor of an unsteady excitement.

She didn't sleep. She usually didn't.

Chai didn't sleep. Not when he wanted to, anyway. Something was always wrong whenever he tried. Or...maybe not wrong, per se, but preventing him from catching a full eight hours nonetheless. He didn't always have a bed (or couch, in this case) to sleep on, his brain wouldn't shut up, or maybe he just couldn't sleep through the entire night. Hell, he'd find himself staring at the ceiling, eyes stuck open.

Which is where he was at now. It was starting to make his brain buzz and his head ache.

It was so weird to him. In recent memory, the only times he had been unconscious was either against his will or because he was too exhausted to keep his eyes open. And as soon as he stopped needing to be up and alert, he was. How ironic was that? 808 purred ambiently, sprawled out on Chai's chest, effectively trapping him in place. She was probably the only reason our plucky hero hadn't gotten up and snuck out of the hideout to do something wildly irresponsible.

It's important to note that Chai was much more a person of action than thought. His tendency to leap first and ask questions later had proved to be one of his most consistent traits. Anything he did, he did based on a sudden intuition. Like an itch he couldn't quite scratch if he just stood around. It had been that way for as long as he could remember. 

He wasn't used to having to skid to a halt and ponder. 

A part of him was sick of thinking. Another made his hand fidget with the neckline of his shirt. Another part wondered if he could shift 808 off of himself without disturbing her— which was quickly brushed off as an ultimately pointless task. What would he even do if he could get off that couch? He didn't feel like doing any insane parkour, it would probably be really creepy if he just paced back and forth, there wasn't anything that needed doing right now, so on and so forth. 

Chai wondered if 808 was really asleep. Or if it was some weird robot equivalent. Did CNMN do something like this? He knew it wasn't a robot-cat-exclusive kind of thing (the various TEC units he spotted napping on the job was enough proof of that). Maybe he could ask when it was more than just him who was conscious. Chai wondered what time it was, then mulled over waking up the cat on his chest to ask.

He decided to forgo the idea— and keep staring at the ceiling of the hideout instead.

It was at times like these where Chai wasn't sure what he wanted; or if he even wanted anything at all. He was used to wanting something. In the same way he was used to constantly being on the move. Whenever he did want, he'd be able to focus on it in such a way that everything else suddenly became irrelevant. It didn't matter how he got what he wanted or achieved whatever he had his heart set on as long as he did. But he didn't have anything like that right now.

He had the new arm thing, the Rockstar thing (kinda), all wrapped up in the Project Armstrong Ambassador thing. But what did that mean for him now? There wasn't anything immediate to latch onto. At least, not in any way he could think of.

Maybe he just had to wait for 'the next thing' to fall into his lap.

....Chai hated waiting.

He hated waiting for his brain to finally decide 'hey, now seems like a good time to conk out!' He hated waiting for opportunities that might pass him by, waiting for the next step of the plan, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

808 stirred. A tiny, adorable half-mew-half-whine made its way out of her as she scrunched up with her face in her paws. Chai worried, for a moment, that his hate train had gotten to her through their weird unexplainable connection. He decided to think about something else with a sigh. He wondered what teleportation— Temporal Whatchamacallit— felt like.

He didn't remember falling asleep. He usually never did.

Chapter Text

Since taking the company back under her wing, Roxanne had proved to be incredibly competent. Not that anyone would discredit her abilities, of course, but more or less dropping off the face of the planet did something to a woman's reputation. She was just happy to be so quick on the uptake.

She decided on more 'business casual' apparel that day. Just a simple button down with the sleeves rolled up, a pair of pinstripe slacks, and an equally simple pair of heels. She let herself take more liberty in the form of accessories— a facet of self-expression she'd forgotten how much she delighted in. She settled on a pair of lapis lazuli earrings, an assortment of simple gold rings, and an embroidery-rich blue tie. She also decided to switch out the pair of armless glasses for one with much thicker, blue cat-eye frames, complete with a gold chain that hung down loosely under the collar of her shirt. She figured if anyone was going to stare, they might as well take everything in. 

Her new appearance had garnered the attention she assumed it would as she walked into Vandelay Tower. Which is to say she got more than a few quiet stares, every gaze darting away the moment she returned them. The attention was kind of exciting. The avoiding eye contact, however, certainly wasn't. 

Roxanne had noticed it since the first day she went back to work. The vast majority of the people she spoke to, coordinated with, and so on all tried their hardest not to look her directly in the eye. She'd been filled in on most of what all happened during her "retirement" by Macaron and Peppermint. However, that didn't account for...whatever caused this kind of disconnect. Which was fine, ultimately. She could guess. It made her a little sad— the idea that her employees didn't feel comfortable with such a small thing like holding eye contact. That the people the company depended on, the ones responsible for the real work, didn't trust her, and certainly wouldn't feel very secure in communicating with her (and likely their own superiors). What did that mean for bigger issues? How common of a sentiment was that? And most importantly: how could Roxanne remedy it?

The answers wouldn't come immediately, nor would they be simple. Roxanne knew that. She'd just have to sigh, acknowledge it, and add the matter to her list of to-dos.

Speaking of, Roxanne had started cracking down on the list of things she'd resolved to get done that morning. 

She took an elevator up to the Finance department. Then shortly realized that she needed to take an entirely different elevator to stop right at (what used to be) Roquefort's office. Lovely. As she transferred from one elevator to another (and noticing one or two other individuals doing the same. That made Roxanne feel less sheepish, at least) she briefly mused over remodeling the whole Tower, then the whole island, and quickly decided that was a train of thought she did not have the time to catch today. She had to focus on the task at hand.

With the company currently lacking three out of five department heads meant that workflow had altered. As if the sheer amount of construction and reconfiguration around the island and within the company hadn't done that already. Roxanne opted to focus on the more significant departments first: Finance and Production. She decided to take on the majority of the burdens from the former. At least with Finance she could figure out what all needed prioritizing, which department budgets she could temporarily borrow from to help speed along repairs, and generally have her finger to the pulse on the business side of Vandelay. As for Production— and Marketing, for that matter— she'd made the executive decision to slow both of them down. She's pretty sure Vandelay has had more than enough media attention to survive a brief hiatus. That, and the overblown state of Marketing's budget led her to believe that it'd survive donating some of that money just fine. 

Production, on the other hand, was tasked with consolidating its materials and slowing down on making anything new. The distinct lack of QA made Roxanne nervous. There were already reports (so she heard) of wayward models running amok, exploiting that weakness from Production and causing further damage to the Campus before being captured or destroyed. If Vandelay needed anything, it certainly wasn't any more property damage. That meant that Production was set on manning the repairs of both the island and whatever models needed it. Everyone working in that department was asked to refer to the O5-KAR units in the department for any questions or further instructions. 

Roxanne pretended not to see the subtle wave of eye-rolling from the Kale-era models out of the corner of her eye.

As for Project Armstrong.... Roxanne would be lying if she said she wasn't halfway tempted to put it on hold. There was so much going on, so much that needed tending to, but she knew that delaying the whole thing wouldn't be wise. Volunteers were already here. Many of them were most likely waiting for an opportunity like this for longer than she could guess. It wouldn't be fair to make those people wait any longer. She just had to be cautious until everything was manageable again. 

Roxanne stepped out onto the balcony of Roquefort's office. She immediately noticed two things: the giant hand of the atrium statue wrapped up in heavy-duty cords, and all the shrubbery and plant life that swayed with the movement of the air.

The former was a repair effort. An ES-101 shouted up to what appeared to be a flock of VU-T0R1 (at least 10 or 12), who, cords clasped in their metal beaks, were pulling as hard as they could in an effort to lift the arm. The birds screeched and flapped about uselessly. It seemed that many of them couldn't get a decent enough grasp of their respective cables; slipping away with less traction than one would expect from something so rope-like.

"Come on! Put your backs into it!!" The ES-101 barked.

"Excuse me—" Roxanne approached. 

"Not now, we're in the middle of something!"

Ah. Okay.

"I was just about to say—" She attempted again.

The ES huffed and turned over his shoulder, "Those birds are very scatterbrained, if we don't get this done then—"

Just as it made eye contact, the ES realized who exactly he was talking to. His eyes widened as he suddenly stammered something utterly inaudible. Roxanne noticed his hands began to rattle.

"—Uh, Ms. Vandelay! I didn't....uh...you... I didn't know that was you! I was just— you know— and these—" he rambled, gesturing back to the flock of robotic birds. He then clasped his hands together pleadingly, "I'm so sorry! Please forgive my lack of awareness— or how rude I was to you, even!"

"There's nothing you to apologize for," she assured, waving her hand, "You were in the middle of something very important, you were focused, and it was an honest mistake. You're fine."

"Wh... really?"

Was it really that unbelievable?

"Really."

Roxanne let a brief pause linger in the air as the ES eventually sighed in relief. Then, she added—

"I was just about to ask if you'd like an idea as to making this task a bit easier? Or more secure, at least."

"Oh," ES pondered for a moment, "Yeah, that'd probably be helpful."

"Amazing. I was just going to say, it might be easier on everyone if you tied the cords around the VU-T0R1s. A bit like a set of harnesses. That way there's less of a risk of something breaking under the bite force, or something slipping and falling out of anyone's mouth. It would also allow all of them to put more effort into the maneuvering and pulling," She explained, "Does that all make sense?"

"It does! I didn't think of that— we'll have to try it."

"Glad I could help." Roxanne smiled, patting the ES-101 on the shoulder as she turned, "Best of luck to you all!"

She received a brief "Thank you, ma'am!" in return as she continued on her path toward her intended destination. And just as quickly did the ES-101 go back to barking orders, though this time she could hear him ordering all the VU-T0R1 to land, and how he got a new idea to try out. Roxanne smiled to herself about that.

Finally, she stepped into Roquefort's abandoned office. Or, at least, the room just in front of it. Her heels clicked against the glass as she paused. The pedestal for the telephone was new. The zen garden wasn't. Actually, none of the plants or sand or anything was exactly new. Roxanne already noted how much bigger Roquefort's garden had gotten. She wondered how long it took for every bamboo stalk to grow as tall as it was now, or when the zen garden beneath her feet had evolved from the tiny desktop sandbox. She hadn't been back in this office since she started up the Project Armstrong unit all those years ago; much to Roquefort's chagrin toward the project line.

"There isn't a market for this. You know that, right? It's a losing battle."

"When has that ever stopped us?"

When he turned away, Roxanne tilted her head to hold her gaze.

"Look, I'm just asking to budget for some new external research. You let me worry about the metrics of it all."

Roquefort scoffed, that telltale glint in his eye and wry grin on his face returning, "If you say so."

She hummed at the memory. Her hand traced over the pedestal. She decided to press on.

Roxanne didn't know what she was expecting, but a room of shattered glass, decimated furniture, and general chaos certainly wasn't it. She couldn't help the tiny "Oh!" that happened to escape her as she took everything in. Again, she wasn't surprised, more... caught off guard. Yet she still felt as drawn in as she had been seconds prior. Her gaze swept over the office, and landed on the cracked wall of glass— the wolf tapestry staring back at her. She found herself closing the distance. Practically floating over. Her hand slowly came up to drag over the thin lines that stood between her and that little side room. Her touch was featherlight, as if the whole wall would burst if she so much as pressed her palm to it. She peered further still past the glass.

He took care of that bonsai..

She turned away before another rush of nostalgia could wash over her. She had to remember why she'd even come into this hallowed office in the first place. Which meant stepping up to where Roquefort's desk used to be. 

The whole thing was a crater. Roxanne found herself sliding down cautiously until her shoes met the splintered wood. She held her arms out cautiously as she maneuvered up, over, and around. 

She was here for the head of Finance's reports for the past however long. She would have asked someone else to send her their own files, but Roxanne Vandelay always found she worked better with physical versions of anything. Perhaps it seemed contradictory to her role in a company so advanced. But she had her own systems, and if it wasn't broken, she wasn't going to try and fix it. She was just fortunate enough to have people who were willing to keep records how she asked...Though she wasn't exactly sure if that was true anymore. It was another question of 'how much have things changed?' that she'd have to ask later.

As long as Roquefort hadn't changed since last she knew him (which Roxanne suspected he didn't), it didn't really matter. She knelt down, trying to see if there was anything left intact. There wasn't. Whatever crushed it did a very thorough job. Roxanne rose back to her feet again, pondering. 

Roquefort had fashioned his whole office to have all kinds of secret hatches, hidden cubes, the like. The central controls were built into his desk. Roxanne didn't quite understand why he wanted such a thing, but she also didn't quite see the point of asking. Especially now that she couldn't. And with all of the controls destroyed, Roxanne had to settle on the far more complicated backup controls. 

She leapt out of the crater and back onto the flatter ground. She hummed as her gaze turned more analytical on the rest of the office. She had to wrack her memory. Why did they decide to make the backup controls so convoluted anyway? She knew Roquefort had his preferences when it came to form or function, but he had enough sense to—

Just as she wandered, her foot landed very conveniently on a particular tile. It sank under her weight. She could very briefly hear the mechanisms in the wall whirr and crank until suddenly out popped a vast library of filing cabinets from the wall beside the private elevator door. Something in Roxanne recalled that cabinet once being so much smaller.

Nevertheless, she was just glad to have found what she was looking for. And it didn't take long for her to dig through the most easily accessible drawers and find the files she needed. She briefly thumbed through the pages upon pages of financial documents... Yep, everything seemed as comprehensive as she always knew them to be. Roxanne felt herself grin as she shut the folder, then the drawer, and she turned to leave.

...When a thought murmured in the corner of her mind.

Nothing more than a mild curiosity. She stepped on the switch to hide the filing cabinets away again, then turned to another pressure plate not far away. Knowing what they looked like now made it easier to find the subtle differences between untampered and mechanized ground. She hummed. Her brows furrowed. Maybe…

She gingerly stepped down and, again, a cabinet slid out of the wall. This time just beside the zen garden off-room. Roxanne's suspicions were confirmed as she closed the distance.

An old wine cabinet. 

Roquefort prided himself on being something of a connoisseur. However, though he had lavish tastes, just as much did he appreciate a glass of cheap wine. Roxanne reminded herself, perhaps a bit bitterly, that person wasn't here anymore. But his wine was still here. In his office. For reasons Roxanne never quite understood in the first place.

"Technically, it is just a cabinet! And I just choose to put wine in it."

"I still think it could be a concern.."

"What, you think I'd hate this job enough I'd have to drink about it?"

Roxanne sent him a pointed look. He quickly waved his hands.

"Look— okay— listen. Think of it also as...somewhat sentimental. Keep a bottle handy for whenever we're ready to celebrate, y'know? We don't always need to go out when we've got enough right here!"

It looked like there were— Roxanne paused to count— six never opened bottles. She wondered again about timing. How long had he kept each one?

We have enough right here.

The sentiment echoed like it was reverberating through a glass bottle. She shook her head and stepped away. Her gaze moved over her shoulder to the hole in the other wall; right into the massive vault. Then she looked back to the bottles of wine.

Maybe someone else could appreciate them.

Roxanne stepped back out onto the balcony from which she'd entered. The team of VU-T0R1 had flown away with that marble arm. Roxanne could actually still see them flying in the distance below her— their forms tiny and undistinguished. It was good to see the massive rock gone; hazard tape strewn where the glass railing of the balcony ended and copious amounts of warning signs stood against. Roxanne felt her gaze wander up to the rest of the statue that still stood tall. Headless. Her gut twisted uncomfortably. 

She wrenched her gaze down to her wristwatch. She was still on schedule. Heaving a small sigh of relief, she turned on her toes and started back down towards ground level.

R&D was calling her name. She felt the tiniest bit glad that she didn't have to step foot inside Vandelay Tower again for a while.

Chapter Text

A sharp 'TWAAANG!' reverberated through the air.

Chai sat on the floor of Macaron's workshop (the one Chai crashed into when they first met, and distinctly not his main 'head of department' office. That was still being cleaned out of Zanzo's..stuff.), plucking at his guitar with maximum focus. 808 lazed about beside him. Her tail flicked in time with a lazy downtempo beat. And, distinctly, her ears were pinned back every time Chai tried a new note, her eyes all squinty and slightly judgmental.

"That wasn't any better, was it?" Chai asked, looking up. Above him, CNMN pointed.

"I could at least hear a bit of the correct note this time!"

Despite his lack of expression, Chai could hear a delighted smile in the psych robot's voice. Because CNMN was still being fixed, there wasn't a whole lot of seeing him outside of Macaron's workshop. Chai made an effort to hang out whenever he was in R&D. It also helped that CNMN had offered to lend an ear and hold the only-slightly-patronizingly-titled beginner's guitar book Chai was trying to learn from without actually reading (look, the pictures were usually self-explanatory and sitting down and forcing himself to read anything was a herculean undertaking in and of itself).

Chai sighed at the feedback and turned his gaze back down to his guitar. His scrap guitar, that is. He could pick out each piece of metal and all the different kinds of garbage it was made of. All wrapped around his magnetic trash stick. When he first settled into actually learning how to play guitar, he figured, hey— the garbage guitar played just fine when he fought Mimosa! Surely it'd be convenient to use it for some actual wailing as opposed to buying a whole new guitar. Plus there was that thing he could do where he could just....form the trash into a full-on, highly refined, real guitar through sheer force of will. 

Did he understand how that latter thing ever actually worked? Absolutely not. But Chai didn't understand a lot of things, and it hadn't stopped him yet.

"How about you try an actual chord, Mr. Chai?" CNMN suggested.

"Uhhh, yeah, okay," Chai shrugged. He leaned a little closer to peer at a different diagram...adjusted his fingers accordingly....

BWAAAAHH!

It was worse than the past 5 notes he tried put together. 808 covered her ears with her paws and whined at the sound. Chai winced. "Yeesh."

"Are you sure you were doing it correctly?" CNMN asked, stone cold.

"I did what the book showed!"

"Hm..then perhaps it's not an issue of how you're playing, but the guitar itself?"

Chai squinted, suddenly clutching his precious guitar like it was his own flesh and blood, "What's wrong with my guitar?"

"Dude, it's made of literal trash."

Chai turned his head to the door as it opened, and both Peppermint and Macaron strolled in. They had been off helping figure out the repair efforts for the AR labs. Y'know, actual work stuff. 808 bounded over and excitedly laced through a figure eight around her creator's legs. Peppermint knelt down to scratch behind the cat's ear.

Chai scoffed at Peppermint's comment, "That hasn't been relevant every other time I've used it."

"Yeah, 'cause you were smashing things." She shot back, "And even then, it didn't sound like a normal guitar."

Chai supposed he could agree. He had noticed that his guitar's sound was the slightest bit different every time he formed it and thwacked it against something new. He wondered, briefly, how that all worked.

"I think Peppermint has a point," Macaron said, "Though it's really impressive you want to learn on that guitar."

"Heck yeah, it's impressive!" Chai grinned, gearing up to fire off another chord. Just as he did, Peppermint raised a hand to cut in.

"—Yeah, no, not happening while we have to hear it."

"Aw, c'mon! I'm not gonna get any better if I don't practice."

"I get that, but I like my ears when they're not bleeding." 

There was such an undercurrent of deadpan sarcasm that Chai had gotten used to by now. He still gratuitously rolled his eyes. 

Macaron shrugged. "Maybe you should invest in a non-scrap guitar? It'd make learning a bit easier."

"I would highly agree!" CNMN chimed in, "It would make learning and your practicing far more consistent!"

Ugh, maybe he actually should look into getting a real guitar. Chai weighed his options, though neither one seemed quite quantifiable. How much would a real guitar cost again? He didn't have a ton of cash on him anyway, so he'd probably have to save up... and it's not like anyone at Vandelay was paying him. Or were they? He couldn't quite remember.

"Y'know," Peppermint said thoughtfully, "I think Mom's got a spare guitar somewhere in storage. At least, if Kale didn't throw everything out when he took over the company."

"Wait, wha—?"

"I'll ask about it. We already have to go through a bunch of things anyway, so I'll just.. keep an eye out"

Chai blinked. Then shrugged. That was good enough for him, "Huh. Okay then."

A lull of quiet rippled through the air. 808 had wandered back over to Chai, shoving her face against his knee as her tail hung high and she purred like a car engine. Chai wouldn't be surprised if she actually did have an engine somewhere in there. He shoo-ed her away when she started biting at the strings on his trash guitar. When she didn't relent, Chai let the trash fall away from the stick and dropped it back into his arm in one swift move. Like it was second nature now. 808 meowed indignantly.

"Better luck next time, kitty," he teased. The cat turned her nose up at him and trotted across the room to Peppermint— who had been watching from the couch Macaron still (very conveniently) kept in his workshop. Chai stuck his tongue out at 808. She returned the expression. Peppermint chuckled.

Chai then turned to CNMM, "Hey, how much longer until you're up and kicking again?"

"While I'm unsure I'll be kicking anything, Sir Macaron is hopeful that my most urgent repairs will be finished by the end of the month!"

"We'll have to see," Macaron chimed in, "With everything going on around the island, it's been more work than I anticipated. But I'm glad to have it." 

"It is all a process!" CNMN drew a sparkly smile with a marker Chai had no idea he had. 

Macaron hummed, adjusting his glasses, "Speaking of work, I've got a meeting with Roxanne about the budget in 15 minutes. I should head out."

Before Chai could groan about how boring work was, the door to Macaron's workshop opened again. And speak of the devil, it was Roxanne Vandelay herself! 

The first thing Chai noticed was the woman's hair. More specifically, how much less there was. He glanced at Peppermint. She seemed just as taken aback(?) as he was.

"That won't be necessary," Roxanne said with a smile, "If you're okay with it, I thought we could get this done a bit early. Perhaps walk and talk a bit?"

Chai turned to look over his shoulder at Macaron. Yeeup. He looked a little surprised too. 

When no one said anything, Roxanne's smile grew a little awkward as she brought her hands together, "Sorry..did I come at a bad time?"

"No!" Macaron assured, "Peppermint and I just got back from the AR labs. It's just..you cut your hair?"

"I did! It's a recent development. I just thought I needed a change."

Chai swore he could see both Peppermint and Roxanne run a hand over their shaved hair at the same time. The former was more subtle. Chai squinted.

"Well it looks nice," Peppermint said.

"Thank you." Her mother replied, a glimmer in her eye. As Macaron crossed the room to meet her, she perked up, "Oh! Before we go, I just remembered something—" She turned to Mac, "I was just in Roquefort's old office, and apparently he still has that old secret wine cabinet."

"Still?" Macaron tilted his head.

" Secret wine cabinet?? " Chai and Peppermint said in tandem, sharing a look and mildly bewildered expressions.

"Anyway, I thought it might be nice if each of you went up and got yourself a bottle. As thanks for all you've done," Roxanne explained.

Macaron waved a hand, "Oh, Roxanne, you've done more than enough to thank us—!"

"That man does not speak for me, I would love a bottle of wine." Chai interjected before his dear, beloved friend could blow it for him.

"Great! Well, whatever you choose to do, I just left it where it was." Roxanne clasped her hands back together again, "It was nice seeing you all again."

"Yeah, thanks, Mom," Peppermint stood, 808 climbing up onto her shoulder with her own affirmative nod. 

Roxanne nodded back, then turned to the head of R&D, "Shall we?"

Macaron nodded and away they went.

Once another bout of silence sufficiently filled the room, Chai glanced at the friends beside him.

"This company never stops surprising me."

Peppermint’s eyebrows furrowed perplexedly, "Seriously. Who the hell keeps a secret wine cabinet at work?"

"You should totally put one in the hideout."

"You wish."

Again, they shared a look.

Peppermint lightly smacked Chai on the arm, "Let's go get that wine."

"Woo! Yeah!" Chai cheered, bounding ahead.

808 leapt off Peppermint's shoulder and beside CNMN on the work table. She meowed and cuddled up in what would be the robot's lap. Peppermint and Chai both looked back.

"Oh, you're stayin' here, 808?" The former asked. The cat replied with an all-too-human thumbs up. Her inventor chuckled, "Alright then. See you guys!"

"See you later, Miss Peppermint!" CNMN called back as the pair finally took their leave.

Chai tried to contain the small pit in his stomach as he strode into Roquefort's office. The way up had been agonizingly simple compared to the last time. Not that he was complaining on that front. A quick elevator ride was way better than some crazy rail-grinding on a day like this. 

In and out, he told himself, that's all this trip would be. And, man, was it probably a little sad he had to tell himself that in the first place.

"If I was a secret wine cabinet, where would I be.....?" Chai pondered as he flitted about the room. He found himself purposefully avoiding the (absent) vault door. Peppermint watched him as she approached the splintered desk. 

"Hm. You remember when Roquefort first changed into the wolf thing?" She asked.

"How could I forget?" There was an ambient smile on his face— he made sure it didn’t falter— but it didn’t reach into his voice.

"Well, everything that was in here before that slid away or fell into the ground. Probably so it wouldn't get broken during the fight."

"O....kay..?"

" So that probably means Roquefort had some kind of control scheme in his desk before he— y'know."

"Oooohh, okay! Yeah, I think that makes sense." It didn't, really, but she didn't have to know that.

Peppermint fell quiet as she investigated. Chai watched as she pulled chunks of the polished wood away and inspected each piece. She held up the pair that shared the control scheme in question. Considering the fact it was in two pieces, Chai put a hand on his hip.

"That looks really..broken.." he squinted suspiciously as he tilted his head.

"Which means, if Mom was still able to open anything, then there's a backup system!" Peppermint smirked at him. She tossed the wood away over her shoulder and stood back up to meet him. It was fascinating to see his best friend light up whenever she had a good puzzle. Chai just felt a little behind the curve. Per usual.

It wasn't long until the pair found the answers. Peppermint noticed the irregularities in the floor, Chai stepped on one, and out popped all the cases of robot samurai armor! Another revealed the chandelier from the ceiling. And the third they tried finally revealed the humble wooden cabinet.

Chai rubbed his hands together like he was about to perform the heist of the century, "And now, the spoils of our labor."

"You're such a dork," Peppermint rolled her eyes. Just as she did, Chai tossed a bottle her way. She caught it no problem.

"I didn't know there were so many types of wine." He mused, inspecting the next bottle he picked up.

"Yeah, well.. these all look basically the same," Peppermint peered past him.

"Weird. I would have expected a money man like Roquefort to have only the most expensive stuff. Y'know. Luxury."

"Is that why you were so excited when Mom offered them?" 

"..........maybe......"

"Unbelievable," Peppermint said with no real bite behind it. 

"Y'know..." Chai said after a beat, cheshire glint in his eye, "I think Korsica would totally appreciate a gift like this being delivered to her. Instead of having to get all the way over here."

He watched his best friend stare at him, confused. Then she realized. And suddenly her cheeks went a little pink. 

"What? No way! I mean— we came and got this ourselves! Besides, it's not like I really have any other reason to be around Security, it would be weird! That would be weird, why would you even suggest that—" Peppermint averted her gaze, holding the bottle in her hands between her face and Chai. He just grinned with a palpable smugness.

"Well, if you don't feel like it, we could always bring all of this down to the hideout and invite everyone over! It'd be nice to hang out, actually."

" Yupsoundslikeaplanletsgetoutofhere " Peppermint swiped everything that was left in that cabinet and marched for the door. Now it was Chai who rolled his eyes fondly as he followed.

It was almost as if the tiny sense of dread Chai had in the back of his brain as he walked into that office had dissipated. It didn’t entirely disappear, but it was gone in the ways that mattered. He didn't have to worry about it right now. Right now , Chai thought it was nice to have friends like these.

Chapter Text

"I'm very impressed at how nicely R&D managed to turn things around," Roxanne tilted her head, "Just based on things I've heard through the grapevine."

She and Macaron had finished business talk almost as soon as they got to it. That didn't stop them from chatting even more, of course not, they had almost looped all the way back to the AR labs. 

Macaron waved a hand, "I haven't even really done that much. Everyone's been getting a break from.. Well, everything. Aside from all the paperwork and repairs."

"Who knew a good work-life balance would do wonders for department morale?"

They shared a laugh at that. Roxanne looked at her friend with a subtle admiration. "I know you've been keeping me— and everyone else, of course— updated on CNMN's reconstruction," she said, "But could you tell me a bit more while we're talking in person? Anything I could help with, even?"

Honestly, there was a part of her that might still be trying to make up for her..awkward first encounter with the robot. Especially now that she'd gotten to know more about him and how much he meant to her friend.

"I couldn't ask you to take the time to do that, Roxanne." Macaron quickly replied.

"You're not asking, I'm offering!"

He rolled his eyes, "Still." He let a brief quiet rest between his thoughts. He grew more visibly contemplative, "Things are going well. CNMN's being patient with me, but honestly, everything's taking a bit...slower than I want? It's not something I should rush, obviously, and I get why it feels that way, but— y'know. I feel bad that I can't do more."

"Try not to put so much pressure on yourself. The fact you want to work so hard is admirable, Macaron. It's inspiring," Roxanne lifted a hand and rested it on his arm, "Things will take as long as they need to take for them to turn out right. And I'm here to help, if you need me.

"Heh, it might be like the early days— back when the company was just making it big."

Roxanne snickered. Though, in truth, there was a thin fog over that period in her life. The familiar kind of fog she'd been encountering a lot lately. How dare she forget? But she could remember and remind herself of enough to make the nostalgia feel earned. "Just us, for the most part. Designing things, putting together prototypes and early concepts."

"Good times." Macaron agreed.

A moment.

Roxanne felt her expression falter, "I know I've said it before, but... I'm sorry about the way things happened. Or that they even happened at all."

"You don't need to apologize for something you didn't have any control over." He replied back with that earnest look he wore so well.

"I know , but.." She looked down, away from his gaze. She couldn't accept those assurances. They weren't what she needed— despite not knowing what she did need, exactly.

She could almost feel Macaron frown. His brow furrowed and it was as if he could tell everything Roxanne was hiding. They knew each other well enough that secrets could be left unsaid, and they could both have enough faith in the other that nothing would come of them. Secrets didn't need to be talked about because they wouldn't become a pressing matter.

Maybe that shouldn't be how they think anymore, Roxanne thought to herself. And it was still a statement she couldn't be satisfied in thinking alone.

"You don't need to go to war with yourself for every single thing that happens," Macaron finally said.

"I just need to be certain of what to focus on. What needs fixing."

"Which is another thing— you don't have to fix things all by yourself. The world, this company, none of it is your sole responsibility."

"Well, I mean," Roxanne sent him a small smirk, "it is my company, isn't it?"

The man rolled his eyes, "You know that's not what I meant."

They finally make it back to Macaron's office. The big one as opposed to the smaller one they'd initially come from. And despite the empty nature of it, the pair of giant holes in the wall and window— only the latter covered and insulated in a somewhat shoddy manner, the air conditioning in the room working double time to make the temperature difference as minimal as possible, and sheer number of boxes from the previous occupant (.......what was his name again?), it wasn't half bad. It just needed about as much fixing up as the rest of the island. 

"You know," Macaron said, "There's something that I've been wondering about since..."

Though he trailed off, she knew what he was referring to. "Oh yeah?"

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but based on what we know about SPECTRA, it uses a neural interface, right?"

"Go on.." Roxanne squinted quizzically.

"So, I was just wondering if that was only applicable to Project Armstrong—" She knew he was more likely referring to Chai, but that went unsaid. "—or if, maybe, you had something similar?"

She paused. Then looked down and thought. She'd never ventured to test that kind of question out before; but then again, it never occurred to her. "I'm..not sure, actually."

"Sounds like a thing worth investigating though, right? Maybe?"

"Maybe."

Macaron raised an eyebrow at her. She smirked in return, playfully smacking a hand against his arm. "Okay, fine! Yes! It absolutely feels like something to dig into! I swear, you know me too well."

"I know that if you don't do anything now and keep thinking about it, then you're going to change your mind in the future. And then you're just going to take matters into your own hands."

"And what's wrong with that?" She asked, hands on her hips.

"Nothing! Nothing." Macaron protested with a laugh. They stared at each other for a prolonged moment of silence before he added— "Sometimes you just get a little ahead of yourself."

Roxanne gasped in mock offense, "Me? Ahead of myself? Impossible."

"I speak nothing but the truth, Ms. Vandelay"

"Oh, don't you start!" They laughed again. Unfortunately, the moment was cut short as her watch buzzed with a notification. She sighed haplessly. "I've got to get going— I'm meeting with some of the construction crews to detail a priority system. Thrilling work, you know. "

"Of course." Mac nodded.

"When do you think I should be back around to test—" She gestured to her sternum, "—this thing out?"

"Hmm.. I think I'll have to get back to you on that."

"Sure, just send me an email with your schedule!" She dipped her head in kind, starting toward the door, "Take care of yourself, Macaron!"

"Likewise." The man waved as she left, "See you, Roxanne!"

As she walked out of R&D, toward the elevator back up to ground level, she let herself be a little excited. Admittedly, she missed getting to work with one of her dearest friends. It was a nice moment of respite from the constant ebb and flow of normal work. Which, evidently, she had to return to now.

She passed a closed door to a storage room, just as the elevator came within sight. She paused. Hummed. And—

The door slid open without hesitation. Roxanne felt a slight buzz in her chest. It was most likely only placebic, but noteworthy nonetheless. She smirked to herself. As she stepped further away from the storage room. The open door stayed in her sights and remained as it was. Entering the elevator, she finally let the door flick close, dusting off her slacks from nothing in particular.

Fascinating, indeed.

Chapter Text

When he initially tossed out the idea of delivering some booze to Korsica, it wasn't without reason. He hustled toward Korsica's temp office in Security's second wing (and briefly felt very grateful that it wasn't as insane of a commute. Or at least less vertical ) after he and Peppermint made a quick pit-stop at the hideout. Though he was alone now. Not for long, of course, as the head of the department approached him.

"Hey, Chai," Korsica said with a smile. 

"Yo," he returned, shoving his hands into his pockets. Korsica had asked him to help out with a thing (that he didn't remember any of the details of, actually) the day before. It wasn't like he had a whole lot going on, so he obliged. It sounded simple...whatever it was. He should ask what he agreed to again. "Sooo what's up?"

"Thanks for agreeing to help out on such short notice—" She must have picked up on what he was really asking, "—I need you to keep an eye on some node maintenance in Wing 1."

"But I thought I already fixed the nodes?"

"You did! Peppermint looked at the design at some point in her free time, though, and designed an upgrade to make them less prone to falling out of sync." The redhead folded her arms with a fond grin. Now that she mentioned it, Chai could recall the blonde scribbling away at something a few days ago. He didn't know it was anything work related as opposed to her typical sketching. The blue paper probably should've been a hint.

"Oh, okay," he nodded, then paused. He rocked on his feet, "Sooo..what am I doing, exactly?"

Korsica sighed, "I just need you to keep an eye on the TECs that are supposed to be installing the upgrades. They get it done eventually, but, I mean.." She lowered her voice to a blunt murmur, "you know their work ethic."

"So just. Hang out?"

"Pretty much."

"Where are you gonna be?" Chai tilted his head with a suspicious look. The head of Security huffed out a small laugh.

"I'll be supervising another node. I figured if we split the work, it'll go by faster."

"Welp, no time like the present, right?" Chai moved his hands to place his knuckles on his hips, lifting his shoulders with a confident grin.

The pair of them walked down to the LIFT station and boarded. Chai ignored how tightly he held onto the railing once they started moving. Just like how he ignored how Korsica paced back and forth as the wind rushed by.

A group of TECs were already in the room and working by the time Chai entered. Just as discussed, he and Korsica split up— he took the node that he fixed first (Node 02. Not confusing at all ), while she went for the one he fixed last. The robots didn't acknowledge him more than a quick glance or a nod or adjustment of the hat. He offered a mock salute in kind and glanced around for a spot to settle in for...however long it took for them to do their thing.

He settled for perching atop one of the servo-cabinet-things (he'd probably be scolded if anyone who cared saw him up there, but it was sturdy enough, and Chai had gained an appreciation for being up high lately), looking down at the first node Peppermint shot at with her blaster. As much as he could probably comment on how precarious the TECs were with the odd system of ladders and floating platforms and rope-y fly systems, Chai just kept his mouth shut. It didn't look like anything was too wrong with it. The bots were still getting their thing done, no one was in a whole lot of danger, and Chai knew that a good system to him didn't make any sense to anyone else. Who was he to judge anyone else for the same thing?

He decided that they had it handled and whipped out his garbage guitar. He may not have his nose in a book about it, he may have very little idea what he was doing, but he could absolutely pluck a few strings and call it practice. As his fingers danced over the fretboard, he kept his strumming efforts featherlight. Quiet. Just in case those units below him needed maximum focus. He could still faintly feel the vibrations in his fingertips. And he quickly began to wonder if he was pressing down too hard on the strings or if playing was seriously this painful without those callouses he'd heard about guitarists developing. He'd asked himself that question a lot in the past, actually. It was an on and off thing whenever he tried playing. Chai was pulled from his thoughts by a commotion below.

"Dude, I told you!" He heard one TEC groan, "it does not have to be this complicated."

"And I'm saying if these things weren't so damn heavy, maybe we wouldn't have to suspend ourselves over a giant pit!" Another shot back.

"It's not like you designed 'em," the third one droned lazily, "The most we have to do is fix 'em up."

The second one huffed as it pulled out a wrench from under its hat. "You're both ignoring the point! I'm saying we overhaul the whole thing!"

"Tch, join the crowd, pal." Said the first.

"Hmmm.." the third pondered as it climbed up a ladder, "Y'know..the new big-boss might actually consider the idea!"

"I thought she was the old one?"

"Old, new, who cares! You're saying she's actually got some sense?"

The third one shrugged, "I just heard some security units talking about how she seemed more reasonable. Something about working smarter, not harder, I dunno."

"8972461 thought Roquefort would be reasonable. We all know what happened there." The first rolled its eyes.

The second one climbed atop the node, surprisingly staying balanced despite the constant, rhythmic bobbing of its outer shell, "Whatever, I'll take it! There's hope for us yet, dudes! Hey, hand me those screws—"

Chai smirked at the whole exchange, amused. He'd already heard a ton of high praise for Roxanne. He wasn't surprised people liked her. Though, before it was always from guys who had been working at Vandelay while she'd been leading. He hadn't heard any opinions on her from the people who showed up after she disappeared. It was nice to hear that the consensus remained generally positive. Then again, of course, this trio was his first exposure to that kind of thing. Nonetheless, Chai let himself believe that said consensus wouldn't change too radically as the days went by.

"So..what did you guys hear about that defect dude?" The third one hummed, adjusting its hat. Immediately, Chai was very intrigued. 

"Uhhhhh I dont know," the first shrugged, "I never saw a picture of him. I had no idea what the big deal was the whole time. Heh, mostly glad we don't have to worry about it anymore."

"I heard he was this real skinny guy. Looked kinda..hippy-dippy?"

(What was it with the people in Security and their obsession with judging his fashion choices?)

"What?? No, I thought it was a girl! Blonde. Messy hair like Korsica said." 

Okay, that was just Peppermint.

"Really? I thought they were a big burly guy. Like really beefy! That's how they were smashing everything up so bad!"

Macaron.

"Wait— smashing things up?"

"Why did you think Korsica made those huge announcements about 'em?"

"I don't know!" The first one shrugged, "I mean..if they fixed the security system, why would they also be smashing things? Like. What's the reason?"

"Do uncontrolled maniacs need a reason?" A more gruff voice asked from further below. Upon looking over, Chai saw another robot— one of the bigger green security guys (WAIT, it was an SES guy! Chai afforded himself a mental pat on the back for remembering this time), though it didn't have a huge Z-shield or sword in hand. It did have a massive dent in its face, gnarly enough that Chai had to wonder if he did that at some point and didn't notice. A red laser gun dude trailed closely behind, its scope-thingy flipped up. The triad of TECs collectively rolled their eyes.

"Okay, pretentious much?" The second TEC sighed, drilling what looked like the last screw into place.

"I was lucky to survive my encounter with him." The SES clenched a fist. Apparently it hadn't noticed the defect in question just above. "Terrifying! I barely made it out while still functioning! How do you think I got this dent?!"

The gunner beside it pinched a nose it didn't have, "Dude, you fell down the stairs—"

"Wait, no!—"

"I watched you fall down the stairs! What are you talkin' about??"

"Oi, shut up!"

The most laissez-faire of the trio in blue chimed in, "Why haven't you gone down to Production and gotten yourself fixed up?"

"They think it looks cool," The gunner snickered before swiftly getting a bop on the head. The SES huffed.

"I still work perfectly fine, even with the dent! There's too much to get done, not enough time, and Production's already got enough on their plate!" They paused, "....And yes. I think it looks very cool."

"Whatever you say, man." The same TEC shrugged, then looked to its colleagues, "Are we done with this one?"

"Yeeup!" Another one chirped with an adjustment of its hat, "Onto the next one."

"Awww man! Can't we take a break?"

The pair of TECs stared at the third. One gestured up to Chai. Another cleared its throat (or mimicked that act, anyway) very obviously. The SES and their companion followed their gaze and finally noticed Chai. The former gasped.

"That's the defect!"

"I have a name, y'know," Chai scoffed as the rest of the robots quietly reacted. He couldn't hide a total shit-eating grin at the attention, "And I actually work here now!" He deposited his guitar into his arm and leapt down from his perch, making his way down to the ground on-level with the exit. Just in front of the SES and sniper-dude.

"You don't mind that we were totally talking about you, do you?" The latter chuckled nervously.

"No way! You make me sound cool," Chai said, puffing out his chest a bit.

"Okay good! Cuz we are not the only guys that do that—" The gunner got another light smack upside the head by its companion. 

Just as it did, Chai heard the sound of something snapping, a clatter, and a terrified screech all in quick succession. When he turned, he saw the TEC that was suspended by the rope was barely saved from falling into the pit below them, one end of the rope now dangling uselessly around its waist. The only reason it hadn't fallen into the abyss was because the bot on the ladder grabbed it before that could happen. Though, now it was bent over the railing rather hazardously. "Dude, I told you the rope was a bad idea!" It shouted.

Chai quickly leapt back up and into action. He stopped beside the TEC and grabbed onto the dangling one's other arm. In unison, the pair tried to pull— but geez! Were these guys seriously this heavy, or was it just the fact he had to fight gravity basically unassisted? The technician below them kicked about uselessly in a vain attempt to find purchase on solid ground.

"Hold on!" Chai heaved in another try of pulling it up. Suddenly, he felt a pair of arms wrap around his waist and join in on the effort. A glance over his shoulder showed that SES pitching in, and the gunner doing the same next to them.

One last effort was, thankfully, all it took for the TEC to be pulled back over the ledge. Though its cap was lost to the void.

"Oh man! I thought I was gonna be scrap metal for sure," it quivered, pressing itself to the floor. Then it grumbled and lept to its feet— shoving Chai out of the way and righteously waving a fist around in the air at the unaccounted for TEC, "Dude what's the big idea?! You were just gonna let me fall?!!"

"What was I supposed to do?"

"You're the one on the floating platform, rust-for-brains!"

“That's not how it works and you know it!”

"Uh— oookay, there's no need to fight about it." Chai said, yanking the TEC away from the rail with a bit of effort, "Besides, you guys still have one room of nodes to finish, right?"

He got a squinty-eyed glare in return. Then he heard the third one come up beside him.

"This guy's right. C'mon, gang!" It lolled its head to the side, shedding its hat and slipping it onto its compatriot, "It's not gonna feel like a done job if you two are busy fighting."

The pair of them looked at each other again. A total glare-down in spite of the distance (and the data beam between them). Finally, they both relented. 

"Fine," the first one shrugged. "I'll meet you guys over at Node 03. I need to input the destination on this thing so it'll move right. I'll be a minute."

"Gotcha!" The third chirped, hooked one arm around its pal, and got the pair on their way.

The first regarded Chai, "You gonna meet us there or....?"

"Sorry to say you're not off the hook, man."

"No worries. See you there," it said before returning to..whatever work it was doing on the platform.

Just as he turned to leave, something occurred to Chai. He turned back to the pair of security 'droids. "Actually, what did you guys come in here for?"

"The KEM-0N0 we were supposed to be watching got spooked. So we're looking for her." The SES explained.

"Yeah, just— took off!" The gunner added. 

The green bot rolled their eyes with palpable sarcasm, "If only one of us hadn't overloaded her with so many commands."

"How was I supposed to know that there was a limit? Or that she could get overwhelmed like that?"

"Because you'd explode if you were under the kind of stress you were dishing out." The SES suddenly looked a bit self-righteous...and monologue-y. "Authority is about respect! Knowing what your team needs and getting everyone's priorities straight for them! It's not just telling people to do something for the sake of it! Orders need a rhyme and reason behind them— that's why it's called 'order'!"

"Okay, sure. Whatever you say, dude." The gunner slouched.

The SES turned back to Chai with a resolute sigh, "Anyway. I just hope she hasn't gotten into too much trouble."

"Well! I hope you guys find her," Chai offered, probably (definitely) a little awkward. Without any further delay, he made for the door.

Node 03 was much of the same setup. Albeit  there wasn't any bottomless-tower-pit-related risk to worry about. Chai decided to camp out over by the row of computers and radars closest to the door, leaning on the closest one. The pair of TECs that made it before him (surprisingly..despite the legwork and magnet-ing involved) were literally just in front of him, working on the node closest to ground level.

They chatted amongst themselves. Maybe they were being quieter, or maybe there was just more distance between them and Chai, but he couldn't eavesdrop this time around. Though he could tell when they'd pause. There'd be occupied silence that'd last for no longer than 30 seconds, then their voices would start up again. And when the third TEC entered— the one that was on the platform before— walked in platformless and just joined in like it was nothing.

Chai didn't care much to try and pay attention to whatever they were doing. He could feel himself zoning out. Well....okay, it felt different than just plain old spacing out, but there was more on his mind that it didn't seem to matter.

He tried to ignore the chill down his spine that just wouldn't go away. He felt it first when the SES mentioned a KEM-0N0 on the loose. Chai knew it probably wasn't anything to worry about. Those guys would find their missing teammate, they'd go on their merry way, and Chai probably wouldn't witness any of it. But knowing his luck, that KEM-0N0 would find him. She'd probably claw him a new one if he didn't react in time. And even aside from that, he'd be totally on his own for that kind of fight. 808 wasn't here. Peppermint, Macaron, and Korsica were doing their jobs. He'd just have to deal with it. Just thinking about it made that shiver run deeper. Like it burned itself into his bones— but was still somehow freezing.

“You think I'm winging this? Not anymore.”

And it wasn't a lie or some kind of big talk to make himself sound more impressive than he was. Chai actually started planning when he got into a fight. He had strategies. They weren't big, 'Mission Report!' kind of plans, but he still had them somewhere in the back of his brain. Or..maybe they lived in his extremities— brought into action completely on the fly, but with a practiced familiarity to them that they came together based on whoever decided they wanted a piece of him. Take care of the tiny flying ones first, then get rid of the Z-shields (preferably parry them so Mac could get rid of them in a single counter-attack), then get Peppermint to overload the other shields while he magnet-ed around and bashed the most manageable ones in the meantime. Call in Macaron whenever there was a big group of guys bunched together, then Korsica could stun a ton of them at once. Just keep fighting. Just keep going. No matter how many times he got knocked down, Chai just had to keep getting up. 

It felt like the world around him had gone foggy— in the same way his brain went out of focus when he couldn't sleep. It wasn't like it mattered a whole lot right now. But the creeping dread didn't leave the back of his throat. In fact, it only got more intense. Something was coming. He heard the doors open behind him, fast approaching the one into the room he was in. Damn, it was probably that KEM-0N0, wasn't it? He had to be ready. It was always someone else who struck first if he wasn't fast enough on the draw. He had to be ready to duck, dodge, run away—

Chai picked 'strike.'

Just as whatever it was got too close, Chai spun around, guitar forming in an instant. Lo and behold, it was Korsica. 

She would have been smacked hard across the face if she hadn't ducked in time. The guitar flew over her head with an audible 'WHIIFFFF' . The momentum carried his guitar all the way into the machine beside him, slamming against it and leaving a sizable dent behind. 

The metal-on-metal impact echoed through the room like a bell. Now Chai had everyone's attention.  The TECs stared at him with wide eyes and a collective 'what just happened?' kind of look about them. Korsica, still ducked down, looked up at him with an expression he couldn't read. She swiftly straightened herself out. Chai did too— dropping his instrument like it'd burned him— hands at his sides as he went stark stiff. Before anything, Korsica sent the trio a look. They all found their work suddenly very intriguing. She looked back at him.

"....Heeey.." He tried.

"...You alright, Chai?" Korsica asked, her voice a perfect halfway point between genuine concern and an attempt to cautious-ly temper her own shock.

"Yeah— Yup! Totally good. Just peachy." He nodded quickly, doing everything in his power to avoid making eye contact. A hand slid to the back of his neck, "Sorry— I don't know what got into me."

"It's okay," she assured, "no harm done, at least."

The brunette raised a brow. Then gestured vaguely to the dented radar-thingy next to him. She sighed and shrugged haplessly.

"Okay, well, that's fixable." She tilted her head, curt smile forming on her face, "And it's not like it's the first thing you've broken. There's some solace there, right?"

"Whatever, man! Don't sneak up on a guy like that!" Chai groaned.

She raised an eyebrow, "Oh, I'm sorry— should I have brought a vent cover down on your head?"

"Are you ever gonna let that go?" He squinted at her incredulously.

"No. No I won't." She shot a playful look back, despite her unchanged tone of voice. Then cleared her throat and nodded to what was probably (definitely) the real reason she'd shown up in the first place, "I can take over here, if you'd like. Wing 2 doesn't have much by way of node maintenance and my lot finished up faster than I anticipated."

"Eeehhh, I can stick around! It's not like it's that hard."

"I would have assumed you'd gotten bored by now?"

Chai leaned forward and quieted himself, "Eavesdropping adds some spice to it. A certain...je ne sais quoi, y'know?"

"Oh, right, of course," Korsica chuckled.

"Apparently I'm the subject of much discussion."

"How's that?"

"Proud to announce that I've reached total urban legend status! Who knew corporate gossip would be so interesting?"

The head of the department rolled her eyes, "I'd rather hear about gossip than something like a covert poker ring in the break rooms."

"WHAT??" Chai looked at her, probably bug-eyed and barely contained. 

"I'm not even kidding— it was, like, one of the first incidents I had to deal with when I got hired." Korsica shook her head as her fingertips came up to press into her forehead. " Anyway , you're free to get back to doing something else if you want."

Chai looked around a little uselessly. Then stuffed his hands into his pockets. Looked down— and saw his guitar that was still at his feet. He grumbled to himself, bent down, picked it up, and stashed it again, returning his hands to the pockets on his pants this time and letting his thumbs stick out. 

Maybe it was really dumb, but something was still eating at him. Writhing around in the back of his head that he very much did not want to think about right now. He couldn't even remember what exactly it was; it was just a lingering anxiety that made him want to employ the buddy system as much as humanly possible. 

(And, wow, when he phrased it like that...it sounded even dumber. )

"Actually, I wouldn't mind hanging out here some more. If you're game." He settled on. 

Korsica studied him again. He quickly added— "Heck, we could head down to the hideout afterward! Roxanne offered the whole gang wine. We just took it there, so... you could grab that while you're there!"

Finally, it seemed like she relented on the stare that made it really clear why she was the head of Security, "Alright then. Sure, Chai. I could probably thank Peppermint in person for the node work as well."

"See? Win-win scenario ba-by!" Chai grinned.

He was glad that the tension inside him finally decided to move on with that. It was getting really boring and sucky, in his humble opinion. Just as well was he glad that he didn't have to think, talk, or do anything about that feeling (or what preceded the whole conversation) anymore. 

And he didn't do anything of the sort for the rest of the day.

Chapter Text

Macaron flipped up his welding helmet, smiling down at CNMN. He finally had a moment to attach his friend's arm. CNMN turned his head and flashed a thumbs-up. A good sign that the appendage was working! Though..they should still run a few basic tests.

Some number of days had passed since the last time Roxanne paid him a visit, perhaps a week and a half? He really thought he'd have more free time than he really did. Oh well— he'd take this over working under Zanzo ever again. The constant push toward a goal was encouraging, healthy. Not like the meandering stream of busywork he had to deal with in the past. Before being recruited to Chai's cause, he didn't remember the last time he was truly engulfed by that specific flavor of excitement. Then he jumped out a window and— BAM! Macaron suddenly felt like he was living again. Pulled from the black and white of Roxanne's absence and shot into the technicolor possibilities of something better.

He wondered if, between the five of them, to any degree, anyone else felt the same.

The number of radically new experiences he was living through had lessened as Vandelay slowly pieced itself back together, but it didn't go away completely. The feeling Macaron got from it all didn't leave, anyway. It might've transformed; taken new shape as things got back to normal. It was nice. He set the welding torch in hand aside, shedding his welding helmet, gloves, and the rest in kind. 

“Alright! How does the arm feel, buddy?” Macaron asked as he turned back. CNMN drew the arm up from where it had been at his side. Almost experimentally, he flexed his fingers, rolled his wrists, tested out each minute move it could make. 

“It appears fully functional! From what I can tell right now, I have full range of motion and all necessary sensation input,” The robot chirped. Macaron couldn’t help but beam a little brighter. 

“I want to look over the coding once more while it’s attached, if you don’t mind—”

It was just then that a thunderous crash sounded from the door. Macaron ducked out of instinct, popping back up to see Roxanne standing there with an invigorated grin on her face. (He thought that door was automatic? Did she kick it? ) Macaron calmed his racing heart as best as he could manage as she trotted in.

“I’m sorry about the door—” She said as soon as she was a little further into the room that smile grew with an electrifying giddiness that just radiated off of her (and…yup the door closed automatically behind her. Macaron hummed to himself). She momentarily reeled herself back in, “I..suddenly realize that was unnecessary.”

Roxanne Vandelay usually came off as a very put-together individual. She was calm and collected more often than not. That was what the world saw of her, at least, and for the most part that remained true to how she actually was. But there was also a certain boldness she had once in a blue moon. A supercharged energy that was usually paired with some mildly ill-advised or impulsive action.

“It’s fine, Roxanne,” He assured after a quick deep breath, “Did you…need something?”

“Yes! Kind of.” She bounced ever so slightly on her toes, “I’ve just discovered something quite fascinating! I didn’t— ehm— I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?”

“On the contrary!” CNMN interjected, “Sir Macaron just finished installing my arm!”

“For the most part.” Macaron added with a bashful shrug. 

“Well, then, if you have a moment,” She tilted her head back toward the door, “I was thinking we could push our little experimental get-together to now? ”

Macaron thought for a moment. He felt the slightest hint of trepidation as he considered everything. There wasn’t exactly anything stopping him, but the lack of detail with which Roxanne had burst into the room gave him a brief moment of pause. At the same time, she had a unique talent for making herself so easy to follow. That and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her so high-energy. He decided to set his reservations aside. “Sure, I have some time.”

“Excellent!”

“If it’s not too much trouble,” CNMN said before either of them moved too far, “Could I also join in on the expedition? It’s been a moment since I was last out of the workshop—” Macaron suppresses a brief jab of guilt, “—and the new arm has given me a sudden surge of carpe diem!”

Roxanne glanced at his inventor, “I don’t see why not, if you’re okay with it.”

He didn’t need to say anything about it. He scooped the legless bot up onto his arm with minimal effort and a light smile playing at his lips. 

That confidence seemed to slowly fizzle away as they walked. The lack of information started weighing on Macaron’s mind. Finally, they came upon a hallway, and Roxanne finally slowed. It was one of the halls that had one of Zanzo’s security lasers. It was on one of the more central routes through R&D, which sort of explained why it hadn’t been destroyed. Standing beside a panel in the wall that controlled the drone, was a programmer unit. It perked up as Roxanne’s feet stopped just short of entering its scanning range.

“Okay, so,” Macaron started, his gaze weary on the security drone, “Are you going to explain what your ‘discovery’ was?”

“I’ll do you one better— I’ll demonstrate !”

CNMN and Macaron looked at each other. The latter found his expressionless buddy a mirror for his own anxiety. Roxanne practically leapt within scanning range. Thin green beams swiped through the hall, passed over her, and she said, “I was on my way to check on something different here, actually, when I stepped into the range of this security drone. I never noticed it before, but apparently—”

>Scanning… <

Those beams suddenly gained an angry red glow. They blocked off the entire section of hallway. 

>Authentication Failed<

“—I’m not keyed into Vandelay’s most recent security update.”

Macaron swiftly set CNMN down and looked about the space. Suddenly about a million thoughts were racing through his head, ‘this is bad’ was the loudest one to resound. If he had known the fact that somehow his friend wasn’t safe around those drones, he would have walked ahead of her. At least then he could deactivate them. (Why wouldn’t she think to mention it?) He peered at that PGR. It watched dutifully from where it stood, if not incredibly sheepish. (Why wasn’t it doing anything?) He could hear the laser revving up, the odd petals of the design spinning like how he’d seen it do tens of times before.

>Engaging Security Lasers<

“Thankfully!” Roxanne pointed, sounding far too okay with the fact she was about to be shot at. She turned to face the drone fearlessly. In a flash, as the lasers fired, Macaron flinched away from the sight. But nothing seemed to happen. He gazed back and saw a mass of red where Roxanne stood. He squinted amidst the lasers and the— wait a second, was that a harmonic force field? Indeed, it was. Every time a laser made contact with it, they shot off in another direction, bouncing off like light bounced off a mirror. Roxanne turned to beam at him from behind her own personal force field, “ This is what I wanted to show you!”

Mac couldn’t help but stare, a little dumbfounded by the sheer amount of things to consider. CNMN stood up on his hands and approached the laser wall.

“Impressive! And very lucky— I suspect those lasers would have been gravely injurious for you if the barrier had not been formed!” He mused.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Vandelay’s CEO nodded. “I was more or less..trapped like this until that programmer came along and shut off the drone.”

The PGR waved. “Heeeyy. Yeah. Uh… do you want me to shut it off now, ma’am?”

“No, actually! I’d like to try something first.”

She turned back to face the drone again. It shot out another bout of lasers, all of which were deflected. Macaron found his anxieties ease up again in favor of his curiosity.

…Nothing happened.

“That’s odd.” Roxanne said.

“What exactly are you trying to do?” Mac asked.

“My running theory is that my implant can send out signals that connect with the various non-autonomous mechanisms around campus, letting me manipulate them somehow.”

“Like a mental connection?”

“Yes, exactly.”

CNMN hummed along, “perhaps the force field is interfering with the connection?”

The trio pondered. It sounded like the most logical theory. Roxanne and Macaron looked at each other.

“Roxanne, I don’t think—”

Before he could finish, his friend turned away again. After a moment, barely cautious, the red walls broke down from top to bottom. Mac grimaced as the laser drone revved up again. Roxanne was almost impossibly still. Just as the laser charged, primed and ready, it suddenly died. The drone’s odd petals slowly moved back to the passive, conic shape it held before and the red beams disappeared. Macaron let go of the breath he soon realized he was holding.

“Seems like that was right. Well done, CNMN!” Roxanne grinned, hands on her hips. She approached the PGR who had only grown more visibly unsure as the demonstration went on, “Thank you for being here to help! Sorry if I delayed you from anything.”

“Er— it was nothing, Ms. Vandelay! Happy to help?”

“You’re free to get back to what you were up to. Thanks again.”

Without another word, the PGR power-walked away. The three watched it go. Turning back, they were all collectively startled by a very sudden appearance by Peppermint. Literally. Macaron turned back and yelped at the younger Vandelay standing just behind her mother with a wide-eyed, incredulous look and crossed arms. Roxanne somehow seemed unsurprised. 

“Do I want to know why you were being shot at?” Peppermint turned that searing green gaze to her mom, who patted her shoulder in reply.

“Maybe later.” 

“It’s quite a convoluted story!” CNMN chimed in. Peppermint paid both him and Mac that disapproving Look she was all too good at. Roxanne caught on, and more earnestly set her hand on her daughter’s shoulder.

“I wasn’t in any danger, Peppermint. I had everything under control.”

It took a moment of consideration and a well-meant stare down between the pair of them before Peppermint could accept that. All she knew was that she heard the all too familiar commotion of security lasers. Then bits and pieces of her mother’s voice. It took maybe a half a second after that for her to speed down the hall, wish she still kept her blasters on hand, and worry all at once. She didn’t have any context whatsoever, what was she supposed to think? And a PGR shuffling away so quickly was suspicious in her book. Sue her.

But she’d just have to let sleeping dogs lie for a while, she supposed. She huffed regardless.

“Anyway,” she said with emphasis, “I was looking for you. I wanted to ask about something.”

Roxanne nodded with that trademark smile of her’s, “Sure, I think we’ve wrapped up for now?”

Macaron offered a hesitant nod, and CNMN a far more emphatic thumbs up. It was at least a little bit of a comfort in spite of everything. Peppermint was starting to feel like she had jumped to a major conclusion or something. With a tilt of her mother’s head, she took the cue to take the lead and double back. She watched Macaron pick up their legless buddy out of the corner of her eye and head out on their own path. Though, the former’s gaze seemed to linger with a mostly unreadable expression. Peppermint smothered the questions that she knew wouldn’t be getting any answers right now. 

“Are you alright?” Roxanne asked when they walked a distance away.

“I feel like I should be asking you that.”

“I’m..doing okay, I promise.” 

Peppermint decided not to dwell on how little she enjoyed that brief pause in her mother’s words. “If you say so.”

“What was it you wanted to talk about?”

Right. The whole reason she was here.

“I was thinking,” Peppermint started, “Your old truck being kept in the museum—”

“So that’s where it was.”

“—Wait, you didn’t put it there?”

“No,” Roxanne shrugged, “I still liked to drive it around campus occasionally. It was nice to roll the windows and think. I remember sometimes I would take the evening to myself and drive out to one of the cliffsides or beaches and just… sit with myself for a bit. It was meditative, in a way, I suppose.”

“Huh.” Peppermint looked away and thought about it. Considered all the memories stored in that humble vehicle, and the brief wave of bitterness at the idea of setting it aside to collect dust in a museum when it was still so loved. She was halfway inclined to hear more recountings of her mom’s past (she already knew that truck had to have been there for most of it). She instead furrowed her brow and continued, “I wanted to ask if I could maybe fix it up. Get it back out on the road, y’know?”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea. Though..” Her mom tilted her head, a tad guilty, “I’m not sure about the thought of you driving it yet.”

“You don’t have to worry about it, Mom. It’s not like I have a license or anything.”

(Honestly, if she could build the whole thing back up, she couldn’t imagine it would be that hard to somehow finagle a way to drive it too.)

Roxanne caught her eye with a playful look, “And I would have assumed you would. The last time you were in the driver’s seat of my truck, you couldn’t get enough of joy-riding around.”

“Okay, one ,” Peppermint scoffed, “I was twelve. And two, you were in the car. I don’t think that counts.”

“Whatever you say, dear.”

They shared a small laugh. It was more comforting than Peppermint would have expected. It was different bantering between family compared to her friends. Not a bad kind of different, just… different . Peppermint almost forgot what that difference felt like. 

“Actually, while we're here, I've also kind of been wanting to ask—” She said, finding herself fidgeting with her fingers, “Have you looked much through any of the stuff Kale put in storage?”

At that, Roxanne visibly stiffened. Not to any noticeable degree, but her daughter could tell. She noticed. 

“Only a little bit.” Her mother admitted. “I've been so caught up in things, I haven't really had the opportunity.”

“Oh. That's okay.”

“Did you want something out of storage?”

“Chai’s just been trying to learn how to play the guitar, but the one he’s using is kind of…” She pauses to search for the right word, “There are just better ones to use for playing, y’know? And I remember seeing one around before. I was going to offer it to him, that’s all.”

Her mom was smirking at her when she looked up. It wasn’t malicious or anything, but Peppermint still suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. Roxanne chuckled, “You’re more than free to look around yourself. I’ll send you their location on campus— or I could ask one or two CAR-11Es to help!”

“I think I’m good looking by myself, Mom.”

“Alright then.” She sighed, looking like there was very much still something she wanted to say.

Peppermint side-eyed her, “What?”

“Nothing! I just think that’s sweet of you, dear.”

“It’s not like anyone’s using it,” she shrugged, sounding far more defensive than she meant to, “And we’re talking about not letting things just sit around and collect dust, so—”

“It’s fine, Peppermint. Sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep.”

“No, no,” she pinched the bridge of her nose, as if it would suppress the guilt that came with seeing her mom look so earnest and apologetic, “ I’m sorry. That was unnecessary. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

An uncomfortable quiet hung between them. They’d walked far enough to stop in front of a door. If there was ever an opportunity to jump ship and go their separate ways for now, this seemed to be the most convenient. But that seemed like the shitty thing to do. Peppermint knew she was better than that now.

“I love you, Mom,” she said, turning back.

“I love you too.”

“If you want, maybe if you’re ever free, we could fix up your truck..together?”

Roxanne returned the awkward smile that slid onto her daughter’s face. “I’d like that.” She brought her hand up to Peppermint’s face and brushed a lock of her long hair behind her ear. Then she pulled away and turned down the hall, “I’m afraid I have to be on my way again. I’ll send you the location of where most of the things in storage are.”

“Okay,” Peppermint nodded. A pause. Then— “Love you.”

She just had to say it again. Roxanne huffed out a near-silent laugh, full of her own, just as quiet, adoration.

“I love you too.” And off she walked.

Peppermint decided to be on her way too. Especially as, not even a moment after she looked away, she got a message on her phone with the location. She hummed, half to herself. She didn’t think it would take her very long to find what she was looking for.

When she got back to the hideout, Peppermint found Chai standing precariously on her rolling chair, sticking a Command Strip onto the wall beside the various monitors and TV in the loft area. 808 was nowhere to be found. Though, she was most likely just on her own adventure. Music blasted from her computer— light rock that was easy to hum to (which Chai was, by the way). Peppermint adjusted the strap over her shoulder and cocked a brow.

“What are you doing?”

Her friend startled, the force of how fast he moved to turn and look at her sending the chair sliding sideways. Chai spun for the brief couple of milliseconds he was in the air and fell flat on his face. Peppermint winced. He peeled himself up from the floor and grinned at her completely unabashed.

“I saw a few videos where this guy’s cats had, like, shelves and stuff to climb up on,” he explained, “And I was like ‘hey, why doesn’t 808 have some cat stuff like that,’ and…I don’t know, I just started doing that. Why doesn’t 808 have a cat tree or something, anyway?”

“I don’t know,” Peppermint shrugged with a lightly endeared smirk.  “It’s not like it ever really came up in the past.”

“Welp! Feng Shui’s up to me, right?” 

“As long as you don’t break anything.”

“Wait—” Chai shouted as he scrambled to his feet and dashed just short of his friend, “Is that what I think it is?”

That smile on Peppermint’s face grew a little wider, “I was waiting for you to notice.”

She finally pulled the electric guitar over her head. Its cream and crimson colors caught the light in such a way that made it look as warm and humble as it could be. It wasn’t without its scuffs, of course, but Peppermint had the suspicion that Chai wouldn’t care. In fact, when she looked up at him, she was practically blinded by the shine in his eyes. He looked so sparkly it was almost tangible.

“Yeah, I found that guitar I mentioned a while back,” She said after giving him some time to take in all the details. She offered it to him like she was presenting it, “It’s yours.”

Chai continued to stare, unmoving.

“...You gonna take it, or what?” She half-laughed. He seemed to get back to his senses at that. Finally, he reached out and took the guitar into his robotic hand. The dumbfounded expression on his face quickly melted away to a vastly more giddy grin; like a kid on Christmas morning.

“This is so sick,” He turned the guitar over in his hands.

Peppermint patted him on the shoulder, “Don’t say I never gave you anything—”

Just as she turned to walk over to her desk, Chai threw his arms around her in a hug. He just as quickly pulled away. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “Sorry, I just… I wasn’t actually expecting this.” She looked at him, a little confused. He realized those weren’t exactly the right words, “I mean! It’s really nice. I’ve…never really had an actual guitar before. It’s cool.”

“Well now you own one,” She tilted her head to him, “You even get to play it, if you want.”

After a moment of mental gears turning, Chai snickered at her playfully smarmy comment. He didn’t say anything in reply, though, instead turning away and bringing his new guitar over to his couch and leaning it gently back. Peppermint took that as her cue to go to her desk, to which she quickly realized—

“Are you done with my chair?”

“Oh, uh…”

“Do you even have those shelves you wanted to put up?” She asked, giving the whole hideout a once-over. 

“I thought I’d…get them delivered?”

She raised her eyebrows in complete deadpan.

Chai shrugged with a returning non-serious cattiness as the moment before passed, “Look, I just started doing stuff. I didn’t think that far ahead.”

“It’ll never stop surprising me how you improvise like that.”

“What can I say, that’s how I roll!”

“Whatever, dude. As long as you don’t forget about it, I don’t care. Do what you want.” She rolled her eyes, though that smirk never left her face.

“I think I will! I’m gonna see about tuning this baby,” he tossed the guitar up from the floor and into his arms, “See if there really is a difference in quality.”

All Peppermint did was scoff lightheartedly. She leaned on her desk, closing out the music tab on her computer, “Cool, you do that. I’m gonna head out again in a bit anyway.”

“What’s up? Is it just more work stuff?” Chai looked over at her as she moved to roll her chair back to where it technically belonged.

“No, actually. I’m gonna be over in the museum.” She said, then paused and considered. She decided to tack on, “I’m probably going to be there for the rest of the day, actually.”

“Can I ask why?”

“Eh, just had the idea for a new project. Remember my mom’s truck that the Vandelay exhibit had on display?”

He nodded, propping his guitar on his knee as he leaned a little forward.

Peppermint continued, “I just wanted to see if I could get it up and running again. Y’know.”

“Cool.” Chai said with an ambient kind of approval to his voice, “Would you want some company while you do that?”

“I thought you had shelves to get.”

“Okay, fine, I’ll just stay here then.”

“Like I said, Chai, do what you want.” She, again, rolled her eyes, “If you want to hang out while I do boring tech stuff, you’re more than welcome to.”

Her friend tilted his head with a weird kind of falter in his voice, “Your stuff isn’t boring, Pep. I think it’s really cool…even if I don’t get it in the slightest.”

She didn’t feel the need to reply. The pair lapsed into their own things to do. Chai didn’t waste long to start plunking away experimentally at his brand new instrument. Peppermint sat down and got to work of her own on her computer. She wouldn’t stay long, but that was okay. 

She had a truck to start fixing up.

Chapter Text

When Peppermint left for the museum, Chai waited. He waited for at least half an hour (that's how long it felt like it had been anyway). He spent that half hour getting used to his new guitar. He admired it in all its beauty, tested out the tuning (and swiped away the thin layer of dust that'd settled on the fretboard between or under each string), and plucked a loose attempt at a tune. As much as he wanted to admit the opposite, yeah, this one was way easier to play. No warbly strings or weird resonance. There wasn't any scrap metal that shifted around ever so slightly. It was way smoother than his garbage guitar. Chai couldn't bring himself to be too upset about how wrong he was.

He waited what felt like half an hour because Chai was going to do some sneaking around the museum, and something told him that it wasn't going to be the kind of thing he could explain away very easily. Especially not with Peppermint. What was he supposed to say?

'Hey, Peppy! I'm actually gonna go off on my own to go stare at a weird looking door that none of us have any clue about because it's giving me some major vibes with a capital V. No, I have no idea how to describe it other than that! Be back in a few!'

It just wasn't good enough. Nothing he could really come up with was. At least with 808 doing her own thing, Chai didn't have to worry about anyone watching over his shoulder, just waiting to tell him how stupid he was for worrying about a locked door. A prickle of guilt crawled down his throat at that thought. It sounded far more inconsiderate than he meant when he worded it like that. He quickly made it up to himself by swearing to give that kitty some extra loving that evening. At least with that (and the knowledge that no one else would know how often he wondered— and worried, to some extent— if he was being watched), the thought felt squared away. 

The decision to go through the back route of the museum was (mostly) an impulsive one. Peppermint mentioned the museum, Chai was reminded of those weird doors, and suddenly he had the very familiar itch that he could never quite scratch if he just lazed about. The logic made sense. It probably only made sense to him, but that was okay.

The lock on the door 808 hacked to let the team in hadn't been fixed. Considering it looked just like all the other locks in the place (as in it looked completely untampered with), Chai suspected it would fly under the radar. He filed that away in his brain for future reference as he strolled in. He just had to retrace his steps from the end of his initial excursion until he got to that door. It seemed simple enough. And at least with this route there wasn't as much of a chance that he was going to cross paths with anybody who mattered.

...Until he remembered how exactly he'd need to retrace his steps in reverse. In Chai's mind, the easiest way back was probably going to be the way he came the first time. That meant he'd have manageable access to all the back rooms and power supply areas.

Except, oh right , he destroyed the whole exhibit in the same fell swoop that got him back on ground level. The strict ‘back the way he came’ route was out of the question. Chai thought a little harder.

“Okay. If backflipping out of a vent isn't gonna work,” he muttered to himself, lolling on his feet, “then..I guess I could head through the main parts of the museum until I get to somewhere I know I can actually get to the back rooms … and not get lost.”

He paused. And then grumbled a little. If he remembered how destroyed the back half of the Vandelay exhibit was, he would just have to come through the way he did the first time. Or grabbed a map of the place. Probably both. He puffed out a sigh at his own lack of foresight (impulse decisions did that), “Welp. It's as good a plan as any.”

As he walked through the museum, Chai took note of the things he didn't quite get to see on his first go-around. The whole place was so much more expansive than he thought. It made sense why it needed so much power, he supposed. Still, Chai opted to avoid the rooms that would automatically lock him in and bombard him with gratuitous educational content. He found himself…oddly taken by the different displays.

He never saw the appeal of galleries or museums in the past. They were usually too expensive in the first place (though there was that one time in high-school where he got some free passes for the summer). But when he did get the opportunity, it was boring as hell! It was all standing around, reading, and staring at things he didn’t really get. It was nothing like Ferris Bueller ( he should absolutely watch that movie again later ). Forcing himself to read anything normally was borderline painful, and when he had no idea why he had to be interested, it only made that harder. 

But Vandelay somehow made it easy for him to be interested. It might’ve been because he actually fought for it. He learned so much more about this random company than he ever expected to. Huh. Maybe if he beat people up for the arts, he’d enjoy them more.

All this to say that Chai studied many more of the robot displays than he did on his first time through the museum. He read the little tidbits and facts about the design process, the history, and whatever else. It was nice; probably still fast-paced compared to how normal people went about perusing, but it was slow by Chai standards. And by the time he got to the familiar passageway backstage, he was satisfied enough to not stick around any longer. He had a personal mission to get back to. 

The door was the same as the first time Chai spotted it. The lights were still red, the vibes were still weird, and it was still locked up tight. Chai didn’t really know what he was expecting. He fiddled with the end of his scarf as he stared at it regardless. Something about it still gave him chills. What was its deal?

“Hm. That’s weird. It’s not on any map… But it doesn’t seem like it’s important right now. We can come back to it later.”

“Interesting. That’s not any of our standard models… I’ll look into it, but whatever it is, we aren’t getting in there now.”

“If this is another mysterious door, please stop. I have come to the conclusion that they are waiting for a convenient time to unlock.”

“I remember asking Kale about those when I joined the company. Never got a straight answer, though. But we should focus on the mission. Never mind those for now.”

Chai contemplated what his friends said throughout their adventure. Admittedly, he thought about circling back to them quite often. But there was too much going on that it never seemed like a good time to gather the whole team to do it. If the doors were going to stay locked, then what was the point anyway? Chai was content to not seem like a paranoid maniac, so he decided to not mention them again after everyone proved to not know anything about them. That didn’t stop him from feeling wildly uneasy around them. 

He was halfway tempted to seek out Roxanne. She probably didn’t know what the doors were for or what was behind them (the design just screamed Kale), but maybe she’d be just as curious as he was. Or maybe she’d have access to files no one else did. 

He just wanted to know.

Chai slowly stepped toward the door. He looked over his shoulder, dropped his scarf, and pressed himself to the surface. With his ear against the cool, untouched metal, Chai listened. Silence. Again, he wasn’t really sure what he was expecting. But if he couldn’t get in , he figured this was the best alternative. He just hoped flattening himself against the wall wasn’t as obvious as he imagined. Not that he imagined anyone would come looking. 

He felt his core buzz like static electricity, the faint, driving pulse of music worming its way out of his music player. It didn’t help Chai’s attempts at listening, but it was still sort of comforting in its own way. Like he was on the cusp of that manic kind of zen state he only got whenever he was in a fight, or when he had a time limit on the parkour he did. When he just had to feel the beat and move without needing to think. Chai felt himself holding onto that beat to keep himself emotionally in check more than he’d ever admit. Everyone else on the team had their own issues, he wasn’t about to pile on anymore problems for them to deal with. Not when he had a half-decent thing to latch onto. Not when he was really good at seeming fine— because, honestly, he was! Chai was definitely, absolutely fine.  

(The irony of him telling himself this as he pushed himself against a door he was incredibly nervous and suspicious of was not lost on him.)

It was a few more moments of almost-silence until it happened.

Chai heard something .

The sound was so quiet. It was the kind of noise you’re not really sure happened or if you just imagined it. Through the thick metal of the door, Chai swore he heard a distant whirring. He almost leapt away. Then, closer, he heard a clickclickclickclick- ing. Silence followed, and silence stayed. Chai felt his heart race. Whatever he did or did not hear couldn’t have lasted for longer than three seconds, but it reverberated in Chai’s brain like a marble bouncing around in a metal box. Chai was more still than he’d ever been in the past several months. But nothing more happened. 

When Chai finally pulled away, his robotic wrist flicked involuntarily. Once, twice, he forced his hand to still before the third. He noticed how quick he was to get his guitar in hand when he was so tense. On one hand, it had proved to be a good reflex to have. But now that everything was supposed to be getting back to normal (as in his life wasn’t on the line 24/7), Chai had grown more reluctant. He’d already almost bashed one of his friends over the head. He didn’t need any more risk of that happening— he needed to get a hold of himself already.

“Just a noise.” He whispered to himself, as if willing hard enough would force his nerves to even out. It didn’t. Chills slithered down his spine as imaginings of a thousand sinister things happening behind that door ran rampant in Chai’s head. Anxiety turned into frustration as his lack of actually being able to do anything sprung to mind again. He held up his robotic hand again and thought. “Maybe…”

This time, he let his trash stick fly into his hand. He jammed it into the seam of the door, apparent lock on it be damned. Maybe he could lever it open if he tried hard enough. Putting all his weight into the balls of his feet, he pulled. The door didn’t budge. Chai tried again from a different angle but to no avail. 

“Come on , you stupid door!” He groaned, “What are you even waiting for? What could possibly be stopping you from opening??”

He finally decided to relent. Chai pulled his stick from the door with a grumble. He breathed deeply— let the air cycle in and out as he tried to calm himself down again. 

He should tell someone about those noises, right? Who should he even tell? What would he say? Korsica seemed like the obvious choice, and she’d probably believe him. Peppermint should also probably know about some weird noise coming from a door that looked designed by her brother. But, again, what would he say? Chai held his ear against the door again and waited.

Nothing. 

That wasn’t exactly uplifting. But also, Chai thought, maybe that meant that there wasn’t anything going on at all. Maybe everything was fine. Maybe Chai was just overreacting. Even if he felt very equipped to handle whatever would have happened, maybe he shouldn’t actually wish that the door would open. It’s not like it was doing anything. He squinted at it one more time, absolutely drilling the evil eye into it, before finally turning away. He needed to think about something else for a while.

It was fine. Those doors weren’t hurting anybody by just existing. They’d open whenever the time came, and Chai would be the first person to see what was inside. He was very fine and normal and definitely not paranoid.

Chapter Text

There comes a point, when you're high enough above everything, that the world below seems peaceful. It’s easy to tune out every problem that there could be down below. Maybe that was why Roxanne initially wanted her office on one of the top floors of Vandelay Tower. Even looking through the now-shattered windows, feeling the breeze that meandered past, she still felt that sense of serenity that came with the view.

The thing was.. Roxanne couldn't entirely appreciate her own office anymore. The windows were smashed, as previously stated, and the furniture was moved slightly, but the issue was much deeper than that. There was an emptiness in that office. The same kind of haunting emptiness that she noticed when she was in Roquefort's. It was as if she'd entered a mausoleum— dressed up and kept clean to maintain its imposing and prestigious reputation, but dead all the same. It was the kind of absence in the room that took up space. How oxymoronic in nature, she thought.

That was on the one hand. On the other, Roxanne was just plain creeped out by the place. That didn't sound nearly as formal as her thoughts usually put things, but she'd been taking new personal changes lately. There was just something about that office— her office— that made her feel vaguely nauseous. It felt as though bugs were crawling up and down her arms. Her hands trembled ever so slightly. She had strong suspicions as to why, but never a concrete theory. As with everything else, apparently.

But it was strange. Despite feeling borderline ill when she was in that room, she couldn’t stay away. 

It wasn't like she didn't have an office to be in temporarily as Vandelay put itself back together. It seemed as though every company head did in some way or another. And yet something kept her from it that day (and most others). To say it was something she couldn't explain would be redundant, but it was completely true. Lately it was like Roxanne was functioning off something that was barely short of instinct. Odd pulls in different directions, lists of priorities that shuffled into a new order each day, plans of attack that Roxanne could only keep consistent if she wrote them down. She was flighty, an attribute obscured by the thin veil of visible level-headedness that she had mastered over the years of leading such a large company. That didn't stop her from being frustrated at herself, even if no one else could know.

As it was, she sat hunched beneath the desk in that office that unsettled her. It definitely wasn't going to do her back any favors. She typed away on a laptop and tried to keep her mind clear. Work wasn’t letting up, of course, and Roxanne was starting to feel the extra burdens of Finance’s workload. Not that she minded much. She was busy regardless. If anything, the more clerical work that division of the company required was a reprieve from the fast paced, communication-heavy, and generally exhausting work that running the company required. 

Could she spend more energy writing emails that would probably do the job just as well as visiting each department in person? Yes. Would it probably be more efficient that way? Also yes. But Roxanne had noticed an already intense precedent focused on automation, efficiency, etcetera. In her absence, there emerged an expectation of doing things as quickly as possible with as few resources as possible and to still release well-made products. She figured the separation between the people who ran the company and those who did the work only exacerbated all the issues she’d yet to address directly, that kind of rhetoric included. So it was worth it, in her opinion, to fill her day with face-to-face interactions with her employees. Re-teaching herself the layout of the island, seeing what all has changed, and introducing herself to those who didn’t know her yet were all bonuses that went alongside that. 

Roxanne shifted beneath the desk, pressing her back further into the wood. Perhaps she should have been more alarmed by the fact she found so much comfort in such a small space. The pressure on her shoulderblades was enough to quell those worries— equally dispelling the ways her thoughts wandered and holding her firmly in the present. Her hands danced about the keyboard with practiced ease. Though, she absentmindedly wished for a tune in the background (did she used to have a record player in here, or was she remembering that wrong?) . 

There were a good number of…odd discrepancies in Vandelay’s recent financial records. Unbalanced budgets, nonsensical spending, skyrocketing profits with the price of suffering in other respects. The giant statue (only a pair of legs now, really) in the atrium alone cost a small fortune. Roxanne understood the need for an atmosphere, but there had to be a hard line between what could legitimately be considered ‘worth it’ and what was spending money for the sake of it. 

More than that, it unsettled her to notice how much of the company's profits were suddenly directed away from the various humanitarian efforts she'd established when Vandelay made it big. She had seen the exact date each choice was made. She had to stop and pause before she spiraled about how the money that was supposed to help the world was instead going back into the pockets of people who had their own selfish interests at heart. How were any of these purchases approved? Why were they even seriously considered? What was the point in hoarding money that could be used to further the company's central mission statement?

Roxanne almost felt a pulse of betrayal settle in the back of her ribcage. She wondered who in the company supported the decisions that were made. She wondered who, out of all the company heads she'd worked with for so many years, would choose to go against what they worked so hard to do. She wondered who was left to stand against each proposal before they were, ultimately and entirely, replaced. (She could barely recall their names— their faces!)

She realized the nonsensical nature of going down mental tangents. All her questions seemed like they were already answered. Anything beyond that didn't matter. It couldn't matter. What was needed of her now weighed too heavy on her.

Briefly, she held her breath and pulled her glasses away from her face. She rubbed at her eyes with her other hand and contemplated for a moment more. She needed to get her prescription checked. Then, she pushed out a sigh and slid the glasses back onto her face, all as the spreadsheet in her lap stared back at her. As did the notes she was taking for herself in a separate window. 

She continued to work, only pausing briefly when her fingers missed one too many keys and required that she go back and fix what she’d just written. She was careful to manage her frustration. At least in this respect she deserved to take it easy on herself, she thought. That didn’t stop the idea from occurring to her to simply use that mental connection her implant utilized and write everything with her mind alone. The idea was quickly shirked; Roxanne thought herself perfectly capable to do the things she’d been doing for years. If she were more stubborn (and disregarded all courtesy to her employees), she'd write it all by hand with a pen and paper.

She heard the door to the office open as the elevator pinged. As little as she really wanted to, Roxanne moved to meet whoever it was— misjudging the distance between herself and the desk and jamming her head into it in the process. After a quick recovery, she lifted herself to see Korsica.

Truthfully, she felt a little guilty about how little she knew about her head of Security. They hadn’t had the chance to be in the same room much. Disregarding everything on the business front, the most Roxanne had heard about Korsica on a halfway personal level was from Peppermint. Her daughter spoke about her fondly, and Roxanne knew just how skilled she was at her job. It was the lack of personal interaction between them that made her confidence falter.

“Korsica!” She greeted, “Can I help you?”

The redhead paused, as if she wasn’t actually expecting to find her boss there, “Uh..yes…I was looking for you— why were you just under that desk?”

“....It helps me think.”  

(That felt like a suitable enough half-truth).

“Right,” Korsica looked down, suddenly avoiding eye-contact. After a pause— “I wanted to apologize.”

“For what?”

“I got an alert for one of the security drones in R&D. I checked the security footage and saw you , and suddenly realized that I completely neglected to give you any kind of authorization or anything. I should have done that the first moment I could, I—”

“Korsica.” She said, quickly gaining her attention, “Please, don’t feel guilty about it. You saw the security footage, right?”

She nodded.

“Then you saw that everything turned out alright.” The head of Security still avoided her gaze. Roxanne furrowed her brow as she took notice of that. She sucked in a breath, making her own considerations, “Besides. I was completely nonexistent to you when you were hired, and by the time I was you had already been through so much. Did you fix that issue now?”

“I did.”

“Well, then there isn’t anything more to worry about!”

Something about how Korsica looked at her was glaringly similar to how so many robots did. The same way that made Roxanne feel unimaginably guilty about something she knew wasn’t her fault. 

“If you’re sure, Ms. Vandelay—”

“Oh, but that is one thing. Please, you can just call me Roxanne.” She chuckled, “‘Ms. Vandelay’ makes me feel old.”

Korsica stiffened, “Sorry! I.. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“It’s fine.” Roxanne’s smile fell, “I wasn’t being very serious about that last part.”

“Oh.” She looked down again, sheepishly scratching the back of her neck. The older of them just felt like she’d made the whole interaction awkward.

“Look, I know what you probably think of me, but I’m not going to ask you to put me on a pedestal.” At the lack of change in Korsica’s demeanor, she continued, “You’re as much my colleague as anyone here, Korsica. I don’t want you to feel like everything has to be all formal or anything. I’m not going to bite when you’re only human.”

That apparently did the trick. Korsica visibly relaxed, her shoulders slumping as if she were breathing normally again. She sighed, “I’m..glad to hear that. I’ve been idolizing Vandelay for the better half of my life— I’m sure you can…. tell . When I was working under Kale, everything felt like it had to be perfect. I mean, what else could an opportunity like this be? And it’s not like he discouraged it or anything. Actually, he probably just amplified that feeling.”

Roxanne tilted her head thoughtfully. She kept her face as indecipherable as possible. 

“What I’m trying to say is that I’m sorry for being so..awkward? And thank you.” Korsica took in a deep breath, “You’re a good change of pace from before.”

“I’m relieved you feel that way.” And she meant it.

The pair exchanged one or two further pleasantries before they had to get back to their jobs. The air felt so much freer than it did before. Korsica smiled at Roxanne as she turned to leave— the genuine kind of grin that wasn’t encumbered by the need to appease anyone.

“I’m off then,” She said, then pointed just before she stepped back into the elevator, “Oh! Also— just be careful around that window. I know you probably don’t need me to tell you that, but we ran out of caution tape.”

Roxanne snickered in reply, “Thank you, Korsica. I’ll stay aware of myself. I’ll be seeing you.”

“Likewise! Have a good day, Roxanne.” And she was alone again.

Nothing but the sound of the world outside, carried on the wind, stayed. The sound of distant seagulls echoed faintly from the direction of the beach. Roxanne found herself regretting how reluctant she felt toward having any kind of interaction. It was something she’d have to figure out. Another thing to add to the ever growing list of ‘things to figure out’ . She fended off the impending exasperation at the notion. This was what she lived for— fixing things. It was her life’s work to put the world back together. This was the same.

If only she could fix herself faster. There were more important things to focus on.

She turned back to the massive, broken window behind the office’s desk. The empty nature of the whole room was getting to her. She approached those windows and leaned against the metal that remained. A distance enough away to not have to worry about falling, but close enough to the edge to feel the outside air. Her fingers brushed over the shards of glass still stuck in the frame. Thankfully, she didn't accidentally break skin. 

She looked to the island below her. The island that functioned without her for years. The island that was automatic, now reduced to a stuttering machine. Being 776 floors above it all, Roxanne felt a forlorn form of kenopsia wash over her. Everything was so quiet— so peaceful. She could barely take responsibility for it (not that she was rushing to do that, of course, but she’d already seen several media outlets picking up on and speculating about Vandelay’s radio silence. Something would have to be done sooner or later). 

She steered her train of thought back to Korsica, and further, the next generation. She already put so much trust in the people she’d met that had been hired in her absence. She noticed how Macaron had grown into a more proactive leader, she’d seen her daughter soar like a bird in a tailwind, and she had already known the pair of them were capable of such great things. She couldn’t help but be pleasantly surprised anyway. 

Roxanne could see Chai’s ambition, his unending energy. She could see the effect he had on those around him, charging them all like a battery. CNMN was pragmatic, yet empathetic. He grounded the people who listened and balanced himself with unmatched whimsy that kept their attention. And Korsica, steadfast and earnest, brought balance to the things she was a part of. Her tenacity was neverending, but her kindness was as well.

Every single one of them still had an unending well of potential. Roxanne had nothing but faith in them to do what they set out to. Her heart soared to imagine all the things to come, just as her stomach flipped as the sheer height she was at occurred to her again.

In spite of every complicated thing she faced now, Roxanne had hope in what the future held. Good things were coming. She just had to believe that. 

She just had to hold on to it.

Chapter Text

Chai had been hesitant about getting too comfortable. Not that he didn’t believe he deserved it— he was very receptive to some RnR. Despite all the funky quirks that kept him from actually enjoying it ( if he was seriously going to call them that. Which he was ), he wasn’t the self-appointed master of relaxation for nothing! Time passed by, Chai integrated himself into a new routine, and he found himself getting comfortable . Damnit, he’d even go so far as to say that life was good!

Peppermint spent plenty of time under her mom’s truck, and he perched on top. Sometimes they talked. Most of the time they did their own things. Chai would ask about different kinds of wrenches, and he’d try to take mental notes about each one’s name and uses. He learned enough to be able to have his friend’s toolbox beside him. All she had to do was stick out her hand, ask for the tool she needed, and he’d hand it to her with an incredibly smug grin. Roxanne would also pop in fairly frequently to help out. As much as he knew he was welcome, it felt wrong to intrude on their time together. He’d take his leave and do something else for a few hours.

It was a good day when they finished working on that truck. Chai didn't even know about it at first. He sat on the roof of a building in Production, feeling out some chords (he was getting pretty decent at hearing the chords themselves too). He'd been at it for what had to have been at least an hour. Nothing but him and the world. Being so above everything, that was all it could be. 808 trotted up to him just as he found a rhythm. She was already purring. She smashed her face under his strumming arm, though it didn't throw him off. Then her whiskers suddenly twitched as she pulled away. Suddenly her whole demeanor changed, just as Chai had seen many times before. A cool look slid onto her face as she sat back on her haunches.

“Hey, Chai!” Peppermint said through the cat, “You're never gonna guess what I finished today.”

“Gee, I wonder.” He smirked without turning.

“The whole gang's helping me test it out.” Peppermint(?? 808?? Pep-08??) gestured over to the distance. They both knew that ‘testing it out’ really meant ‘using the truck as an excuse to hang out again.’

“Without me?” Chai gasped dramatically.

“Well, if you don't get over here, you’re gonna have to catch up.”

“Fine, fine. 2 minutes, tops.”

And just like that, 808 snapped back to herself. Chai hoisted himself to his feet and turned as his cat beside him morphed into her ball form. The two took off, leaping from building to building like they were one with the wind. The whole gang was there, just like Peppermint said. They all drove out to one of the cliffsides just as the sun began to set. 

The whole scene was picturesque. The sunset painted the sky in hues of orange, red and purple— the clouds stained golden by the light of the sun that still managed to reach over the horizon. Just as well did the ocean sparkle and a flock of birds flew overhead. It was the kind of thing you’d see in a thousand different advertisements, then never actually experience. But Chai was experiencing it. Maybe that’s what made his heart feel so full, or maybe it was the people he was surrounded by, or maybe it was the fact that it finally started to feel like things were paying off. 

It wasn’t long after that things kept getting better. CNMN got a new pair of legs, Chai got invited to do some press things for Project Armstrong, and he also finished putting those shelves up for 808 in the hideout. All that combined with simply being able to hang out was more of a comfort than Chai would ever say. Everyone else seemed like they were finally beginning to relax as well. That was almost just as assuring to him. On that front, he remembered a conversation he had with Korsica—

“Even with this all over,” he said, “you still seem on edge.”

“Can't really…change my personality. I try to think of all risks.” She admitted with a half-hearted shrug.

“But I will say! I think you've mellowed out a bit since we first met.”

“Now that, I would agree with. I know I can be a bit— detail-oriented, but hanging just feels…nice.” Korsica admitted. Her expression then shifted to something slightly more reflective, “Plus everyone's so…different! You really bring in a nice perspective.”

Chai was tempted to remind Korsica about how much of a genius he was (with the ‘lack of box in favor of unquantifiable-spherical-object’ metaphor and all). He just scoffed out a small, humble laugh, “Yeah, I wasn’t used to ‘group work’ either, but it's kinda fun!”

“Well, even when it's not fun, at least I can say it's exciting!”

And that seemed like the best way to put it, for both of them.

Of course, things weren't always all sunshine and rainbows. Chai found that sound sleep still evaded him. Thankfully, he could survive just fine on naps, the few hours he could get at night, and energy drinks that supplemented the rest of the energy he needed. He was pretty sure his blood was at least a third soda by now. He still wasn’t the chillest being on his own either. But hey! That just meant spending more time with people he liked being around. They all seemed pretty alright with him lurking too. He counted it as a win (heck yeah, coping!). Things were looking up, but Chai never stopped waiting for the other shoe to drop. It was an instinct. It was probably also one of the things that kept him awake at night. 

“This is impossible! ” 

And there it was. The other shoe dropped. Chai, surrounded by his friends, stared at a radar looking window on Peppermint’s monitor. He’d off-handedly seen it around the hideout whenever he had to take a quick step back between missions. What he hadn’t seen were the sheer amount of red dots littered around the bright blue screen.

Peppermint turned over her shoulder, the look on her face equally confused and concerned, and continued, “It’s SPECTRA signals! They’re appearing all over the Vandelay Campus!”

“But I thought we shut it down.” Korsica stepped forward. Chai felt like his ears were ringing— alongside an extra something he couldn’t yet place that settled in the pit in his stomach. 

“Could be…some sort of backup plan?”

“It’s Kale.” Macaron said, “Wouldn’t put anything past that bugger.”

“If only we had someone up to the task of checking those hotspots out!” CNMN added.

Dead air lingered as Chai remained completely zoned out. His brain felt like it was firing on all cylinders, he was barely comprehending the conversation happening around him. He knew exactly where each of those dots were. He knew exactly what each one meant. And it finally dawned on him.

That extra feeling was excitement . Searing, giddy excitement. Chai was completely thrilled, and just as quickly as he realized that he felt a little nauseous. He forced himself away from the thought as he felt everyone turn to look at him. He picked up right where CNMN left off— trying to cover up the uncomfortable pause that preceded his reply.

“Who do you mean?” He asked haplessly. 

“You, Mister Chai. I was implying you.”

Under any other circumstances, Chai would have probably laughed. Peppermint looked at him more intently. “You up for another round? See what’s going on here?”

Yes. Yes, Chai was very up for another round. He’d been dying to see what was inside those doors. He’d been waiting for this without even realizing it.

He recognized that he definitely should not come off as though he were bouncing off the walls, waiting for this kind of thing to happen. Because SPECTRA was bad! It was horrible! He hated every time he thought about it, or what it felt like to be under its influence. He never wanted to have to worry about that lack of control ever again. But it was almost as though he couldn’t help himself. Despite all the bad things about it, Chai also thought about how much fun it was to fight back against Kale. It felt so good to fly down magnetic rails or zip through battle after battle with robots who were out to kill him. Death breathing down his neck was the adrenaline kick he never knew he needed until he had to live without it.

Chai suppressed the itch in his heels to start bouncing on his toes. He kept himself firmly grounded, and only allowed himself to scratch the back of his head. “Doesn’t look like I have much of a choice.”

Another pause, but this time it wasn’t as unintentional. It felt as though there was something else to talk about. 

“Do you think…” Macaron ventured, turning his gaze down to Peppermint tentatively, “we should tell your mother?”

Chai almost forgot he and Roxanne were in such similar positions at one point.

“No!” Peppermint surged to her feet. The sudden move forced everyone away in an instant. The careful (albeit incredibly thin) facade of being fine shattered. When Peppermint realized that, she blinked, and her gaze shrunk, “I— I mean…

“We can take care of it.” she decided, her voice shaky, “If we just deal with it , then she won’t have to. She shouldn’t have to.”

808 leapt onto the desk. She reached a paw toward her creator carefully. 

“She shouldn’t have to deal with anything else Kale’s done.” Peppermint added. Her fists clenched tightly at her sides, as if that’d kill the uncertainty of it all. “...Even if we don’t even know what it is yet.”

Chai was pretty sure they could all feel the same stab to the heart that came when Peppermint told them all the truth. Roxanne meant something to everybody there, but they all knew however much they cared paled in comparison to her daughter. Peppermint never said exactly why she chose to come back to Vandelay Island. She almost didn’t have to. 

Her choice— her command— still held the room like it had sucked out all the air. Korsica and Macaron shared an uneasy look. CNMN remained expressionless. Peppermint refused to back down, go back on what she decided. Chai and 808 looked at each other with a strange, mutual understanding they could only have amongst themselves (host synchronization…thing…and all). 

“Whatever it is,” Chai took a careful step forward. He set his hand on his best friend’s shoulder, “We’ll figure it out. Not like we haven’t gotten through it before, right?” 

He turned back to their friends. Whatever reservations they had, they chose to put them aside. 

Korsica nodded, “Let’s take care of whatever else Kale set up.”

“It shall be a nostalgic bout of danger for us all!” CNMN agreed, pointing with one hand and drawing a peppy smile with the other. Macaron, still visibly a little reluctant, nodded in agreement as well; nothing more to add to the sentiment they all seemed to share.

“We can do this.” Chai affirmed, self-assured smile gracing his features. He felt his own anticipation shiver up his spine. He pulled away and directed himself toward the door (he kept his pace even, just in case). As the door shut behind him, 808 at his heels, Chai flew down the hall. He practically bounded over to Production. It was as if he were moving out of instinct (he did try investigating those doors often enough that it could be). His blood felt as though it was lit ablaze. 

This was what he had been waiting for, even if only subconsciously. He just had to take the opportunity that was handed to him and take off.

Chapter Text

Synchrony was a two-way street. As in, when Chai fatefully set his hand on 808 and connected with her, he wasn't the only one to get something out of it. Maybe that was a given, considering the metronome function 808 suddenly gained as she spun into ball form for the first time. But it was different than that.

“Wait… do you feel that? That.. beat? ” He asked. 

And she did. She felt it deep in a heart she didn’t have in any literal capacity. Peppermint's expression of confusion masked that understanding, but 808 knew exactly what he was talking about.

But inadvertently imprinting on each other came with unintended consequences. Peppermint likely had no clue about them (808 was pretty confident that Chai was okay with that). Their connection was just that— a connection. 808 could feel things from Chai. Occasionally, it would be a mild, blurry dose of what he was seeing, or a flash of some kind of sensory input (that's partly how she tracked him down when he got captured by Korsica. It came in handy, considering there isn't much to see in the vents). But most of the time , they bounced feelings and energy off of each other.

When Chai was excited, 808 was too. When he was pissed off, she was as well. They reacted in the same time signature. They knew each other better than anyone else ever could (which…sounds a little strange when considering they're a random guy and a robot spy cat).

There were some times where 808 wasn't sure where she ended and where Chai began. The line between them blurred at a point— the tiniest grey area in the midst of their connection. 808 recalled one of those times being as they… as Chai destroyed the harmonic force field.

As he focused, he remembered. 808 remembered too. 

‘You may not be slick, but you get it done.’

They might not see it.

‘I like this new Chai! He's quite come around, hasn't he?’

They were in this together.

‘I, for one, Mr. Chai, like your pants!’

…….good enough!

‘Chai… I do trust you. You know that, right?’

And they knew it now.

In that single microinstant, it was as if Chai and 808 were one. They were in perfect sync for a fraction of a second. When the barrier shattered, the feeling fizzled away, but never completely.

Then, when Chai was zapped by Kale, knocked away and taken under his control, 808 felt like she'd gone rabid. The connection was never once shattered— though, perhaps torn enough to spur the cat to act. There was an emptiness in her circuitry, an absence that she couldn't let herself live with, and she wouldn't let Chai be a victim to it either.

There were things she knew she couldn't understand about what her rockstar had gone through. She doubted anyone could (but was that her assumption, or Chai's?) . That didn’t stop her from wanting to help regardless. 

As Chai took the lead out of the hideout, 808 felt a rush of nostalgia in her paws. She morphed into ball form and whizzed beside his head. They carried themselves to Production without much care for anything in their way. They climbed up to the rooftops and leapt between them. 808 ignored the small pit that formed in a stomach she didn't have as they passed over one of Chai's first shortcuts (the reminder that they could be squashed so easily into a mess of red wasn’t exactly a welcome one). Finally, they landed on the uppermost set of rooftops and paused.

808 hopped to the ground and padded a distance ahead as Chai looked about. She felt Peppermint swiftly take over— like a light tugging on a leash inviting her to step aside of her own presence and let someone else drive for a while. 808 granted her creator permission without a second thought.

“Okay..it looks like there's a signal below you.” Peppermint said. 

“What? But we just came from ‘below me!’” Chai protested.

Macaron switched in and looked around, then pointed with a paw, “Over there— it looks like there’s a balcony area behind that glass. Just on the other building.”

“Oh— yup, I see it.”

808 regained control of herself and followed quickly behind Chai’s footfalls. She returned to ball form as they both fell down to the small ramada area in question. Sure enough, as they rounded the corner, the door came into view.

Chai and 808 exchanged a matching weary expression. The latter felt something stir in her core. The lights on the door were no longer red. Instead, it traded the harsh crimson in favor of a luminous green. Again, the pair glanced at each other. Chai shrugged. He took a single step toward it and suddenly the door hissed and whirred. Locking mechanisms jutted out from the diamond in the center, and with an ominous whoosh , the pair of doors (apparently, it was a set) opened inward.

“Woah, check it out!” Chai murmured in astonishment, “The door just opened. ”

“Almost like it was expecting us..” Korsica said cautiously.

“Be ready, Chai.” Peppermint added, “We really don’t know what to expect.”

He shrugged again, whipping out his guitar and tossing it onto his shoulder with all the nonchalance that could be expected of him, “Wish me luck!”

Without any more prelude, they entered the shadowy room.

Uneasy didn’t even begin to describe how 808 felt. Despite the entrance, the whole room they walked into was well-lit in fluorescent whites and blues. A ramp before them led up to a tiled platform. Below the platform seemed like a black, bottomless abyss— like a moat anyone could easily slip and fall into if they weren’t careful. The walls were adorned with screens that mimicked musical equalizers, lined with scrolling text. The largest screen was directly in front of them. 808 eyed it as text appeared to type itself out before them, while Chai noticed the panel in the center of the room that gave off a glow of golden light.

Scanning…

Generating…

“Let’s see what this is all about,” Chai said as he paid another look to the cat. As he set a foot on the glowing tile, it sank under his weight and more suspicious mechanical noises ensued. 808’s ear flicked; it almost sounded like something decompressing, moving, then settling back into place. The text on the large screen changed. 

Don’t touch the floor!

As long as your feet touch the ground, the counter will run down. Take out all the enemies before the time hits 0!

Would you like to take on this challenge?

“A challenge?” Peppermint read, quietly.

Chai said, finally sounding appropriately apprehensive, “What happens if the time runs out?”

“The given parameters are so vague, it is impossible to tell!” CNMN chimed in.

“I…guess we’ll just have to do it and see?” 808 looked at him, as herself this time, with an unconvinced expression. Chai waved his arms at her, “Don’t look at me like that, it’s not like we have any other alternatives. Unless— Peppermint, can you hack into anything in this room?”

“Nope. Sorry, Chai.” She sounded focused anyway, “We still can’t really see this room outside of 808. It’s like it doesn’t exist.”

“Which makes sense, considering it feels like these doors weren’t supposed to be found by just anyone,” said Korsica.

“It must mean the code for these doors and what’s behind them is being kept somewhere else.” Macaron mused. 808 felt something spark in both her and her rockstar. The same something from before, actually, but stronger this time. The latter of them shrugged after a moment.

“Looks like we’re doing this!” 

Vocal Affirmative Recognized.

808 felt a beat kick up alongside the music that spurred out from Chai’s core. A group of AIR-1Ns suddenly appeared from the darkness below, and Chai spun his guitar with a practiced ease. Behind their targets was a timer displaying a bold yellow ‘00:03.52.’ After a quick countdown, the battle began.

“3 seconds?! Seriously??” Chai yelped. He magnet-ed toward the closest flying bot there was, forcing its bomb out of hand, and he held on for dear life. Thankfully, the timer only lost about 30 milliseconds. He held on in spite of how the AIR-1N tried to throw him off. It took some effort, but Chai struggled up onto the closest thing the robot had to shoulders. He wobbled before finding decent enough footing, “Okay…just like a game of chicken.”

Again, the AIR-1N tried to throw him off. Chai passed his guitar into his unoccupied hand and knocked his metal fist against the robot— “Hey, calm down! I’ll get to you in a minute! Just work with me here!”

The AIR-1N decided not to work with him. With the erratic nature that they were flying about, 808 was surprised they were still able to fly toward the rest of their enemies. All of which tried to maneuver out of the way. Chai kept his cool with a slow breath out, sly grin spreading onto his face as he worked out a plan in his head. He soared toward the line of AIR-1Ns in front of him; and he had the luck of the draw on speed. The flat side of his junkheap guitar bashed into the faces of each one in line. Chai spun again, this time upside down. He took the opportunity to flip off the robot he was using, magnet back up, and slam it down into the ground below. The force of which caused it to explode on impact. 

Chai’s feet touched the ground. The timer ticked down to ‘00:01.99’ when Chai leapt back up into the air. This time, he flew back and forth between the enemies that were left, knocking each and every one of them down to meet the same fate as the first.

As he landed again, he was surrounded by the explosions of his opponents. It was probably one of the cooler conclusions to a fight Chai had ever had. He glanced over his shoulder just to make sure that the challenge was complete. Although, he probably didn’t need to, considering the music died down to a slower tempo.

“Yes! First try, baby!” He cheered, pumping his first into the air in victory, “Looks like we don’t need to worry about what happens when that timer hits 0!” 

“Chai, whatever you just did there,” Peppermint said as 808 whirled down and around his shoulders, “I’m seeing the SPECTRA signal becoming unscrambled.”

“What’s it say?” Chai breathed, combing a hand through his hair.

“We were right about a backup protocol, but…I can’t see how this works out.”

“This room’s data is only part of a string…” Korsica noted.

“Someone translate?”

CNMN decided to take the initiative, “Mister Chai, they seem to be implying you need to find all the hotspots before we have an answer.”

“Fantastic.” he said, sounding disinterested. Though, based on the performance he gave not even a minute ago, 808 let herself be skeptical of his attitude.

“Come on!” Macaron offered, “I thought you’d be up for a challenge!”

808 fell and perched on her rockstar’s shoulder as he started to make his way out. He thought for a moment. Then he let himself smirk. “I guess it is a little fun.”

They repeated a similar song and dance at another door, this time on the path toward the (still vacant) Head of Production’s office. Chai completed it with the same kind of ease he did with the first door. He felt light— practically untouchable— and in turn, 808 did too. By the time the pair returned home, the purples and golds of twilight lit the way before they made their way underground. Compared to the mid-afternoon sun they'd left with, the atmosphere was palpable as they made their way back. They slowly felt adrenaline die and exhaustion creep in to replace it. 808 stayed on Chai’s shoulder during the trek back to the hideout, eyes closed and leaning her head into the fabric of his scarf. The thought of a snooze on the couch hadn’t felt more inviting.  

Chai pushed the door open and immediately continued toward the beat up sofa. His friends moved from Peppermint’s computer setup to gather around him as he flopped onto his face.

“Well done, Mister Chai!” CNMN chirped. Chai muffled out an acknowledgement with a thumbs up. 808’s paws kneaded the fabric of his jacket between his shoulder-blades.

“We’ve got 2 strings of code so far, centered around a backup protocol for SPECTRA,” Korsica summed up, “We still don’t know why it exists, or what all the strings will lead to, but it’s a good start.”

Chai pulled himself up and onto his side. The cat on his back slid down behind him, quickly shuffling onto her self-designated pillow. “How do you know it's a backup SPECTRA thing exactly? I've been thinking about that.” He said.

“When I first came back to Vandelay Campus and started digging into what Kale was doing,” Peppermint explained, “I noticed a weird extra frequency when I hacked into Security’s radio communications. There wasn’t any actual sound when I tried to listen to it, so they had to have been for radar instead of radio for that to even work. Sure enough, SPECTRA put out its own frequency. The hotspots you're chasing down now have the same frequencies— hence the backup plan theory.”

“Huh. Okay.” Chai flattened himself onto his face again. That whole thing, while answering his question, mostly went through one ear and out the other. 

Korsica noticed his demeanor, “I think we’ve made a good start on things—” she said toward the others, “—let’s pick this up again after Chai’s had some time to rest.”

“I believe Mister Chai has already lost consciousness,” said CNMN, and sure enough, he was out. 808’s gaze hovered on him as her tail curled around her loafing form. The trio who had their own places to stay took their leave. Peppermint lingered before she ruffled the faux fur between 808’s ears with a smile, and turned to let herself unwind.

Time passed, and the night wore on. Chai stayed asleep (808 was happy about that, it’d been looking like he needed it for a while now), still face-down and as unmoving as a rock. The cat traded her place by Chai’s feet for cuddling up in Peppermint’s arms when she chose to retire to her own pull-out bed on the other couch. There was just something a little more cozy about the scritches and kisses she got from her inventor, combined with the security she felt in her arms. 808 set her face onto the crook of Peppermint's elbow, gazing at her. Then the pair of them settled in for a night of well-earned sleep.

Now here’s the thing: 808 did about as much of an equivalent to sleep as a robot could. It was a way for her to recharge some of her energy or conserve it depending on how deeply she chose to rest. It was on the note of dreaming that she suspected she was different compared to her fellow robots. 

And yes, 808 did dream. Though it was less like traditional dreaming and more…reviewing the files of her memory. Simply replaying the things she’d seen, the places she’d been, etcetera etcetera. It was useful for her systems to comb for possible glitches— but 808 enjoyed it for a more selfish reason. 808 loved reliving some of her experiences. She adored seeing the faces of her people as they smiled down at her, or experiencing the victories they all shared all over again. It was comforting to recall, through those memories her code saved, all the reasons she loved her band of companions.

But there were times when 808’s dreams weren’t hers.  

Sometimes, she got Chai’s dreams instead.

They were easy to pick out against her usual dream experiences. Where 808’s were strict replays of memories she’d saved, Chai’s were more abstract. They were glaringly visceral. For lack of any better metaphor, they were human . 808’s software may have recontextualized them somewhat, but she suspected they remained faithful to how her rockstar originally dreamed them. And most of the time…they weren’t the most pleasant things either.

Tonight, the pair were greeted with one Chai had dreamt multiple times before.

…

“Nowhere to run, Kale!” Korsica shouted, voice full of spirit. 808 approached him resolutely, not questioning the fact that she couldn’t quite make out anyone’s face in detail. There was no Chai beside her. 

“You’re not going through with this.” Peppermint added.

Kale scoffed, “Oh, really? You’ve had a few hits, but I think it’s time we break up the band..”

With a snap of his fingers, 808 was cut off from the trio behind her by a bold red wall. The same red wall she’d broken through what felt like only moments ago. She turned back to Kale with a defiant growl in the back of her throat.

“Damnit, Kale!” Her inventor shouted, smacking a fist against the wall. 808’s ears pinned back as her fur continued to bristle and her tail lashed behind her. Kale turned his gaze down to her.

“I’ll make you a single offer,” He said with all the slimy charm of a snake oil salesman, “Come on my side. I can give you everything you’ve ever wanted.”

She yowled and hissed in reply. Something kept her from charging directly toward him, despite the near painful itch in her paws.

“You know what? Doesn’t matter. We all know who’s the target user of SPECTRA.”

Kale flipped off his jacket, revealing a robot body and whole other built-in jacket. He lifted his hand as the SPECTRA device offered a pulsating glow behind him. 808’s chassis felt like it was vibrating beneath her fur, begging to move. She stayed still.

He pointed his fist toward her like a hunter lining up his aim to kill a deer. His gaze was haunting and predatory. When he fired, 808 couldn’t dodge out of the way if she tried— her claws digging into the metal floor as she was pushed back.

Something within her changed. Then her exterior began morphing as well. Her mechanical body moved without her say-so, transforming into a much larger beast, and she writhed helplessly to it. Red electricity sparked off of her; it caught in her fur like static and made her feel as though she were horrifyingly overcharged. Like she was just about ready to explode.

“Another pawn,” Kale said, a sickening grin in his voice, “And this should fare me better.”

808 was no longer herself. She no longer could be . Kale commanded her to rise to her paws, and she did. Her form had changed into that of a tiger— glowing stripes a visceral red, and fur so inky black it was as if she absorbed every light, every color, and was a shadowy stain on the world itself. She approached Kale dutifully; mindlessly. She circled around him and faced the wall of red. Her leader pointed toward the trio of faces she no longer recognized.

“Take care of them.” He ordered. The wall fizzled out of existence, and Kale faded from existence along with it like the world's greatest disappearing act. 808 roared like the beast she’d become. 

She didn't give her adversaries long to process what all just happened. Immediately, she charged toward them with claws unsheathed. Unsurprisingly, Korsica was the quickest on the uptake. She whipped both batons out to their full length, taking a few steps ahead of Peppermint and Macaron in an effort to protect them. 808 roared again, launching into the air. Her attempt to pounce on Korsica failed as one baton bashed into the side of her face. But just as the other came swinging in to continue the assault, 808 trapped it in her jaws and bit down hard enough to snap it in two. Still, with the half still in her hand, Korsica pressed all her weight into pushing 808 back even the smallest distance.

“What do we do?” Macaron shouted, trying to find an opening to help.

“I don't—” Korsica called back as the broken baton was finally pulled from her grip, “I don't know! Just do something! ”

Peppermint was completely frozen.

808 pressed on, swiping a paw down. Korsica was knocked aside with new stripes of red along her face; the wounds bled rivers of crimson as she cried out. That didn't stop her as she tumbled several feet, then skidded back up onto her knee to stand again and rejoin the fight. 808 recovered the distance she had lost in Korsica's defiance. She reared up onto her powerful haunches like a horse who'd thrown off its rider.

This time, it was Macaron who forced her back. He ducked his head and charged. Wrapping his arms around her body, he pushed her away as she clawed into his back like hot knives through butter. She bit down on his shoulder to add insult to injury. In spite of the metal in her way, her teeth sunk in with little issue. Macaron shouted as well, and 808 could feel a wetness of tears where his face was buried in her underbelly. He refused to relent. He shoved her down and away from him— the force knocked her off her feet. 

Just as 808 attempted to stand, Korsica charged her again. She moved to sweep her baton into the beast's face once again. She must not have learned her lesson.

808, again, caught the baton in her teeth. However this time, she lifted Korsica up, over, and slammed her down onto her back in a single swift counter-attack. The woman wheezed out a breathless groan as the air was forced from her lungs. Macaron took the chance to attempt a punch. Alas, in perfect time, 808 parried with another swipe of her claws, then ducked beneath the fist to slip behind him. Before he could process the failure of his attack, the beast leapt onto him and sent him toppling to the ground. Korsica, who'd rolled onto her stomach, was forced down again as Macaron collapsed on top of her. One arm was pinned, her head thunked against the floor, and something within her body cracked— literally .

Macaron tried to get up. 808 pressed a paw to the back of his head and forced him back down, the tips of her claws sinking in enough to draw more blood. She stared down at her prey and sniffed. 

“Peppermint, take the shot!” Korsica screamed, still trying desperately to gasp for breath.

808's gaze moved to meet the sight of Peppermint’s blaster lifted to the closest it could get to point-blank; trained directly between the eyes. The gun rattled with Peppermint's shaking hands as tears flooded down her face. The horror of her expression was evident, but it was not enough to gain 808's pity. The beast stared fearlessly into the glowing barrel of the blaster, waiting patiently. She readjusted over her captured enemies— one front paw on Korsica's free shoulder, the other pressing into her hair in similar fashion to how she'd pinned Macaron, and her back legs sitting squarely between Macaron's shoulders. Claws still dug in, and those claws were still hellbent on drawing ever more shades of red.

808 let out a chuffing noise and a wild grin, almost daring Peppermint to go ahead and try. 

Their stare-down lasted what was probably only 3 seconds. It felt like years had passed. Peppermint's aim faltered.

“I—” she choked out, “I can't! I can't…”

Her arms fell to her sides, and the gun fell from her hands. It clattered to the floor with dying echoes of its now useless hope. Korsica's eyes widened in horror and her face paled further, though whether the latter was caused by the growing amount of blood loss or the realization of the team's failure wasn't clear. 

808's smile grew, teeth bared in horrid pleasure. She chuffed again like a laugh. She raised the paw on Korsica’s head, only to stamp it right back down with enough force to knock the consciousness out of her with one last, pathetic sob of her own. Finally, the beast padded off her prey and toward the only one that was as good as a deer in the headlights. 

Her pace quickened until she bounced into the air. She flew toward Peppermint, and it was as though the whole moment was in slow motion. Her claws, stained maroon, were primed to tear her apart—

808 tore awake, kicking wildly. Her claws caught in the sheets and blankets as she fought to return to a steady state of consciousness. She didn’t technically need to breathe, but she did anyway, and rapidly. The ins and outs of air through her systems felt like the only way she could calm herself down. After all too long, the cat calmed herself by the smallest degree. Her whiskers twitched as stillness returned to her senses. She started to look at Peppermint again, hesitated, but then committed in spite of the horrors of what she might see that lingered in the back of her memory.

Peppermint had rolled onto her other side. She was still sleeping soundly. That much was a small relief. 808 stood up and tried to move, then quickly noticed that her claws were still stuck in the bedding. She shook her paws to swiftly free herself. Then she rose, front paws on her inventor’s hips, and peered over at the other couch.

There was no Chai. Only his jacket was left behind— tossed carelessly over the cushions.

808’s ears flattened. She looked down at Peppermint again, then back over to the empty couch. She had to find him. The cat padded onto the other side of the mattress. Just before she jumped down, however, she paused. She turned to Peppermint one final time and approached her face. The cat pressed her face into her creator’s hair, as if that were some kind of apology for the nightmare she had no clue about. Peppermint stirred, but all 808 got in return was a half-hearted hum and an attempt to ruffle her fur again. That was okay though.

808 wasted no more time in marching out of the hideout to find her rockstar.

As it turns out, she didn’t have to look far. She found Chai around the corner of the hallway leading toward the hideout. He was pacing back and forth, he clutched his scarf with his robotic hand, and held that wrist tightly with the other hand. His grip was hard enough to pale his organic knuckles. His eyes were glassy, exhausted, and it looked like he was covered in a thin sheen of cold sweat.

808 offered a tiny, meek mewl before she got too close. She didn’t want to spook him. He still flinched, but then turned on his heel to look at her. His shoulders relaxed. The troubled look on his face didn’t.

“Oh. Hey, 808…” He said. His voice had a slight rasp from lack of use (or, judging from the redness 808 noticed in his eyes as she got closer, maybe from crying). He slowed to a stop and crouched before her. Reluctantly, he let go of his metal limb and extended a warm hand to her. She leaned in without hesitation. Chai scratched her chin and smoothed her fur, and he seemed to breathe a little easier. 808 felt the smallest wave of calm wash over the both of them. All too soon, Chai pulled away. “Be honest. How deranged do I look right now?”

The cat frowned sadly. She shook her head and hoped he’d take it as a sign that her answer wouldn’t be helpful to know. He sighed.

“Yeah…okay.” 808 pawed at his pant leg as he stood up. He scrubbed his face and murmured, “I just need some air, man.”

He started to walk, and 808 followed close behind.

The walk was listless, purposeless. 808 watched Chai. He just stared ahead. Eventually, he led them to the museum. 808 sent him a questioning look, but it got no acknowledgement whatsoever. She figured that was… probably okay— he knew where he was going, and 808 trusted him unquestionably. By the time they stopped, they were in front of another SPECTRA door. This one labeled ‘07.’

808 yanked Chai by the scarf before he did anything impulsive. 

“What! I’m not going to do anything.” He assured. The look in his eye told the cat otherwise. He leaned back on the railing behind them and just…stared at it. He stared at it with enough intensity that could have probably burned a hole into it. 808 wondered if he was blinking. 

She wasn’t sure how long they were standing side-by-side like that. 808 knew Chai was thinking, and he was thinking deeply. She could almost sense the lolling of thoughts in his head. His face contorted along with the process in near-minute changes. Suddenly, he pushed himself to his feet again and took a step toward the door. 808 meowed at him again cautiously.

“Calm down— I’m not going to do anything …probably.” He sounded more insistent. Chai turned his face back up to the door. The green lights served as one of the few sources of light in the entire back room. They illuminated his features; accentuated the way he trembled. Slowly, a hand lifted up, “Maybe if…”

“I wouldn’t go in there.”

Chai sucked in a quick breath of surprise, looking around for whoever just said that with a measured kind of slowness. He looked down at his ankles, and finally saw that Peppermint was speaking through 808. She padded in front of him— between him and the door.

“Geez. Don’t sneak up on a guy like that.” He said dryly, trying to smile down at her. Her tired, deadpan expression was enough to flatten any attempt at humorous deflections. Peppermint didn’t have the energy for banter.

“What are you even doing here?” She sounded as tired as he looked, “How did you get into the museum?”

“Shortcut.”

“And my first question?”

“I was just….y’know…”

“Sneaking off to do something heroically irresponsible?”

“Pretty much.”

Peppermint looked at him, her expression unreadable. 808 felt anxiety in the corners of her code that combined with her own. The former tilted her head, “Chai, it’s…” she likely paused to stare at the time— “...too early. If you’re going to get yourself into trouble can you at least do it when all of us are conscious enough to help?”

Chai turned his face away. There were notes of mild shame in what could be captured by the light. There were things he wanted to say, excuses he wanted to make, and 808 knew that. But he didn’t. Peppermint glanced over her shoulder at the door.

“Look, just—” she said, “ Don’t . For now.”

“...yeah.” Chai said. Then it was his turn to slowly look down at her, “Why are you awake anyway?”

“I just…woke up. And I noticed that you and 808 were both gone.” She shrugged. Then turned the cat’s nose down, sheepish, “It made me nervous.”

Another break in conversation.

“Hey, Chai?” Peppermint met his gaze, then faltered again when he hummed, “You don’t…have to tell me about it, if you don’t want to. I know— I mean, I don’t know, actually, but I…” 

She trailed off, then frustratedly buried her cat’s face into her paws. She pulled away and tried again, “I’m trying to say that… It's okay to be scared about SPECTRA being back. I am too, and I know I kind of— gave you the task of dealing with it. You never really got a say in the matter.”

“If you’re going to give me the option to back out, I’m not going to,” Chai said. He tried another smile, more earnest this time, “I’m..kind of having fun with it, actually.”

There was more truth in that than Peppermint knew.

“Okay. Just know that you can, y’know?”

“Got it.”

“Do you…think you’ll come back to the hideout anytime soon?” she asked.

“Eh, not yet.”

“Okay then. You want any company while you’re out?”

Chai offered a half-hearted shrug, “808’s here. But..yeah. I think I’d like that.”

“Cool.”

“Let’s get out of here.” 

In spite of the weight that stayed on Chai’s mind (and 808’s, in some measure), he turned away and moved to leave the way he came. 808 returned to herself and hopped onto her rockstar’s shoulder. Briefly, she stared over her shoulder at that door. The nightmare still came in what seemed like waves of reverberating white noise. She mrrrp-ed and pressed her face against Chai. He gently ran a hand over her head. They left the museum, both of them uneasy, and just as restless.

Chapter Text

Roxanne spent her day primarily off Vandelay Island. Not without warning, of course, but nothing more than a quick priority email to everyone who'd need to know. 

She agreed to a single interview with a journalism company that was anchored in the city the island was connected to. Her inbox (which was an odd conglomerate of all the emails she got as the CEO of the company and the emails other departments forwarded to her in a good enough kind of priority system to make up for the lack of department heads) had been flooded by requests for some kind of insight on what was going on in the company. Most of them were addressed to Kale, some were to Mimosa, and the rest were more general in their wording. It made sense. The world didn't yet know that she'd taken back over, and what she'd heard about the Project Armstrong Festival definitely sounded like quite the event. Though she was still resolved to keeping most company matters private as they were rebuilding, Roxanne also figured that the world should at least know something . 

That something she had in mind deserved some explanation.

She drove her truck into the city. There was a long stretch of road beside a monorail that led into the mainland. There was barely any traffic, of course, since the majority of people working at Vandelay lived on campus. The few that didn't usually used that monorail for the commute. The road beside the rail was mostly a catch-all for anyone else. 

In the passenger seat was a single PA-D0 (a lovely fellow who'd requested to be called ‘P4-UL.’ Roxanne happily obliged) to help Roxanne with whatever she might need while she was out. She figured she could get by with only a single assistant rather than a whole posse (and it would probably help her keep a low profile as well). 

The drive was quiet. It would have been silent, save for the music that quietly filled the air from the radio. It was some stock-standard pop song that Roxanne had never heard before. She wasn't shocked by the fact. She wasn't listening very closely either.

Driving normally put her at ease. It was the whole reason she elected to drive herself as opposed to letting someone else do it.  It felt like the whole world was available when Roxanne was in the driver's seat. Because, aside from the obvious, what was stopping her from taking off across the country? But with the steering wheel held tight in her grasp, the knot in her gut refused to unwind.

Maybe she should just turn around. If she was going to change her mind, it'd be better to do it before she got into the city. She chose to not cancel inexplicably and stay home. Again, she told herself that the interview needed to happen. Some things needed to be said.

“Excuse me, Ms. Vandelay?” P4-UL chirped with a nervousness in their voice that wasn't exactly hidden. Roxanne just hummed in reply, tilting her face slightly without pulling her gaze from the road. They were about halfway over the bridge back to the mainland by now. P4-UL continued, “Uhhh actually nevermind!”

“What is it?”

“Nothing! Nothing it's— It's not important.”

“You’re still more than welcome to ask,” she said, “You are helping me, after all. It's a bit hard to do that when you have limited information to work with.”

P4-UL considered for a moment, then— “I guess I was just wondering.. why you agreed to this interview ? I'm sure you've thought about it a lot! I'm not doubting you at all! I think I'm just curious.

“And I don't have to be if you don't want that. I can keep all my thoughts to myself—” they quickly clarified before Roxanne could respond. She pushed air through her nose in a small, uninterpretable huff.

“You're fine. You're allowed to be curious,” she assured (and she swore she saw the robot beside her let out a small sigh of relief). “I suppose I see this interview as an opportunity to clear the air. I'd like to explain the change in leadership and how some restructuring is going on before any rumors start. Then, in the future when we've settled again internally, we can get back to a more routine system of announcements.”

“Aaahh, okay. Got it.”

“I just hope it goes well.” She then admitted.

“I'm sure it will.”

The city never looked so daunting. Like it was waiting to swallow her whole. Roxanne pressed a little harder on the gas.

The building she was directed to turned out to be one that housed several businesses at once. The lobby of the building was like any other. Red carpeted floors, leather couch on one side with a glass-topped coffee table in front of it, fake plant in the corner. All things Roxanne had very much seen before. When she turned to the front desk, however, she was presented with a cat gazing back at her.

The feline was a tortoiseshell. It had primarily black fur with smears of orange and umber. Around its neck was a purple collar, and, curiously, the tag was a penny. Its eyes were a bright chartreuse, and its wild, prominent white whiskers twitched.

She let the cat sniff her hand before indulging in some scratches under the chin. 

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” She looked up and saw the apparent receptionist rush to the desk. The receptionist was a LU-C1LLE model. They were likely a few years old considering the signs of age in various dents, visible repairs, etcetera. Most starkly, they had an arm that was, decidedly,  not from Vandelay. Compared to the original, the arm was a sterling silver color and had 5 fingers as opposed to the typical 3. If Roxanne had to guess, she'd assume that the arm came from a third party repair at some point.

“It's alright. This one kept me company,” Roxanne smiled in reference to the cat on the desk.

The receptionist tilted their head, “Yeah, that's just Penny.”

“That explains the tag, then.”

“So who are you here to see?”

“Oh, I have an interview with one of the journalists that work in this building. I believe I got a request from a certain—”

“Chardonnay? He hasn't been able to stop talking about it.”

Roxanne let herself chuckle. P4-UL came up beside her and asked, “So you knew Ms. Vandelay was coming today?”

“Yeah.”

“You're just so… nonchalant.”

“Eh,” LU-C1LLE shrugged, “I've never seen the point in fan-girling, and most celebrities I've seen like passing through without much fanfare. Besides, I have things to manage.”

“Fair point.”

“Anyway,” they turned back to Roxanne, “I'll call Chardonnay and tell him you're here. If you want to take a seat and wait, you're more than welcome to. Or you can stay here and keep petting Penny.”

“Thank you very much.” She said.

The wait didn't last long. Just as soon as Roxanne found herself getting comfortable, someone approached her. She assumed them to be Chardonnay. He looked like the picture of what a reporter was— business casual attire, alert and bright eyes, the works. He immediately caught her gaze and smiled a little wider.

“Ms. Vandelay! Hello! Oh my goodness, it is so nice to meet you here today. You would not believe how floored I was when you agreed to meet with me”

“I imagine I could, actually,” she laughed in reply.

“Did LU tell you? I swear, it's not my fault for being excited! How often do you even get a chance like this?” He took a breath, “Anyway, anyway. Let's head to my office.”

Chardonnay led the pair of them to the elevator, P4-UL trailing close behind. 

Once they were all inside, he hit the button and continued without another breath, “If I'm gonna be honest, I was totally expecting Mimosa to answer my email. Or Kale, even! Not…really, but there was the possibility. But then you answered and agreed to this interview! I rewrote every single question I had multiple times. I pulled an all-nighter about it.”

“Are you…okay?”

“Absolutely peachy!”

Well alright then. 

They stepped out as the doors opened and walked in a line toward Chardonnay's office. The space was small, but decorated in a uniquely quirky fashion. She was offered a chair, to which she promptly sat and folded her hands in her lap. 

“Does your assistant want a chair too?” Chardonnay asked, rolling over in one of his own. 

“I'd prefer to stand,” P4-UL answered. 

“Alrighty!” The journalist then pulled out a pen, paper pad, and a tape recorder of all things. It took Roxanne a little by surprise—

“You use a tape recorder?”

“Yup! Helps me keep track of interviews in case I don't write something down.”

“Its pretty old school. I like it.”

“Yeah, everyone says that it won't last me forever, but it's just..easy! When I'm not writing something, I'm no good with computers.” Chardonnay tilted his head at the gadget. His face then dropped, and turned seriously toward Roxanne, “It's okay if I record this interview, right?”

“Of course,” she assured, “Do what you need to.”

Back to the ever cheerful persona, “Amazing! Let me get it rolling.”

Another moment passed. P4-UL and Roxanne glanced at each other. The former shrugged plainly.

“Alright! Let's do this!” The reporter beamed as he set the recorder down and brought the pencil and notepad into a ready configuration. His voice shifted into one Roxanne had heard so many times over the thousands of press interactions she'd had over the years, “So, Ms. Roxanne Vandelay… when I contacted the company you founded, I was anticipating a response from Mimosa— the head of Marketing, like I mentioned before. It seems like the natural expectation to have. This interview is an opportunity to shine a light on Vandelay, and Mimosa's given herself a reputation of doing all of that on her own, after. But instead, you answered. Why?”

She took a breath in. She swiftly tensed every muscle, held them, then released as she sighed. Okay. Interview time.  

“Recently, there have been some internal changes at Vandelay. Staff have been shifted around, for example. However, the most important change that has come recently is that I've reinherited the role of the company's CEO.”

“Really? Did something happen? Did Kale do something to spur you to come out of retirement and take your company back from your son?”

“Unfortunately, it's much less dramatic than that…” she tried to chuckle, instead trailing off. Chardonnay leaned in curiously as the silence lingered.

The truth was that Roxanne had planned out her answer to the question for weeks. She'd crafted a careful lie to make everything make sense. She invented a way to duck smoothly, weaving in just enough truth that no one would have any inclination to go looking for more answers. She steeled herself. She could do this.

“I returned to my position because… my son suddenly passed away.” 

The whole room tensed. Chardonnay's eyes widened as his hand flew over his mouth.

“I..I'm so sorry for your loss,” he said quietly, “You don't…have to answer this— I can take it off the record or something, but—”

She lifted a hand to stop him. Another breath in. She had to say all of it, or else she likely never would. “When I was in my 20's, I had a very sudden cardiac event. Then, when I was in the hospital, I was diagnosed with a form of cardiomyopathy. In short, my heart didn't beat consistently. I later found out it was hereditary in my family. It's part of the reason I needed this ,” she traced a hand over the implant on her sternum.

She looked down, swallowed, then continued, “Kale and I both knew he'd also inherited the trait from me. He did everything he could to be cautious— to take care of himself. Everything seemed alright, and I let him take over Vandelay as I retired.”

The words were practiced. The lump forming in the back of her throat wasn't. Roxanne's voice was shaky.

“As far as I know, it was sudden, just like it was for me. Paramedics did all they could… but…”

“I see.” Chardonnay nodded solemnly. Roxanne brought the hand up from her implant, plucked her glasses off her nose, and scrubbed her face with the other. She felt P4-UL set a tentative, supportive hand on her shoulder. The journalist tilted his gaze, “I'm so sorry, Ms. Vandelay.”

“It's…please don't apologize. I knew what I wanted to say when I agreed to this, and I said it.”

“How do you feel? Are you…okay?”

“Vandelay— and myself, by extension— has worked in so many crisis scenarios. And when you work in a crisis, there comes a point where you…learn to handle it. ” She explained, hands folding neatly again on her knee as her composure slowly returned, “You figure out how to manage.”

“What does this mean for Vandelay? The— erm— change in leadership?”

“I feel like, for a long time in my absence from the company, Vandelay has done so much work outward. But, as it is with so many other things, it's just as important to look inward . That is what will be, and already has been, happening.”

“Changes on the inside. Does it feel daunting?”

“Always.”

“May I ask how big a scale you plan on changing the company?”

“Our mission statement will always be the same, but some of the ways we go about that statement may change. Re-examining internal policies, affairs, etcetera. I've also already touched on the changes in staffing.”

“I see.” Chardonnay scribbled something down, “What can we expect from Vandelay in the coming future?”

“I want everyone to know that it takes time for change to happen. Time and work. I don't anticipate Vandelay to be ready to release anything until we've found our footing again on the inside.” Roxanne straightened her posture and projected more confidence than she had, “But there are exciting things happening, even despite all the changes.”

“Like what? Is it something tech related?”

“You'll just have to wait and see, I'm afraid.” She smirked. She thought of Peppermint. 

“Aw, man! I guess that's fair,” the man across from her sighed haplessly. “How does all of this make you feel? Just— all of it .”

She hummed in thought, “I'm… In many ways, I'm conflicted. Contrary to popular belief, I'm not great at getting personal. Both in terms of interacting with other people and when I'm on my own. I've also never shied away from the fast-moving nature of my life and career. There are so many things that need doing, so many people who need me, that I'm not sure where to begin. But I have faith that I, alongside the rest of everyone at Vandelay, will be able to navigate this incomprehensible period that we find ourselves in.”

“Do you ever worry that the pressure will get to you?”

“All the time. Anytime I do anything— this interview, for example— I wonder how people will react. But most of the time, I choose to do those things anyway. Because who else will?”

“That's…very inspiring, ma'am.” Chardonnay smiled, setting the notepad down on his lap. He clasped his hands together, “I don't think I have anything more to ask! Is there anything at all that you'd want to say before we wrap this up?”

“..I'd want to quickly thank everyone who's supported the company over the years. It brings me a great relief that we've been able to reach so many people, and that so many people are willing to see what else we can do.”

The reporter offered a small golf-clap style round of applause, snatched the tape recorder up, and turned it off. He stood from his chair across from Roxanne and offered his hand to shake. She took it without a moment of hesitation as she rose to her feet in kind.

“I want to thank you so much again for this interview, Ms. Vandelay. I…didn’t mean for it to get so heavy like that,” the man said.

“Please don't feel sorry about anything. I said it because I thought the world deserved to know about it.” She assured, “I'm…figuring out how to manage. Like I said.”

“Thank you for answering everything I asked! It wasn't at all like any of the questions I prepared, but that's always my favorite part of interviews.” Chardonnay retracted his hand as he talked. Roxanne found herself fidgeting with hers.

“You know you're much different compared to many other reporters I've met with over the years.”

“Really?!”

“If I disclosed any information like that to any of the people I've been interviewed by in the past, they'd drill into figuring out every detail of every event. You're not… invasive like that, if I may say.”

“That means a lot. Really, thank you for saying as much.”

“It’s important to support a good work ethic, in my opinion.”

“Well, Ms. Vandelay, you have been a fantastic person to work with. Let me walk you out to the lobby again.”

The three people in that office exited in similar fashion to how they entered— Roxanne and Chardonnay leading the charge as P4-UL followed dutifully. However, once in the elevator, P4-UL spoke.

“How do you typically write your articles?”

“In a fit of inspired lunacy,” the journalist answered lightheartedly. Then he shrugged, “But, no, to be serious, I'll listen to the recording again, write a first draft, and edit how I see fit.”

“Do you—”

“I never add to the things that were said, and I always keep things verbatim. If that's what you're asking.”

“Oh, I see. Sorry, I didn't mean to imply anything.”

“You're alright, man! I get it.” He turned his gaze to Roxanne, “I might take out a question and answer or two, but I try to be as faithful to the original interview as possible.”

She smiled, endeared, at him, “I appreciate that. But, if I may ask, please don't omit the change of leadership. It's important to me that the truth gets out on that front.”

“Are you sure?”

The elevator chimed, the doors opened. Roxanne and P4-UL stepped back out into the hall behind the lobby space.

“Incredibly.” she said.

“Okay then! I can send you an email when the article is published! Have a good rest of your day, Ms. Vandelay!” 

Again, the doors closed. Roxanne turned to her robotic assistant. They shared a brief look. A meow at their feet alerted the pair of them to Penny, who rubbed her fur against them both. They began to take their leave. P4-UL waved goodbye to the receptionist, and they returned it quietly. Penny leapt onto the desk and watched them exit the building.

“Is there anything else that needs doing before we leave town?” Roxanne asked as the door closed behind them.

“I don't think so,” P4-UL answered. 

“Good. Let's go home.”

“...Do you want…me to drive—?”

“ No. ” She said, with far more force than she meant. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides as she breathed deeply again. Calmer this time, she sighed, “No, I'll be okay.”

The drive home was somehow even more quiet than the journey into the city. Roxanne's grip on the wheel was even more ironclad. 

She kept coming back to the interview in her head. When she said she wasn't good at being personal, she was telling the truth. For so long she'd chosen to keep so much of herself to herself. Roxanne didn't see a point in flaunting things that were no one else's business. Then, when she became a mother, that feeling only intensified. One wrong statement, one accidental mention, and her children's lives were suddenly not their own anymore— instead offered up to be thrust under the microscope that was public perception. Perhaps she hadn't hit the penultimate degree of that feeling until she had Peppermint. Kale had his fair share of exposure to paparazzi in his teens (though she made a considerable effort to prolong that for as long as possible). Regardless, Roxanne figured her kids deserved at least some semblance of a life before having to reckon with the idea of a reputation. Especially since that reputation existed before either of them even knew what the ramifications of something like that could be.

It wasn't hard for her to hide. It wasn't a challenge to obscure the things she kept closest to her heart or bear the burdens that secrets often carried with them. It sounded like a good choice, at the time, to do that much for her children.

What a mess. And what good had it done? Especially now?

Did her attempts at protecting them mean anything?

Maybe not.

Roxanne was hyper aware of the mistakes she'd made in the past. If anything, they were becoming more clear to her as she settled back into her own life. She had to reckon with her own guilt ever since she set eyes on her daughter after years apart. That guilt, too, only seemed to expand with time.

Impulsively, she rolled down the windows. The wind rushed by. It grazed her cheek and rustled her clothes. The radio was hushed under a static film of meaningless noise.

Once her heart felt like it'd found a steady rhythm again and her mind slowed, she rolled up the windows halfway. Just enough to still let some air in.

“P4-UL, can I ask you something?” She said.

“Sure, what is it?”

“When we were driving into town, you said that you were willing to keep your thoughts to yourself if I didn't want to talk. Actually— you cut yourself off before I asked you to continue. I wanted to ask why.”

“Oh…”

For a while, Roxanne only heard the wind. She kept her hands on the wheel, her foot on the gas pedal, and her gaze out on the road.

P4-UL eventually mustered up the courage to speak again, “Sometimes I'd be helping Mimosa with whatever she needed. She just also…uh… wasn't amazing at explaining things? But she also didn't like us ‘implying’ that she ‘didn't have everything entirely thought through exactly how she liked it.’ So whenever anyone asked her to clarify something— or just asked her anything in general— she'd get really irritated. Then she'd either be passive aggressive or have ‘em reassigned completely. Y'know, depending on the day. So we all got used to doing our best with as little direction as possible.”

“You… got good at keeping your opinions to yourself.”

“Yeeeup.”

“That sounds,” Roxanne paused to come up with a suitable descriptor, “awful.”

“Most of the Heads were like that. They all liked ‘yes men.’” the robot shrugged like it was one of the sad, unchangeable realities of life, “We managed.”

At some point (and she didn't know when), the truck had picked up speed. Not enough to be noticeable or dangerous, but the wind roared louder. 

“I hope you don't feel like that's something you need to keep up forever,” she said.

“I think… I've been reexamining some fears with this outing. I know a lot of other guys like me are kinda holding their proverbial breaths to see what'll happen when new bosses come to town.”

“Can I ask you a favor?”

“Is it mandatory?”

“Not really.”

“I was going to accept anyway. I was… just checking something.”

“If you could—” she cleared her throat, “—maybe let your colleagues know that…they don't have to worry as much about keeping their heads down.”

“I can try. I can't promise some words will do a whole lot.”

“That's all I can ask of you. That you try.”

Finally, Roxanne realized that she'd brought the truck to a pace that almost careened through space. They were coming into Campus fast. She tilted her foot up off the gas pedal, gingerly set it on the brake, and slowed them to a less risky speed. 

The familiar landscape of Vandelay Island began to engulf them. Roxanne never considered herself much of a homebody (she traveled so much in the past, after all), but there was a relief in her that she was becoming ever more accustomed with. Maybe it was just the fact that she didn't give herself anything else to do that day. Maybe it was being home after something so intense. 

She glanced to her side, “I think I'm going to drive a while longer, but I don't need any more help for today. Is there somewhere you'd prefer I dropped you off?”

“In front of Vandelay Tower is fine with me,” P4-UL shrugged. It wasn't a detour with the direction they were already going. Roxanne found herself alone again sooner rather than later. The robot waved goodbye in her rear view mirror.

She drove herself toward the outskirts of Campus. She stopped by a cliff, having abandoned the road and driven a ways onto the grass. The truck stopped, she got out, hopped into the bed, then sat on the roof cross-legged. She stared out into the middle distance. One of her hands came up and brushed through the fuzz of her hair, then came down and settled on her chest; on her implant. With the other, she took off her glasses. The world around her blurred into a watercolor painting of the familiar.

She sighed. It was heavy and sad as her posture went slack. Like whatever invisible string that kept her poised and able to stand upright at all was cut. She left her glasses in her lap and rubbed at her face. Her eyes were blurrier than they were supposed to be, misty with tears that shouldn't be there. Or maybe they should have been there sooner. Her ribs felt tight and her lungs felt heavy. 

Was it sympathy? Guilt?

She knew what it was. She knew she shouldn't be feeling it. No one would blame her for skipping the grief completely. The image— the lie— she came up with in that interview was to distract from the fact that she was done so wrong by her own son. Because that's what it was. It was a wrong that had shattered her in ways she was still trying to navigate. It would have been understandable if she disowned her son completely and did everything she could to spite his memory. But Roxanne didn't have that in her. That was an impossible ask.

How ironic, the want— no, the instinct— to crave doing some kind of justice for him anyway.

She let herself release a single sob. It manifested more as a lone bout of bitter laughter. A wave of calm washed over her as she simply let herself breathe after that. She didn't force anything. It wasn't enough, she knew that, but at some point it became manageable again. Because that's what Roxanne did. She managed . She supposed that she wasn't much different than anyone else on Campus; all those people who were simply managing . Getting by as best they could. The thought didn't offer much comfort. She wasn't expecting it to anyway.

The weight never released from her chest, but at some point the inexorable calmness overpowered anything else in her system. Roxanne wasn't numb, that was important (and she was never numb to these things. These tragedies she experienced), but she was just.. calm.

Her eyes couldn't focus on anything in some odd combination of being without her glasses and still recovering from the brief crying. The colors of the world bled into each other. Everything was impressionistic, like looking through a panel of foggy glass. There was beauty in it that combined with the serenity. Roxanne settled into it. What else could she do? These feelings, this grief, it was all her own. And what was she even supposed to do with it?  She didn't know. 

Chapter Text

Chai was on the hunt for some things he was missing.

The thought came to him seemingly out of nowhere. He was just chilling on the couch (probably trying to take a nap), when suddenly he bolted upright and took off shortly thereafter. He suddenly remembered that he hadn't seen some personal belongings of his in what felt like ages.

When he first signed up for Project Armstrong (in a library with an email he hadn't used since dropping out of college), there was the advisory to bring some stuff with him. Which made sense. The forms he filled out and all the informative jargon said that there would be a period where he'd have to live on the island. Something about keeping tabs on him post-surgery. Making sure his body was taking the prosthetic well, taking care of any infections should they pop up, etcetera. So far he hadn't... seen any of that, but Chai had long accepted that he was nothing like the other Project Armstrong volunteers. Still, he'd like to have his stuff. Especially now that he couldn't stop thinking about it.

Korsica was the first person he went to. Though, unfortunately, she was busy with her own things that day. She noted that she'd gotten word of some unclaimed baggage at some point, but otherwise hadn't seen it. She directed him to where that kind of thing was most likely to turn up.

Even though he had a general idea of where to look, it was still a pretty vast area. Chai was grateful that CNMN volunteered to help him out. He didn’t even really have to ask, the robot just showed up and started helping. They'd spent the better half of the morning like that. Aside from some music coming from Chai, there wasn't much occupying the space. Chai would say something at points, and CNMN would respond, but that was it. Until finally, in the early afternoon…

“Aha! Yes!!” Chai cheered as he dove toward a duffel bag. It was hidden behind a bunch of other meaningless objects that were all coated in a thin film of dust. 

The bag itself looked ragged in a charming kind of way. Holes were mended several times over, pins and patches were scattered across the fabric, and the whole thing looked stuffed to the brim. Chai gave it a quick dusting over— ridding it of all signs of neglect.

“Looks like you've found your bag, Mister Chai!” CNMN smiled.

“Yeah I did! Oh man, I can't believe I didn't think about it until now.”

“May I ask what is in it?”

“Eh, mostly just clothes,” Chai waved his hand. He'd been getting by in the fashion department through a combination of CNMN's fashion experiments, a few thrifting trips, and otherwise wearing the same things for days at a time (what? It's not like anything smelled bad! He washed his stuff and himself often enough to avoid that). He shrugged, “Other than that? It's like… basically everything I own.”

“Everything you own?” CNMN echoed with a tilt of their head.

“Pretty much!”

“My interest is piqued.”

“It’s not all that interesting, y'know.”

“Still, I am fairly curious to see what you decided to bring with you to Vandelay Island!”

Chai slung the bag over his shoulder and rubbed sheepishly at the back of his neck, “I didn't really…” he trailed off, then shook his head as he made a decision, “Nevermind! Let's crack this bad boy open.”

The pair of them squatted to the floor as Chai flopped the bag down between them. He dragged the zipper open and soon found himself rifling through the whole thing with a flood of nostalgia. He pulled out a whole bunch of band and graphic t-shirts (probably the majority of the clothes that were in there), a few other pairs of pants, some old slings in different colors that he could probably fashion into more scarves, and another pair of shoes that were hanging on for dear life (held together with duct tape and dirt). Chai searched other pockets, and pulled out a small leather wallet. He beamed. 

“Oh, hell yeah!” it didn't look like there was much inside. Then he looked down at his other set of shoes. Sure enough, a $20 bill was hiding inside, “Emergency 20. Always keep one on you— it's a good rule of thumb.”

“Duly noted!” CNMN said genuinely.

“Yeah,” he gently set the wallet down and continued his adventure in unpacking. He could tell he was getting to the slightly more meaningful items as he dug through more pockets. Another pair of wired earbuds with some of the wiring exposed, an unopened and very crushed bag of convenience store chips, an unopened can with the label worn away… Chai, at some point dawned a focused expression, like he was looking for something in particular and just couldn't find it. 

“Aw, man don't tell me..” he mutters to himself.

“What is wrong, Mister Chai?”

“Nothing, I just can't find some of my things..” He hunched a little closer in an attempt to see better. The tension in his shoulders eased as he pulled out a notepad whose cover was tearing away and covered in stickers. He smiled at it lightly as he set it down.

“What is that?”

“Nothing, hold on—” he said. Next he pulled out a book with a similarly beaten cover (‘The Karamazov Brothers’ it read in faded, scratched up text. Actually, the whole book look like it had been through a bit of a ringer. The pages were worn, slightly yellowed; some were folded, some were torn at the edges. The bottom of the broken spine looked stained.)

“Dostoevsky?” CNMN asks with an odd lilt to his voice.

“Yeah, it took me forever to finally finish it.” Chai said off-handedly, then peered at his friend with suspicion, “You sound surprised.”

“Well, I am a bit! I did not take you for the type to enjoy such a dense novel.”

“Like I said, it took forever to read. I swear, I'll never get why those guys in the past liked publishing their books with the most tiny, smushed together text imaginable. I lost my place even while I was in the zone and knew what was going on. Like.. I'd end up rereading the same line 5 times." He waved the book around like it owed him something, “I started it for an English class in college. Didn't finish it until way after I dropped out.”

“Ah. Well, I find it admirable that you chose to continue reading it.”

“Yeah, well. I didn't have anyone willing to buy it off of me, so.” Chai joked with a kind of scoff-y chuckle. He dropped the novel onto the pile of things. By now, the duffel bag was mostly empty. Chai glanced back at the heap. Nope, there was still one or two things missing.. 

“What else are you looking for?”

“Just.. ugh, some old stuff. Things from old buddies of mine, y'know?”

“Could they have been misplaced at some point?” CNMN stared into the bag with his own worried expression.

“I hope not.”

“Perhaps I could help—?”

“No!” Chai flinched before he quickly recovered, “Uh— I mean.. my stuff just kinda means a lot to me.”

“I understand,” the robot said earnestly, “I did not mean to overstep any boundaries!”

“You didn't, man. I guess I just.. don't want anyone else poking through my things,” Despite how fervently he'd been pulling things out, there were some things that stayed in the shadowy corners of the bag. Hidden pockets that only Chai knew about. He decided that they were far too personal for just anyone to see. He wanted to keep those few things to himself.

His friend nodded, “And that is understandable.”

“I think we're pretty much done here.”

Chai piled all his things back into the bag with varying amounts of care. CNMN rose and watched from above. He followed suit soon enough and got the bag over his shoulder again.

“Thank you for giving me a glimpse at some of your belongings, Mister Chai,” CNMN chirped.

“No problem, dude.”

“I always find it interesting what a person's possessions can tell you about them.” They paused to hum, “Or perhaps that is the psychological programming in me!”

Chai snickered, “Who knows. But now I'm curious— what'd you get from looking at my stuff?”

“Oh, nothing I didn't already know. Though I am still a little surprised by the novel you've apparently carried around. And the way you've referred to everything inside that duffel bag as ‘everything you own.’”

“Yeah…” 

“May I ask about it?”

“I mean,” he said reluctantly, “You can probably figure out what I mean by that.”

“I have, but as things stand now, they are only assumptions and theories I have. Assumptions and theories I'm fairly confident in, but assumptions and theories nonetheless.”

Chai took a deep breath in and held it. He never really told anyone about it before— it was just a thing he dealt with on his own. His gaze dropped to his feet as he kicked the ground. He squeezed the strap of the duffel bag. “I know you won't, like…tell anyone about it, but… You won't tell anyone about it, right?”

“You have my word.” They said with a serious expression and gently squeezed his non-mechanical shoulder.

“Okay..” Chai said as he cycled another breath in and out. He shoved his hands into his pockets, “Okay. Uh— I guess the long and short of it is that I just…learned to travel light. Y'know, since I dropped out of college, I didn't exactly have anything lined up. It didn't help that I kinda did it on a whim. So, like.. I didn't have a whole lot to begin with? And I didn't have any savings or anything either— the most ‘saving’ I do is that emergency 20.”

He stepped back, putting just a bit of distance between him and CNMN. He just needed the space. His hand came up and combed through his hair.

“Anyway, I spent the better majority of, like, a bunch of years crashing with friends. Anyone who'd let me stay, y'know?”

“I see.”

“It wasn't an…ideal setup, but it worked. Mostly.” He rocked on his feet, sporadic memories of some really sucky nights worming their way into his head, “But— anyway— when you live like that, like…” he stopped, realizing CNMN likely knew what he wasn't going to say, “..you don't really have the space to have a whole lot, yknow? So I just.. have a duffel bag.”

Chai looked back up at them. They were so eerily quiet. He swallowed, plastering a stupid grin on his face, “Anyway! I'm obviously in a better spot now— not.. bouncing from place to place anymore.. So why worry about it! I got my stuff, Peppermint lets me live with her in the hideout, it's all super epic.”

“Mister Chai, does it..” they stopped for a pensive pause, “perhaps, make you uncomfortable to discuss the past?”

"What! No! No way, I'm very comfortable talking about old stuff."

"You consistently deflect and downplay your experiences."

"Psh. No I don't."

"That is a deflection.”

Damn CNMN and their crazy accurate perceptiveness. Chai felt blood rush to his face as he wrenched his face away from the robot's gaze. He felt his face contort in all different manner of expressions. His eyebrows pressed together as his eyes searched his shoes.

“It’s not..” he said, quieter than he meant to, “I mean— I don't like talking about it. It sucked. A lot. But it's not like what you're thinking—" and that much was probably a lie. He had enough faith to assume that whatever CNMN was thinking was probably dead on, “ —I just don't like talking about it because, why focus on it? Yeah, it sucked, but that's a given. No point in complaining about it now.”

CNMN stayed silent. There were a pair of eyebrows drawn on their face, but literally nothing else. It made them hard to read. That made Chai's anxiety writhe.

“I got through it.” He said definitively, “It doesn't matter anymore—”

“It matters.”

Chai flinched, looking back up. Their yellow eyes were still fixed on him. The eyebrows were erased in favor of something more firm, but not unkind.

“What you lived through matters.” He folded his arms behind his back. The statement stuck far more than Chai expected it to. His thumb traced over the strap on his shoulder. “Mister Chai, you are a deeply complicated individual. Everyone is. You are influenced by your experiences, formed by them. You would not be who you are now if not for what you ‘got through’ in the past.”

He didn't have anything to say to that. The two of them stared at each other in another pause. CNMN straightened themselves, shoulders relaxing. They asked in a gentler tone, “How have you been feeling lately, Mister Chai?” 

“I mean,” he would have laughed from the whiplash in any other context, “fine? I'm fine. Honestly, I feel like everyone else is way more worried about stuff than I am.”

“You haven't been sleeping very well,” CNMN observed.

“I never sleep well. I'm used to it.”

“Have you always had that issue?”

“Pretty much.” He shrugged. 

“Forgive me for all the questions, Mister Chai. I just find myself a bit concerned. There is much to worry about.”

Chai sensed that they were navigating away from the heaviest of the conversation. He was relieved about that much, “I get that. But you don't have to worry about me.”

“I fear that isn't something you can control. I will worry regardless. Just like I will be here for you no matter what— all of our friends will be here for you. Because you are worth worrying about.”

They stared at each other. Despite how poorly he’d been managing before, Chai tried to keep his expression even. He felt like he was doing a good enough job. He just wished the sudden, tiny lump in the back of his throat would just go away already. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment as if that’d will it away. Another deep breath (he ignored how heavy it was on the way out), and a far more genuine smile grew on his face. This one held a kind of relief Chai was okay with showing.

“Thanks, CNMN.” He said.

“I know there is much you aren’t at a point to talk about, yet.” They said, “but I hope you reach it. For your sake.”

“I’ll… figure it out. Cross that bridge when I find it, y’know?”

After the umpteenth beat in conversation, CNMN drew on an energetic grin, “And if there ever comes a time where you’d like to talk literature, let me know! This opens up many conversational avenues!”

“Slow down, man,” Chai laughed. It felt good to do that after that heavy feelings session, “I’m pretty sure it’s the one book I like. And I’m not planning on ever reading it again.”

“Still! My offer stands!”

“Yeeeahh, I’m gonna go ahead and dip now.”

“I had fun hanging out today, Mister Chai!”

“Same. See you, CNMN!”

“Likewise! Take care of yourself!” They waved him off as he took wing. Chai, surprisingly, felt a comfort bloom in his chest. It made his heart feel light and his core almost electrified. He adjusted the weight of his duffel bag onto his other shoulder.

When Chai got home a few hours later (because of course he got sidetracked at some point before he made it back to the hideout), he was almost hoping he’d be alone. Not for any malicious reason, of course, he just wanted to debrief a little by himself. Peppermint was at her desk. She was hunched over with her face in her hands. 808 was perched beside her, gazing at her sympathetically with her ears folded back. Chai’s pace slowed as he looked at her. Just in case, he knocked on the door with the back of his metal hand. He didn’t want to startle her by just showing up in the middle of a moment. Peppermint still jumped a bit when he did. 

“Hey..” he said carefully, “You good?”

“Um—” She replied, voice thick. She swallowed and turned further away, “Yeah. ‘M fine. Just had, like, a really shitty day.”

He shuffled a little further into the room, setting his bag down beside his couch. He nudged it out of the way with his foot. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” she said with a weary sigh. Though her hands moved away from her face, she still didn’t turn to look at him. 808 met his gaze instead.

“Do you…want me to leave?”

“Not really.”

Alright then. He let himself quietly sit down. The whole thing made him think of the conversation with CNMN mere hours earlier. He leaned forward, “I’m here for you, if you need me.”

“Thanks, Chai.”

808 hesitated before slinking down from the desk. She padded over and slid her fur against his legs, standing on his shoes. She looked up at him with those big blue and gold eyes. She pointed her nose back to Peppermint for a moment. Chai suddenly got an idea. He scooped the cat up and wandered over to his best friend’s side. Holding 808 with her paws sticking out, he dangled her over Peppermint. 

“Peppermiiiiint, it’s meeeeee, 808. Your beloved kittyyyyy,” Chai said, pretending to be 808 (complete with the world’s dumbest high-pitched voice). He patted her head with 808’s paws, “It’s gonna be okaaaayyy.”

He waited for a moment to gauge Peppermint’s reaction. 808 shot him a look. He looked back at her, raising a brow. She rolled her eyes and looked back down at her inventor. Chai bobbed the cat up and down again.

“You know you can’t resist my adorable charms.” He heard the beginnings of a heavy laugh below him. He was moving in the right direction. One last push— “Bad days got nothin’ on you!”

Finally, she let out a small but genuine laugh. Chai won. He grinned down at her and plopped 808 back down on the desk. She was mirroring his expression.

“You’re such a dork.” Peppermint said, voice raspy.

“Do you feel a little better?”

She thought for a moment. She sniffed, “Yeah. A little.”

“Then I did my job. You're welcome.” He gingerly patted her shoulder before turning and plodding back to the couch.

Maybe CNMN had inspired him a little. He looked down at the duffel bag he'd carried for so many years— reminded of all the memories it carried alongside all its other contents. That used to be all he owned, but that wasn't quite true anymore. At a breakneck pace, he'd gained more than he could have ever expected. He had so much.

His gaze wandered to the back of Peppermint's chair. He could see her arm reaching out and scratching 808 under the chin, and hear the quiet, legato measures in how she calmed herself down. Chai got through a lot. Everyone he knew got through a lot. Good and bad days came and went. What was important, Chai hummed to himself (he swore he could hear CNMN's voice echoing in his head like a refrain), was that they all mattered.

He thought about all the things that scared him. He thought about the things that had been plaguing him for the past…however long. He thought about the things that didn't help his insomnia. He thought about his friends. All of it mattered. 

Maybe he wasn't ready to talk about it yet. Hell, he didn't even want to think about it anymore. But as he shelved every thought he didn't want, the feeling that settled in his chest as he left CNMN made a comeback, and something came with it. Chai felt sleepy. It was the kind that didn't need to be earned through exhaustive work. It wasn't the kind that only greeted him out of sheer necessity for rest. It was kind of amazing to be so comforted that it felt like a lullaby. 

As Chai settled in for a nap he'd been aching for all day, he repeated an almost mantra in his head. He could be there for his friends. He knew— well, he hoped, really— they'd be there for him. He drifted off, dreaming that he'd cross that bridge when he found it.

Chapter Text

Roxanne woke up in a hospital bed.

She heard the beeping of a heart monitor. There was an IV in her hand. And her son was sitting beside the bed, tapping his heel anxiously with his eyes cast downward.

“What…?” She said, coughing shortly thereafter. Kale tensed. A sigh of (what had to be) relief swiftly followed. It was shaky and uncertain. His hands trembled like leaves in a storm.

“You’re okay,” he said. It sounded more like he was trying to get himself to believe it.

“What happened?”

“You collapsed. I didn't— I didn't know what to do. Apparently your implant malfunctioned? I just..” he looked down as his voice broke. Roxanne felt her heart twist.

“Kale, hey, look at me,” she said in a hushed voice, “I'm okay. We're okay.”

She didn't remember feeling faint. Besides that, everything seemed like it was going fine with her health. Shouldn't she have been the first one to catch if anything was going on with her implant? She supposed it didn't really matter right now. She took her son's hands in hers, squeezing them.

“It's just—” he said, “—I've been really worried since… you know.”

Right. Peppermint had cut them both off. Roxanne had been in what felt like a constant state of worry and sorrow since she realized that her daughter wasn’t coming home. She'd been calling religiously. No answer. She nodded solemnly, “I know.”

“I…” A tear rolled down his cheek, “I can’t lose you too.”

Her hands moved to hold Kale's face. Her thumb wicked away the tear. Her gaze stayed on him, examining every feature. She pressed a kiss to his forehead. “You won't.”

Kale pulled away. His hands began to fidget. He looked up, “Maybe… you could..”

Roxanne tilted her head. Her brows knit together. She knew where this was going, but she allowed herself the doubt.

“It would just make me feel better if you retired,” he finally said. “I know how you've been so torn up about all these things going on. And with this? Landing in the hospital? I'm worried, Mom.”

The way his eyes gleamed made her swallow. Roxanne didn't doubt her son's technological skills— she'd be a fool to— nor did she doubt his cunning or drive. Kale understood how Vandelay worked as a company. He knew each moving piece of that brilliant machine like he'd built it himself. What he was missing, however, was the heart of it all. He was detached, ruthless. Problems were solved not through discussion and mutual growth, but through threats and demands. In truth, Roxanne found herself terrified by that. Her son was a born leader; but she could never hand her life's work to him in good conscience… even if his begging became more insistent. Kale searched his mother's eyes. Her gaze crumpled beneath his.

“I…” she said. “I want to call your sister.”

“Why?!” He surged to his feet, his voice hurt and angry, “She left us. She abandoned this family. Why do you insist on keeping that door open when you know she's never coming back?”

“You will not talk about her that way.” She firmly shot back. Kale paced beside her bed like a tiger in a zoo.

“You know I'm capable enough. You know that, right? I care about you, Mom, I don't want you to kill yourself for this company.”

“I wasn't planning on it.”

“You passed out! Your implant malfunctioned! What's going to happen next time? What's going to happen when I'm not there to save you?”

The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. Again, the pair stared at each other. The argument raged in silent admissions on either side. 

Roxanne sighed, “I'll…think about it.”

It wasn't good enough. It was just another way of saying ‘no.’ Kale knew that. He opened his mouth to say something more, but then thought better of it. His teeth grinded together as his fists clenched tightly.

He turned on his heel and stormed out.

Roxanne pressed her fingertips into her forehead. She suppressed the need to cry. Not here. Not now. Not again. She focused on breathing.

…

Roxanne woke up with the beginnings of a headache. She scrubbed her face with one hand as she tried to rid herself of the grogginess of sleep. She didn't want to muse on the implications of a dream (nightmare?) that she was already forgetting the details of. By lunch today, there'd be nothing left of it plaguing her mind.. hopefully. 

Speaking of, she and Peppermint had planned to meet then. It was nice to remind herself of that. She rolled off her bed and to her feet. She stretched, then shambled off to start the day.

Fortunately, she was right to not think about that dream. It more or less evaporated from her mind— and sooner than she anticipated. It meant she could focus on far more important things. Today, that was skimming and responding to emails, checking in with repair crews, a whole host of math, and sifting through applications she’d received for department head positions (to which she briefly pondered the idea of getting into contact with the previous ones.. old friends of hers. She hummed. Perhaps she could ask Macaron if he knew where they ended up). 

It was about half an hour before her lunch when she got a call from her daughter.

“Hello?” She said as she held her phone between her ear and her shoulder. She flitted over the references and experience on one application.

“Hey, mom! We still on for lunch?” Peppermint asked.

“I was hoping so. Why, did something come up?”

“Ehhh…..kinda? I'm just going to run a little late, I think.” 

If their family had any kind of curse, it was the perpetual overbooking problem and tendency to run late, being the overachievers that they were. Roxanne laughed, half to herself.

“Sure, that's fine. Anything I can do to help?”

“I don’t think so. It's just a thing, y'know?"

“How about I put your order in myself? That way you won't have to wait for it.” Roxanne offered.

“Oh, yeah, wait, that's actually a good idea.”

“Just tell me what you want, then,” she smiled.

“Sure.” 

A pause hung in the air. Confused, Roxanne hummed, “Well?”

“Are you going to write it down or something? I was just.. like.. waiting for you to say when you were ready.” Peppermint answered, sounding sheepish.

“I'll remember it.” And even if she didn't, Roxanne knew her daughter's taste enough to form an educated guess. Though that part went unsaid.

“Okay then, I'll get—”

“Damn, you actually remembered.” Peppermint said as she walked up to the table. Roxanne scoffed with a cheeky grin, allowing herself a glimmer of pride.

“No need to sound too surprised, dear.”

“You're the best.”

“And don't you forget it.” She winked playfully. The pair of them tapped their drinks together, though Roxanne let herself simply watch her daughter eat for a moment before letting herself indulge in the food. Lunch was good; nothing to write home about, though Roxanne didn't finish what she'd gotten. She only spoke again when Peppermint finished up as well, “How have you been lately? I feel like it's been a bit since I've seen you.”

“I've been good, I think. Stuff has been busy.”

“I'll say.”

“Oh yeah— I guess you're all kinds of swamped. Sorry.”

“It's alright.” She shrugged. “How is everyone else? I don't think I've seen Chai much lately.”

“Well he's busy with—” Peppermint suddenly cut herself off with a quick look of realization. She attempted to recover just as fast, “—Y’know. Learning how to play guitar.”

Roxanne raised an eyebrow. For as many strengths her child had, lying wasn't one of them. Suddenly this was more of an interrogation than it was a casual conversation. 

“Is that it?”

“Yeeup! And helping all of us with our things, y'know.” Peppermint smiled with just a bit too much shine.

“May I ask what held you up before you came here?”

“....It was… normal work stuff.”

“Peppermint, are you lying to me?” She really didn't want it to sound like as much of a careful accusation as it was.

“No.” She said, meeting her gaze. Her voice was firm and steady.

Roxanne paused, “You know you can tell me about anything that's going on, right?”

“...I know.” She shrunk in on herself ever so slightly. Then, quietly, “Sorry.”

“You don't have to apologize. I just don't want you to feel like you have to handle everything on your own. I'm here for you— I'm your mother.” 

“I know,” Peppermint repeated, her hands toying with each other, “I just…”

“Just what?”

“I don't.. want you to worry about it, okay? I got it under control.”

“If you're sure,” she sighed. They wouldn't get any further for now; and Roxanne didn't want to accidentally push away her daughter because of something (probably) inconsequential. She placed her hand on her daughter’s, “I love you, Peppermint.”

“I love you too.” She said it honestly— easily. Maybe Roxanne could accept that and let sleeping dogs lie. Though it didn't settle the dubious feeling in her gut.

“Anyway, I trust you, but I'm also here for you. That's all I wanted to say.”

“Yeah..” They both sat in the quiet for a beat. Peppermint then tilted her head, “Can I ask you something actually?”

“Of course.”

“What made you cut all your hair off?” She asked. Then she swiftly added, “It looks great! I love it on you, but… I guess I just didn't expect it. Seems impulsive for you.”

“Believe me, it was.” Roxanne said. She reflected for a moment, “I suppose I just needed a change. This is a new era for the company— and it's a new period of my life. I guess, in a way, there was a part of me that needed to feel in control of it all.”

“Yeah..” she looked down with an unreadable expression. What was evident was an internal conflict.

“Peppermint,” Roxanne said, catching her daughter's gaze, “I know we haven't talked about it since…” she cleared her throat, “but I hope you don't think I expect you to take over this company at some point. I don't even expect you to work here if you don't want that.”

“Where did that come from?” Peppermint asked, taken aback. That didn't stop the tension from easing away from her shoulders.

“I just—” she stopped for a deep breath, “The last thing I want is for you to feel tied down. I know I already said that I don't want you to change and that I want you to do things your own way, but there are times I worry that… it's not enough. Just to say things, I mean. I want you to know it.”

“I know.” She said quietly at first. Then, again, “I know.” She looked down. One hand came up to smooth over her fuzzy, shaved side of hair, “It's still comforting to hear though, I think. Because it's not like I don't want to be involved in the company— I do— but… I dunno. Hearing that I'm not obligated to feels like.. a weight off my chest that I didn't even know was there in the first place. Or maybe I forgot it was there? Which is weird because I know, logically that obligation wasn't..there, but…”

“I get that.”

“Thanks for.. giving me permission to keep doing whatever I want.”

“Of course.” She couldn't hide the warm smile that found itself on her face. Her heart felt light, there was an ease in her mind, and for that moment, she didn't worry about a thing. 

She tried to ignore the nagging feeling in the back of her mind. Honestly, the effort was valiant. She still lost the battle. She did stop herself from immediately jumping to conclusions and investigating. Roxanne still trusted Peppermint (she wasn't lying when she said that), and she wanted nothing more than to let her take care of whatever was going on like she said she could. 

But that didn't change the fact that something was going on—  something Roxanne didn't know about. That made her nervous. 

So she stopped to make a phone call with one of her closest friends. The line rung once…twice—

“Hello?”

“Macaron, hi! Do you have a minute?” she shifted the phone to her other ear and glanced around her office. One hand rubbed the other arm like it'd take away the uncomfortable itch beneath her skin.

“For you? Always.” He said, practically glowing through the audio.

“Lovely.”

“So, what's up? You're not usually one for phone calls during work just to talk.”

“I just think…” she closed her eyes and pushed out a puff of air, “Alright, I'm going to ask you about something, and I would really appreciate if you were honest with me.” 

“Of course.”

“Is something going on? I had lunch with Peppermint earlier today and… we hit a bit of a snag during conversation.” She explained, “I have the suspicion there's something she's not telling me.”

“Oh—”

“I trust her, don't get me wrong. I'm just.. worried. And I know you, her, and everyone else are so close.”

Macaron was quiet, then— “Yes, some things have been going on.”

“Like..?”

“Things..that I don't think would be right if I told you about.”

“Oh.” Roxanne tried not to sound as disappointed as she was. It didn't work.

“It's a bit of a touchy subject, but she's been thinking about you a lot. That much I know for certain.” He sighed, “I'm sorry.”

“No, it's— It's okay. I think… maybe.” She said.

“Is it, though?”

“I'd just hope she'd.. tell me about it. I don't want—” She cut herself off abruptly, as if her voice suddenly failed without her permission. She didn't want that to happen to them again. It couldn't happen again. 

Macaron, like always, had a way of sensing her inner turmoil, “You're both different now. You're better now.”

Was she really much different, though? It wasn't like she was lucid enough to notice.

“I suppose..”

“You said you trust her, right?”

“I do.”

“Then trust that she'll tell you about it when the time is right.”

Another vague, uneasy feeling settled within Roxanne. This time it sat on her shoulders. Like a hawk’s talons, that funny feeling gripped her tightly. She hummed so as to not give herself away.

“Thank you, Macaron. I really needed to hear that.”

“I'm here for you, Roxanne.”

“If I can make one more request…”

“Of course.”

“Be there for Peppermint as well. I'm not sure what she's not telling me, like I said, but I trust your judgement. I won't pry. But if you could, maybe—”

“I will. You can count on me.”

“It's a comfort to hear that.” A small one, but a comfort nonetheless. “Thank you for talking with me about this.”

“Anytime.” He said.

“I'll be seeing you, Macaron.”

“Likewise, Roxanne.”

She set the phone down, hanging up, then promptly buried her face in her hands. 

Roxanne was going to make a decision she'd surely regret. It was 4 o'clock in the morning after another (mostly) sleepless night. The day before had fared well enough, aside from those two conversations that would not stop plaguing her. 

It felt wrong to doubt people she cared so deeply for. She trusted them, right? Why would she even think to question them? But then again, there were some serious red flags in each conversation. Why would Peppermint lie to her? What would Macaron not tell her? Another wave of guilt washed over her. 

Investigating on her own was a bad idea. Unfortunately for everyone, that was exactly what Roxanne was going to do.

Her search first kept her at home. She cracked into her son's old emails and files (hacked would be a better word), and began combing through them for any irregularities. Alas, there wasn't anything that she wasn't already aware of. Kale's barely deniable conduct was a constant at this point. Roxanne smothered the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose or sigh.

She then ventured into Vandelay Tower. Perhaps there was something in her or Roquefort's office that was kept away from prying eyes. She thought, absently, about how she hoped this wild goose chase wouldn't last. She hoped that she'd either find something, or that she'd find nothing at all and just forget about it (though, knowing her, the latter was nigh impossible). 

Combing through physical files could have taken hours. It could have taken days— years, even, and it would have all felt the same. She probably hadn't even looked through more than a few months worth of reports. She cursed to herself, her eyes stingy and begging for rest. There wasn't anything notable. More squandered budgets and narcissistic notes hidden behind a veil of charitable ideas. She stopped herself before she lost whatever potentially (probably) misguided faith she had left. She reminded herself that Vandelay would never be like that again if she had any say in the matter. Then the implication lingered. Perhaps she'd had that thought before.

Her footsteps out of the office were quiet, as if she would be questioned if she were caught. There were some benefits to founding and owning the entire company, she supposed. The balcony was still dressed in caution tape. The statue was gone. Roxanne hummed, but did not stay. She was prepared to collapse. 

(“You passed out! Your implant malfunctioned! What's going to happen next time? What's going to happen when I'm not there to save you?”)

Ugh. Not that again. The dream had faded. She hadn't thought about it all day. Why did it haunt her now? She held her eyes tightly shut as she stepped into the elevator.

She didn't remember anything irregular. Actually, everything seemed completely fine. She always kept up to date with maintenance— not that it was an often occurrence— and she was far sounder in mind back then. She wouldn't have missed anything. So then why…?

A theory dawned on her. A wave of nausea hit her like a semi-truck speeding down an empty road. She couldn't bear the thought. So many things had come to light, but this notion; she thought herself incapable of believing it. She hated herself in the fact that she did. 

Foul play had to have been involved. Of course it did. Her son was savvy enough to find a way to tamper with her implant without her even knowing. And, as the memory slowly became clearer, he enjoyed taking time out of his day to help her with the check-ins she'd do. She was capable enough to do them on her own. They both knew that. He always said it was good to have backup. Just in case. He said it with such an earnest smile, and Roxanne was more than happy to spend the time with him.

She shuddered, steadying herself on the elevator's back-most railing. Her eyes stung even more now. Though, whether it was from the panic attack she was now barely staving off or the realization beating down on her, she didn't know.

She had curled in on herself, her head between her knees. Her failing efforts to calm down persisted. Her breath came in haggard, uneven bouts; in and out like the tide during a raging storm. A want was born in her chest— a need for someone else to be there. She wanted to feel like she wasn't alone in this moment. Then, a countering want followed close behind. The need to be completely and entirely alone. Now was not the time to be at war with herself!

Roxanne straightened her back and pulled her knees tighter to her chest. She sucked a breath in as she counted to 5 in her head, held it for another count, then exhaled for another. And again, and again until the world felt like a livable place again.

Slowly, slowly, she pulled herself up to her feet. She heaved. She trembled. She would survive.

The elevator around her had long stopped moving. Roxanne hit the button to open the doors (she wasn't sure if she unconsciously and prematurely shut them, or if they did that automatically after a period of having no input). She was greeted with darkness unlike the kind she had been existing in.

Vandelay Tower had small, dim lights that were kept on for safety. A simple precaution every commercial building on Campus had. To suddenly be met with complete darkness was unsettling. Stranger still was a lack of moonlight— perhaps even the first lights of dawn— filtering in through any windows. Even if the lights had gone out, Vandelay Tower had thousands of windows. Roxanne looked up. The screen above all the buttons was absent of any floor number. The doors began to close again, she forced them back before they could. 

Unbeknownst to her, she'd taken the elevator down, down, down.. lower than what any blueprints for the tower might have suggested was possible. She was underground.

She considered going back up, walking back home, and forgetting this night (morning?) even happened. Unfortunately for everyone, that was not what Roxanne decided to do. She tentatively stepped out of the elevator and onto the tiled floor before her. In a flash, the whole room lit up.

Persons other than >Kale Vandelay< dete—

With a thought, Roxanne cut the power off just as quickly as it came on. Her heart hadn’t stopped racing. She decided that, whatever security she’d just tripped, she wasn't in the state to deal with it. She brushed a hand over her hair and marched further in. Computers, railings, servers… Nothing that Roxanne had the energy to investigate. (Fascinating, how driven she was to find answers just hours before, only to be utterly exhausted now). Her gaze lingered on the doors that lined the room. Despite the lack of power to the room, the doors still gave off a bright green light. The numbers in the center of each lock piqued her interest— it meant there were more than just the 8 that were here. She looked over her shoulder. There were 9 doors, actually. The biggest one in the strange basement room was just wildly inaccessible thanks to a wide, black pit. 

She meandered sluggishly back to the elevator. She’d seen enough. There was something, at least. As much as she wanted to confront Peppermint or Macaron, ask if they knew about this… she really didn’t have the energy. They could handle whatever it was. She trusted them.

Would it be hypocritical if she still decided to continue searching on her own? As tired as she was, a pull back into the room still lasted on her. There was still so much to figure out— so much she didn’t know. But at the same time, she should ask about it…right? Would they both just continue to dodge her questions? Maybe she’d just get in the way of things. Roxanne groaned to herself and resolved to make a decision about how she felt when she didn't think she was about to keel over. She willed the elevator to take her back up to ground level. She retired to her home.

She took the next day off, and spent it sleeping.

Chapter Text

One more door. That was it.

The process of following a signal, entering a numbered door, and completing its challenge had taken weeks. After all, everyone in the gang had their own obligations to put before whatever was going on with SPECTRA. Minus Peppermint and Chai (but even then, the latter often felt like he was the only one being unproductive; Peppermint was still doing things that actually mattered). The chances that everyone's schedules aligned well enough to conquer more doors were far fewer and far-er between than Chai enjoyed. Not that he let anyone know. He took what he could get, after all.

“So. I've been wondering. Do you have anything to do when you're not out collecting those data strings?” Peppermint asked as she folded some laundry across the hideout. 808 was loafing beside her and purring, napping happily with her chin on her creator's thigh. 

“Well, yeah! I have guitar lessons to teach myself.” He said as he leaned on her work table. The pair looked at each other through the gaps between heaps of yet-to-be-incorporated scraps of metal and Macaron's punching bags. 

“I meant more like… I don't know, stuff that got you out of the hideout? I never took you for a homebody.”

He scoffed playfully, “If you want to kick me out, you can just say so.”

“Thats not what I meant.” She rolled her eyes. Her tone didn't match his. He sighed and relented.

“Look, it's not like I'm doing anything important. I think I'm allowed to be a little bit of a hermit!”

“I.. can't tell if you're being humble or self-depricating.” She squinted at him.

Maybe it was both, he thought as he revisited the memory in the following days. That was a thought reserved for him alone, though. Saying it out loud would be a massive mood-killer. For now he focused on SPECTRA challenges. 

Truth be told, he snuck into ones he'd already been in several times. Just to see if he could do those challenges better. Even after knowing what was behind those doors, Chai loved the thrill that stayed. No one knew he was up to these kinds of shenanigans either. Maybe being alone and doing the challenges again and again added to that thrill. Rebelliousness was invigorating.

There was one door left to conquer. Then this whole thing would be over. SPECTRA could finally be a funny memory of the past. Chai felt, regrettably, bittersweet about the notion. There was a part of him that didn't want to be done with the adventure. 

The last door..

Unfortunately, the universe was hellbent on making the task of shutting it off suck as much as possible.

Peppermint had been acting a certain way even before everyone came over. She was quiet at best, and downright snappy at worst. She wouldn't say anything about what was going on with her. Chai wanted to ask, but every attempt was shut down with an “it's nothing” or “I'm fine.” It was enough to give him the hint to buzz off about it already (even if he had to do so somewhat frustratedly).

He got the same weird vibes from everyone else. No one was much for conversation outside of the usual pleasantries. There was an awkward air that lorded over the atmosphere. Chai shivered at the thought. It was weird for everyone to be so frosty.. He was just glad he didn't have to linger. He had a thing to do!

At this point, he'd memorized the path to the door. It was the one labeled ‘05’, tucked away in Security, and the only reason Chai had completed the challenges out of order. He'd been in that room several times before. And he'd left empty-handed every time. His patience with that room had been wearing down, leaving him with little of it now. 808 spared him a glance as she floated by his head. He walked in without returning it. Mark his words, he was going to emerge victorious this time.

The room looked identical to every other one of its kind. Chai marched onto the gold, glowing tile in the center of the floor.

Don't just win— Dominate!

Using all the skills at your disposal, defeat all enemies with far more damage than necessary. Take out all enemies before the timer hits 0!

Would you like to take on this challenge?

“Let's get this done!” He announced, flipping his guitar into the air and catching it again effortlessly. He faced the challenge as he had many times before. A wry grin hung on his face like it was easy. 808 bobbed beside him and spun in agreement. He looked over—  practically through her and into the hideout. “You guys ready?”

“What. The actual.” 

Chai was pretty sure this room was a gateway to Hell or something. He'd been throwing himself into the challenge at least 15 times now (it felt like 30), and the novelty and excitement of finishing up the adventure had fizzled away each time Chai told the room he wanted to attempt again. 808's enthusiasm had waned at the same tempo. The rest of the team likely followed as well.

On the smallest bright side imaginable, there was comfort in the fact that failing any given challenge meant absolutely nothing. Chai had been ace-ing these tests with flying colors before. Which meant that the whole team were left to theorize on what consequences would follow should he fail. Everyone collectively steered very clear of any grave implications, but they knew they were each thinking it to some degree.

Chai heaved, exasperated, “It should not be this hard, right?”

“It is all about threading the needle!” CNMN surmised.

“Yeah, I get that much, but I have to do just enough damage to not destroy anything to fill up some of my reverb gague, but also be able to destroy it the next time I call one of you guys in to be able to do enough damage for it to count as ‘overkill.’ And I'm doing all of it on a time limit and with a limited number of guys to beat up.”

“We can take a break,” Korsica offered.

“I'm not tired or anything, I can do it. I'm just getting a little frustrated.”

“Be that as it may—”

“Nah! Nah, let's do it!” He grinned. 

“Chai.” 

Alas, the room whirred at his command, entirely ignorant to anyone else's input on the matter. That was one thing the gang learned quickly. For whatever reason, the room only reacted to Chai. Peppermint had made attempts to hack into the room. She'd only been halfway successful before giving up. It's not like he had any trouble before this room—  what did it matter? He wasn't going to back out and try the easy option now.

Another failure. 

“Damnit!” Chai wheezed.

Macaron spoke this time, “Alright, Chai. Just take a second.”

“No way in hell! I'm fine.”

“You've been saying that,” Peppermint observed. 

“Because it's true!”

“Still. We've been at this for an hour and a half.”

“It is not good to continue spiraling on a problem. With your building frustration, Mister Chai, it sounds like it is only making your performance suffer.” CNMN added. Chai scoffed in return. They continued nonetheless, “Perhaps it would be beneficial to come back with a fresh mind!”

“I can do this.”

“Chai.” Peppermint looked at him intently. He stared back. Then his brow furrowed as he took a spiteful step forward. 

“One more try,” he whispered. 

It turned out to be a pretty bad idea. Chai didn't get hurt or anything, but he certainly didn't get lucky enough to suddenly beat the challenge. It didn't help that he'd elected— for one reason or another— to try going at it alone. He tossed his guitar to the side, watching it slide along the floor as he stormed a distance away. 808 watched him with an uneasy expression.

“Okay, you're taking a break now.” Korsica said, sternly.

“Sure. 2 minutes.” He huffed.

“You can't be serious, Chai!” Peppermint cut in as she stamped a paw, “10 minutes. Get out of this room and go get some water or something.”

“Or what?”

“Or I'll come down there and drag you out myself.”

“Can you even get in here?” It was a genuine question to some extent, but he just sounded sarcastic. 808's ears pinned back and her tail lashed as Peppermint frowned at him through her.

“A 10 minute break would be good,” Macaron nervously chimed in, as if in the hopes to alleviate the tension, “for all of us.”

CNMN added, “You look rather pale, Mister Chai. Please take our advice.”

He said nothing. 

“For once, could you just go with one of the ideas we have instead of following your own agenda?” Peppermint snapped.

Instead of answering her, Chai looked down at a watch he didn't have. “Oh, look at that. 2 minutes. I guess my break’s over.”

“Chai!”

He didn't turn. He wasn't listening anymore. He had a job to do, damnit, and he'd gotten so close. He was going to get it done. The room was spinning— that didn't matter. His footing wasn't the steadiest, but that was fine. 808 meowed after him. He finally whipped around to face her.

Chai's foot slipped as he did. The world went dark. He lost consciousness. He fell to the floor with a hard landing.

At some indistinguishable point, amidst everything, Chai felt a distant pressure on his organic wrist. Then the same on the side of his throat. It wasn't enough to rouse him from whatever state he found himself in (awareness was a hard thing to come by while the dull pain that reverberated from the back of his skull made it impossible to tell where or when he was, or what was going on).

Chai stirred. The back of his head ached, but it became apparent very quickly that he wasn't lying on the ground. He opened his eyes slowly. The light made his headache worse, but his vision came into focus quickly enough.

Korsica had her arms hooked under him, and carried him steadily. They were walking down a hallway he didn't really recognize. 808 was nowhere to be found. Wait— Korsica?

He suddenly attempted to struggle to his feet. Said suddenness startled Korsica with a yelp, but she kept the pair of them steady and contained him in her arms with some effort.

“What happened??”

“You passed out— Chai! Could you make it a little easier for me to not drop you?” The pair made eye contact… and Chai sunk in on himself.

“Sorry.”

“You should apologize to Peppermint when you get the chance.” She paused, then looked down, “Are you okay?”

“Why does everyone keep asking me that? I'm fine!”

“I wouldn't call…whatever it was you were so hellbent on doing the actions of someone who's fine.”

Chai couldn't really argue there. He stayed quiet in lieu of shoving his foot any further into his mouth. 

“Can you put me down?” He eventually asked.

“No.”

“....Okay then.”

“Where's 808? How'd you even get me? How..long have I been out?” He looked about.

“I left the hideout to drag you out of that room when it became kind of obvious you weren't going to listen to any of us,” Korsica admitted with a slight shrug, “I didn't learn you passed out until I got to the door and started knocking. Thankfully, 808 let me in from the other side.”

(Chai shoved away the brief thought of “little traitor.” It felt too mean-spirited for comfort. Guilt settled on his tongue and left a bad taste in his mouth.)

“Anyway,” the Head of Security continued, “I sent her off to get a bottle of water. I tried to talk to Peppermint, Macaron, and CNMN before she set off.. but only CNMN answered. My guess is that they're on their way here too.”

“Great.” He grumbled, letting his neck flop back and his arms go limp. Peppermint was probably going to tear him a new one. He shook his head, “Anyway— how long was I unconscious?”

“Right.. I'd wager.. 10 minutes? Maybe a bit less?” She gave him an odd look. Somewhere between dismayed and surprised. 

“Geez.”

It was painfully obvious that there was more Korsica wanted to ask. Chai knew what people looked like when there was more they wanted to say. They usually had the same looks on their faces. Either way, she kept her questions to herself for the time being.

They finally walked into what looked like a break room. Korsica set him down on a bench and turned. Chai dusted himself off quietly. He watched and waited for his moment.

“Well, this was… an experience,” He said, standing, “I had a good snooze and a little field trip, but that door still needs to get taken care of—”

“Sit down.”

“Sitting.” He slumped back down. There were no openings to sneak away it seemed. Chai let himself fiddle with his hands as he lay down against the bench. Korsica came back over and sat beside him. She pulled out a pocket-sized flashlight and shined it directly into his eyes. He didn’t know why he was surprised, CNMN had done the same thing when he came to after the LIFT incident. 

“What made you want to complete that challenge so badly?” she asked as she pulled away, her eyes cast to the ground.

“You mean—?”

“Yes, I mean other than the obvious. I know there's SPECTRA, but you seemed kind of.. desperate.” She passed him a worried sidelong look. 

“I don't know, I guess..” Chai sat up again and looked down at his hands. One the silvers and matte grays of metal, and the other the light peaches and living shades of flesh. There was no way of dodging the question. Korsica was smart, and it'd only worry her more if she didn't get a straight answer. Chai decided to pick his battles in this instance. He clenched his fists and his eyebrows knit together, “I guess I think about the fact that, anytime before I got this arm, I was stuck with only being able to use one. My—  erm..— not working arm always seemed to be in the way, or it'd be the first thing people saw or pointed out. I was always underestimated or discounted… and that's if it wasn't made fun of or straight up a subject of contempt.” His jaw tightened. “After getting this arm, I've been able to do… whatever, I guess. And people look at me differently. I mean— I don't know— I… it's not— ugh, this is hard. I don't want it to seem like I can't do…” He trailed off, gesturing vaguely, “Because, like, if I can't do, then what good am I? I've been able to do so many things, what happens when I can't do those things?”

(What will happen when there isn't anything more to do? Will his friends really need him anymore if he isn't useful? It was hard for him to imagine, despite the small, logical part of him that tried to assure him that, yes, he was in fact important to these people.)

Before Chai could get too lost in his thoughts, he felt Korsica set a hand on his shoulder. He was expecting the same piteous look he'd gotten from people so many times in the past. Instead, he saw empathy. 

“Chai, I don't know what it's like to live with those limits for most of your life.” She said, “But, for what it's worth, I do know what it's like to feel like you need to be able to do things on your own.” She sighed, “Over the past 6 months, I got so used to being completely on my own. I mean, even before that I wasn't the most extroverted. But anyway. I had to solve my own issues— other people's issues— and there wasn't anyone who would give me the time of day to help. If I couldn't do my job, I thought, what had I worked so hard for? What was the point— what good was my dream after all these years? It ate me alive, to be honest.”

Chai swallowed as he watched her look up and comb a hand through her hair. 

She continued, “But now I don't have to do all these things on my own. Ever since I joined your team, I got to know what being part of a team felt like, you know? That's all… because you decided to save me.”

“Korsica—”

“All this to say,” she cut him off, “that I know what it feels like to put yourself through Hell because you feel like you're obligated to. I know it's different between the two of us, but I know what it feels like.”

They sat in palpable silence. Chai didn't have any kind of rebuttal to what Korsica said (and honestly, felt a bit too raw to say anything at all). His conversation with CNMN just days before echoed in the back of his head.

The door opened. The pair looked up and watched 808 as she hesitantly padded inside. She had a plastic water bottle in her mouth, fresh from a vending machine. In the instant she spotted Chai, she jumped, dropped the bottle to the ground, and launched herself into his chest with a hard enough impact to briefly knock the wind out of him. She purred against him and kneaded his shirt.

“Hey, girl,” Chai smiled once he could breathe again. He gently scratched behind her ear, “Sorry… guess I scared you, huh?”

She paused and looked up at him with a frown. She slapped a paw across his face (no claws, but a pretty fair impact). Then she went back to her affections.

“Yeah, I deserve that.”

Korsica got up and grabbed the water bottle from the floor. She passed it into Chai's hands as she sat back down. Chai twisted off the cap and stared at it. 

SPLOOSH!

Chai up and doused his face with a splash of cold water. 808 yipped and leapt away, fur bristling. Korsica, likewise, looked at him with surprise. The water sent a shock through his nervous system as he shook the excess off of his face and out of his hair. He breathed, then laughed to himself. 

“Can I ask you something?” He looked at Korsica.

“Sure..?”

“Has everyone been acting….weird today or is it just me?”

Her shoulders sagged a little, “It's not just you.”

“Did something happen?”

“Kind of?” She thought for a moment, “An interview came out about the state of the company— and I'm pretty sure the media is freaking out over it.”

“Wait, an interview with who??”

“Roxanne. I remember seeing an email saying she wasn't going to be on campus for the day, but.. none of us knew anything beyond that.” She then scoffed, “I didn't even read it until I got a call from my family asking about it!”

“Is that..a bad thing? What did it say??”

“It wasn't a bad interview. It was actually pretty good in terms of, I guess, telling a story to the public that makes everything make sense. It's just that—” she looked down, “I don't know. It made everything sound so much more… sad? It's not the truth, obviously, because Vandelay can't tell the world about how it tried to spearhead some kind of mind control conspiracy, but it made Kale sound so…sympathetic.”

Chai hummed. Korsica sighed.

“It's frustrating— for me, at least— because I know that it was the story that needed to be told, but I have to follow that narrative. It wasn't what happened.” She chuckled, bitterly as she shook her head, “Not even close.”

“Yeah.”

“The worst part is, when my family called and asked about it, they asked how I was doing. I had no idea what to say. I just said ‘oh, I'm fine. I'm living with it, adjusting, you know.’” She outstretched her arms, “I haven't told anyone outside of… our group, I guess— what happened. I just..” She pulled her arms back close to her body, a thumb brushing over her scars.

“Sorry.”

“No, don't be. I'll… figure it out, somehow.” Again, Korsica smiled and shook her head, “I'm the one that's supposed to be comforting you here! I shouldn't talk so much about my issues.”

“But it's good to talk about them. And it's not like I don't get it! At least a little bit.”

“Still..”

“It's okay, man. If I don't have to apologize, then you don't either.”

“You should actually drink that water now,” Korsica pointed.

“Oh! Yeah.”

“When was the last time you had water, anyway?”

Chai thought for a second. Nothing…sprung to mind.. He sheepishly dodged the question in favor of chugging what was left in the bottle. He crushed it and set it aside as he did.

The pair perked up as they heard a pair of heavy footfalls approach the door. Peppermint burst in, and Macaron trailed closely behind.

“What the hell were you thinking?!” The blonde barked.

“I'm sorry.”

That apparently wasn't the answer she was expecting. The wind looked like it had been more or less completely taken from Peppermint's sails.

She tried to continue fuming nonetheless, “Do you have any idea how terrifying that was? We thought…”

“I know. It wasn't smart on my end. You guys were completely right.” He looked up at her and saw a mix of disbelief, confusion, and a hint of relief.

“I can't tell if— are you being serious or…”

“Yeah, completely serious. I'm sorry.” He nodded, “I should have listened.”

“We're just glad you're okay, little guy,” Macaron said.

“Mostly okay,” Chai shrugged. Peppermint suddenly knelt down and peered at his chest— where his music player was. 

“Did something happen with your core? Maybe overloading it so much did something and it caused you to pass out.”

“I'm pretty sure I was just really dehydrated and lacking sleep.”

“Oh.” She awkwardly stepped back. She coughed, “Sorry.”

“It's okay. I mean— it always feels a little weird when you guys teleport, but I'm used to it at this point.”

He got an assortment of odd looks at that. He decided to stand up and stretch.

“Anyway! Good break,” he paused and looked around, “Where's CNMN?”

“They insisted we go on ahead,” Macaron said, “I'm not entirely sure if they're meeting us here or staying in the hideout, but—”

“I am glad to know that Mister Chai is okay!” 808 suddenly rose onto her back paws as her lights flicked a bright yellow. Chai felt his face heat up ever so slightly (how much of his feelsy emotional talk with Korsica had they heard?)

He cleared his throat, “Well, the gang's all here! Mostly. We should get back to that door.”

“What? No way!” Peppermint protested, “I'm not letting you back in there, dude, you passed out!”

“No, no, I'm saying we try a different strategy! We all go in there. Take it on together.” He stepped up onto the bench as if to rally the team together, “What's more ‘more than necessary’ than bringing a ton of backup to a fight?”

Despite the reservations that lingered on her face, Peppermint nodded. He beamed at her and jumped down. 

“Alright! One more try, guys!” He cheered as they all collectively charged out of the room. Together.

He slowed to Peppermint’s pace as everyone settled more on a ‘comfortable walk’ kind of speed. 

“Hey.”

“I'm still kind of angry at you.” She said.

“Which is fair.”

“What the hell were you thinking?” She asked, more earnestly than before.

“Not much. I thought about… how important this all was.”

“At your own expense?”

“Yeah.”

“How selfless..” she looked at him, “It's weird.”

“Hey, glad I can keep you on your toes!”

She rolled her eyes, “If that's what that means to you, then I'd prefer it if you didn't. Please be very predictable from now on.” 

“I don't make any promises.” Chai said, and was swiftly punched in the arm. He laughed. Then he looked at her, “I mean it, though, I'm sorry I've been kind of an ass.”

“...Thanks.”

The band walked into the SPECTRA room with a newfound fervor. 808 leapt up from her place on Macaron’s shoulder and swung around to float beside Chai’s head, just as always. Chai himself immediately crossed to the center of the room. His guitar, having been neglected, had split into the magnetic stick and a heap of trash. It all reassembled as soon as it returned to his grasp.

“Alright, for real this time—” Chai said with a spark in his eye. 

Everyone (CNMN included, through 808) shouted in unison, “Let’s do this!”

At last, victory was theirs. It came so much easier than it did earlier. Maybe Chai was right, but he suspected that his impromptu nap had also probably done him some good. Korsica hadn’t rushed him to a doctor or told him he got a concussion or anything, so he tried to take the consolation prize of ‘hey, free nap!’ as much as he could. Not that it settled him much.

“We should have all the strings now,” Peppermint said, “CNMN, are you still at the hideout?”

“Indeed, I am! And something quite odd is going on with all the strings. It appears they have been automatically joining together as we’ve been collecting them!”

“Huh. Okay, we’ll be back in a few. Just hang tight there!”

The walk back was calming, quiet. Chai stuffed his hands into his pockets and followed a short ways behind the rest of the group. 808 trotted beside him. He mostly kept his gaze down at the ground as he contemplated. He felt Korsica’s presence slow to be beside him (much in the same manner as he had before to talk to Peppermint). He looked up.

“How are you?” She asked.

“I’m okay enough.” He said.

“I hope this all leads to something. It’s given us so much grief.”

“I’ll say.” And yet, he still didn’t feel ready to be done, despite everything.

“I’m.. sorry about the conversation we had earlier.”

“I told you, you don’t have to apologize about it. I actually kinda liked it. It felt good to get some of that stuff out”

“I’ve been talking to CNMN about all these issues I have.”

“Oh, really?”

She shrugged and nodded, “Once a week, which usually translates to ‘whenever I’m not busy,’ but it works.”

“Nice.” He hummed genuinely. He could pick up on the unspoken recommendation from her— whether she meant it or not— as soon as she mentioned their psychology robot buddy. They lapsed back into quiet. Chai looked at her again and said, “Thanks for coming to get me.”

“Anytime.”