Chapter Text
They tried to settle, as best as two messed-up overpowered stick figures could. Chosen started paying closer attention, and was able to better spot when Dark was getting more snappy and twitchy. Previously, she dealt with it alone, leaving the house for hours (which Chosen now knew was to work on some sort of deadly project) and coming back calmer. Now, Chosen poked and prodded to pull Dark into a spar.
It seemed to work for soothing Dark’s code impulses, but not for their new intense boredom. He didn’t enjoy the frequent walks and movies that Chosen spent most of their time on.
“I need to do something, Cho,” Dark had growled during dinner. “Or I’m gonna explode messily.”
Chosen had the thought that what they needed was to get a job, to more integrate into the Outernet society. The two of them got by fine with stealing their necessities, but maybe that wasn’t enough action for Dark.
Dark initially refused the idea.
“Either they’ll figure out who I am immediately and call the cops, or I end up subservient to some random stick who’ll call the cops the second I blow something up.”
“Don’t blow something up?”
“That’s an absurd ask of you, Cho.”
Eventually, though, the boredom pushed her to her limit and she gave it a try. The first attempt was answering an ad for stocking shelves at a grocery store they didn’t rob regularly. It went nowhere because apparently all the stores talk to each other and Dark was very recognizable. When relating the story about running off just as the cops were showing up, Dark just sighed about the lost opportunity to steal from under the store’s nose.
Next, Chosen had Dark try as a construction laborer. They were very strong, and made it past the hiring process fine. The trouble came when, a month into working, Dark blew up the site manager.
“They were fine!” he protested at Chosen’s disappointed look. “They just needed to be taught their place! The other guys were all talkin’ about doing it someday anyways, I just had the initiative.”
The third option was, surprisingly, the most successful. Cooking in the back of a diner.
“Pretty much everyone in the kitchen is an ex-con,” Dark grinned after her first day. “Who knew the restaurant business was secretly so hardcore?”
The bonus was, at the end of the day, Dark came home with leftovers. And when they felt like cooking at home, the meals went up in quality by a lot. But most importantly, Dark started appearing satisfied with how he spent his time. No more excessive snark and complaints. It even seemed like the hours spent apart made Dark more eager to come back, and she would join Chosen in their relaxing activities with something approaching contentment.
Things were good.
One afternoon, Chosen was sipping on her tea on the observatory porch and watching the breeze gently ruffle the grass. Fall would be coming soon. They’d have to roll down the door soon to protect the rest of the room from the chill. But for now, Chosen and Dark could enjoy the openness, and spend their nights pointing the telescope up at the stars and patchwork screens.
They’d finished one of their brawls the night before, and the intensity was probably enough that Dark wouldn’t need another for a good while. Tonight might be a good opportunity to—
A shrill whine pierced the air.
Chosen startled. In the distance was some sort of flying machine. It was approaching rapidly—small not far—and directly towards the house. They scrambled out of view, setting their mug on Dark’s desk.
What was that? What did they want?
Quickly, Chosen slipped across the hall to pull out their hoodie disguise. The wanted posters. Did someone finally trace him to this place?
The whine became louder as the machine approached. A thud as it apparently was landed right in the observatory. Chosen could hear his pulse beating rapidly. So much for a quiet afternoon.
One pair of footsteps. They could definitely take this guy, but would eliminating them just lead more people here?
Stealth wasn’t Chosen’s strong suit, but they needed information. People usually don’t look up. She returned to the hall and carefully used the small space to spider-crawl her way to the ceiling. After a couple minutes, the door below them opened, and a tall stick with sunglasses edged their way out. They clearly knew they were trespassing, hugging the walls and checking around the corner of the bedroom Chosen just left before slipping in.
Chosen quickly took advantage of the opportunity to swing through the doorway back into the observatory. Nothing had been moved or taken, as far as he could tell. The flying machine appeared to be a two-seater, with a variety of switches in easy access. It looked like a really weird scooter. The back had the Rocket Corporation logo, just like the wanted posters.
Biting back a swear, Chosen inched back to the doorway to keep an ear on the intruder. So, this was one of Rocket’s bounty hunters or whatever. How did they find the house?
A muffled wooden thunk that Chosen recognized as the dresser, and some rustling.
Chosen took advantage of the opportunity to quietly race downstairs.
The best case scenario was Rocket was looking for proof that Chosen lived here. They scanned the area, breath shallow. There wasn’t time to make the place look abandoned, but most of it was normal stick life clutter. Chosen took off all the passive-aggressive and aggressive-aggressive fridge notes. Think, think, think.
The photo from the festival! Chosen gently unhooked the frame from the wall, tucked it into his hammerspace.
There was probably more, but the stairs started creaking.
Chosen ducked out of sight flat against the staircase while the hunter cautiously walked down. She waited until she could see the black-and-white head bob at the bottom before leaping up, grabbing the railing and flipping over it to reach the top of the steps again. It wasn’t as gentle as intended. A heavy thump.
Chosen ducked and raced back down the hall, back into the observatory. Paused and listened. Quick steps were ascending the stairs again. Shit.
Chosen hurried out the porch and leapt onto the roof, more careful this time. He stayed low and crept to hide behind the satellite dish. It wasn’t an ideal hiding spot, nor was the thing particularly sturdy, but it would buy some time.
Several long seconds passed.
Chosen’s pulse slowed down when it became clear the hunter wasn’t checking the roof for the source of the sound. Not yet anyways.
Minutes passed. Chosen wished they had super-hearing to match the super-strength, or maybe heat-tracking vision in addition to laser vision. It would’ve made some thematic sense, and then he wouldn’t have to wait cluelessly for the intruder to leave his home. As tempting as it was to just fly away from the danger, the fire would be too loud and bright.
After some mystery amount of time spent breathing and straining to hear something, the whine of machinery kicked on. They were leaving. Chosen quickly shimmied backwards and swung off the side of the roof. She ducked under the overhang just as the flying scooter shot across the sky, back to where it came from.
He heaved a sigh of relief. Then frowned.
This was going to be some shit, wasn’t it…