#Pongo and Brainjack is a BAD IDEA

[kentuckywrites]

Warmth

@heroicmeep ‘s Meep and @jaxstronomy ‘s Martin find their way to @deltheor Sydney’s hideout, where @lightbrand ‘s Pandora and another unexpected ally are waiting...

“And that, Pandora, is why we were patient.”

The room was deathly silent. Sydney’s voice had a way of carrying, a dark echo in the wind, the mind, the soul. Meep could feel the pressure building in her brain, a constant throbbing pain, courtesy of the man on the throne. Martin had stopped walking, now drilling holes into Sydney’s skull with his darkened eyes. The moment had come for retribution. Meep only hoped that she’d have the strength to bring this nightmare to an end.

“You see,” Sydney continued without further acknowledgement, “Now we get to watch them struggle. Not that we didn’t before, which was deliciously entertaining - I wish I had popcorn to enjoy the times you had to carry him around.” He waved a finger at Meep, then Martin. Martin looked down. “Anyways, welcome, welcome! We’ve been waiting oh so patiently to give you this Red Carpet Welcome, we’d ask if it lives up to your standards, but we don’t particularly care about them.”

Meep couldn’t help but ask a quiet question. “Who do you mean...we?...”

Sydney started to laugh, and she shrank back, biting her lip. “Well, Sailor Mercury, my pet Patches is still here.”

“I’m not your pet.” Pandora tried to snap, but her voice seemed oddly hoarse.

He ignored the comment. “But secondly, I’ve been...blessed, if you please...by another prized pick of the litter.”

In that moment, the pain subsided. She watched with morbid curiosity as Sydney’s shoulders relaxed and his eyes closed. A faint smile appeared on his pierced lips, not smug, not flirtatious. He looked at peace.

Then Meep felt it, the presence of another mind in the room, another potent force. All the bruises, the scrapes, the scars, physical, mental - something brushed over them. They were small kisses, small wishes, they brought comfort and warmth to her body. She could practically feel the arms around her, pulling her in for a loving embrace. For once during the mission, Meep felt like everything would be okay.

One quick glance to her right indicated that Martin was feeling the same serenity. Pandora, the empty husk Sydney had called his companion, stepped away from the throne, her footsteps silent against the floor. “You...that’s not you. It can’t be.”

She turned towards Meep and Martin, her eye wide. “What the fuck are you doing to him?”

“It’s...it’s not me,” Meep stammered. Martin was only able to shake his head for an answer.

There was a faint noise, carried only by the nonexistent breeze. A chuckle. It didn’t belong to anyone there. Seconds later, Sydney opened his eyes, his smile growing wider, wider. From behind the throne a fifth figure joined them, preferring the safety of the shadows. The light was able to capture the faint glint of a knife in the figure’s hand. A pupiless indigo gaze, unblinking, answered the unanswered.

“...Pon...go?...” Meep whispered.

The lovable Interceptor smiled.

“Good to see you again, Meep!”

It would’ve been endearing in any other situation, hearing that innocent tone of his. But now there was a dark edge to it; he’d sliced that knife through the air without having to move an inch. Meep felt a chill race down her spine as Sydney stood up to greet him, throwing his cape to the side for an added dramatic swish. It was Pongo who slipped his arm around Sydney’s waist, pulling him closer, all while staring down at Meep and Martin.

She couldn’t help it. The corners of her eyes started to sting as tears ran down her cheeks. “N-No...you’re lying, you wouldn’t do something like this…”

“The mind’s a fragile thing - though you knew that already, didn’t you?” Sydney smirked. “And while I’d love to monologue about the specifics to our little ‘partners in crime’ layout, that’d be too damn easy.”

It wasn’t the air that was warming up, but Meep was sweating now. She hadn’t fought a mind like this before, and while it was easier to push aside than Sydney’s, it left more of a strain on her heart. This wasn’t supposed to feel good, but it did, and that made her want to scream. Why did she want to throw aside her defenses? Why did she want to give in?!

Meep couldn’t move. Pongo’s Will was growing, enshrouding her not in darkness, but in love. Maybe that was why it was so powerful - she hadn’t felt anything like this since before the start of this damned mission. She had no control over the gentle smile finding its way onto her lips, no control over herself as she watched Sydney pull Pongo closer again for - could it be called a kiss?! No, he was attacking Pongo’s mouth, and what frightened her the most was when Pongo reciprocated it. Pandora made a small noise of discomfort, though Meep couldn’t tell if it was because of the kiss, or because she was losing herself.

Martin growled something she couldn’t hear, but he got louder with his next statement. “You’re disgusting.”

He drew his knife and charged forward, and the sudden burst of energy stopped the two lovers - NO, they couldn’t be lovers, Pongo wouldn’t - it stopped them; they pulled apart and watched the silver haired Harrier sprint towards them. Pongo grinned, and the heat grew stronger. Meep found it in herself to fight, to move forward, to help Martin put an end to this stupid fucking mission. Their knives were drawn and pointed and ready to kill.

Pandora simply watched.

Martin’s target was Sydney. Both Interceptors darted away from each other as Sydney drew Martin towards the left side of the throne. The clash of knives rang through the air before Meep reached Pongo. His stance was different than Sydney’s, shoulders relaxed and a dark smile still plastered on his face. Meep stopped, her grip on her knife tightening.

“This can’t be you.”

“How would you know?” Pongo’s head tilted curiously. “Humans have a curious way of hiding their true selves. How long was I able to hide my connection to Mira?”

“You didn’t!” Meep cried, “You told me as soon as I asked! You’re honest and good and you’re not - you can’t be on his side!!”

The smile disappeared.

And when it left, the warmth began to turn into a fire, a fire that consumed her very mind and left her screaming, screaming so loud that she could hardly hear Pongo’s voice inside her head.

“Aw, looks like someone needs a hug.”

[kentuckywrites]

To Be Alive

A commission for @deltheor ! Pongo and Sydney go out for a night on the town, but their time together is riddled with insecurities and obstacles.

The argument could be made that mimeosomes weren’t actually alive. Sure, there were human consciousnesses controlling them, but that wasn’t the same as being in them. Too many people believed in the idea that these bodies were disposable, that these bodies weren’t real, simply empty husks blessed with human intelligence.

Sydney knew that his mimeosome would never compare to his real body. It felt close to the original, but there was always this sense that lingered in the back of his mind, always there, prominent but not all powerful. This body wasn’t alive. It was a machine that he could control.

Despite this train of thought, Sydney had to admit that there were times he thought he was truly alive. Sometimes he’d get it after a successful bounty mission. Sometimes he’d get it after drinking too much booze.

And sometimes, Sydney would feel alive thinking about Pongo.

It was hard not to think about him now, hard not to feel so alive. Sydney hadn’t had a drop of alcohol in that night, yet following after Pongo, watching how his eyes became mirrors for the midnight sky...he was hooked. Intoxicated, drunk off of what Pongo was doing to him. It was messing with his brain, this feeling, but Sydney wasn’t about to complain. They had the whole night to kill, the whole night to be alive.

He wasn’t the only one alive tonight. The whole of NLA was bursting at the seams with life, bright city lights and evening ventures. Pongo seemed in his element, walking on the sidewalk next to Sydney. If he had been anyone else, his voice would’ve been overtaken by the night life. But Sydney could hear him talking, clear as day, a soothing and calming presence that made him forget about how unsettling the commercial district could be. At least they wouldn’t be out on the street for long. Pongo’s plan for their date - fuck, that still felt so strange to Sydney, this was a date - was to go to the diner, get something nice to eat. And he’d mentioned something about dancing? Sydney couldn’t remember the last time he’d danced, but he knew Pongo was passionate about it, and so the prospect warmed his heart.

“...and so Danniel and I were able to give Luciel his cold medicine!” Pongo was in the middle of an elaborate tale, “It was a fun outing, though I always feel I could have made a better impression. I was something of a mess back when I was still figuring myself out.”

Sydney chuckled. “You probably made a better impression than you think. You’re...well, kind and friendly, fun to be around.”

He suddenly became aware of a hand wrapping around his own. Pongo gave him a wide grin, topped off with a faint line of blush.

“Something tells me your opinion is biased, but I have definitely grown since then. A year ago I do not think you could have tolerated me.”

“You underestimate me. I still would’ve thought you were cute.”

And Pongo’s blush grew stronger, amplified further when they passed by one of the many street lamps.

They prepared to cross the street. Pongo watched the crosswalk light as cars raced past. The wind they generated pushed back Sydney’s braid; he inhaled sharply as he caught the faint scent of baked bread. Made sense, they were close to the bakery. He peered past Pongo, seeing that yes, the bakery was open, even at this late hour.

But he also saw people. Lots and lots of people, walking along, minding their own business and enjoying their time away from work. Their images flickered in the light of the street lamps, then slowly, surely, heads began to turn. Eyes began to stare at him, through him. They began to tear Sydney apart through sheer judgement, ripping at his lungs and heart and brain and -

“Sydney?”

Sydney blinked. Pongo was a few steps ahead of him now, on the street. The crosswalk light had turned green.

Their hands were still entwined.

“Y-Yeah, I’m coming.” He stammered, and together they crossed the street. Once his feet hit the sidewalk again Pongo squeezed his hand. It sent a sudden shock through his systems, combating the eyes and all they were making him feel.

“Hey...are you okay?” Pongo asked, his voice gentle and unseeming.

“I’m fine!” Sydney responded quickly.

“...”

Sydney didn’t notice Pongo had stopped walking until he felt the tug on his hand, a pull backwards. He turned to face the light of his life, whose brow was furrowed.

“You know you mean the world to me, right?”

The eyes that were tearing into him suddenly retreated into the night.

Pongo noticed the effect that had on him and smiled. “I want you to be happy! And if anything or anyone bothers you tonight, I will not hesitate to - as humans say - give them the aged numbers.”

Sydney raised a pierced eyebrow.

“Wha - do you mean give them the ol’ one two? And why do you keep saying that?”

“Saying what?”

“That thing - as humans say. You’re human.”

Pongo blinked once. “...I suppose that is a topic for dinner then.”

Before Sydney could say anything more, Pongo took the lead, and the gentle pull of his hand pushed him onwards. “Now come on! The night is still an infant and there is much to do before it matures!”

And without further conversation, Sydney was led to the Repenta Diner. Neon lights and drunken bastards greeted his view, an ode to an unspoken celebration. No eyes clawed their way through his skin now, but the rancid stench of alcohol and bad decisions clouded his mind, made him tense up. Pongo squeezed his hand again - he must have felt it too, or was trying to reassure Sydney. Whatever it was, it was akin to a drug, his own special dosage. Sydney found himself grinning even when they stepped inside, when he realized how calm it was.

A server stood at the podium in front, and Pongo entered quick conversation with her. She was a pretty thing, hair cut in a short bob and freckles lining her cheeks. She led them to a table near a window, a small two-person booth. Sydney took notice of where they were, just how visible they were. Sure, the window seats weren’t in the center of the diner, but here, everyone could look their way. Here, everyone would stare at them - at him.

Pongo sat down, and Sydney joined him, though his reaction was slower, more distant. The server didn’t linger, placing the menus on the table and wishing them a nice meal before going back to her post - had she cast a side eye at Sydney then? He shivered, his hand clutching his lower arm underneath the table. Pongo slid one of the menus his way before taking the other for himself. Sydney remembered the days where menus were paper, protected by aged sleeves of plastics. The diner tried to replicate the effect, though the plastic was too new, it didn’t have the same charm.

“So…” Sydney said, trailing off. Damn, why couldn’t he think of anything to say? His mouth remained partially opened as his lips struggled to communicate a topic of interest.

Pongo came to the rescue, his head popping up over the menu. “See anything good? I adore the roast coaletri, I usually get it with a side of mashed potatoes and seasoned with sona herbs - OOH, and sometimes I get the golden sardine rice bowl, those are good before a long day of BLADE missions because they are so quick to make -”

Sydney chuckled. “I’ll have the same thing you’re having. I trust your judgement.”

“Roast coaletri it is!” Pongo chirped, “And then afterwards we can talk desserts, if you are not full after dinner that is - I always get a caramel macchiato with some small vanilla cookies to dunk in it, it is super yummy and simple -”

Sydney didn’t want to tune out, but he did. Pongo was excited, he felt bad for letting his mind wander, but the diner was quieter than outside. That had benefits, sure, but it also had its downsides. He could hear people talking from a few feet away, the people in the booths behind Pongo, behind Sydney, the small discussions as people walked past. The eyes began to glue themselves back on to him, but this time they attached to Pongo too. Weird looks, glares and glances, accusing and full of false superiority. His grip on his arm tightened.

His hand remained buried there even when their waiter came around, got their orders. And almost as soon as their waiter departed, a piece of conversation broke through from behind him.

“...the bastard that Brainjacked the entire fucking city…”

Sydney heard it, but Pongo was the one to perk up. His eyes darted back and forth, between Sydney and the voice that had been coming from behind him. Two men, two friends. Two voices lined with bitterness.

“That’s him?”

“Yeah, you can smell the entitled sense of pride from a mile away.”

“What kind of sick fuck would even do that to us?”

“Dunno, guess craving power can do that to ya.”

“Hey, who’s he with anyways? Looks like...no way, that’s Pongo, the kid Elma picked up two years ago.”

“Really? I’ve heard so many good things about him. Interceptor, right?”

“Yeah, a good one at that. Can’t believe he’d stoop to that fucker’s level.”

Sydney started to die.

The entire night, he’d felt alive. Now, his heart was shattering, his limbs refused to move another muscle - in fear? In acceptance? He felt something prick at the corners of his eyes, and in the moment he wiped away the tears, Pongo had disappeared from his seat. Sydney’s eyes widened, looked forward, looked behind for him -

“Good evening, gentlemen!”

Oh no.

Pongo was smiling, but something was off about it. Sydney saw it, the underlying emotion contained within it. Rage.

“Uh, hey,” One of the men started, but Pongo was quick to continue.

“Forgive me for dropping the eaves, but I could not help but overhear that conversation you were having. I wanted to clarify something for you. The man I am having dinner with did not Brainjack the city.”

“Wh - you gotta be joking, you sure those eyes o’ yours work?”

“Why, yes, they work perfectly fine, and I can say with full faith that the man I am having dinner with is incredibly sweet. He is sometimes scared about letting people get close to him, because he thinks he will hurt them, but I know he would never hurt me.”

The other man laughed. “Oh, that’s real naive. He might be fooling ya, but we all know he’s a fuck-up. Assholes like him never change.”

Sydney expected Pongo to crack then - hell, Sydney was cracking now, the shards of his heart scattering across the tile floor. But instead of lashing out, Pongo’s smile grew wider. That would’ve been good, but this smile…

It was dangerous.

“Well,” Pongo said, “By that logic, I should walk away. Because that means no matter what I say, I could not convince you of the truth. As you said, assholes never change. Have a good evening.”

And Pongo joined Sydney at the table again, folding his hands together on the table, not giving either man a chance to respond. Sydney’s lips had parted, words escaping, thoughts consuming. The tears kept overflowing, but they’d picked up some happiness along the way, washing away the old sad trails. With any luck these new tears would work as adhesives, gluing the broken pieces of his heart back together.

“Th-Thanks for that...you really didn’t have to -” Sydney began, but was soon interrupted.

“I did. People get so hung up on the past that they blind themselves when it comes to change.” Pongo told him, “No one knows how to move on and let go. It is one of the parts about humanity that I despise.”

Sydney blinked at the reference to humanity again, a topic promised but not discussed. “It’s hard, I guess. I know I haven’t really moved on, but I guess it’s because...because it won’t stop haunting me.”

Pongo’s gaze softened, the caged anger retreating back into his subconscious, back enough that his innocent and beautiful features were restored. “I can be your...goodness, what was the film - I can be your Ghostbuster then! If your past comes back, I can chase it away.”

“You’re already doing a great job,” Sydney admitted with a sad grin, “Keep up the good work.”

Above the voices, above all the late night gossip and heels clicking on tile floors and televisions broadcasting the news for the night, Sydney heard a song. A chorus of voices, then lyrics, soft and blending with the acoustics. It was an old Earth classic, but he couldn’t place a name to the song -

“Kiss From A Rose.”

Pongo’s cheeks flushed up as he spoke the name. “A good slow song to dance to.”

Sydney took the hint. “The dance floor’s pretty empty, and our food may not be here for a bit.”

Pongo offered out his hand and Sydney was quick to take it, pure and light skin meshed together with darkened and scarred. He let Pongo lead him to the dance floor, a considerable open space uncluttered by tables and people. There was even a stage built into the right wall, a spot Pongo frequented on nights he didn’t have work. Sydney hadn’t been able to see him in action, but he was told Pongo had a great voice.

...When had Pongo wrapped his arm around Sydney’s waist, and when had they gotten this close?

Pongo used the sudden lack of space between them to his advantage. His nose booped Sydney’s, a small show of affection, a small show of reassurance. The dance floor wasn’t empty, but it was theirs now, theirs to dominate and theirs to control.

The fact that they were slow dancing didn’t stop Pongo from adding his own flourishes. Sydney let go of his insecurities, dropping them gently, nothing shattering, nothing breaking. His body moved in sync with Pongo’s, a gentle but guiding force that the music had inspired. When the chorus, Pongo mouthed the words, a dramatic reenactment complete with eyebrow wiggles and winks. Sydney laughed, actually laughed, and that was when Pongo’s mouth found a dance floor of its own.

He couldn’t easily compare it to anything they’d done before. Their past kisses had been raw energy, sparks flying and bodies colliding. But this one...it was so raw, so passionate, it held some semblance of their first kiss, the one from above the West Gate. Sydney leaned into it, let the music drown out everything, everyone.

This was it. The past was dead, a harmless ghost. That night, with Pongo...Sydney, the real Sydney, was alive.

[kentuckywrites]

On The Edge of the World

Pongo tries to show @deltheor ‘s Sydney one of his favorite spots on Mira, but it doesn’t go as planned.

“Where the fuck are we going? Why can’t we go back to the city? Can I pay you to leave me alone? I got dirt on my suede pants, you better pay to have these cleaned -”

Oh my goodness.

Sydney is quite the chatterbox. I do not remember him being this talkative the last time we saw each other - though, ah, those were not on the best terms. I cannot believe he tried to Brainjack me and I did not realize it! But hey, the past is in the past. I can safely say that I am looking forward to getting to know him better!

Though at this point? It is obvious that he likes clothes. And money. And clothes that cost a lot of money. And he curses often too. He is very different from BLADEs I have met in the past, but that is not a bad thing! Besides, he is being himself with me. That is all I could ask for in a person.

I guess I could also ask him to stop being such a negative Man Sea, but that might be overboard.

“I will! Trust me, I will,” I tell him as we continue along the beaten path, “But can you promise me that you will lighten up and have some fun? You looked like you need some time away from everything.”

Sydney rolls his eyes. “Past tense. Do I look like I give a fuck now?”

“No. And you did not before. I think it would be better if you gave a fork because then you would care about things and caring about things is good!”

“I don’t want to care about anything.”

I sigh. “How about you care about getting through this? I know that is a harsh way to put it -”

“It’s not.”

“- but once you get some fresh air you can go right back, I promise! I can even drive you back there in my Skell!” I offer him.

Sydney folds his arms over his chest. He is wearing a tank top so his arms are exposed. There is a decent amount of muscle - we might have the same build, now that I think about it. But dang, does he make it look good.

“What the fuck are you looking at?!”

“Your muscles - I MEAN THE SKY.”

Sydney scoffs at me, “Fucking weirdo. Now can we keep going before I die of boredom?”

I nod quickly. “R-Right! Not much further now, I promise!”

And I mean that promise when I say it. We keep walking along the dirt path up the grassy hills of Primordia. The sky is alive with clouds and birds and butterflies and it is the prettiest thing in this moment besides Sydney. Little does he know that I am taking him to perhaps the greatest viewpoint on the continent, my tiny sanctuary away from home. It requires a great deal of climbing, but it is nothing we cannot handle!

As we reach our destination, I stare off into the distance. The ledge is fairly high up and provides both a view of Primordia and of the neighboring continent, Noctilum. On clear days I enjoy coming here to watch the sun fall beneath the Noctilum horizon, and that is what I plan on showing Sydney.

I stop at the edge of the cliffside, staring out into the vastness of Noctilum. Sydney has come up on my left side, the breeze pushing his ponytail over his shoulder. “Oh perfect, you’re another one of those Pathfuckers. Wanna take me to all the new and shiny places on Mira, do ya?”

“I do!” I say. “Though, it is Pathfinders, and I am not one of them. I come here a lot to clear my mind and get away from the stress of the city. I thought it might help you relax a bit.”

“I don’t need to relax, I don’t need to do anything,” He growls, “I don’t want to be here.”

There is silence for a moment. I ask myself if it would be better for him to leave - he is obviously not happy, maybe I can bring him to a different spot - but then I realize something.”

“If you really did not want to be here, you would have left already.”

“Yeah, I would’ve, but then you would’ve chased me down and forced rainbows and cupcakes down my fucking mouth until I died of optimism.” Sydney mutters, “You’re a stubborn ass and I’m in no mood to get tackled to the ground and ruin more of my outfit.”

“I would not tackle you! I would gently persuade you to stay and maybe offer you a cool rock.”

He rolls his eyes and moves to push his ponytail to the side. His hair used to be short and spiked up with an unhealthy amount of hair gel, but now it looks natural. If anything I could say it looks unkempt, but in a good way. I think it suits him, so I decide to tell him that.

“I like how you grew out your hair. It looks good on you.”

“Whatever.”

Not really up for conversation, I suppose. But it is no matter! There are other ways to get to him, there have to be. I open my mouth to say something else, but something clicks inside my head. He looks very different from the few times I saw him last. He wore fancy suits and drove gold Skells and owned eleven yachts. I inwardly hate to admit this, but now he looks sluggish and depressed. Such a drastic change had to have been sparked by something. Such a change could be the result of something happening to him.

I intend not to discover what it was, but rather, to help him heal.

“Hey, ah...I know this might sound weird,” I begin slowly, making sure he pays attention, “But you know you can tell me anything, right?”

“Why would I want to?” He spits.

I scratch the back of my head. “I am really good at keeping secrets and keeping promises. Promise me to keep a secret and I will say nothing of it, never ever. It can just be something between us, you know?”

“That’s childish and pathetic.”

“Is it? I think it could help you. You look a lot different than before and I have no idea if it is intentional or not. And even if there is nothing wrong now…” I heave a deep sigh.

All of a sudden, Sydney spins towards me, bearing a nasty snarl. “Why do you even want to help me?! Everyone fucking hates me, why don’t you?! Aren’t there any other lowlives on this fucking space rock that you could be destroying slowly with your kindness?!”

He sounds mad. No, let me correct myself, he is mad. I do not think I have encountered anything like this before, but I will be danged if I do not make another effort to help him.

So I tell him, “Not everybody hates you, Sydney. They just need to see you for who you really are.”

“Who I really am...I’m fucking worthless.”

“Not at all. You mean the world to me, Sydney. You are worth more than all the stars in the sky, and if it takes me years to convince you of that, then you had better prepare yourself for some rainbows and cupcakes.”

Again, silence. All he does is stare at me for a while. As the sun begins to dive beneath the horizon, the light in his eyes start to fade. I blink once, and everything changes faster than I can anticipate. Sydney crumples to the ground, arms limply hanging at his sides as tears stream down his face. He holds back a gasp for air and it turns into a set of ugly sobs. I can already feel myself sinking into the ground because the weight on my heart has gotten heavier. Without hesitation I meet him on the ground so our eyes meet. He looks down at the ground, biting the unpierced part of his lip.

“Why…”

One word. One simple, yet effective word. It is a good question. Why am I doing this? Maybe there are other people who need me more than he does. But for the time being, he is here and so am I.

I lean in and wrap my arms over his shoulders, pulling him in for a close hug. He puts his head in my shoulder, his sobs growing louder. Gently I pat his back and take in the smell of his shampoo - Japanese cherry blossom? - in silence. I figure that there is no need to speak right now. When he is ready, he will say something. The sun finally disappears, and in the newborn night his sobs start to quiet. He makes no moves to get up from this embrace, so there I stay, my arms wrapped around his body, eyes closed. I imagine that we will not speak for a while, because right now nothing needs to be said. All I know is that I can help. I will help.

So on the edge of the world, right in this moment, I make the silent promise to be there for him, no matter what he goes through, no matter what he sees. Even if I am there only to listen, I will stay for him.

[kentuckywrites]

Brainjack: Pongo

@deltheor ‘s Sydney tries to Brainjack Pongo, and ends up with...a friend?

“Thanks Jo!” I wave goodbye to my favorite coffee brewer as she heads back inside the cafe to tend to more customers. She has gotten much better at not breaking things and that makes me super duper happy - though, ah, I never told her about that time she took my comm device to make a call. It took Lin a full day to repair it.

But as long as she is happy, so am I, and she was positively gleaming when she delivered my coffees before. Something must have her in a good mood! I wish I could ask her about it, but the cafe is busy today, so perhaps another day I will get the chance. After all, I come here often. Very often. Like, at least four times a day.

I take a well deserved sip of my caramel macchiato. As soon as the flavor hits my tongue I am filled with warmth. Gods, caramel macchiatos are the best! If I had to choose one drink to have for the rest of my life, it would be the caramel macchiato. Jo makes the best ones, I discovered a while back. Just another reason to love her!

Styrofoam cup in one hand and comm device in the other, I start to look at my most recent messages. Looks like some rewards came in for missions I completed already. More credits. More tank tops. Nothing new. But it looks like Jaynix messaged me too, so I open up the message and read it.

>Pongo! Was thinking of taking on a few tyrant missions later today if you’re up for it!

I type back quickly.

>Of course! Where are we headed?

>Sylvalum, there’s a vigent tyrant in the northern part of the continent. Should be a breeze! Meet up at the usual place, two hours from now?

>Sounds perfect. See ya there!

I close the message and check the time. Two hours from now would put us at around twelve thirty - lunchtime! Maybe I could surprise Jaynix by bringing her some lunch. Or better yet, I could pack some picnic supplies and after the mission we could eat lunch in Sylvalum together! Yes, this is a good idea, I like this idea a lot, and I am sure she will like it to0ojhgvj -

...Heh, what a weak mind. A perfect little plaything. Ready to have some fun?

~

This is not me.

This is someone controlling me. Using me.

Are you Mira?

No, you cannot be Mira. Your voice sounds different. Deeper. Mischievous.

Are you doing this for fun?

What fun could you be having by taking control of a human, against their will?

Can you even hear me?

...you can. I can sense you can. Well, let me see then. Let me ask a different question.

Are you listening to me?

…

No.

You are doing this with no regard for human life. I will fight this with everything I have in me.

I may not be strong physically, but this is not a physical battle. This is a mental one.

You chose the worst possible target. I will win this. It will hurt us all, but I will win.

~

I wake up.

Immediately I ask myself, why am I on the floor? Why am I so out of breath? Why does everything hurt so much? As I move myself out of this fetal position, I look around, noticing that people have formed a circle around me. They all look concerned, scared, confused. My eyes widen as I sit up. Someone asks if anyone has called the MMC yet, and I tell them quietly, “No, you do not have to.”

Some other questions float around. “What happened?” “Are you hurt?” “What about the other guy?”

The other guy?

I squint past the crowd and see someone on the other side of the street, on his knees and clutching his head. I get up and run across the street to him, disregarding the moment where I almost get run over. The loud blare of a car honk surprises me, but does not stop me from reaching him.

I recognize this man, but only by appearance. His skin is dark, his eyes a bright red, and his hair has an uncanny amount of hair gel in it. He dons very shiny armor and a pair of designer glasses, and he adjusts them as he looks up at me.

“What the fuck…” He mutters. “That was bullshit. How did you do that?!”

“Do what?” I tilt my head.

“Don’t play dumb with me! I tried to Brainjack you and you…”

Brainjack? I thought that only worked on indigens. Frowning, I offer him a hand up. “Well, ah...maybe that was a bad idea. Looks like it hurt you.”

He swats my hand away and stands up on his own, raising his chin ever so slightly. “It hurt you too. It was funny, watching you scream like a ten year old girl. Why don’t you remember that?!”

Oh, he seems angry. I give him a tiny smile. “Well, if you tried controlling me, maybe that thing happened where I do not remember anything about it? Happens a lot in the Earth movies.”

“Oh my fucking god, get your head out of your ass, it’s not a hat!” He screams at me. “You don’t remember ANYTHING?! Shit, man, shit. I’m leaving.”

He stomps away in the other direction. I open my mouth to say something, but it looks like he is in no mood to talk to me anymore. Either way, I decide to follow after him. He looked like he was in pain before and he might still be! So I put some distance between us as he heads further into the commercial district. He pushes past people and intentionally bumps the shoulder of one walking my way. Quickly I keep my pace, eyeing the one person he bumped to make sure they are okay. Seems like it. Man, that guy was lucky - his armor is spiky!

Eventually he stops near the edge of the road, looking out to the water below the city. I decide that now is the time to approach him, so as I come up on his right side, I make myself known with a friendly wave. “Sorry if I made you angry, but I really do not remember anything!”

“Why did you follow me?! Are you a dog in a mim’s body or some shit, because I don’t have any sticks to throw off this ledge for you to fetch!” He growls.

“N-no, I am not a dog. That would be my friend Gwin.” I stutter.

“Just fuck off, will ya? I don’t need you barking up my legs right now.”

“Not right now? Okay, how about tomorrow?”

“NO.”

“The day after tomorrow?”

He facepalms. “You’re an asshat.”

“I do not think that is possible to wear a butt on your head unless it belongs to someone else. And that would be awkward.”

He smirks at me, crossing his arms across his chest. “For an asshat, I’d bet you’d enjoy it.”

I blink a few times. He is very hard to understand, but I think I am getting somewhere, because he is still smirking. Smirking is technically smiling! “I am not so sure I would. Maybe you would enjoy it more?”

And that gets him to laugh. Yes! Score one for Pongo! “I already pay people to kiss my ass, I bet I can pay people to smother their ass in my face too.”

“That sounds like a waste of money. Why not spend it on stuff like coffee? You know, really good foods and drinks and stuff?”

“Who said I can’t eat the ass?”

“...I believe that is called ‘cannibalism’ and is, in fact, frowned upon.”

And another round of laughter comes out of his mouth. He has quite a nice laugh, so that is a bonus! But it occurs to me that I do not know his name - at least, I do not think I do. So I ask, very politely.

“It’s Sydney,” He responds, “And you are?”

“Pongo! With the Interceptors!”

...I did not screw that up. That is definitely a first to be proud of!

“Interceptors, huh? So you run around doing stuff for other people, saving their asses and such?”

“I mean, that is part of it. Saving butts is a big part of it, actually - and hey, it benefits you too, since that gives you more butts to eat, I think.”

“Well, Dildo -”

“Pongo.”

“- I’ve got my own work to get back to. Why don’t you run along, be a good dog?”

I giggle. He makes a lot of dog references and they are very funny! “Bork bork! I will, Sydney! Have an awesome day!”

I turn to go, but before I leave, one question pops into my head that I forgot to ask. Weird how it slipped my mind, but I suppose it was not as important as making Sydney smile. So with a curious tilt of the head, I ask him:

“Why did you try to Brainjack me, by the way?”

I am met with another smirk and a raised chin.

“I was bored.”