Chapter Text
“Oh! The old tree ogre thinks we’re all a bunch of washed up, kilt wearin’ ninnies, huh?! Sendin’ jus’ one demon spawn runt?” The Scotsman voice traveled easily over the decimated battle field once his side’s victory cries had died down and the peace flag was raised. Shadow passed him an unimpressed look, a peace flag with matching symbols resting on their own shoulder. The Scotsman side was looking for anything - weapons, materials, etc. - belonging to them. From Shadow’s observation, their only true loss was a sickly war horse who fought gallantly until the end. What the peace flags did not prevent were the insults.
“What’s the matter?! Budget so tight you can only afford a half o’ cape? Maybe we ought to donate a kilt to your sad excuse of an outfit! You look like a haunted circus performer! Which makes sense since your side is nothing but a bad joke!” Shadow wandered on, using their senses rather than vision to keep an eye on their true target. The cart leading the siege had been overturned and tossed aside early on. Celtic magic had easily overwhelmed the one element of science and music Magnus had sent after the Scotsman’s clan. The lieutenant general had been trying for years to weaken them, and even that had been unsuccessful. He often tried to claim they were a security threat, but Shadow shot it down when it was brought up between the three generals (they swore no protection to the lieutenant general if Magnus brought it to Aku). It was ‘a waste of resources” and a ‘non-issue’ and Ophion agreed with the caveat of keeping an eye out. Shadow knew it was only a time before Magnus tried again with his new toy.
“Did you think toy drums would do anything against us? Here, let me play you real music!” The Scotsman took up his bagpipes and after a few minutes, a whole group joined in, washing the battlefield in the melody. It was the perfect cover for Shadow to draw out the secondary target. They kept slogging through dead bodies and mangled armor to what seemed like a living soul.
“... General Shadow … Save me…” a weak voice came out from the hiding spot. The officer in charge of the operation, one as openly critical of Shadow as all the others in Magnus’ high court, made his appearance known. He had been injured sometime in the fight, but Shadow assumed he had hid as soon as the going got tough, relying solely on the drums of war to lead when he had failed. Since that lasted only a short while, it was not long before the whole army fell to the Scotsman’s clan.
Shadow’s answer came in the form of a single bullet through his head. They feasted on his soul and resumed the walk through the field. A perk of battle when organics were involved was the chance to restock their surplus of soul energy. The horse was left untouched as they did a long breadth around the fallen body and two clansmen that were setting up a grave.
“Are you lookin’ for a real army?!” the Scotsman called out as the victory tune ended. “I’ll even make it fair! You against me! A one on one fight so we don’t overwhelm ya in less than a minute!” He had turned his sights to Shadow now and the two respective leaders marched towards each other. “You pint-sized ninny couldn’t even put up a good fight against a baby in me clan! Well? Thrown down that flag and I’ll plaster the battle field with your guts and use what’s left on me hagis!”
The two stood face to face, hands loose on the flag post as if waiting for the other to make the first move. “All clear!” one of the clansmen called out. Shadow tilted their head back, giving the air a few sniffs themself.
“Clear,” they confirmed. The Scotsman eagerly threw down his flag as Shadow let theirs vanish in thin air before they were willingly captured in the Scotsman’s arms.
“Oy laddie! I thought I was goin’ ta have to play you another dirge to your fashion sense while we waited. You could have given me the green light earlier!” he exclaimed as he pulled Shadow tight in a backbreaking hug. Freeze would complain later as Shadow felt internal structures shift.
“You know bots are not my specialty.”
“Aye! That’s why you should send your dress wearin’ music bot to me!”
“Ophion requires me to keep an assassin. There’s no one else remotely worth my time.”
“You shoulda kept that sharp-shooter on your team. And shut it! I know he found true love!” Shadow let out a snort at the comment as they were dropped back to the ground.
“I would like what’s in the box,” Shadow stated, gesturing back to the cart that had been abandoned towards the far edge of the massacre.
“Oh, so now you’re into music? Fine, if you can open the music box, you can have it!” Shadow nodded, teleporting over to the top of the cart, which was previously the front. Another of the Scotsman’s army had come over to investigate, tossing up a greeting to Shadow. He jumped out of the way as Shadow ripped the door off and tossed it aside, vanishing inside the cart.
“So what did the red plated coward pack inside his music box?” the Scotsman called.
“Another bot,” Shadow called back, climbing back to the new roof with a bot in tattered clothes tossed over their shoulder. They jumped to the ground easily.
“They make ‘em more and more pathetic each year,” the Scotsman scoffed, taking the limp arm before letting it fall back lifelessly against Shadow’s back. “You want this lump of scrap metal?”
“Yes. It’ll be a bargaining chip.”
“Aye, whatever makes you happy,” although he was obviously unconvinced. “When are ye comin’ back to the clan for a visit? There will be hagis! More than you could finish.”
“Doubtful.”
“I’ve got some boys wanting to try their hand against you. Ain’t believe you’re fit to lead.”
“It will have to wait,” they stated, shifting the near lifeless bot on their shoulder. “In the meantime, I hope you will accept a token of my gratitude for ‘forgetting’ this exchange happened.” They gestured broadly to the field before twirling their right hand and producing a flower. Instantly, the Scotsman’s eyes began to water in appreciation.
“Oh my little dumpling will love it! She will look so darling with it in her silky hair!” The Scotsman daintily took the preserved flower Shadow offered. It was a rare specimen, one that only bloomed every three years in a remote and guarded location. His wife had been eyeing them for years, and the last expedition to retrieve one for her had failed. Not only was it hard to find, but it was hard to keep alive on the trek home. “Consider it nothing but a dream.”
Shadow nodded, shifting the bot again before walking off. The Scotsman watched for a confused second before letting out a belly laugh as he remembered Shadow was worthless with bots.
“Laddie, you look like you will keel over!” he shouted before effortlessly flinging both figures over his shoulder and taking off in a run to the nearest town with a teleporter.
“A new project.” Freeze glanced up from his computer as the lifeless body was dumped on the table.
“What happened to Scaramouche?”
“It’s the missing one.” There was another beat before Shadow answered again. “Mercury addiction.” He was familiar enough with the side effects on both bots and unfortunately demons (thrice, because apparently Shadow was not satisfied with understanding the effects on their own body the first two times).
“Mercury overdose,” Freeze commented as he approached. “He’s virtually dead.” There was barely the faintest spark of life left. While Freeze had received compliments of being a miracle worker in the past, often in jest because Shadow was impressively still alive, this was beyond his skills. There was a ten percent chance at best he could drag the bot into critical condition and then work from there.
Shadow glanced at the pile of metal and scraps of cloth.
“Don’t.” Yet Shadow had never truly listened to him before. They were not about to start now. In a flash, they slammed a hand onto the bot’s chest and the scrap pile twitched with an awful noise a dead bot could not make. Freeze’s machines blared multiple critical warnings. There was a second set of warnings, indicating essentially all of Shadow’s backup life support functions had been activated.
“Now he’s critical.” They had only remained upright by locking their legs. With clinks of metal and bone, they began to move, leaving a trail of a black substance, blood, and oil that was heavily dripping from every visible orifice. “You have one month.” They shuffled away and Freeze let them go. There was no time to waste on chasing down a demon that had fight left in their spirit as long as they clung to even one percent of their life force.
He had one month to get this bot up and operating like a normal bot while Scaramouche was away. ‘And if I need more time?’ he sent via comms through his suit.
‘Vile does like to torment Scaramouche.’ There might be a chance.
A new visitor came ten minutes later.
“General Shadow -”
“Is fine,” Freeze assured Ophion. “Perfectly fine.” Ophion glanced at this new project, recognition clicking before his eyes again traced the trail that contradicted Freeze’s words.
“Then I’ll leave you to it,” he offered quietly, grabbing a mop and a lighter.
‘This is the third time this week I have not received a notification for your message,’ Freeze commented. Shadow paused, noting it had been nearly an hour since they sent a message inquiring if it was time to don the purple helmet now that three weeks had passed. The first time was acceptable. Systems failed and neither they nor Freeze were perfect in setting things up. The second time was odd, but perhaps, while they were sure they were not out of range, it had been the interference of the new lab occupant. Freeze had started checking notifications once an hour now to ensure nothing slipped through and this one had once again slipped through despite being in their office.
‘And there is still a large quantity of mercury in the bot’s system despite not giving him any.’ Freeze was alert and kept a close eye on the lab. While not impossible, an intruder was highly unlikely. ‘My inventory is low, so it is coming from my stash.’ It was not like someone was getting it when Freeze slept. He rarely did that. He rarely did anything a normal human did with his extremely sluggish metabolism and condition. Plus, the stash was protected by mechanisms in his suit. Unless someone that had the power to go in and out of dimensions like Shadow was coming in to pilfer a canister, few should be able to access it.
‘Are you asking me to brave the cold?’
‘Yes.’ Shadow’s lips twitched, but they would not deny that request. Protecting Freeze was one of their highest priorities, seconded only to maintaining the appearance of protecting Aku. They had no qualms of disintegrating those that even dared threaten him, as Magnus had found a few times when he had sent soldiers to antagonize the medic and received a pile of molten metal or human ash in return.
They teleported in, donning a heavier coat from the nightmare realm on the way. The bot startled, likely at the sound as Shadow was out of sight.
“Wha - who’s?” Gal slurred, clearly drugged even though his recovery plan included no substances. From Freeze’s report, the bot had not asked for mercury except the first few times he was activated a week and a half prior. That seemed to be only because he had mercury in his system, and with most of the previous overdose cleared and some processor work done, the lower quantities would be enough to mimic the effects in the early days of the addiction.
“It is just Shadow,” Freeze assured him flatly. The bot huffed something unintelligible and stilled. Shadow waited. They sent periodic test pings to Freeze as he worked on the system that showed no error. With nothing better to do, they let Freeze apply a new patch to the hole in their cheek (they would do something to have it open back up within the week, but it was looking rather grotesque and Ophion had been hinting that perhaps it was time to visit the labs before they met with some higher ranking members of society that fancied themself as powerful as a general and Lopez).
And then it came, a strong suggestion to forget the next few minutes. Shadow would have scoffed at that, as they could hardly erase something without the aid of drugs, an injury, or the passage of time. Yet the second encouragement came and Freeze was acting on it. He moved, crossing the room to the locked up medical supplies and began opening the cabinet.
‘He’s manipulating you,’ Shadow messaged. No response. Shadow let Freeze extract a container.
“Stop.” There was a hesitation, but the nudge to let Freeze do this for him did not let up. Shadow accepted ‘suggestions’ from some, but not in this case.
“Stop,” they repeated, sharper, pausing until Freeze took another step in the direction of Gal with mercury in hand. Teleporting over to Gal, they grabbed his throat hard enough to dent it, using their thumb to press painfully into the front. A shout of pain came and Freeze staggered back, Shadow sensing a hint of fear that few could elicit in him. The canister of mercury hit the floor and Gal gave a sob at the sound.
“Do that to my medic again and I will personally rip out your vocals,” Shadow hissed. To Freeze, they sent a test ping so he would check his messages.
‘What do you mean?’
‘He does something with his voice. He can control you. The Drums of War makes more sense now.’ It had to be more than just a motivational march. Whether it made the opposing army stand down or pushed Magnus’ team to do things they might not if they thought clearly, Shadow was not sure. It seemed to not work on them, but their hearing had been damaged. There were a few tones that did not come through correctly, convenient when making an air horn that would pierce Scaramouche’s audios that they could not really hear.
‘I’ll have my suit filter out frequencies,’ Freeze declared, putting up the glass dome that he only used when outside the lab and not in cold environments. ‘Please do not damage my patient further.’ Gal had already started trying to manipulate them again as soon as Shadow’s hand was off his throat, Shadow feeling the tug and Freeze hearing the words for what they were: an unfulfilled command.
‘I will need more time,’ Freeze commented begrudgingly.
‘I can make that happen.’
No one knew if someone had whispered Gal’s name or maybe the assassin heard Gal sigh, but Scaramouche heard. He heard and he was pissed.
It was one of the few times Shadow was almost willing to test if their powers worked on bots. With anyone that dreamed, there was no major sensation of impending doom when dragging them into the nightmare realm and back to the regular plane of existence within their teleportation range. If they fought or were awake, there was a drain on their power, but nothing they could not handle. Trying to do so with a bot or entity that did not dream felt like a threat to their existence, something not worth whatever the cost might be, so Shadow never tried. Taking too much damage that they tried to direct to the nightmare realm would take away their powers for a while, until the ‘injury’ healed. It left them vulnerable and weak. Teleporting a bot was likely worse and they could take Scaramouche.
The issue was that they were trying to not ruin the months of recovery Gal had under his belt by ripping Scaramouche to shreds in audio range. Freeze had been working hard to wean Gal off mercury, slowing the intake and providing assistance with the withdrawal symptoms. Having that sound in his processor was likely to send him spiraling back without hesitation.
So Shadow held off Scaramouche, using their powers to hold him down while he used his voice to try and skewer them with every piece of metal in the lab.
‘Gal is out,’ Freeze reported. Scaramouche shortly followed.
The box nearly tumbled from his grasp. He would never be so careless. Fandango had recognized Shadow instantly despite the approximation at a delivery outfit. There was a growing dread in his system as they handed a pacakge to him without direct statement. As they turned to leave, the address went to the few stragglers in before close.
“I smell gas. Might want to check that.” There was a scent, a whiff Fandango did not catch until they turned to go. The others sniffed, wincing at the growing scent. Fandango could hear the soft hiss of the device Shadow had activated, so that was not the concern.
Everyone easily left with his evacuation order and promise to refund everything. The smell faded when Shadow had vanished into the darkness. It nearly evaporated with his consciousness as he saw the remains.
The state of Scaramouche was not as alarming as it might have been for anyone else. She was reduced to just a head, a death sentence for most bots. A new issue emerged: Shadow knew. They knew exactly what would kill Scaramouche. The two considered that maybe one day, Scaramouche could feign her death, letting her body be destroyed and slipping away as a talking head to a life of obscurity. There were a lot of knockoffs, so she could fade into the crowd.
She could never leave. She was trapped into this service until she died. The chance of retirement was so slim, especially with her reckless behavior. Hell, even if she did retire, she had already made a name for herself, just like X-49 did, and that bot had come out of retirement just to die at the hands of the Samurai. Shadow had been keeping Scaramouche off missions like that, but it was only a matter of time before Aku called on Scaramouche to do that, even if for now he had seemed to despair at the decade that had passed since the new threat arrived in his world.
Scaramouche had offlined, most likely due to fear. Shadow had put his head in a very small box with only her scarf as packing…
Except it was not just her scarf. There was a tattered red one, barely resembling the scarf Mia had worn.
His processor raced before he decided he did not have the luxury of other thoughts and he set himself to work, closing the shop and taking a temporary leave of absence from Ophion’s service as he began to rebuild her body.
“H-hey, bro.” They had not spoken since Gal had screamed at him years ago.
“Galileo. Welcome home.” As usual, his tone was flat, but he tried to sound excited to match the words. He wished Scaramouche were here more than usual. “I am glad you’re back.”
Fandango had not known Gal was coming back. He was convinced that their sister’s stupidity would actually get them all killed. Shadow had sent Scaramouche’s head back a second time with the very explicit warning that if it happened again, the Scaramouche would not only cease to exist, but there would be no one to mourn her destruction. Scaramouche had run instantly the second time Fandango rebuilt him, but at least she ran away from Shadow.
“Ja … Uh, me too.” Fandango was as equally unsure if Gal truly meant that. “Shadow saids ta give dis to ya. Can you uh … do the things?” Fandango took the letter. The first thing that caught his attention was the prescription for the tablets to help with withdrawal symptoms. They were expensive, and while money was not a problem, it was a generous show of support for the youngest brother. Perhaps Shadow was not all bad, and Fandango marked that for next time he and Scaramouche linked. The other documents were also for Gal’s benefit. One was a requirement for bi-weekly meetings with a counselor which would help with his recovery as well as a medical notice that Gal was not fit to serve in the army. From Shadow’s instructions, it seemed that it would be renewed in perpetuity by Freeze since Gal was not considered part of their recruits. Fandango wondered if that was to act as a protection from Magnus, since Scaramouche had gotten in trouble before for taking out Magnus’ soldiers and a tumultuous agreement was put in place to stop each side from taking out the other’s without an extremely good reason.
“Yes, I will schedule everything. I will prepare the guest room for - ”
“No!” Gal shouted, and Fandango winced back. “Sorry. I … No? I can’t, don’t want …”
“We can set you up in your own place,” Fandango assured him.
“Bolts. Canna it be up west?”
Fandango frowned at the request. While apartment prices were better, it was solely because it was a bad part of the city near Gal’s old storage unit.
“There will be bad influences there.”
“I knows, but … da rehab place is dere. My sponsor, too, ‘n my friends.”
“I worry about your ‘friends,’” Fandango commented, but he had started looking into the area.
“They ain’t going to make me do anything not bolts,” Gal insisted. “Gots a few also tryin’ ta get clean. My sponsors been clean a year. Jared. He’s real bolts. Always shinin’, always checkin’ in. Tryin’ to gets me to be a sponsor, too.”
Fandango studied him, and Gal stared up at him. His optics sparkled, pleading. Fandango glanced at the letter again, all the details from Gal’s repairs and what Shadow and Freeze had done for him that he could not.
“Alright. I will put you up in a hotel near there until I can find a suitable place.” Gal smiled at him, almost moving as if to hug him before drawing back.
“Thanks, bro! Promise it’ll be shinin’!”
And now that he was home and out of Magnus’ clutches, maybe it would be.