Crane went through his morning routine.
Wake up early.
Cleanse his body—soap secreted through every pore, a bizarre but effective method.
Stare at the ceiling and question his place in the universe.
Walk to the lab.
Settle at his workbench and jot down notes on prosthetics he could design.
When Singed arrived, they didn't speak.
They didn't need to.
Silence was more efficient.
Today was a little different.
They were working on bugs.
Crane glanced at the tank, watching the swarm shift and scuttle. "Wait… why are we experimenting on bugs?"
"Bugs are smaller," Singed replied, voice flat. "More delicate. Easier to break."
Crane raised an eyebrow. "Okay, be more delicate. Got it."
They got to work.
The only issue? One of the bug's legs exploded—then it bit his hand.
Crane winced but kept the creature alive, stabilizing its twitching form with a surprising amount of care. He jotted notes while it squirmed.
Later, once they finished, he handed the bug-stained pages to Singed without a word.
——————————-
Out in Zaun's alleys, the air hung damp and heavy.
Crane wandered aimlessly, hands in his pockets, thoughts spiraling.
Organ traders.
I could join them, he mused. Make some money on the side. Harvest a few livers—nothing personal, just business.
He shook his head.
No. I could kill them. Take the whole operation. But then what? How would I even keep the business afloat? Hire interns?
A flicker of pain tugged his attention downward. He pulled his left hand from his pocket.
The bug bite was still there—faint, but present.
Huh. Shouldn't that have regenerated by now?
Too small to trigger it…?
Curious, he raised the hand to his mouth—and bit off his own pinky.
It grew back. Slowly.
Slower than when the mice tore into him.
Why is it slower now? I healed fast when shimmer exploded my spine…
His stomach growled, low and hollow.
Probably just low on energy, he thought. When was the last time I ate?
He tried to remember—his first meal at Jericho's surfaced in his mind.
That was… days ago.
He glanced down, lifted his shirt, and stared at his abdomen.
With a flicker of will, a seam formed across his stomach—an unnatural, vertical slit.
He peeled it open.
Inside: organs shifting, twitching—and empty.
He hollowed them out, reshaping them just to see.
Nothing inside. Not a scrap.
I'm actually running on empty.
Without hesitation, Crane removed his mask and slipped it into the hollowed space inside his stomach.
"I guess I'll eat."
With practiced ease, he reshaped his organs—wrapping them around the mask like a biological satchel, a living storage compartment sealed beneath his skin.
—————————
Jericho's.
Crane placed a few coins on the counter.
"You got anything I can eat while walking?"
Jericho gave him a long look, then took the money and nodded.
A moment later, two skewers of steaming kebabs were handed over.
Crane accepted them with a muttered, "Thanks."
He stepped back into the alley, biting into one of the skewers as he walked—headed straight for the organ traders' base.
————————————
"Come on, Vi, let's just go topside and steal a gun," Mylo begged, trailing after her.
"He's still talking about the gun," Claggor muttered, rubbing his temples.
"Why are you so obsessed with that?" Vi asked, clearly annoyed. "I told you—no."
"But think about it! I'd be set for life!" Mylo struck a pose. "A lock-pickin', gun-slingin' legend."
Vi rolled her eyes. "Powder beats you at the arcade every time. If anyone's getting a gun, it's her."
Powder grinned, quietly pleased.
Mylo frowned. Then his eyes lit up with a spark of inspiration. "I was just holding back! Y'know, 'cause I'm generous like that."
He puffed up. "Let's go to the arcade. I'll prove I'm the best shot."
On their way there, they spotted someone up ahead—Jonathan, walking casually and chewing on a skewer.
Mylo leaned toward Powder and whispered, "Are you sure this is the guy you ran over? He looks exactly the same as when I first met him."
"I'm sure," Powder said. "He just… heals fast. That's all."
Before anyone could stop her, Vi marched up and grabbed Jonathan by the shoulder, spinning him around.
"Round two—" she blurted out, then blinked. "I mean… let's fight."
Everyone froze.
Powder looked at Vi like what? (◯Δ ◯ ∥)
————————-
Crane's mind raced.
Round two?
I was sure when I left her dream, her mind would conjure a fake version of me for a follow-up—unless… she actually woke up?
He stared at her eyes for a long, quiet beat.
"Yeah, sure," he finally said. "I'll fight you."
He raised his kebabs, crossed them in an X like swords, and took a bite. "Just… I'm eating right now."
As Crane chewed, he released a soft wave of love pheromones—subtle, but effective.
"You can stop grabbing my shoulder now," he said casually.
Vi blinked, then slowly let go of his shoulder, a faint red tint rising to her cheeks.
"Just… follow us. We'll fight when you're done."
"Fine with me," Crane said, taking another bite like this was the most normal thing in the world.
He glanced at Mylo, Claggor, and Powder—all frozen mid-step, some stunned that Vi asked him to fight, others clearly noticing her flushed cheeks.
"Oh hey, it's you guys—Milo, Clicker, and Jinx," he said casually, intentionally butchering their names.
"Huh? My name's Mylo, not Milo," Mylo corrected, squinting at him.
"Clicker? It's Claggor," Claggor said, more confused than offended.
"And Jinx doesn't even sound like my name," Powder frowned. "Did Mylo tell you to call me that?" She looked between Crane and Mylo suspiciously.
Mylo crossed his arms defensively, looking at Powder.
"Hey, I know I call you Jinx sometimes, but I didn't tell him to say that!"
Crane raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence.
"Oh, my bad. It's only the second time we've met—I'm not exactly a name expert."
Claggor gave a small shrug. "It's fine. I'm terrible with names too, especially after just one meeting."
Powder tilted her head, giving Crane the benefit of the doubt—until a thought clicked.
"Wait… no. You've met me three times. Last time, you even said my name."
Crane casually turned to Claggor and Mylo, completely ignoring her.
"So… where are you guys headed?"
"An arcade," Claggor said. "It's a place we hang out and have fun."
"Yeah, there's this boxing machine you can punch—it gives you a score," Mylo said, throwing fake punches in the air.
"I'm always on top," Vi added confidently.
"There's also a shooting range with a fake gun. I always hit my shots. You could say I'm the best," Mylo said with a smug grin.
"No, he's not," Powder cut in. "I'm the best."
——————————
They arrived at the arcade, neon lights flickering above the entrance.
Mylo and Powder immediately bolted toward the shooting range.
Mylo got there first, snatching the fake gun like it was a relic of legend.
Powder frowned, cheeks puffed out in frustration. (•̀⤙•́)
"Alright, time to prove it—I, Mylo, am the best shot in Zaun!" he declared with theatrical flair.
Crane leaned over to Vi and whispered, "He's… quite arrogant."
Vi smirked. "It's what makes him him. He's just trying to make it fun."
Crane chewed thoughtfully, repeating the words in his head. It's what makes him him. He took another bite of his kebab.
Mylo started firing—nailing some targets, missing others.
He set the gun down with a dramatic sigh and turned around.
"Okay, maybe I'm not the best shot in Zaun," Mylo said, hands on his hips. "But I am the best shot here."
Powder stepped up without a word, snatched the gun, and started firing.
Every shot landed. Clean. Precise. The machine dinged with a perfect score.
She placed the gun back on the counter with a smug little flourish and turned to Mylo, eyes gleaming.
"Second best, you mean." ( • ̀ω•́ )
Vi laughed. "Okay then, I guess we'll head to topside and get a gun for Powder."
"Wait, wait—but Vi, topside's way too dangerous just to go get a gun," Mylo said, completely missing the hypocrisy.
Claggor raised an eyebrow. "Wasn't that your whole idea five minutes ago?"
Mylo paused, mouth open like he was about to argue—then shut it again. "…Yeah, but that was different."
Vi chuckled. "I was joking about getting a gun anyway. It's way too dangerous up there."
——————-
Crane finished the last bite of his kebab and dusted off his hands. "Alright. I'm ready for a fight," he said, cracking his fingers one by one.
Vi turned to him, a smile tugging at her lips. There was a glint of excitement in her eyes—she'd been waiting for this.
Crane raised two fingers. "Two questions. One—can I use my tail?"
Vi shrugged. "If you think you can win without it, don't use it. But if you have to—go for it."
He dropped one finger. "Alright. Two—how do we determine who wins?"
Vi cracked her knuckles. "Simple. Someone gets knocked out, or they're too hurt to keep going. Or, y'know… you could always give up."
"Okay, sounds good. When do we start?" Crane asked, jumping up and down.
Mylo nudged Claggor, whispering with a grin, "I bet half of my next meal Jonathan wins. Same goes for you?"
Claggor raised an eyebrow. "Half a meal?"
Mylo shrugged. "What? I'm not that confident."
Claggor smirked and extended his hand. "You're on."
They shook.
Vi glanced over at Powder.
Powder grinned and raised her hand. "Three… two… one—go!"
Vi launched forward, fists up. Crane stepped back, avoiding her first punch with a quick tilt of his head.
"Whoa," he said, smirking. "Fast."
Vi grinned. "You haven't seen anything yet."
She swung again, this time a feint—Crane ducked, but her knee came up fast, catching his ribs.
He grunted and rolled with it, stumbling back.
Powder cheered for Vi, her voice bright and excited. "Go, Vi! Show him who's boss!"
Crane steadied himself—and exhaled, his chest tightening from the blow.
From the sidelines, Mylo threw his hands up. "C'mon, Jonathan! You gotta dodge that!"
He punched the air dramatically. "Dodge and uppercut! It's basic strategy!"
Claggor just crossed his arms, watching with a raised brow. "Since when do you know strategy?"
"Since now, Claggor." Mylo puffed up. "I'm invested."
Crane released A soft, invisible pulse of love pheromones drifted through the air.
Not overpowering. Just enough to make her hesitate.
Vi charged in, unfazed—at first. She swung wide, aiming for his side.
But her fist slowed just a hair mid-swing, her focus flickering.
Crane took the opening, ducking low and slipping past her. "Getting a little dizzy?" he teased.
Vi growled, spun, and aimed a punch straight at his chest.
Internally, Crane moved his mask—shifting it beneath his skin like armor. L
Her fist connected with a muffled thud, the blow softened by the hidden layer.
He winced anyway. "Ow. Rude."
Vi blinked, cheeks flushed—not from effort, but from something she couldn't quite place.
From the sidelines, Claggor leaned in, squinting. "Is it just me, or does it look like Vi's blushing?"
"She's red because she's fighting. Look at Jonathan—he's also red," Mylo pointed out, a grin on his face.
"He's red because his skin is red," Powder said, deadpan.
"Oh, right," Mylo said, his face scrunching in realization.
The warmth in VI's face made her more annoyed than confused.
She threw another punch.
Crane ducked low, his tail flicking behind him like a counterbalance.
The punch missed by inches.
He popped up, caught her with a light jab to the shoulder, and stepped back before she could react.
She gritted her teeth and swung again—this time, she hit.
Hard.
Crane hit the ground with a thud, breath knocked out of him for a second.
Powder jumped up from the sidelines, hands on her sides. "Whoa! That was a solid hit! He's down!"
Claggor winced. "Yeah, she really nailed him there. I was staring to doubt she'd win."
Mylo leaned forward, frowning. "Come on, Jonathan, get up! You can't just let her take the lead like that!"
Vi stood over him, flushed and ready to gloat—but before she could say anything, Crane suddenly sprang back up.
He used his tail like a spring, launching himself upright with a lot of force.
Thwack.
Their faces collided—forehead to forehead, nose to nose… and mouth to mouth.
They froze.
For a split second, neither moved, wide-eyed and stunned at the 'accidental' kiss.
Powder gasped, her voice cracking. "Did… did they just—?" She quickly covered her eyes with her hands, peeking through her fingers, her face bright red.
Crane blinked. Vi's eyes went wide.
And then—he felt it.
A surge. Like warm lightning racing through his veins.
Her life force, brief but potent, spilled into him through that fleeting contact. His limbs felt lighter. His thoughts clearer. The ache in his ribs dulled under a rush of sudden clarity. A taste. Just enough.
Vi, in contrast, faltered.
Her grip loosened. Her breath caught.
A wave of weakness pulsed through her chest like she'd lost something—barely perceptible, but enough to make her hesitate.
She narrowed her eyes.
Then, without thinking, she bit his lip. Hard enough to draw blood.
"Ah—!" Crane winced just as Vi swept his leg, bringing him to the ground.
Before he could recover, she locked him in a headlock, her arm tight around his neck.
"I give up," he muttered, tapping her arm.
"Why'd he give up so fast?" Mylo called from the sidelines, his voice a mix of confusion and curiosity.
Vi released him, breathing a little heavier, and they both sat there for a second—faces flushed, Crane's lip bleeding just a little.
The quiet lingered as they stared at each other, tension thick in the air.
A faint smear of Crane's blood clung to Vi's mouth.
From the sidelines, Powder peeked through her fingers. "Maybe he's into it?" she whispered shyly to herself.
Vi wiped at her lip instinctively, eyes flicking down to the red smear on her hand.
Crane sat up, touching his mouth and giving her a lopsided smile, sharp but amused.
"Well," he said, voice low, "that escalated quickly."
Vi scoffed and looked away, trying to hide the pink creeping across her cheeks. "You're the one who flung your face into mine."
"You bit me," Crane pointed out, raising an eyebrow.
"You kissed me," she shot back.
"It was an 'accident' I didn't know I'd go that far up" He gestured vaguely, still grinning through the faint trickle of blood.
Vi didn't respond at first. Her eyes flicked down to his lip again, still bleeding, and she swallowed hard.
"…Whatever," Vi muttered, standing and brushing herself off. "Fight's over. You gave up—I win."
Crane stayed on the ground a beat longer, stretching his arms behind his head. "Yeah, yeah.
"Let it be known—I was defeated by a knee to the ribs and an aggressive lip bite," Crane announced, still sprawled on the ground.
From the sidelines, Mylo groaned. "You gave up. I had half my next meal riding on you!"
Claggor patted his shoulder with mock sympathy. "Told you not to bet against Vi. Rookie mistake."
Powder peeked through her fingers. "I still can't believe they kissed."
Vi huffed, face flushed. "It wasn't a kiss. It was a headbutt… with mouth contact."
Crane picked himself off the floor, brushing off his clothes and rolling his shoulders.
"Well then," he said with a crooked grin, "let it be known—I walk away defeated, but not as defeated as Mylo's stomach."
Mylo groaned from the sidelines. "That's cold, man."
Claggor snorted. "You did bet against Vi. You kinda deserved it."
Crane gave a mock salute, still smirking. "Next time, bet on Vi."
Vi rolled her eyes, arms crossed—but the corner of her mouth twitched like she was trying not to smile.
Crane reached the door and turned back, a sly grin still playing on his lips. "Best loss of my life," he said, his voice low but amused.
"Weirdo," Vi muttered, not quite looking at him.
He gave one last wave before stepping out, the door swinging shut with a soft click.
"Half of my food gone because he lost," Mylo grumbled.
Claggor smirked. "Regret. Tastes bitter, doesn't it?"
Powder piped up from the corner, grinning mischievously. "You can have some of mine."
Mylo's eyes lit up. "Really?"
"Nope!" Powder burst into laughter, clearly enjoying Mylo's brief spark of hope.
——————————
Crane was walking towards the organ traders' base, a slow smile creeping across his face.
Good thing I held myself back from launching too far… he thought, It could've been teeth to teeth.
He glanced around the quiet street, then lifted his shirt.
With a soft, almost organic sound, a slit opened across his stomach—seamless and unnatural.
He reached inside without flinching, fingers closing around the rough fabric of his sack mask.
With ease, he pulled it out and slipped it over his face.
The slit sealed itself shut the moment he let go, like it had never been there.
A low exhale escaped the mask.
It was time to get to work.