Chapter Text
The ride up is awkward, to say the least. They end up calling two orbs, splitting the group in two— Tres Horny Boys and Lup in one orb, Lucretia, Angus, Davenport, and Barry in the other. Both Relics go in the pocket spa, very far away from Lucretia, who spends the ride up staring out at the ground below like a moody child on a long road trip.
Davenport, meanwhile, spends the ride glaring daggers into the side of Lucretia’s head, while Angus shifts uncomfortably and Barry sits stock-still like he’s completely dissociated from the situation.
There’s a small group of people there when they step out of the orbs. Avi’s there, of course, looking even more drunk than when they left and visibly still questioning whether or not he’s conscious when Lup greets him.
Carey and Killian are still there, Carey balanced on Killian’s shoulder and engrossed in one of Lucretia’s journals, and Johann is sitting next to them perusing another one; Angus recognizes it as the one containing Lucretia’s studies on Fisher’s physiology. Killian is the first to notice them, standing up quickly— Carey remains undisturbed, Johann nearly falls over as he was leaning on her— and runs over to them. “You’re back!”
“We sure are!” Lup chirps, phasing through the second orb and not even looking as she catches Lucretia by the sleeve before she can slip away. “You all caught up now? Understand everything?”
“Uh, not everything,” Carey says, looking up from the journal. “I’m still kinda reeling— seriously, something that eats entire planes? That’s kinda hard to wrap my head around.”
“You’ll get used to it,” Barry says.
Behind them, the second orb slides open to admit the Tres Horny Boys. Taako takes two steps out, and then launches himself at Lucretia and punches her in the face. “That’s for making me forget Lup,” he says, stepping back.
Lucretia rubs at her cheek where she hit, the bandage over her nose somewhat ruining the dry look she tries to give him. “Anyone else?” she asks, looking at the remainder of the people gathered around her. “If you’re here to punch me, may as well get it over with already, instead of forcing me to wait anxiously for the moment you decide is right.”
“You know what, I was gonna punch you too,” Magnus says, “But that other idea sounds better. Keeps you on your toes.”
Lucretia sighs. “I don’t know what I was expecting,” she mutters.
“Wait, wait, back up, what’s happening?” Carey asks. “Why’re you punching?”
“The Director made everyone forget about that whole journey using the Voidfish,” Angus pipes up. “They’re, uh, still pretty pissed about that?”
“Shhhshhhphshhhh spoilers!” Carey says, waving her arms around wildly. “I only just got past the world with all the Noelles!”
“Hang on, are those my journals?” Lucretia asks, squinting at the books Carey and Johann are holding. “Where did you get those?”
“Angus’ room,” Carey says, burying her nose back in the journal she’s reading. “He said I could grab them, so I did. Your prose is a little too flowery for my tastes, bee-tee-dubs.”
Lucretia sighs and rubs at the bridge of her nose. “At least it wasn’t directly from my quarters,” she mutters. “And don’t worry, it gets a little more streamlined later on. I had lots of time to practice.”
“Mm-hm,” Carey hums, back to reading intently.
“Okay, no getting sidetracked,” Davenport says, shoving Lucretia to get her moving and waving off Carey and Killian. “Let’s find a better place to talk about this. Suggestions?”
“My office?” Lucretia suggests as they all make for the door outside.
“No, that won’t do,” Lup says, floating along behind her. “I kinda trashed the place after you left, you’re gonna need a serious cleaning crew to make it an office again.”
“...It can’t be that bad,” Lucretia says. “Can it?”
Taako shrugs. “I’d say it was a couple notches below that Gauntlet’s glassing? And a lot more contained, obviously.”
“No, more than a few,” Lup deadpans. “Believe me, I know fire, a bit of charcoal isn’t glass.”
“That other room before the office looked fine, though?” Magnus says, trotting to catch up with them. “Aw geez, what’s it called— the place with the dais thingy—”
“No, I know what you’re talking about,” Lucretia says. “And I wouldn’t know? Lup?”
Lup shrugs. “I wasn’t really looking—”
“It was fine!” Davenport snaps, taking the lead and marching in the direction of the main dome. “Come on, we need to discuss this already!”
“Yeah, yeah, geez,” Magnus says, following obediently.
The door continues to be dented, and the area around the door leading to Lucretia’s office is charred, but it’s still a reasonable place to discuss the matter of what to do. Everyone arranges themself into a rough circle, looking around at each other— Angus is glancing at everyone, nerves clear in his face, Taako looks like he’s considering punching Lucretia again, Magnus is lost in thought—
“The Hunger is going to be here in roughly a month,” Davenport finally says, getting the elephant in the room out of the way first. “We can argue about whose fault it is later— what do we do?”
“I still hold that you should give me the Relics back so I can cast my barrier around this plane,” Lucretia says, hands folded neatly behind her back.
“Lucretia, literally no one here agrees with that plan,” Magnus says.
Lucretia shrugs. “Nevertheless.”
“Still, we should examine why that isn’t a good plan,” Barry says.
“If this plane is completely cut off from all other planes, it’s going to die,” Lup says. “Slowly, yes, but it will happen. Ghosts won’t move on to the Astral Plane, clerics won’t be able to reach their gods, without a connection to the Plane of Magic eventually even wizards and sorcerers will lose their magic too. Everything will wither, and then turn to ash, and it will be just as bad as the Hunger.”
Everyone stares at her. “Geez, Lup, that’s dark,” Taako comments. “How d’you know that so specifically, though?”
“I don’t, actually,” Lup says, shrugging. “I’m mostly guessing— not the ash part though, there was that prophecy? Paloma’s prophecy about the third option?” Taako blinks, ears twitching as he tries to remember, and then his ears flick up in recognition and he nods. “Whatever the details, shit’s gonna be bad, and we don’t want that.”
“What else can we do, though?” Lucretia asks. “Run away, abandon all our friends and family here, and spend another hundred years searching for some other way away from the Hunger?”
Taako shakes his head. “No, that’s not it— I’m pretty sure that’d fall under the Hunger bad end? That’s not right.”
“Is there any way to fight back against the Hunger?” Angus asks. Everyone turns their heads to look at him, and he blushes bright red— “I— I mean, I understand there’s nothing you can do to fight it, but can you, um, do something… instead of, um, doing something to us to keep it away, we do something to it?”
Barry nods along with his words. “We know fighting it the old-fashioned way is hopeless for anything but buying a couple minutes,” he says, “But maybe if we work out some other way to harness the Light?”
“What, though?” Lup asks. “Do we just… super— super big boom?”
“I don’t think you can blow up the Light of Creation, Lup,” Magnus says. “Maybe we like— put some kinda enchantment? Or— or something to subdue the Hunger? Make it stop coming after us?”
Taako perks up. “Wait. Wait, wait, hang on, I just had an idea.”
“What is it?” Davenport asks.
“What if we take Lucretia's plan,” Taako says, motioning vaguely in Lucretia’s direction, “And just… kinda… flip it?”
Lucretia tilts her head quizzically. “What do you mean?”
“I mean— I mean, we just gotta— flip it,” Taako says, tugging at his hair, ears flicking around. “Like— fucking, words, you just— you just gotta flip it turnways.”
“Like...” Lucretia looks puzzled. “You want me to… invert the shield? So it’s protecting everything outside from this plane? I’m— that’s the exact opposite of what we’re trying to do here, Taako.”
Lup perks up. “Wait, no, I think I know what he’s— we put the shield around the Hunger instead of here, right? So it’s the Hunger that’s cut off from everything, instead of us. Is that what you’re getting at?”
Taako beams and shoots finger guns at her. “Yes! Those words, the mouth words she just made, that is what I mean.”
Lucretia opens her mouth to speak— and then she pauses, shuts it after a moment, and thinks. “...Ah,” she finally says. “That… that may just work, actually. I’m not sure how I never thought of that myself, to be honest.”
Taako beams even brighter. “Well, it is me, after all.”
“Okay, blatant self-glorification aside— hell yeah, Taako, good thinking,” Barry says. “Um— so, when the Hunger comes, you just… cast your spell?”
“Well, I mean, I need to be on the plane in order to put my barrier around it,” Lucretia says. “So, I’d— I’d imagine there would be a bit of flying up there beforehand? But— yes, that sounds about right.”
“Right, on that subject,” Davenport cuts in, “What happened to the Starblaster? Where did you put it?”
“In a secret hangar bay I had the Millers build into the base when they made it,” Lucretia says. “It’s— don’t worry about it, I can show you where it is.”
“Cool, cool,” Taako says. “So, plan is— as soon as the Hunger shows up, we just pop up there and trap it?”
“Wait, are we sure you won’t get trapped up there too?” Magnus asks.
“I— cannot guarantee that,” Lucretia admits, then raises her hand when he starts to protest. “However, it— we have an entire month to plan, yes? We’ll work something out.”
“That’s fair,” Magnus says.
“And if you can’t we just leave you there,” Taako says.
“Okay, Taako, no,” Lup says. “I know I was the one to start this whole punch-train, and I don’t regret that, but let’s not joke about leaving party members behind on the world-eating abomination.”
Taako’s ear flicks. “Yeah, okay, fine, just as long as you don’t hit me with an umbrella this time.”
“I would be considering it, if your boyfriend hadn’t taken the dang thing,” Lup says.
“Oh yeah,” Magnus says. “While Kravitz has the umbrella, how’re you gonna cast magic, Taako?”
Taako gives him a small glare and goes digging around his bag, pulling out his old wand. “Ta-da,” he deadpans. “Still got a seam where it was snapped, but perfectly usable.”
“Alright, alright, just asking,” Magnus says. “Uh, was there anything else we needed to talk about right now immediately?”
“I… don’t think so?” Davenport says. “Does anyone else have something they want to say?”
“Well, I believe I ought to apologize for my behavior,” Lucretia says. “I was— perhaps a little too myopic? And— and I clearly failed to look at the bigger picture, so—”
“It’s okay, Lucretia, we’ve already forgiven you,” Merle says, finally looking up from where he’s been flipping through the Extreme Teen Bible.
“I haven’t,” Taako says.
“Eh, I’m kinda getting there,” Lup says, with a wiggly hand motion.
“Yeah, I’m still totally gonna punch you at some point, but forgiveness will occur afterwards,” Magnus says.
“That’s very sweet of all of you,” Lucretia says, surreptitiously wiping at her eyes. “That’s— that’s all from me, for now? Shall we all— all split up, and do our own things, while I figure out fixing up my office?”
“I vote for that idea,” Magnus says, raising his hand. “I still haven’t talked to Fisher, too much shit’s been happening since yesterday and I need to get on with that already.”
“Um— I also, want to check on how Fisher and Junior are doing,” Angus says.
“Alright, that’s three out of eight, motion carried,” Taako says, turning away. “I just remembered I left a casserole in the oven, so bee-are-bee tee-tee-why-ell you chucklefucks.”
“Wh— Taako, that’s not how majority vote works and you know it!” Davenport protests as Taako hurries off. He crosses his arms. “I mean, I was gonna agree anyway, but still.”
“Eh, you know he was just in a hurry,” Lup says, drifting past, Barry following after her. “I guess I should go apologize to all the people I traumatized, so laters.”
“Seeya Cap’nport,” Magnus says, giving a small wave as he drags off the once-more-distracted Merle, Angus tagging along at his heels. Then he pauses, giving Merle one last push out the door, and turns to head back. “Actually, no, Lucretia, one last thing—”
“Yes?” Lucretia asks, turning to face him.
“MAGNUS!”
A firm swing hits Lucretia square in the jaw, throwing her a couple feet back, and Davenport makes a distressed noise— but she just laughs, as she picks herself up and rubs at her face. “I should’ve seen that one coming, huh?” she comments.
“Gotta stay on your toes,” Magnus says, smugly. “Okay Ango, now we can go.”
Slowly, everyone files out, until it’s just Lucretia and Davenport. For a moment, they both just stare at the door everyone left through, and then Lucretia slowly looks down at Davenport.
“You’re not planning on punching me in the face too, are you?” she asks.
“Still considering it,” Davenport replies immediately, not looking up at her. “Definitely not now, though, there’s nothing for me to stand on here.”
“Noted,” Lucretia says, immediately resolving to stay well out of arm’s reach of all furniture around waist height for the foreseeable future. That’ll make repairing my office a lot harder, she muses, though I suppose first I should survey the damages— “If you’ll excuse me,” she says, turning away as well, “I need to do something about my office.”
“Good luck with that.”
Merle elects to part with them well before the Voidfish chambers, saying he doesn’t want to deal with two bratty kids and their parents at the same time, even if one of those pairs are some weird jellyfish— Magnus, confused, asks what he means, and Merle just shrugs and wanders off muttering about what kind of name Junior is supposed to be.
They run into Johann at the elevator— Johann still has that journal, now tucked under his arm, and he looks surprised to see them here. “Oh, Magnus,” he says. “You, uh— I guess you’re here to talk to the— to Fisher?”
“Yep!” Magnus says, stepping into the elevator as soon as it opens. “I haven’t gotten a good chance to since I remembered, but now that I don’t have to do any pretending and also Fisher’s kid is back with them, I might as well!”
“And I think I should make sure the little guy is doing okay,” Angus adds. “It seemed pretty nervous when I brought it in— I dunno— I don’t know if it should have to stay in the same tank as Fisher? If that would stress it out, I mean.”
Johann shrugs, pressing the button to the Voidfish’s chamber. “They both looked pretty happy last I saw,” he says, “But that was a while ago, and it’s pretty hard to judge jellyfish emotions.”
“Yeah, I’d rather see for myself,” Magnus says.
The ride down is long as always, Johann taking the journal he has out and opening it to a random page a minute in, reading in silence until the door slides back open. The three of them hurry along, Angus nearly hesitating when he sees the guards he’d knocked out earlier up and talking. They don’t give him more than a passing glance, though, so Angus strides on past like nothing is wrong at all.
The moment Magnus and Angus step into the room, there’s a pair of delighted notes sung from Fisher’s tank. The first, a little softer, comes from Fisher— it rests a couple tendrils on the glass, lights flickering as if in a warm smile, and Magnus smiles back and waves.
The baby Voidfish, on the other hand, lets out a loud squeal and rockets out of the water, diving to crash into Angus’ head while singing an intricate song— and Angus blinks at the visions crashing into his mind, of the Voidfish’s cavern, of a sloppily-carved duck, of so many works of art lost to the ages.
He shuts his eyes to the visions and catches the Voidfish in his hands, tugging it away from his hat. “Okay— okay, little buddy, I get you’re excited but— I need to be able to see, okay?”
The Babyfish squawks at him, tendrils winding around his fingers. It left its boat behind in the tank, he notices, which he guess means it’s gotten over the initial nerves on seeing its parent? Or maybe it was just so excited to see Angus.
Magnus, meanwhile, just walks up to the tank and puts his hand on the glass on the other side from Fisher’s tendrils. “Hey buddy,” he greets cheerfully. “Sorry I couldn’t come talk to you the moment I remembered, had to keep the whole thing a secret, you know? You mad about that?”
Fisher just hums contentedly, and Magnus laughs. “No, of course you don’t mind, you’re just a weird jellyfish. You wanna see how much I’ve gotten better since I last made something for you?”
Fisher perks up, humming a complicated series of notes accompanied with weird gesticulations so fast Angus and Johann wouldn’t be able to make any sense of it even if they knew what it was trying to communicate. The most Angus can work out is the repeating pattern of D C D C every now and then, but even that makes no sense to him.
Magnus looks just as puzzled. “What’s that, buddy?” he asks. “Are you trying to tell me Johann fell down a well? Johann’s right there, silly, it’s not an issue.”
Fisher stops, drifts for a moment, then lifts a tendril to point firmly over at Angus. Angus steps forward hesitantly, and Fisher jabs the tendril again, more specifically at the bag— and with a jolt of realization, Angus digs around in it until he retrieves the wooden duck he just got back.
“I think it’s saying it already knows how good you’ve gotten,” Angus says, holding the duck up, and Fisher sings.
“Oh,” Magnus says. “But, then— hang on, Fisher, you haven’t been stealing my gifts for people again, have you?”
Fisher pauses, then drifts back a bit.
“Come on, I explained this decades ago!” Magnus says crossing his arms. “You get plenty of ducks directly from me, you don’t have to steal from other people!”
Fisher makes an odd tilting movement and sings, B A C.
“I guess it couldn’t while you’d forgotten it?” Angus guesses with a shrug.
“And to be fair, it did give them back when it was done,” Johann says, looking up from the journal on Voidfish physiology.
“Still!” Magnus huffs, crossing his arms. “See if I make you any more ducks now.”
Fisher sings a distressed note, pressing against the glass, and after a moment Magnus lets up the serious look and laughs. “Okay, no, sorry— I wouldn’t do that to you, old buddy.”
Fisher croons.
“I think you’ve spoiled it,” Angus says, gently dissuading Junior from messing with his hair.
“You’re being too strict with Junior,” Magnus retorts. “Weird magic jellyfish need all the best accommodations, don’t they?”
Fisher hums in agreement.
“Okay, while I do agree we should keep the huge alien fish happy,” Johann butts in, “I’ve gotta agree with Angus here— you are being pretty lenient about it stealing people’s things.”
“It’s not like Fisher’s gonna do it again!” Mangus says. “Right, buddy?”
Fisher hums vaguely, drifting away, seemingly pretending not to realize Magnus is talking.
Magnus’s face goes flat. “Buddy.”
Angus laughs a little, then blinks when Junior tugs a little on his hat and seems to reach for the tank. It sings an odd series of notes which Angus takes a moment to parse out, and then he asks, “Do you want your boat?”
Junior hums a high note, giving him a vision of the toy boat floating in Fisher’s tank, exactly as it is right now but from Junior’s perspective instead.
“You can just get it yourself, you know,” Angus points out. “I don’t— you don’t need me to get things for you, you know.”
Junior whines, but nonetheless peels itself free of Angus and slinks through the air. It floats above the surface of the water, almost hesitantly reaching out to grab its boat, and then as soon as it has it in its grip it darts away and returns to sit on Angus’ hat. It sings a tune, and gives Angus a vision of the inside of its own tank— quite possibly the clearest message it’s given him yet, can we go back home?
“Are you sure you wanna go now?” he asks it, and it squeaks and settles even more firmly. Fisher seems to notice, and gives a distressed hum— to which Angus raises his hands defensively. “Hey, I’ll bring it back again! It just— I’m not the one asking to go, here!”
Fisher hums again, a little worriedly, but settles down— and Magnus turns. “Oh, are you leaving?”
“Ap— apparently?” Angus says. “Junior just— decided, so I guess that’s just what’s happening now?”
Magnus nods. “Well, have fun!”
“Don’t pass out on the way,” Johann adds.
“That was one time, sir,” Angus deadpans, pushing the door open. “But I’ll see you soon!”
The first person— or rather, people— he runs into outside the elevator are Lup and Barry, having some kind of hushed conversation. He takes a moment to adjust his hat— Junior having retreated under it seemingly to take a nap— before he wanders over to listen in.
“Okay, so if we disguise you as a donkey, we might be able to get past relatively unquestioned,” Lup says, lich form hidden under the illusion of a bulky trenchcoat and several scarves. “Then we can make our way to the center of the quad and have some kinda announcement—”
“What are you two talking about, ma’am?” Angus asks.
Lup yelps, arms windmilling as she scrambles away. “When did you get there!”
“Just now, ma’am!” Angus says. “Are you coming up with a pointlessly complicated scheme to prolong the time before you have to apologize to all the people you terrorized today?”
Lup stares at Angus, then slowly points at him and turns her head to look at Barry. “He’s too smart, Barold,” she says.
“Don’t go complaining to me,” Barry says, shrugging. “You’re the one who adopted him.”
“If you want my advice, I’d say you should probably lay low until people aren’t so upset about it anymore,” Angus suggests.
“I’m sick of just sitting around in an umbrella all the time, though!” Lup says. “I wanna wander around! With my feet!”
“Well, okay, you can do that and also lay low,” Angus says. “I don’t— I don’t really know what you actually did while I was gone? But you know disguise self, you can just— not look like you for a while?”
Lup blinks. “...But I look so good, Ango.”
“Sometimes you gotta make sacrifices, ma’am,” Angus says. “Come on, why don’t you— I don’t know pretend to be two unremarkable Bureau employees? And— and catch me up on what I missed? I’m honestly super curious about that!”
Lup and Barry look at each other for a moment, and then Lup shrugs. “Alright, I’ll admit it, that’s a way better plan than what I had in mind,” she says, clicking her fingers to turn into a generic elf wearing sweet shades. “Barry?”
“I didn’t prepare Disguise Self,” Barry says, chagrined. “I’ll just go invisible and follow you around.”
“And we can talk to the air, good plan,” Lup says, as Barry vanishes.
“I… don’t think it’s all that good,” Angus says. “So, uh— where to first?”
“Let’s head to the cafeteria,” Lup says, setting off. “That way I can better illustrate my point— you remember when we all played The Floor Is Lava, right?”
It’s the second most distressed Angus has ever seen Taako, second only to remembering Lup.
“Hey, bro, bro, it’s just a casserole,” Lup is saying, crouching next to him and seemingly wanting to pat him on the back if it weren’t for her intangibility. “You can make another, ‘kay?”
“But I was supposed to be having a cool comeback to cooking,” Taako whines from where he lies on the floor, curled up around the scorched remains of his abandoned casserole. He has his hat pulled down to cover his face, but the puddle around his head pretty clearly indicates what he’s been up to. “I’m a failure, Lup.”
“Sir, you got distracted from one dish,” Angus says. “You can try again, this isn’t some kinda cooking competition.”
Taako sniffs. “Maybe it is, Agnes,” he says. “Isn’t that what all life is? Just one big cooking competition that I, Taako, have to win—”
“Okay, no, don’t do that,” Lup says, going to grab him by the back of his shirt before remembering she can’t. “Get up, dingus, you gotta at least lemme check if any part of it is salvageable.”
“I already checked,” Taako grumbles, nonetheless sitting up— Angus gets a glimpse of his eyes rubbed red and puffy, before Taako tugs the brim of his hat back down. He picks the casserole dish up, puts it on the counter, and returns to sulking on the floor. Angus looks at the dish too, then wrinkles his nose at the smell and goes to sit quietly next to Taako.
“Why’re you getting so upset about this, of all things, anyway?” Lup asks, poking at the charcoal. “It’s just one dish, gods know we’ve wrecked more in stupider ways throughout our lives. And unlives, in my case.”
Taako grunts. “...’S not the point,” he mutters after a moment. “I haven’t cooked anything big in years. I was trying to get back in the swing of things.”
Lup pauses, staring down at the wrecked casserole, then picks it up. “This is about Glamour Springs, right?”
Taako flinches, like he’s been slapped, and Angus feels like maybe he shouldn’t be here for this.
“Look,” Lup says, “I’m not gonna say I get how you feel— aside from that it’s super shitty, and possibly— um. Definitely, traumatized. In some way.” She dumps the charcoal in the trash, dish and all. “But, just… if you wanna talk about it at some point, I’m all ears?”
Taako sniffs, and rubs at his face. “Well, I’m not gonna talk about it now,” he says, sitting up. “Maybe later.”
“Later works,” Lup says. She picks up a wooden spoon. “Now, I think I’m gonna make a pie, wanna help me mix the ingredients? Or is that still too much?”
Taako tilts his head, thinking it over, then stands up. “What the hell,” he says, ghosting his hand over his face— Angus catches a spark of magic passing there— before he lifts his hat to show a bright, totally un-smudged grin. “You don’t have taste buds anyway, someone’s gotta taste-test it.”
Lup huffs. “That’s not necessary when you’re as good as me!”
“It’s totally necessary, Lulu,” Taako says, snagging a bowl. “You can’t eyeball everything, you know!”
“Oh really, hand-Worcestershire?”
As they start into playful bickering, moving easily around each other as they start gathering ingredients, Angus picks himself up and trots over to the door. He spares a small glance back at them, noting that they’ve already collected nearly a dozen mixing bowls between them, and then he shuts the door behind him and heads off for his room.
It was probably too much to hope he’d get back to his room without another interruption.
“So, Angus,” Carey starts, after nearly a minute of casually sauntering alongside him. “How’d you get to know about all this nonsense?”
“You mean how I found the baby Voidfish, or how I found out about Lup?” Angus asks.
“Eh, both?” Carey says, making a wishy-washy hand gesture. “Let’s go with meeting lich-lady, that seems like it came first.”
“Taako asked me to solve the mystery of who was burning messages in his wall, so I did that,” Angus says. “Then I, uh, researched just what could have been causing a magical artifact to gain sentience? And— figured she was a lich.”
Carey whistles. “And you didn’t tell anyone because…?”
Angus shrugs. “She wasn’t actually hurting anyone?” he says. “Um, why are you asking about this?”
“Just curious,” Carey says. “I mean, I’ve got a rough understanding of most of the stuff leading up to those guys all getting here, but the journals don’t exactly include that part of things.”
“Maybe you should ask Lup, ma’am,” Angus says. “I mean, I’m just a little boy and it’s getting late! I need my rest!”
“It’s not even close to dinner time yet,” Carey says, glancing at the nearest clock.
“I’ve had a long day,” Angus says. “Tell you what, ma’am— why don’t you ask Lup, and then later if you still wanna hear about it from me, you can ask me in the morning?”
“...I don’t wanna go looking for her, though,” Carey admits.
“She was in the kitchen last I checked, with Taako,” Angus says, stopping in front of his door. “She was under a disguise, but, um— she should still be perfectly recognisable if she’s still cooking?”
“Gotcha,” Carey says, stepping away. “Alright, catch you later!”
Angus nods, waving after her as she goes, and then with a sigh looks down at his door. There’s a couple scratches around the lock that weren’t there when he left, further proof that Carey did indeed take him up to break into his room, but when he unlocks it he finds everything in exactly the same order as when he left it.
Junior stirs under his hat, lifting the brim as they pass by the desk, and hums a little. “You wanna go back in the tank, buddy?” Angus asks, sitting down on the edge of his bed.
Junior hums again, then wriggles free of the hat and bobs around to hang from Angus’ glasses. It sings a small tune Angus doesn’t recognize.
“Hey, did Fisher teach you songs?” Angus asks, lying on his back on the bed. Junior hums in the affirmative, and Angus asks, “D’you think you could sing one for me?”
Junior hums a little thoughtfully, goes silent, and then a little messily starts to sing an intricate melody. It smooths out quickly, though, resolving into something like a lullaby, and Angus thinks he might recognize it— has he heard Johann practicing it, some time when he’d been studying in the same room?
Slowly, his eyes slide shut, Junior’s soft singing in one ear a welcome respite from everything that’s been going on in his life since— how long, even? Since the past few months, when he’d met Lup, since that time on the Rockport Limited meeting Tres Horny Boys, since he first took on the title of detective? When was the last time he really felt relaxed, and calm, and happy?
Angus tells himself he’s just going to close his eyes for a couple minutes, and then those minutes become an hour, then two, and then he jolts awake in total darkness— no sunlight shining in through the window, all the lights turned off, Junior missing.
He fumbles blindly for his wand, starting to cast Light before pausing, and instead casting Dancing Lights. Four white lanterns spring into existence in front of him, and he lifts them up to light his entire room— the clock says it’s one AM, someone turned out all the lights, and he doesn’t know where Junior is.
The logical first place to look is, of course, exactly where it should be, Angus thinks, and immediately crouches down to look under his desk. For a moment he panics as he doesn’t see the distinctive greenish glow of a baby Voidfish, but then he realizes every single bath toy previously in his bathroom has been relocated to Junior’s tank— and when he prods the cluster, a couple rubber ducks drift away only to be tugged back into the defensive formation around Junior.
Angus chuckles. “You like those too, then?”
Junior squeaks.
“I hope you didn’t eat any of my stuff,” Angus says, looking over his desk and not seeing anything amiss. “I mean, nothing looks missing, which either means you didn’t do anything or you covered it up real well— so, good job either way? Um, or, should I really be congratulating you if you lied…?”
Junior squeaks again, attempting to sink a little further into the water but failing as the much more buoyant toys remain on the surface. “Sorry,” Angus says, getting up. “I’ll leave you alone.”
He looks around his room once again, making sure everything is still in place, and then takes his glasses off and places them on the table. He digs out a couple energy bars to make up for missing dinner, looking over his notes as he eats, and then after nearly half an hour sighs and returns to his bed.
What are we going to do about the Hunger? he wonders most of the way to sleep, thinking up different ideas on how everyone could get safely on and off the plane without dying or getting trapped— but, on the other hand, the final thought he has before falling asleep is nothing of that ilk.
Hey, he idly wonders, barely conscious, if Junior were to broadcast everything they’ve been fed to the entire world, does that mean people would get a cool story accompanied by a bunch of random junk about some kid’s conversations with an umbrella?
.
.
.
A month later, an unmoving storm floats overhead, not roiling like storm clouds are meant to, but simply… floating. Like a curtain, pulled shut to hide the horrible stage being set behind it.
Davenport, Lucretia, and Tres Horny Boys all board the Starblaster with long-winded goodbyes, swapping random items with each other and the people they’re leaving behind— and something twists in Angus’ chest, like they’re being like this because they don’t expect to come back? But that’s not true, they’re always like this, they’re always just as fearless and flippant in the face of mortal danger—
And then the Starblaster leaves, soaring through the clouds and out of sight, and Angus breathes a shaky sigh as he watches them all go. Barry, in his brand new body, lays a sturdy hand on his shoulder and gives him a warm smile. Lup, still in her undisguised lich form as her new body has only been growing for a little under a month, drifts over to his other side and gives him a thumbs up.
“You ready to keep this moon safe?” she asks, crowds of inoculated Bureau employees behind her working to set up barricades.
“I-I think so,” Angus says, mentally running over all the combat spells he’s crammed into his head in preparation for this moment.
Lup nods, still beaming, and then lifts her head to the sky— and the storm breaks, to reveal columns of tar, colored like black opal, crashing down to earth. And as one they all breathe a sigh— “This is it,” Lup says.
And Angus smiles too. “This is it.”
“This is it.”