A Lullaby For Gods Chapter Fifty

Chapter...fifty...Angel circa June 2016 definitely didn't think this fic would span this many chapters and still not be done. 

Sorry this is a few hours late, I was trying to wrap up college stuff, but yay, it's here.

L. Subterfuge

The kids unanimously vote for him to be in charge of the situation, which he supposes makes sense given that everyone else is either a teenager, a teleporting eldritch cat or a dog, but James has not done much in the time he's spent out of HYDRA confinement, aside from rebuild his life from scratch, scrub and avoid all memories of HYDRA as much as he can, and raise his little puppy into the large, adorable dog it is now. Fenrir is a force to be reckoned with when he wants belly rubs, and James wouldn't want him to be any other way.  

Raising a dog, however, while challenging, is a completely different ballpark from leading the remaining faction of a small organization because the rest have been detained.  

Kevin had told them all about the situation; the new people and how they seemed to know the others, Cecil and Dave's infection of the metaphysical kind and how one of the kids could help with it, and the unfortunate circumstance of Cecil's re-possession and S.H.I.E.L.D. storming in.  

With that on the table, James asks for a recon. They can't solve this problem with a blindfold on and one arm tied behind the backs after all.

The pool master starts calling every tenant in the Safehouse, and every hospital employee they can (at least the ones they knew worked at the same hospital Dave and Cecil had been admitted to) - having half of New York's phone numbers with them is useful, although since the bills would be killer, James asks the cat (Khoshekh, right?) to bring them back to New York for a moment, just away from the hospital.  

They send their best friend a message a few seconds after disappearing in a flash of light with the cat. They're in a cafe. It has the Safehouse's radios on its shelves, so it's safe. It's run by their people.

Said best friend turns on every line of communication to the outside world that's in the bunker: the TV, the wi-fi, the radios. The radios are silent since Cecil is out of commission and Kevin is with them, so James doesn't know why the boy's turned them on but maybe he's comforted by the action. Like he knows his friend is still out there, and maybe, by some miracle, he can scream through the speakers to tell them he's okay.

He flips through the channels and looks up everything he can about any sudden S.H.I.E.L.D. activity at a hospital, takes notes, and tries to piece everything together.

Kevin herds the dogs into the living room and makes sure they behave. James lets him be.

What they get, hours later, is this: according to the news, there were suspected public threats that S.H.I.E.L.D. has identified and has detained. The identities of these threats have not been made public, and reporters are diligently being kept away and not allowed to film anything (although a few persistent ones that had already been live on air the second they climbed out of their news vans obviously managed to get the story out, or at least a part of it - all the reports are likely to be covered up soon; maybe some tall tale about a government experiment, weather balloons and all).

A few internet searches by the pool master's best friend yielded blurry videos of green flashes in the sky chasing a bright yellow and orange blur, but there's not a lot of other info on that. None of the public knows what it is, but there's already theories brewing on reddit.  

According to the pool master's contacts, everyone who is in charge of the Safehouse is currently not in charge of the Safehouse. They're not home.  

Of course, the pool master had worded their questions a little less suspiciously so nobody would panic; Oh, Mrs. Johnson, I forgot my laptop and I'm running late for a lunch, is there anyone there that could help me? Mr. Winters, maybe? Any of the twins that's not the Palmers? Mr. G? Mrs. H herself? No one? Oh, geez, Mrs. Johnson, it's fine, it's fine, I'll figure it out, I couldn't bother you any more than I already have, thanks for answering -  and most of the staff in the hospital are still confused by the situation of S.H.I.E.L.D. storming in.  

There had apparently been a quarantine for a while, around the same time the news aired (they cross-checked), but after the fuss was over, no one was told anything other than there was nothing to panic about.  

Which is, of course, every conspiracy theorist's cue that there is everything to panic about, but either S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't know that, or they just don't care.

Two areas in the hospital are sectioned off. One nurse had been able to tell the pool master the room numbers.

1025. 1111.

So, in conclusion, S.H.I.E.L.D. likely had gotten everyone. According to Kevin, the orange blur in the videos could be one of the new kids, who looks like a dead ringer for Dave Strider, is half bird, and has a sword sticking out of his chest.

James is unpacking that later.

That leaves only the four of them, plus the cat, and the dogs, in charge of the Safehouse and tasked with the dilemma with breaking everyone out.

They all sit in a circle uncomfortably, assessing their roles, which is...sadly a little lackluster. There's a discount oracle, a kid who once got suspended for stealing a squad car, an IT student and an ex-military who can't remember half the shit he's done in the military.  

A teleporting cat.

Around thirty-one dogs, Fenrir included.  

"Alright, so what exactly does being a discount oracle entail?" James asks.

"I can tell you when Walmart's going to have a sale," Kevin says flatly, running his fingers through Rover's fur. He's Jade's dog, James remembers. "Aside from that, not much else."

"Do you think you can direct it towards somewhere else?"

Kevin shrugs helplessly. "I'm not sure, I don't really - I don't really control it. Sometimes, I notice it kicks in if I'm in danger, but I can chalk that up to me wanting to subconsciously protect myself."

Self-preservation instinct. If it can manifest in the form of that, there might still be hope. He turns to the pool master.

The kid shrugs too. "Look, I know how to stick needles in people, but that's either because I'm taking stuff out or pumping it in."

"Do you have to phrase it like that?" Kevin asks.

"It's just blood or air, Kevin."

"Do you have medical training, then?" James asks, "Even a small amount?"

"No, my parents were just drug dealers."

That - that's not good.  

He turns to the pool master's best friend.  

"I made a chat client?" the boy says, but it comes out as a question.

"We're all useless," the pool master says.  

"We know you can drive," James says. This isn't optimal, but it's something, and he's been in the military, for fuck's sake. In the Howling Commandos. He might not remember exactly what he did, but he knows there had to be a time when all he had was his brain, himself and his survival instinct versus a fuckton of nazis to kill. "We know you can also stab people with needles."

"That's - that's certainly one way to look at it."

"Pumping air through a syringe mimics a heart attack," Kevin mutters.

The pool master blanches. "I'm not going to kill anyone, I was joking!"

"We're not going to." James lifts a hand, about to touch their shoulder like he's going to comfort them, but then decides that's too awkward and puts his hand down. That's a blalant lie, anyway. They might have to, but this is a teenager here. He gestures to Kevin instead. "If your precognition can make itself useful for your benefit, it's not a shot in the dark to say it can be used for something else."

"I don't know how," Kevin says. "I don't know how to control it."

"Do you think it would help if, like, you tried rituals?" the pool master's best friend - Rock or something, offers. "I don't really know what they're called or if calling them that is crass, but plenty of people try divination, right?"

Kevin nods, but it's hesitant. "I know people who try it. I have classmates who are practitioners," he says. "I just never really did it myself, I mean - I thought if all I was going to see was, hey, there's a sale at Macy's, what am I going to do with that? I don't have the money to go to every sale in the city."

"We can work with that," James says. This is going to be a first, but he's living in a world where people teleport and magic radios can reach distances they're not supposed to. "You said you had friends who are, uh."

"Practitioners," Kevin says. He takes out his phone, already typing out messages.

"How good are you with computers?" James turns his attention to the pool master's best friend.  

The boy runs a hand through his hair, stressed. "I'm not great at it, that's for sure, but I'm decent," he says, "I can code. I can send a few funny viruses. I definitely can't stand up against S.H.I.E.L.D., though."

"Let's hope you're underselling shit, then," the pool master mutters.

"Unfortunately not. Honestly, I'd deliver better if you were asking for a ditty."

"God, if only we can sing them all to let everyone go," Kevin says.

That sounds like something one of the New York supervillains would do, but that's not an avenue worth going down. That just happens in movies and usually makes James scream at the screen, anyway. It's a pity the trope has carried to the 21st century.

They all sit there and think, all mostly silent since they all know pressuring each other for anything wouldn't get them anywhere other than having a lot of anxiety on their hands and unwanted bad blood. Eventually, Kevin has to excuse himself since one of his friends is starting a voice call. The pool master's phone buzzes and they start tapping away at it, whatever is on the screen making their brow furrow.

He's got a psychic; someone who can drive, and in the worse case scenario, inject someone with heroin out of self-defense; and someone who can trip up S.H.I.E.L.D.'s systems for a little bit. There are multiple people missing. James doesn't know where they are or how to get them.

If Kevin can figure out where they are through divination, though, he can get the pool master's best friend to distract S.H.I.E.L.D. It doesn't have to be anything devastating, it just has to be enough for him to infiltrate the area. The pool master can serve as the getaway car if their options for teleporting are incapacitated.

It's crude and it's shaky, but as long as everyone is out, then they can polish up whatever 'go underground and stay lowkey' scheme they need to make.

"You know," the pool master's best friend says, after a while. "I think there's things at the Safehouse that might help us."

"Yeah?" James leans forward.

"I don't snoop around, but - come on, Mr. Win - Loki's a paranoid guy, right? Do you think he keeps weapons around?" He turns to the pool master. "Wait, what about all the errands he has you run, does anything stick out?"

The pool master has a little frown on their face. "I'm his secretary." They sound distracted as they comb through their thoughts. After a while, they say: "There's an emergency system, but he said it's for when there's people in the house and we need a quick getaway. He said it goes to a hideout."

Hideout, perfect. They'd just need to get to the Safehouse after the breakout, maybe have the cat or Jade teleport them, and then that can be triggered.

"Did he say what was in the hideout?" James asks.

"Food, supplies, a place to stay hidden," they say. "I'm trying to remember other things. It's really hard for me to think when I'm anxious. Um." They pause. "The Safehouse's doorway has runes on them. I remember he says they welcome only people with good intentions towards the Safehouse.  Put 'em up a little while later than most of the other stuff, so I remember that. I was around for it. They sort of detect intent."

Perfect.

"The door itself has runes carved on the part that's inside the house?" they say, motioning with their hand. "It's got - I forgot the terms he used, but basically it kind of tells people to like, think that it's not worth talking about the Safehouse. It makes it background noise in the back of their heads. That's why no one ever really talks about us, unless we're brought up, or no one spills anything, because no one thinks to. I think being aware kind of breaks the compulsion."  

James blinks. He...hadn't really thought of that, although he supposes that's the point of what Loki's done. To not think about the Safehouse or go telling others about it. It's a thing he's aware of, but it's not really at the forefront of his mind.  

"Huh," the pool master's best friend says. "I didn't know that."

"Did he tell you that?" Kevin asks.

The pool master shrugs. "He said I needed to know how things worked so in case people weren't available." They pause thoughtfully, again. "Hey, do you think we should make some noise?"

"What do you mean?" James asks.

"I mean, like - if people knew - Loki always told me to keep quiet about things and to pretend like I didn't know anything," they say, "Right from the start. I didn't put it together at first, but then he explained to me about the emergency system and how, if everyone else was incapacitated and it needed to be triggered - "

"It would make sense for someone who didn't seem to be involved to be the one to trigger it," James finishes. "Because no one would guess it was them and wouldn't target them."

"Yeah." They hug their arms, conscious. "So like, every time the topic would even start to come up I'd try to redirect. I'd try to lie, too, and I was awful at the beginning. If I ever slipped up, I'd try to make it seem like I was a casual tennant, just a civilian but - but if we made some noise, if we let the public know what happened, and what's happening, maybe we could get them on our side."

That's a point. There's nothing more powerful than the combined ideals of a mass that's willing to protect what they believe deserve to be protected and to burn down what they believe deserve to be destroyed.

"Like," the pool master's best friend starts, stops, then, "Like a witch hunt?"

"No, not a witch hunt." The pool master looks horrified. "Like, we let them know that the Safehouse is down, or something is wrong - I know Rose said that we shouldn't let anyone know the Safehouse is having trouble because there's going to be panic, but we might need that panic to make some waves."

"Have everyone petition for our friends' release?"

"Best case scenario," they say. "It's either they give an explanation or New York loses its bunker."

"It's something worth considering," James says, "But maybe slowly. We have to be careful too."

The kid nods.  

Their best friend clicks his tongue. "Didn't you have to take blood from everyone at one point?"  

"That was part of the emergency system," they say. "He said it was so we could go through the gate."

They get a shudder in response.  

"We can use that system," James says. "If we get everyone out of wherever S.H.I.E.L.D. is holding them, we can get them in the Safehouse, and you can open the emergency system."

"If they don't know about it, they won't know where we're going," Kevin says.  

"The doorway and the door keeps intruders out, right?" James asks.

"There's also wards around the house, apparently, although I forgot the full explanation for that," the pool master says. "I remember he said that it does the whole background noise thing, but it welcomes those that belong to it and those who need it. So I guess it's like, invisible to everyone's minds unless they live there or unless there's an attack and they need it."

"Oh, you mean like - " Their best friend points to Kevin. "Like home."

Somehow that makes sense to both of them because the pool master nods. "Pretty much."

"Wait," Kevin says. "That's - I don't know shit about magic, but that's not true. Or, like, that didn't really hold up well."

"What do you mean?"  

"Green sparks showed out of nowhere behind Loki," Kevin says. "Cecil got possessed, so did Dave. I don't know how the infection is spread, if the victim has to be touched or if it can be long-distance, but if it's not, then that's something that's bypassing Loki's precautions."

That's a very good point.

"Does S.H.I.E.L.D. use magic?" James asks.

All the kids look at each other, unsure.

"Not that I know of," Kevin says. "But I don't know anything about S.H.I.E.L.D."

"As long as they don't, I think we're fine then," James says, "Anything else?"

The pool master looks down, and they don't talk for a long, long time.  

When they finally do, it's with a weary, guilty sigh. "I would like to apologize in advance."

"That does not sound good," Kevin says.

They close their eyes and press the heels of them palms to them.

"Loki brought me to see Cecil's room," they say. "He said he and Cecil had been talking about things. We knew that, he told us that, but just." They lower their hands and turn away, their gaze distant for a second.  

"Cecil's room was a mess." They start picking at their nails. "It's just. It's something. Cecil's dreams, whatever they are, something had been deeply wrong when he made his mess, and now that you say he's infected with something, that makes a lot of sense, but it's disturbing."

James says nothing, only adds the information to what they already have.  

Kevin is silent. The pool master waits.

"What did you see in the room?" Kevin asks, voice low.

"You haven't seen Cecil's room?"

"He didn't let me," he says, tightly. "He started getting a lot more private, and I just respected it. He was getting nightmares."

"It looked like a huge conspiracy board," they say. "I don't know if there's anything there outside of whatever game bullshit everyone keeps talking about."

"Oh," Kevin says.

"If we can see the room, we can try to pick it apart," James says. He looks for Khoshekh for a moment, trying to see where he is. He spots him sleeping on the couch. "Can the cat teleport a whole conspiracy board?"

"I'm not sure," Kevin says.  

"We can try to ask him," James says, and decides that's the most ridiculous thing he's ever said. "At least we know he understands us."

"After a lot of hand-waving."

He snorts. Then, "Anything else?"

"I have some chalk in a safe, along with some blood samples," the pool master says. "A few notes I made when Wi - Loki first had me started doing errands. That's about it."

James leans back, propping his arms up behind him. That's a lot, actually, and it's useful. The Safehouse is their ticket to getting the fuck out of dodge, which is their first priority right now. Even if they don't reach the Safehouse, as long as they're out, they can come to this bunker.  

Everything else can be dealt with later. Biggest problems first.

"We're taking those," he says. "I don't think we need blood samples lying around, who the fuck knows what can be done with those."

Everyone else murmurs their assent, with the pool master's best friend muttering that anyone else getting the blood would be alarming.

"If we can know where to find everyone, we can try to get them out," James says. "It's S.H.I.E.L.D., so we might need something big, but even a small distraction will do as long as we can get everyone out. We have Jade. We have Loki. We have Khoshekh. They can teleport anyone away. If they can't teleport, for whatever reason, we can go to the Safehouse and open the gate."

"And hide," the pool says.  

"Recuperate and solve the next part of the problem," James says. He stands.  

They have a plan.  

"Let's get to the Safehouse," he says. "We need that board and those samples."

-

The kids get them thick coats and hoodies. Vriska's not complaining, especially not in this drab, cold weather. New York makes the meteor feel like it's paradise. It's freezing here even when it's not raining.  

"Snow's just coming in soon," Mai tells her when she mutters something about the cold weather. If that's going to make the temperature even worse, then she doesn't know how humans survive around here.  

They wrap scarves around the lower part of their face, covering up their mouths and nose, and pull hoods over their heads - which their horns immediately make awkward. They get a few winces at that, before someone rummages through a little milk crate where the kids apparently keep serviceable clothing in case of emergency, or in case some of them wear through whatever few clothes they have, and they're tossed two, large hats with brims so wide they can probably have a small island's entire history written on them.  

Terezi's hat sits alright on her head, hiding her horns underneath perfectly, but Vriska's horns make the hat feel like it's being hung on a rack instead. It still hides the horns, though, so she keeps the hood on, and then puts the hat over it.  

It's the most ridiculous-looking disguise, and it makes her want to take it off two seconds into wearing the whole getup, but they have a goal. She needs to see the Safehouse, and going outside with no disguise is a fast way to get a game over. If the human children are mistaking them for mutants even when they're obviously not, there's a possibility that the adult humans might too. It's not a guarantee, but being in a foreign planet - as is increasingly, and unfortunately becoming obvious, which she's tempted to deny simply out of spite and irritation - with dangers around and not taking any precautions for it is just plain stupid.  

Vriska does not do plain stupid, no sir, so she's going to don this awful disguise and walk to the Safehouse. It'll be like the old days, she tells herself. Just remember the old days, the awful old days, where FLARPing wasn't on her radar and she had to sit around cold forests pretending to be small and vulnerable until some poor bastard of a wriggler passed by for her to drag off and feed to her lusus.

It's like that.  

Honestly, that's a terrible comparison and she shouldn't even have thought of that in the first place, but it's out there. She just has to forget about it.

Mai leaves Lester, who turns out to be her brother (and she faintly remembers being explained the concept by Rose and Dave), to be in charge of everyone who's under the bridge, and she and Kristina, the tall girl, bid The Mayor a respectful "See you later, Mister Mayo Man." to which he gives them an empty soup can with a faded label, whick Kristina pockets even if it's bulky in her coat. Afterwards, the two of them, Vriska and Terezi, climb up the hill and out from under the bridge they've been hiding under.

The highway sits empty in front of them. Seconds later, a large car roars past, headlights off since it's daytime out. Vriska frowns under her scarf.

Thankfully, they only have to walk on the sides of the road, and people give them a wide berth. It makes Vriska's skin crawl in disgust and offense, at first, but Terezi puts a hand on her arm and shakes her head minutely. It would do them no good if she tried to pick a fight here right now.  

She can't pinpoint it, at first. There's so many people here in New York, and it's really not built like Alternia's system was, with everyone trying to live as far away as possible from everyone else, at least if their blood colors were too far apart. Here, humans cluster, but they don't seem to want to be, what with how they're reacting to each other.

Then she notices, slowly, the difference between them and the passersby. Or rather, the difference between Mai and Kristina, and the other humans.  

The other humans don't look ridiculous, and their clothes aren't dirty, thin, and frayed at the edges. Most of them look clean and groomed, but Mai and Kristina look like they haven't had sleep in days. Their clothes look dirty, look messy; they both look like they decided tangles was a good fashion statement for their hair and stuck with it. Kristina looks a little better off, at the very least, but Mai looks thin and gaunt, and her overcoat is more dust grey than black at this point.  

It clicks. Humans might not have a bloodcaste system, but apparently, they have another way of implementing ranks. Mai is young and Mai is a child, but she is not on the same rank as the other people they're passing by on the road, and so that doesn't matter.

She really shouldn't have chosen her earlier analogy. Now her mind's just crawling in spaces it hasn't for a sweep.

The walk is long, but silent, which works for her. It makes it easier for her to observe her surroundings, and given how there's so much to look at and to figure out, she's not really in the mood to fill in the silence. Beside her, she knows Terezi feels the same, hand on her head to make sure it doesn't fall, because she has her head tilted slightly upward, her scarf pulled down so she can identify the smells around her.  

Vriska wrinkles her nose. She doesn't have as keen a smell as Terezi and she thinks New York smells like shit.

Terezi just looks like she's smiling, wry, under her scarf.

They take turns, cross roads, walk up skywalks, and go under subway tunnels. Mai and Kristina navigate the city with the expertise of people who've lived here their whole lives, and Vriska takes note of signs and buildings as best as she can. New York is full of lights and billboards, and is loud and crowded. It's impressive how the kids even know their way around here.  

After a long, long while, when her legs are burning for walking farther than they have in perigees, they stand in front of a large, unassuming building that looks like every other large and unassuming building they've passed before.  

There is a plaque beside the front door. It says Harrison Apartments.  

"This is the Safehouse?" she asks, her voice muffled under her scarf.  

Kristina motions to the plaque. "It's formally known as Harrison Apartments - it's been renovated a bunch of times. The landlady's name is Mrs. Harrison."

"I was thinking it would have The Safehouse posted on it if it was going to have a plaque."

"We just started calling it The Safehouse." Mai laughs lightly before ascending the steps of the porch. She presses a small button. Vriska hears a small buzz from inside.

"Who did?" Terezi asks.

"The whole city," Kristina says.

Curious. Vriska slides the information along with the rest of what she knows about the situation.  

"How many Safehouses are there?" she asks.

"Just this one," Kristina says. "You'd think New York would have a lot of bunkers given how often there are attacks, but no. We just have the Avengers, and a bunch of civilians decided to turn their apartments into a fallout shelter."

"What's the Avengers? Is that, like, a FLARP group?"

Mai frowns, muttering, "What's a FLARP group?"

Kristina just laughs. "No, they're superheroes."

Vriska and Terezi share a look. "Superheroes."

"Yeah, save the city every time there's attacks. Every now and then some genius who's got a few screw loose decides to let whatever abomination they've given birth to in their labs take a walk downtown, and things get destroyed." Kristina waves a hand around to motion to the city. "The Avengers swoop in to take care of it. Sometimes it's small enough of a threat that it's not even them that's dispatched, it's just S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, or a handful of the team."

"I thought S.H.I.E.L.D. was dangerous," Terezi says.

"They are," Mai says. "To us. See, they catch - " She pauses, thinking her words over, obviously not satisfied with what she's conveying with the last wording. "Contain, I think, is the word I'm looking for. They contain threats. Usually, these are whatever that's sent to destroy the city, or people with abilities who decide to use their abilities horribly."

"Mutants," Kristina says.

Mai nods. "Yeah, they call us mutants. 'Cause we're human but not really. Mr. Winters said we were 'ahead on the evolutionary rung'."

"Like a tier above the rest?" Vriska asks.

"Something like that," Mai says. "But I think S.H.I.E.L.D. went from just containing mutants to making sure mutants can't do anything at all."

Ah.

Right. By what Mai has said, Vriska would be a 'mutant', given her psiionics. Terezi, not so much, unless a keen sense of smell counted.

The door has not opened yet. Mai presses the button again.  

"What can you do?" Vriska asks. Mai, at first, and then she glances at Kristina.

The girl shrugs. "I'm not a mutant."

"I'm hydro - hydro - " Mai turns to Kristina.

"Hydrokinetic."

"Hydrokinetic," she repeats.  

A water psychic?

"Interesting," Vriska says.  

"As it is dangerous." Mai presses the button again, harder this time.  

After a few minutes, no one still answers. She sighs and turns the door knob. It lets her, and the door swings inward.

"It was open the whole time?" Terezi asks.

"I wanted to be polite and let them know we were here first," the little girl says.  

They all file in, the humans first, and then Vriska and Terezi, and at first, the lounge is nothing more than a polished area that doesn't fit its exterior, but nothing really out of place. At least, until Vriska looks to the side, notices the wide, wide space that the carpet reaches, the fancy, but empty, reception desk, and the door beyond it that looks like a small kitchen.

She looks up.

"Well." She whistles lowly. "That's impressive."

There's a chandelier in the center of the high, high ceiling. Much higher than it should be, from what it looks like outside.

Something is up with this building.

"Welcome to the Safehouse," Kristina says, with a bit of pride in her voice.

"It's our very own TARDIS," Mai says.

"What's that?"

Mai laughs. "Old joke. But yeah, this place breaks reality a little."

Terezi pulls down her scarf and sniffs the air. "It really does."

"Is the building just like this on its own?" Vriska asks. "Some well-kept ancestral secret, maybe, that's just been fashioned into something else?"

"What?"

Kristina snorts. "Nah, this was a regular old building that got refashioned into this. Like I said, it's been through several renovations."

"That includes folding so much space in a little pocket."

Something is definitely up with this house, and she's on the right path with investigating this place. She turns to the reception desk.  

"So, who's in charge?"

"They should be around here somewhere," Mai says. She tots up to the reception desk, takes off her shoes so she can stand on one of the guest chairs in front of it, and rings the little bell.  

The sound echoes around the lounge, making it seem cavernous.  

And empty. Something is wrong, too.  

"They didn't answer the door," Kristina says, "Are they all at the hospital?"

"They could be," Mai says. "I don't think we'd be allowed in, though."

"Haven't seen Khoshekh and Wilson in a while either, so we don't have anyone who can deliver messages," Kristina says. "Maybe we should wait."

Mai pauses. "We can. I just have a bad feeling."

"You feel it too, huh?"  

"Yeah," the girl says. She sits down on the chair, sagging into the seat. She seems so tired. "Something's wrong with the air. I can't explain why or how it's wrong, but it just feels like it."

"It smells wrong," Terezi says. She's pulled off her hat now. "Smells rotten, but it also smells - it burns the nose. It smells metallic."

"Any other day, I'd say you're just smelling pure old Eau de New York, which smells like shit all the time, but - yeah," Kristina says. "Something definitely feels wrong."

Like them being from a session fully in swing and landing in a universe where the game hasn't been launched at all.

This isn't a dream bubble.  

No, no, this is something, far, far worse, and it's not just because the game hasn't launched. This is a universe that had somehow sat in the middle of the way of their session, and now elements from the game have fallen into it, and that's not supposed to happen.  

That's not supposed to happen, because SGRUB subsumes entire universes into its framework, erasing all other commands of how it's suppose to run prior, embedding itself even into the lives and the construction and constitution of everything that is inside of it. Every character is an element, every location a block, every action a strip of code that is catalogued and bracketed and remembered to make a functioning system that determines the fate of existence. How else would people be able to die and come back to life if the death was senseless? How would the Just-Heroic system be put into place? How would the Derse and Prospit awakenings work?  

This is a universe where the game has not had its script launched into its very bones.

Except.

Except, except, except.  

Some part of it has, and SGRUB - SBURB- ~ath , whatever name it takes, is a living being in and of itself. This universe hasn't had the beginnings of its script launched, but a huge chunk of the middle, maybe even the end since Vriska and her session have technically ended their game, is already in it.  

It's already opening something, and that something is going to take and eat this already-cancerous universe alive.  

Vriska grabs Terezi's arm.  

"We need to get out of here," she says, lowly.

Terezi frowns. "What is it? I don't smell danger, these are just kids."

"No, not out of the building," she says, "Out of this. This universe. We're not supposed to be here, this universe doesn't have the game running yet."

Mai and Kristina are giving them weird looks, obviously not being able to overhear what she's saying.  

Terezi is processing what she's said when she suddenly snaps her head up.

"There's someone new in the house."

"What?" Mai asks.

"I have a keen sense of smell, there's someone new in the house," Terezi says. "They just arrived. And they're close."

Mai looks at Kristina. "First floor has five rooms."

"There's four of us," Kristina says.

"We don't split up, then." Mai turns to Terezi. "Can you tell where they are?"

Terezi sniffs the air again, turning around slowly, following her nose, until finally, she looks towards the stairs. Vriska leans a little to the right. There's a doorway under it.

"There," Terezi says.

"...common room," Kristina says.

Mai hops off the chair, her shoes forgotten, and stalks towards the common room, her steps made silent by her worn socks. Kristina follows her, staying close.  

Terezi summons her cane and follows suit. Vriska does so as well.

All four of them stop by the wall where the doorway is, their backs pressed to it. Vriska sees Mai draw in a breath, and then turn to Kristina, who nods. Like it's an afterthought, she glances to Terezi and Vriska with a knowing look.

Then she silently steps under the doorway, hands poised - Vriska wonders for a minute where she plans to manipulate water from before she remembers Earth has plumbing too - and Kristina backs her up, standing behind her, whipping out what looks like a small black box that's been tucked in her belt, hidden under her coat. Following their lead, since they're going to have to see who the intruders are, Vriska and Terezi spring right beside them, Terezi brandishing her cane already.

There's several people in the room. One of them already has his gun drawn at them.

"Holy - Mister James?" Mai's posture immediately drops in relief, and she lowers her hands. Kristina lets out a relieved sigh.

"Friends?" Terezi asks.

"Yeah, definitely friends," Mai says. She runs into the room, and the man, James, lowers his gun and tucks it into its holster, equal relief slackening his muscles.

"What the fuck?" one of the other humans in the room says. This one is short and squirrely and is on two chairs stacked together rummaging through what looks like a safe that had been hidden behind a painting, given there's one on the floor beside the chair stack.

"It's alright," James says, raising a hand "It's just - I'm sorry, I might not have caught your name the first time."

"Mai." The little girl grins up at the man. His hair is long and tied back to keep it from poking his eyes, and he's got a bit of a beard on his face that makes him look kind of cool, like Nick Cage, but of course, not as good as Nick Cage. He has kind eyes, and a kind smile.  

Vriska eyes him warily. Beside her, Terezi sets the bottom of her cane to the ground.

"And Kristina." Kristina lifts a hand as she walks into the room as a greeting. "Palmer knows me though."

There's another human, one in a bright yellow sweater, and he turns as soon as she says that. "Kris!"

"Hey, Kev."  

Palmer rushes forward, arms open, and Kristina meets him halfway, laughing as they hug. Humans are so open with their affection, it's a wonder how they can tell every sort of it apart.  

"It's been so long, how's Alfred?"  

"He's doing well, how's Cecil?"

Palmer stiffens.  

Vriska steps into the room, intent on getting as much out of the situation as possible. There's only one other human in the room, a tall man - not taller than James, but taller than the others - with an ugly dark blue beanie and boxes of stuff in his arms. The other human, the squirrely one, is taking things from the safe and giving it to him. They both still at the mention of Palmer's brother.

James presses his lips to a thin line.  

Mai and Kristina sense the shift in the air immediately, and Kristina pulls away from her friend's hug.

"Kidnapped," Palmer says.  

Kristina closes her eyes. "S.H.I.E.L.D?"

"I'm not - I'm not actually sure," Palmer says.  

Confusion flits across Kristina's face. "What do you mean?"

"A long story," James says, softly interrupting. "Although I don't think we should discuss this here, given - " He glances at Vriska and Terezi at that. "We have a lot to talk about. It's not the best idea to stay here, at the moment."

Everyone in the room glances the both of them, for a moment. Palmer gives them a small wave.

"Hi," Terezi says.

"Yeah," Mai says, "We definitely have a lot to talk about."

"Well, I'm done here." The squirrely shuts the safe they were emptying. They clamber down from the stack of chairs they're on, push their glasses up when they almost fall, pick up the painting on the floor - it's of a woman with golden-brown hair, and kind, kind eyes - and place it back on the wall.  

James nods. "You have everything?"

"That I can remember," they say.

"Good." He turns back to the children, sparing Vriska and Terezi another look, before speaking. "We can talk in the bunker, if you'd like. Just not here."

"The walls have ears," Palmer mutters.

"You have a bunker?" Mai asks.

"Winters does," James says.  

"Huh," the little girl blinks. "Neat."  

"Is it okay if we, uh." Kristina motions to Vriska and Terezi. "They're friends. Or, well, we kind of found them in the rain days ago and they've been staying with us since. We've been trying to contact the Safehouse about it, but I don't think our messages went through."

Vriska steps closer, smiling in a gesture of being harmless.  

"We're not here to cause harm," Terezi says, before she can get a word out. "We want to help."

"Honestly, at this point, what's the worst we could get hit by?" The man with the ugly beanie says.  

The squirrely one gives him the stinkeye. "Why would you test fate like that?"

"What's the worst, really?"

"We all get sick and die."

He snorts.  

"It'll be fine," James says, pulling the conversation back from where it's derailed. The way he says it tells Vriska it's not going to be fine, even if he's smiling at Mai and Kristina in reassurance. It tells her that if she tries anything funny there's going to be a gun in her face.  

She doesn't know how she senses it, but maybe it's because she's lived under a force of danger for majority of her whole life. Maybe it's because she's partnered with Eridan, an Orphaner, for so long. Maybe it's because she's not the nicest person herself.

Whatever this man is, he's not as harmless as he looks, even with the layers of clothing that just makes him look like he's cozy for the season.  

"How do we get to the bunker?" she asks, plowing through her wariness. Her instincts are flaring but that doesn't mean she's afraid. It just means she's alert, and she knows what to expect.

"Do we need to dress up again?" Terezi asks.

"Oh, no," James says.  

The Palmer kid makes a noise with his mouth, a bit of a softer, friendlier-sounding hiss, and from behind a bean bag where it's been sitting, a cat trots, all the way across the room - stretching halfway - and hops into Palmer's arms as he crouches down to pick it up.

Green sparks fly around the cat, static charging up in it fur.  

"Not to worry," Palmer says. "We have Khoshekh."