Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The prison cell where Wemmbu lays is terribly dull, lacking any type of personality. 

Considering who it belongs to, Wemmbu can't even say he's surprised. Lettuce K has always been a boring man, so stubborn in his morals, firmly believing this anarchy governed server could learn any language that isn't chaos. 

A notion that would have been funny— if Wemmbu wasn't a prisoner. 

But he is, and it's terribly dull here.

There's muffled voices from other prisoners through the bars. It only makes him feel worse, a reminder of how isolated he is in comparison to the rest. Wemmbu isn't allowed outside of the boring cell under any circumstances, there's always a guard stationed just outside. The rest of prisoners run to the cafeteria complaining about the long hours of work that await them while he stays inside, on the second floor, where no other prisoner resides, no company but the silent beeping of the collar around his neck and a "babysitter". (A guard, but really? that fits them better) 

He doesn't even know what the collar is for, nor what it looks like.

Wemmbu has no way to know, there are no mirrors here, only blank walls. There's no use stressing over it, chances are? the collar is just a tracker. (Wemmbu ignores the sinking feeling everytime he thinks of the collar, the instinct, the one that insists that something is very wrong with that thing.) Instead, he focuses on his favorite hobby, the only one he can do with the limited freedom he has, annoying the life out of whoever is stationed outside of his door.

Approaching the door of the cell with a mischievous smile, Wemmbu watches the guard silently— careful of his steps, wings wrapped tightly around his back, as he tiptoes trying to be as quiet as possible. The guard is obviously new, judging by the sleepy drop on his eyes. He looks peaceful. Huh, relatable (ironic isn't it? The chaos demon wanting some peace). Anyway, given that he was dragged out of his retirement rather rudely, he might as well have fun!

There's nothing else to do here.

Once Wemmbu sees the eyes of the guard shut for a little too long, he raises his voice in a high pitch dramatic whining. Strings of nonsense complaints falling off of his mouth like water, as he watches the man scramble away from the door with a startled expression. Yeah, the guard really should know better. 

"Broo, when are you planning on telling me my crimes? I've been here a whole week! It's booring!" Wemmbu whines once again, mixing the genuine question with dramatic flare. Laughter escapes his lips, free, echoing the halls of the prison.

Because really, what kind of prisoner is he? Wemmbu doesn't even know what his charges are, nevermind his sentence- Lettuce, the oh fair leader, didn't even bother telling his top prisoner the reason why he's being punished. The man went on and on about a very special program for the good of the Law that Wemmbu is supposed to be part of, nothing about his crimes whatsoever. Isn't that ilegal? The opposite of what Lettuce is going for? Wemmbu hasn't been a very lawful person but even he can recognise that.

Wemmbu doesn't suppose that matters, in the end, he's not planning to stay in here long enough to find out. Sure it's taking longer than it should, coming up with a good factible escape plan. The lack of knowledge on his surroundings are definitely one of the reasons why he's still stuck and not griefing his path out of this boring place. And the lack of his trusted weapons, two maces: Gambit and Crucible, is another. If not for those two reasons Wemmbu would have escaped back into the wilderness, to retake his forgotten retirement. 

Or to destroy the Law.

In here he can do neither.

Rolling his eyes at the thought. Wemmbu grabs one of the small pebbles off the ground, closing one of his eyes before throwing it into the guards hardy armor. The guard glares at him, yet does nothing. It's not odd given that Wemmbu has been provided all three meals and Lettuce demanded he remains unharmed in any way. It's a bit concerning actually. Either Lettuce needs him in good health for whatever program he's doing or he treats all his prisoners like this. Which is doubtful from the constants complaints from below-

Anyway, Wemmbu is free to annoy however he wants the guards without any real consequences. 

The day transforms into the night as always, no way to tell the time but the dimming lights on the prison cells. The other prisoners return in a cacophony of hurried steps as they enter the cells, chattering on about their day. One of the guards, sounding soul tired, hushes them quickly. Huh, he can't even eavesdrop for gossip.  Her voice is familiar, echoing from Wemmbu's memories back when they were far younger. The guard climbs the stairs, footsteps approaching his cell with disdain.

An idea forms in his head, as Wemmbu retorts to knocking the metal door as hard as he can just to be annoying. The guard, Loppezz, murmurs what might be a prayer clearly frustrated. 

"What are you even doing near the door Wemmbu? Back away!" She snaps at him, tapping the stone floor with her heavy sword.

"Loppezzz, I'm in my bed! I'm a perfect prisoner trying to sleep" Wemmbu replies easily, a smile spreading through his lips. Loppezz just gives another heavy sigh, complaining about having to deal with him. 

"Go to bed Wemmbu!" Loppezz replies as calmly as she can, clearly resisting the urge of marching into his cell. She ignores any further provocation, a cup of coffee on her hand, which is boring. 

Feeling surprisingly tired and slightly dizzy. Wemmbu sits back down in the hard bed, wrapping his wings around his body.

As he finally succumbs to sleep. 

Waking up is a disorienting affair. 

Wemmbu's limbs are heavy with exhaustion so deep it feels unnerving, it's weird, it feels weird. He has done nothing to guarantee the deep bone tiredness that keeps pulling him under the waves of unconsciousness. With a hum, he tries to stretch with clumsy limbs. A fact that immediately puts him on edge. His tongue is heavy in his mouth, as he scans the place with blurry eyes. Wemmbu hasn't eaten anything yesterday night, so there was no way they could have drugged him that way.

It takes him embarrassingly long to even consider getting up of the bed. Huh, if Flamefrags was here, he would have laughed at him.

By the time he's up, the other prisoners are long gone. There is no remains of the previous mysterious illness that had woken him up. 

Strands of long purple hair falls in front of his face as he combs them back with care, mindful of his horn and the broken stub that sits next to it. It doesn't really worry him that much, demonic horns take a while to grow back into their original form. The tiara on his head is slightly crooked and he raises his arm to fix it.

Only to freeze.

There's a cut on the inside of his arm.

So small, Wemmbu wouldn't have noticed it if he hadn't raised his arm. He pokes it with his retracted claws, a purple drop of blood, already healing. The mark is jagged yet precise, made with some sort of dagger. How? Was Wemmbu so out of it, that he didn't notice someone coming into his cell and cutting his arm while he slept?

Fantastic, why would anyone even do that? 

Wemmbu's slightly alarmed, but he's mostly confused. It just made no sense. This was no routine health check, no mark of syringes or medicine laying around. 

This time when the new guard takes his place outside of the door. Wemmbu tiptoes around the room for a completely different reason, finding weak spots.

He needed to get out before whatever this program is takes place.

Huh, at least that's what he thought he could do... How naive of his part.

Every cell has a weakness, this is a principle Wemmbu knows by heart.

The thing is? Cells take time to break out of and Wemmbu is just out of time.

Escaping out of prisons could take weeks, depending of connections and how good of a prison it is and Wemmbu is out of time.

Lettuce seemed to know Wemmbu was not going to accept the cut with a smile, since he waits two days before sending Loppezzz to his cell and leading Wemmbu to his personal office.

At first, Wemmbu spent the day clawing around the walls with a determined look on his eyes. Unusually quiet to fiddle around with the locked door, trying to search for a pattern, a way of opening the door without alerting anyone outside. He was desperate in someway, desperation make people sloppy. He tried timing the guard rotations, only to find out, there was always a guard outside of his door always. Which made escaping significantly harder in every way. That day he'd gone to sleep paranoid, one eye opened in case someone tried something.

The day went without incident.

The second day, Wemmbu saw no sight of Lettuce anywhere. As he spent his day searching around the cell for any patterns before giving up, turning his attention to the guards stationed around his door. He had tried everything. Wemmbu spent the day annoying the guards for any kind of information about the program, yet all he got were NPC's answers. No leads that he could use to his advantage, no information, no nothing. It was terribly frustrating as he spent the day trying to calm his growing nerves.

By the third day, Loppezzz was outside his cell and Wemmbu knew immediately he had ran out of time. 

"Wemmbu, put your hands through the bars. Lettuce is calling for you." She said coldly, a pair of handcuffs on her hands. 

Wemmbu rolled his eyes slightly, a frown on his face as he tried recalling what the program could be about. There were no clues, no way for him to try escaping or prepare for whatever Lettuce would send his way. It didn't make sense, the way he's been isolated yet cared from day one made him uneasy. Wemmbu had been getting special treatment, no other prisoner could get away with things like this. It only served to make him more uneasy, what could Lettuce be planning? 

Before Wemmbu could wonder any further, the guard stopped in the most unexpected place possible. 

"Why are we in the communal showers?" Wemmbu asked completely puzzled, this was not what he was expected. 

"Just enter" Loppezzz replied, taking the handcuffs off before pushing him in the direction of the showers. 

Inside was his old attire, it was clean, which only puzzled him even more. Why would he need that? Rushing through the process of washing his long hair, adjusting his clothing and adjusting the slightly dusty tiara. Things had gotten impossibly confusing, it made no sense. What could Lettuce want that involved Wemmbu looking presentable, healthy and overall unharmed? He thought for sure the leader would be executing him in someway for his sins, yet, this threw everything out of the window.

Before he could even think of making a run for it, Loppezzz grabbed his wrists and handcuffed them. Dragging him once again out of the general prison area, pushing him as he trailed looking completely lost. Most people took prisoners for revenge, as free labour, yet Wemmbu has been neither. He's been wasting resources since the first day he came in, annoying the guards around. Still, Lettuce had kept him alive and well for some reason. One that he had a terrible feeling from.

Was the other man planning to kill him? Was this some kind of last meal kinda privilege? So he could be publicly executed? It made zero sense. Wemmbu felt like his whole world had been replaced by some kind of alternative reality that made no sense. Maybe the leader was losing it, so focused in justice, Lettuce is going crazy. 

There's no time for him to continue his musings, as Loppezz is dropping him at Lettuce office with a small warning. 

Wemmbu enters the place with a disconcerted frown, stepping into the office before taking a sit in front of the man.

Lettuce looks smug, hands crossed together as he starts his monologue about the good of the server. Prattling once more about heroism, honor and the law's future. Nonsense that will kill him of boredom. Just- how hard can it be to get to the point? Wemmbu scans the place instead, watching with curiosity at the desk.

There's an official looking document, next to two vials of what looks like blood, one of his blood and another of a weird orange color. Huh, kinda like Flame's blood.

Which is a strange thing to have. 

"As your punishment, you'll serve as one of our assets" Lettuce finishes the monologue, looking at him as if he had a choice. Wemmbu is not stupid, he has a weird tracker in his neck and knows there's absolutely no other choice here than work or die. Guess that peace isn't really an option for him, given that he values his life. 

"You said one of your assets, who is the other one?" Wemmbu asks skeptically. 

"Oh you see" Lettuce replies easily handing him the official document. "The Law has recently suffered a terrible loss as you are well aware..."

Wemmbu couldn't physically continue hearing the other man's storytelling, his eyes were glued at the paper in front of him. A distant ringing started in his ears as he rubbed at his eyes, begging for this to be nothing but a cruel joke of destiny.

Marriage, he wanted Wemmbu to marry his rival.

It made no sense, what could Lettuce possibly gain from this marriage? Did the man hate him enough to trap him with his rival? Just for power, just to have the two strongest players by his side? This man was no good guy. Suddenly the vials of blood made sense, way to much sense.

Of all of the contracts, Lettuce could have forced him to sign, the man had to choose a marriage contract.

A demonic marriage with his rival.

"You want me to marry Flame in a demonic ceremony?" Wemmbu asks, disbelief and horror drips into his voice.

Demonic marriages were way stronger than normal ones, there was no divorce with them and most people ended up soul bounded for the rest of their life. Forcing a demonic marriage was worse than forcing a regular marriage.

It meant forcing someone to give a piece of their soul to someone else.

"That's correct." Lettuce answered smoothly, grabbing the blood vials in his hands. A sudden laugh shook Wemmbu's body, disbeliefiving and sharp. 

"Do you know what that would mean for US?!" Wemmbu raised his voice, the idea of marrying his rival was horrid— but the idea of not being able of getting out of it was much worse. Sure, Flame and him were in better terms- That didn't mean he wanted to marry the man!

He had no weapons and he was completely at the other man's mercy. The whole situation made him feel so helpless, so angry.

The collar around his neck started beeping erratically, as Wemmbu trembled from barely contained rage. This was invasive in many different ways, the two of them would have to live this way for the rest of their life. Just because a stupid man wanted power. 

"How will you even make Flame accept this stupid proposal without him ripping your head off?" Wemmbu asked finally, stuttering his way to an answer. Finding himself calmer, almost drowsy, the collar kept beeping much to his dismay. So that's what that thing was for, huh, fantastic. 

"You really think I would inform you of this, if Flame wasn't on his way here?" Lettuce asked, a small smile on his lips. 

Suddenly Wemmbu understood. It didn't matter if Flame was the strongest. Lettuce had somehow managed to destroy enough of the other's man honor, duty and pride to force him to come into this godforsaken office. There goes his last hope. 

They were both fucked.

There wasn't nothing he could do to stop this wreck of uncontrolled chaos. 

Maybe Wemmbu was a lost cause after all.

Chapter Text

There's a tense silence eating at the air on Lettuce's office. 

His hands shake with a mix of emotions so confusing, he almost feels like drowning. 

His eyes focus on scanning the contract right in front of him once more, searching for a loophole. Anything, anything that could null the contract. That doesn't force him to sign this, that can break the whole marriage once it's signed.

Yet the more he reads, the more he realizes, there's not a single thing Wemmbu could use to his advantage here. Every clause is expertly detailed from top to bottom, implications clear in a way that they can't be bent, not even with chaos magic. It's completely foolproof, and the only indicators of weaknesses are impossible to accomplish on his own.

Wemmbu raises his arm to tug softly at the collar resting there passively, a small shock runs through his body, making him jolt. Suddenly, he felt realization sinking it's fangs into his mind. A wave of cold ice rushing through his veins as he smiles wryly. 

Wemmbu tugs once more, a much harder shock buzzing under his claws. 

No way- no fucking way...

It's not a tracker, he notes with a hysteric smile, it was a training shock collar.

The same one used to train dogs. 

Is this the way Lettuce was guaranteeing his compliance? By forcing drugs into his systems with the intentions of marrying him off? Sure, the law are the good guys, definitely. Because putting shock collars on unwilling prisoners screams heroism. It's been a while since he's felt so helpless. Wemmbu feels tears of humiliation burning his eyes. He blinks them back, not wanting to give Lettuce the satisfaction of making him cry. Instead, Wemmbu imagines what way he's going to get revenge for an stunt like this. 

It makes no sense, why would Flame even agree?

They were rivals, sure maybe they teamed up once but-

Did Flame hate him that much that he'd want to control his life even after their duel? It just didn't make any sense.

It was just not like him. Not like Flame.

Flame had a moral compass, sure, a very flawed one. His rival cared too much about honor to even think of this kind of arrangement being fair in any shape or form. There was no way he'd want to be connected to Wemmbu, someone he thinks is dishonorable. In their fights, he always complained about unfairness. As if that concept was baffling to him. As if doing anything to win, was a crime that he wanted no part on. The man killed everyone he could but drew the line at "cheats".

No matter how much he thought of it, it made no logical sense.

A faint echo of mixed screams joined by thunderous steps snapped him out of his thoughts.

Speaking of the devil.

A dramatic sigh falls from his mouth. His eyes glare at Lettuce self satisfied smile, who sits arrogantly swinging the pair of blood vials, a reminder that he has the ability to complete the ritual even without Wemmbu's consent.

Yeah asshole, you have the upper hand, no need to brag. 

The door bursts open with a kick, black smoke slowly flowing inside. Huh, and he's the dramatic one? Puh-lease.

There stood Flamefrags, looking completely livid in the middle of the room.

Interesting, Lettuce manages to piss off the strongest fighter of the server with his actions. The man looks worse for wear, bandages wrapped around various injuries, blood stained clothes as he tracks mud into the place. It must have took one hell of a fight to force him in here. Wemmbu turns to look at Lettuce annoyed face, eyes flickering from the broken door to the muddy floors.

Serves Lettuce right, what did the man expect?

Flame suddenly stops, turning his head to where Wemmbu is sitting. The black blindfold covering his face is slightly crooked as he adjusts it to cover his eyes once more. There's a clear confusion that seems to dissipate the rage that was burning through his face. Wemmbu gave a mock salut from where he was perched on the chair. Watching as Flame approached with a much calmer yet annoyed huff, sitting right next to him with crossed arms. 

Honestly it was quite ridiculous

"Bro, why are you still chasing me? Leave me alone!" Flame snaps at Lettuce before turning his head into Wemmbu's direction. The man moves his head, as if he were scanning Lettuce. His rival signals to him with an amused expression. "Wait, bro, Are you working for him? That's hilarious!" 

Wemmbu rolls his eyes at Flame's mocking tone, still holding the papers on his hands. 

Wait, so Flame doesn't know?

That explains why Lettuce is alive enough to pull this stunt. Wemmbu was right, there was no way that the other man would have agreed to it. His eyes flicker to Lettuce, hearing as the man monologues, probably trying to reveal the information in the least explosive way.

Wouldn't it be just absolutely horrid if Flame somehow discovered about the arrangement before Lettuce could tell him? Wemmbu looks to his rival, giving him a mischievous smile. The other man shifts a bit in his seat, a small indication, one that means he's paying attention to Wemmbu. The man is wary yet intrigued, as he watches puzzled as Wemmbu drops the papers subtly under his feet. Wemmbu smirks and turns away, going back to looking absolutely bored with life. 

Minutes later, Wemmbu hears the incredulous muttering of his rival. The sound of a chair scraping the floor, damaging it even more, as smoke fills his nose.

"BRO WHAT?!" Wemmbu smirks at the stuttered shout, a mix of horror and rage tangled in Flame's voice 

Bingo, he thought with a amused smile, turning slowly to look at the commotion in the room. 

The whole room stays in complete silence for a few minutes. Only the sounds of heavy breathing lingering the place, mixing with the smoke. Lettuce looks like he's reconsidering his whole life choices while glaring at Wemmbu icily. Serves him right, he can't help but think. Turning instead to watch the incredulous grimace on his normally composed rival. No one speaks, almost like someone froze the entire room in time. They spent in tense silence.

"Are you high bro?" Flame sounds so incredulous, like he's honestly wondering if Lettuce is on some illicit substance. It shatters the silence in an absurd way. This whole stuff is honestly ridiculous in every single way. A type of chaos that warms under everyone's skin. Wemmbu tries to hold in his laughter at the innocent question. Maybe that's what makes it funnier, how raw it was, how baffled flame sounded. Wemmbu adverts his eyes to Lettuce. The man has a miserable look on his face, murmuring about sacrifices in the name of the law. 

Wemmbu burst into laughter before he can stop it, it's slightly hysteric and manic. He tries breathing to calm down, turning his head to the side. Flame glared at him a bit embarrassed. It only manages to send him into another fit of giggles. It was chaotic, reality felt like a messed up fever dream. Wemmbu ignores the tears that threaten to fall as he calms down once more.

"It was an honest question! Bro, He's crazy." Flame whispers at him. It takes all of his self control to not burst into hysterics again. 

"Fair, you read the whole thing?" Wemmbu replies amused, watching as Lettuce composes himself once more. The man is back to his icy expression, rummaging for something in the desktop drawers. 

It seems to break Flame of whatever trance he was still in since the man turns around to argue with Lettuce. His rivals hands are on his sword, fragger, as smoke escapes his lips. One of Lettuce's guards turns to open the window, allowing the smoke to leave. Wemmbu is used to it, to the fire, to the smoke. It doesn't make much of a difference for him. The discussion is loud which allows Wemmbu to scan the place almost without interruptions.

A soft thud of documents resonates against the desktop, somehow deafening in the loud room. 

Flame turns quiet, which is not unusual, if not for the argument. Wemmbu still doesn't turn around, watching the guards as his mind wanders around. 

The smell of smoke, twice the double as before, has him snapping his head to the side. His eyes turn to look at the once again arrogant expression of Lettuce. The commander looked pleased at himself, as if he had gained control of everything in the span of minutes. In the folder in front of them, is a detailed explanation of the wedding demonic ritual. Ingredients crossed off as the man held the other folder over Flame's head, as leverage. 

"Oh, now that we've all calmed down. I present you with two options." Lettuce starts, pausing to glance in their direction. 

"You can either perform the ritual on your own and agree to the contract." The man continues easily, sliding the contract in front of them. Wemmbu locks his eyes into the unusually tense posture of his rival, smoke rolling off Flame's lips. It starts getting slightly stiiffling, yet, he can't bring himself to complain about it.

"or I continue with the ritual on my own without the use of demonic magic." Lettuce finishes with an arrogant smile. It makes Wemmbu freeze, a wave of helplessness passing through his body as he looks at his rival with a wry smile.

They had no choice then, it wasn't even a semblance of one. 

Every single book details that demonic unions between two demons, even from different especies, needs demonic magic obligatory. Rituals that involved soul bonds where especially delicate. If Lettuce carried the ritual alone, without any other powerful demons guidance, they could end up fused. Their souls could fuse literally, they could die, they could be separated from their bodies and doomed to just wander the world. Either Lettuce was too ignorant or too careless to care about it.

Wemmbu's eyes flicker to his rivals grimace. The two of them were the strongest players around, yet, where was this power know? It was the only thought as he watched as the other man's shoulders fall in resignation. Part of him wanted to deny it, search for a way to escape, yet he knew it was fruitless. 

"Bro, what do you even gain from this?" Flame asks once more, voice scratchy from the smoke. The two of them were trapped.

"Well, it's part of our redemption program! The two of you will fall to work in the law." Lettuce replies with a smug smile, aware he had already won.

Wemmbu turns to look at his rival before grabbing the pen. So much for peace, huh? He had tried to stop fighting, to change his life style even before this whole fiasco. Yet here he is, forced to fight once more, forced by an organization that had hunted him for no reason. Wemmbu signs quickly, passing the pen to Flame while waiting for Lettuce to finish gathering the ingredients. His rival was livid. His usually black dreadlocks now a fiery orange as he scrambled to sign.

Wemmbu instead focused in the ingredients. The ritual faded into cold boredom, as the two of them went through the motions. Wemmbu grabbed his rival's arm carefully, prepared for the second part of the ritual. He dipped his fingers into the chorus fruit and wither roses mix, the black paste sticky, as he started drawing chaos symbols around Flames arm. Only the first two steps helped with the sould binding step, the last one... was a wedding ceremony. It would have to wait. 

Flame started with the process of drawing hellborn symbols around his arm as Wemmbu glared at the self satisfied Lettuce. Helplessness wrapping around him like a blanket while Flame's hands burnt the symbols into his pale skin. 

"I want Gambit and Crucible back" Wemmbu demands as nonchantaly as possible. Hand reaching to the ritual dagger in the desk. Lettuce had clearly weeks of preparation for this, which only served to make his blood burn. 

"After the ritual is complete." Lettuce agrees easily.

Cutting his finger, arm decorated in black symbols. Wemmbu passed the dagger to his rival with a faint huff. The other man did the same, waiting for drops of blood to stain the finger completly. 

"You leave my base alone, bro. We'll live there" Flame snaps once more, waiting for Lettuce to nod before continuing. 

Wemmbu doesn't even complain about it. Living in Flame's base is better than living in this horrid city or getting a room in the Law's main building. Instead, he presses the bloody finger against the parchment at the same time as Flame. The two of them watch as the contract burst into flames, violet and orange mixing together. It would have been pretty if not for the absolutely miserable circumstances.

Just like that, Wemmbu's soul was Flame's and Flame's soul was his. 

He wonders how they went from nearly killing each other a week ago, to being wed. 

Wemmbu doesn't want to think about it anymore.

"I'll call you in two days to discuss the wedding" Lettuce says marking a calendar, the date marks is two weeks from now. Wemmbu nods, focused instead in the way the residual magic sank into his arm. Permanent tattoos appearing all over the arm. A permanent reminder. One that can't be erased. 

"A week after the ceremony, you'll come here and get your work schedules" Lettuce continues, wiping his desk and organizing everything back in its place. 

Flame clicks his tongue with annoyance, yet, stays silent. The smoke continues rolling off in waves. It makes the room feel a little smaller.

"That'd be everything! Wemmbu, a guard will give you your weapons on your way out." Lettuce dismisses them with what looks as an understanding smile. Acting as if he hadn't turned their whole world upside down with stupid demands.

Flame is dragging him out of the door the second those words leave Lettuce lips. A guard hands him Gambit and Crucible, they feel heavier somehow. As the two of the walk in somber silence, uncomfortably glancing at their surroundings. 

In two weeks, Wemmbu will be wed to Flamefrags. 

In three weeks, Wemmbu will go to work at the law as just another soldier. 

In a blink of an eye, any hope of peace had disappeared. 

Maybe peace just wasn't for him.

Chapter Text

The door shut behind them slowly, a soft click, almost mocking. 

Just like that, both of them are thrown into the busy hallway. Hushed complaints about prisoners, a faint printer in the backroom, secretaries gossiping among themselves. A wave of movement from the halls as the two of them stand frozen in front of the heavy doors. It's normal workplace chaos — normal people going on with their boring lives. Wemmbu feels sicker than before. It's like Flame and him are frozen in time while the world spins normally. 

A wave of heat starts rising from next to him. Wemmbu turns to look at his rival, scorch marks on the floor, while the man trembles. The heat is almost unbearable, yet he can't find it in him to complain. Both of their lives had changed irrefutably. If Wemmbu wasn't so utterly tired from whatever the collar has, he would have been kicking a fuss too. Flame keeps looking at the entrance of the prison, eyes searching for the cells, like he's desperate. 

A guard approaches them, warily looking at Flame, as he stops in front of them. Mechanically the guard explains that Wemmbu needs to sign some paperwork if he wanted his things back. The information flies over Wemmbu's head. His items were useless now, still his communicator was there as most of his armor. He'd been damned if he let Lettuce keep his resources, as little as they were, for himself.  A soft sigh slips out of his lips, as he starts following the guard.

Flame falls into step next to him, seething, desperate. There must be something the other man really wants to see if he was following to the prisoners entrance. Wemmbu doubts Flame cares enough about him to follow him into the horrid prison for the good of his heart. 

The silence is uncomfortable, both of them speechless, walking side by side like zombies. For once there's no antagonistic banter, no teasing, nothing to fill the air. Wemmbu can't help but let his mind wander.

He hopes Egg is okay back in the End. The seraphim would likely have known what to do in this situation, offer some kind of information, anything. 

Maybe Wemmbu could visit him — even if he doubts Lettuce would let him — put the excuse of the end library having some type of information. Egg would at least try to help him. And really, if he's being honest? He misses the seraphim. He misses his best friend. Wemmbu's hands reach instinctually for his communicator, patting his empty pockets. Right, no communicator, he was following the guard for that. 

Flame and Wemmbu suddenly stop in front of the metallic doors that separate the prison from the outer offices. His hand reaches for the handle, wavering, as he turns to look at Flame tense figure.

"I have to enter now" He mutters tiredly, watching as Flame leans against the wall. His rival nods weakly, standing there, as lost as he is. 

With a sigh, he pushes the doors open. An annoying creaking coming from them, while he rushes inside. The sooner all of this is done, the sooner he can get out of this place. 

His eyes flicker to the rows of chairs, to the empty desk of the secretary, as he sits at the end. There's only one other prisoner in here with him. Wemmbu doesn't even bother looking at him, too lost in his head. 

The place is completely boring, pristine floors, the ticking of the clock resonating in the room. Wemmbu eyes scan for the secretary with an impatient frown. The whole place is bare of anything, there are no distraction, nothing he wants to think about. The wait only makes his thoughts linger on the soulbond, to the lack of color of the symbols of his skin, still inactive. It was supposed to activate slowly in the span of two days. After all, soul magic was always complicated. 

Tomorrow they will know if the bond settled as it should. They would know if it has any side effects. This ritual was supposed to require a lot of their energy too. Flame and him will be completely powerless tomorrow, drained of magic, maybe even feverish. 

They will need to prepare today for it, barricade the house, make it safe enough. One more thing to worry about, one more thing to do, added into the ever growing list of problems.

Normally the family of the soulbound couple would arrange to look over them. Neither Flame nor him had any available family they trust enough to care for the both of them. Egg was too far away — and really Wemmbu would hate to make the seraphim take care of both of them. So, they'll have to take care of their own.

It was fine, probably. 

"Lomedy" The secretary called from the desk, having arrived at some point during his musings. His head snapped in the direction of the other prisoner, Lomedy, clarity falling into place. Lomedy was a farmer, not even a criminal. One of Flamefrags allies, or at least he thinks so. Was the law just throwing people to prison for their connection? 

The man, with red puffy eyes, was looking confused at his surroundings. 

Instead of being processed and led into the interrogation room, where all new prisoners went, he was being called to the desk. Wemmbu, grateful for the distraction, looked at the farmer with intrigue.  

"The terms for your release have been completed. The charges of your execution have been dropped. Sign this papers and you are free to go." The secretary said to the man, looking bored. So, the farmer wasn't being imprisoned — he was being released.

Suddenly, it made sense. Flame's reluctance to attack Lettuce, the fact that he was waiting outside, the folder. The term of execution being thrown around freely, like it was simple paperwork. Lettuce had been threatening to execute a simple farmer on fake charges just to lure Flame in here. And it had worked. 

Lomedy signed the papers through trembling, relief on his system, as tears fell to the paper. The secretary just nodded coldly, processing the paperwork. She called one of the guards to open the door. Wemmbu just looked dumbly as Lomedy was escorted out of the prison.

Huh, so that's one of the ways Lettuce had managed to force his rival into this situation? Wemmbu was suddenly glad that Egg was trapped in the library. 

The filling of the paperwork since then is easy enough. Nothing but boring clauses about his charges, his sentence, nonsense that didn't matter anymore. Then he had to wait once more for a guard to bring out his enderchest, which took way longer than he would want to. Finally, when an unbearable exhaustion had dripped into his bones, a guard emerged. His things were thrown with little care, as he evaluated the whole stack for any missing items. Everything was intact which was a relief. 

"You never said I couldn't use my wings, so technically, it's not cheating" Wemmbu teases back, flapping his wings. The wind he generates sends smoke everywhere, tainting the walls grey.

At some point one of his wings smacks a flower pot, it tumbles to the floor, scattering dirt all over the place. Flame steps on it, his steps deliberate, as he tracks dirt over the polished floors. By the time they arrive to the main exit, most of Lettuce employees hate them. Which is a shame, really, how would they now work with these people now? Wemmbu doesn't think the workers will be very happy with Lettuce's decision. Oh, things just got a lot more difficult for the leader. Good, great even.  

The halls have turned from a polished picture perfect office hall to a mess. It looks like a hurricane swept the entire place upside down. There are muddy footprints all over the floors, scorch marks on the disorganized bookshelfs, books and feathers scattered around in a chaotic mix. Wemmbu stares at Flame, amused smile on his lips, then stares at the chaos around them. Lettuce would grow to regret his decision over time. 

"Oops" Wemmbu says, dropping near the floor before flying up again — covering the guards in sand. 

Lettuce was going to be livid.

Still, as he took off in the direction of Flame's base.

Teasing, occasionally smacking Flame with his wings, while they made their way farther into the mesa. Wemmbu couldn't bring himself to care about the consequences. That would be a problem for future Wemmbu. Present one just wanted to get to the base and sleep.

They arrive around sunset, to a guard standing at the entrance of the door. Just like that, he feels his mood drop.

Wemmbu drops on Flame's roof, staring at the pink hair of the guard. Lopezzz was staring at him incredulous, probably at the fact that, he's out of prison. The fox's eyes scan him, flickering to his messed up wings, to his tired expression. His smile isn't smug, he honestly looks like a mess.

"Dude, really? What do you even want?" Wemmbu whined, dramatically, frustration bleeding through his body. Considering for a second just killing the girl — not that he could, it would be too much of a hassle — maybe then they'll be left alone. 

Flame reaches for fragger, pointing it directly into the guards neck. His rival is not going to kill her obviously — neither of them want any more problems, so it would be counterproductive. Or at least, Wemmbu doubts his rival wants to spend another three hours on Lettuce office. They were also losing sunlight which was annoying. if they wanted to be ready for tomorrow's preparations, they had to get to work now.

"Bro, leave! Leave us alone" Flame said with forced calmness, frown on his face, as the dreadlocks caught in fire. Lopezzz kept snapping her head back and forth between Flame and him, confusion on her face. Finally, she raised her hands in mock surrender. 

"I'm here on Lett-" Loppezzz started speaking. A long sigh interrupter her. Wemmbu smiled at her lazily. She huffed in annoyance as a response, clearly tired of him. The feeling was mutual.

"Blah blah blah. Tell Lettuce to shove it or send it to the mailbox" Wemmbu mocked at her, a cold smile on his lips. Clicking his tongue once, he continued. "Don't ya' have anything else to do Loppezzz? Prisoners to take care of, boring Law paperwork, arrests?"

"Wemmbu-" The guard started, clearly annoyed at him. 

"Leave, bro, leave. This is just annoying" Flame interrupted, ignoring the glare he received from the guard. Loppezzz looked a bit intimidated, still, she didn't waver. 

"Will you stop interrupting me?" She asked almost exasperated, like she couldn't believe them. If Wemmbu wasn't as tired as he was, he would have been amused by the guard's expression. However, he was utterly exhausted.

The idea of spanning nukes at the Law's base, consequences be damned, was getting more tempting. 

"No, leave!" Flame snapped, already losing patience. 

Loppezzz scanned the two of them before turning around. "Fine!" She snapped, retreating into the mesa with a frown. Finally, she seemed to realize this was a losing battle. 

Wemmbu stared at her, silent, waiting for her to disappear completely before relaxing. He honestly couldn't wait for this day to be over. Every single part of his body ached, a small pressure was forming in his chest, his energy draining quickly. For a second, he just stared into the starry skies, keeping an eye on the constellations. Trying to make sense of his scattered mind, of the last few hours of his life. With a deep breath, he threw himself forward — landing with a soft thud in the sand, in front of the now open door. 

The place was a mess, scattered items littering the base, it was obvious Lettuce had been here. Flame was redressing his bandages, smoke puffing from his nose, clearly pissed off. At least the base was warm, that had to count for something. Wemmbu sighed, closing the door behind him. He stands there awkwardly before picking at the mess in front of him. Moving one of the tables in front of the door to barricade it, while he tried to remember the things he needed to do to prepare for the soulbond. Okay, step one done. Now, he needs to make other arrangments, grab something to eat, and find a place to pass out. 

"So, can I build a room here now?" Wemmbu asked with a bitter smile. The question mirroring the one he had asked the first time in Flame's base. That time he had been teasing, now? Now he was asking genuinely. Flame turned to look at him, exhausted, before standing up to search the chests for more supplies.

"Fine bro. Just don't build a throne or something." Flame said as he reached to craft another bed. He had a frustrated frown on his face, scanning the chests, searching around for something. Wemmbu was curious, more exhausted than curious. Instead, Wemmbu turned to grab some bread from the chests. As he watched silently as Flame ramsacked his own house, looking for items.

"So, I have bad news bro." Flame started, dread creeping into his voice. Wemmbu turned to look at him with a suffering sigh. 

"Let me guess? There are no supplies?" Wemmbu asked, passing a hand through his hair. Of course Lettuce had to take that too. The man was not happy with making them trade their souls, no, of course not. He didn't know if he wanted to scream, break down crying, nuke the Law or kill everyone. A warning beep of the collar alerted him of his stress levels, making him freeze. He had forgotten he had the training collar still on his neck. In all of his despair, in the thrill of the chase, in his exhaustion — he had forgotten about the device. Wemmbu hurried to cover the thing up with his blazer, ashamed of himself. Luckily, Flame had yet to notice it. 

"Yeaah, we only have enough for tomorrow's process. Guess we'll have to share room until after the wedding." Flame said, like the admision pained him, before standing up quickly. 

Wemmbu was to tired to argue, instead following Flame to the room. It takes a long time for them to settle everything up. Wemmbu takes all of the chests outside of the room while Flame arranges the beds. It's a gruelling process. Especially since the emotional exhaustion is making both of them want to kneel over. They make a makeshift division with a blanket and some wood before calling it a night. Weakly saying goodnight before bolting to their side of the room.

As Wemmbu settle the mattress around him, making a small nest — he can't help but wonder, what has his life turned to? Just yesterday, he was annoying the guards, searching for an escape.

Finally, the exhaustion catches up to him. His mind droozy as he drifts into uneasy slumber, unshed tears in his eyes, as he nuzzles into the pillow.

Wemmbu falls into unconsciousness surrounded by warmth yet terribly cold.

Chapter Text

Both of them arrive to Lettuce office with a murderous glare. 

The last two days of the soulbond activating have been hell in every way. 

Flame had spent the whole time shivering under at least fifty blankets, freezing somehow in the desert heat. Wemmbu hadn't fared much better — his blood boiling alive, sweat clinging into every part of his body — while he tried fruitlessly to cool down. As it was normal, their magic had combined enough to leave them magic drunk. Now, half of Flame's base was a mess: splashes of dye everywhere, the furniture completely tilted over and for some reason the strangest game of tic tac toe ever created.

The complete agony had vanished on the third day, leaving them completely exhausted. 

After everything they’d just gone through, Lettuce still refused to move the date of the wedding meeting, insisting he’d already changed it once and wouldn’t change it again. Lettuce talked about it like it had been their fault, completely ignoring the fact that both of them were in this mess because of him. Had the other man not read the warnings, or was he stupid enough to risk sending the two of them outside while their soul magic was unstable? Why in the world would he force a demonic marriage instead of a normal one if he was that ignorant in demonics affairs? Too many questions Wemmbu had no answer to. 

Both of them had protested, yet in their weakened state, it hadn't mattered at all. In the end, Flame and Wemmbu were back in Lettuce office, surrounded by papers. Only this time, Wemmbu felt like he had the worst hangover known to man.

Wemmbu groans into his hands, wondering if this was karma, karma for all of the lives both of them had taken. No, really, this was awful! And there were people who went through the process willingly, decided to suffer this way — it was a marriage ritual after all. He couldn't fathom deciding to suffer this way! Wemmbu was hyper aware of Flame at all times, he could pinpoint the other's exact location, his senses heightened. Wemmbu could feel Flame's magic flowing, mixing with his own, flooding his veins, burning his body without care. That thought process only served to make him miserable.

Oh, he was going to make Lettuce pay for this.

"Well, Let's get started then" Lettuce smug voice startled him from his thoughts, as a pile of paperwork was presented to them. "First, we'll discuss the redemption contract. So please, grab a contract" The man signaled to the first part, launching into a whole speech about cooperation, moral obligations and work hours that Wemmbu didn't even bother paying attention. Next to him, Flame was muttering curses under his breath, mimicking Lettuce with annoyance. 

The man looked like shit honestly, hunched over himself, blood stained bandages that were probably days old. A pang of worry crossed Wemmbu's face, they will have to check that for infection soon. The last thing he wanted was for Flame to die of something like sepsis. Just because the red panda decided to have them travel miles into the dessert to his office. Was this really the reason they were dragged out of bed? To hear Lettuce yap about corporation rules and work expectations? 

Huffing with annoyance, Wemmbu grabbed the last paper off the pile, watching as the rest of documents scattered around the office with a small smile. It interrupted Lettuce monologue, as the man turned to look at the mess in his pristine office. A few of them falling into the open ink container, letters turning illegible, as the only untouched contract lay in Wemmbu's hand. 

"Why?" Was the only response Lettuce could manage, as he kneeled to salvage whatever paperwork he could. Wemmbu blinked slowly, reading his rival's name on the contract — face as innocent as possible, while he passed the contract to a very amused Flame. 

"Why what?" Wemmbu parroted with a faint smile, sprawling lazily on the uncomfortable office chair, watching Lettuce scramble around the place. "I only did what I was told" He replied, raising his hands in mock surrender.

"And you couldn't get one of the contracts of the top? You know not all of them are supposed to be for you, right?" Lettuce replied with a tight smile, sitting down at his the desk once more, clearly annoyed at him. After a second, Lettuce started to reorganize everything, leaving only the contracts that were for them in the desk.

"You never specified" Wemmbu replied with a shrug, grabbing another one of the contracts in the table. To his dismay, all of the contracts involving the two of them had been saved from the chaos. Lovely. At least Lettuce now had to spend part of his day reorganizing the paperwork. Small victories.

Ignoring the glare, Wemmbu grabs the document in front of him. There's little room for any loopholes in it, with some rather bothersome explicit clauses. The first one prohibits them from writing or speaking about the contract — it even specifies codes, signs or any other language that could be used. It leaves very little room for maneuvering and is written in very detailed language, so no space for personal interpretation either. Wemmbu passes the page to read the rest of the contract, scanning it quickly for any details that could be used against the two of them. 

There's a part, buried between the details, it's almost unnoticeable in the contract. One that specifies that the Law is allowed to call on them at any hour of day, for anything considered an emergency. Which is honestly annoying but not that big of a deal. The problem is the next clause, it lets Lettuce have full control of them and their punishments. Wemmbu tugs on the scarf nervously, collar pressing on his neck — Lettuce was allowed to use the collar whenever he pleased, that was not good. 

"Bro, really? Punish us? How?" Flame asked tripping over his words, a frown on his face. Wemmbu pinched his nose at the question, why? why would his rival ask that? Wemmbu raised his head, watching Lettuce annoyance turn into a satisfied smirk. 

"I do need you to sign before disclosing further information." Lettuce responded condescendingly, shaking his hand at the papers. "It's company policy, I need to have the privacy clause and everything. You understand, yes?" 

Wemmbu watched Flame stand up slowly, rereading the contract once more. His rival is far from stupid, there's no way he'll agree to signing the contract without knowing the consequences of it. Punishment was a very vague word, it could mean a lot of things, things that Flame didn't wish to risk. Wemmbu lets out a frustrated sigh, the collar feels heavy against his skin — he has a guess on what the punishment is. The one thing he has been hiding from Flame since the start of this forced marriage. He just hopes Flame doesn't make fun of him for it. 

"Bro, are you stupid?" Flame responds frustrated, smoke falling from his lips as a faint warning. "I won't sign this blindly just because you asked for it" His rival deadpans, speaking as if he was speaking to a toddler.

"I insist you do" Lettuce continued, ignoring Flame's complaints, instead searching for something on one of the drawers. "I would hate to use that clause so early on"

Wemmbu sat up straight, watching Lettuce hands with growing dread. He had thought that the collar was automatic, that it tracked his heartbeat, he hadn't know there was a fucking control remote for it. He was already weakened from the bond activation and now this? Taking a deep breath as he watched Flame continue to argue with Lettuce, it's fine. Last time it hadn't hurt at all, just a small shock, nothing more, nothing less. Fidgeting with the pen in his hands, Wemmbu looked at Lettuce smug expression. Man, he had just wanted peace, not to serve as leverage to force Flame into obeying Lettuce orders. That's like the total opposite of peace, in fact, he'll never get a moment of peace in his life. 

Flame didn't even care about him, why was he the leverage?

Sure, both of them had fought together, patched eachother up, shared food and resources. Yet, Flame never stopped seeing Wemmbu as a rival, Flame hadn't cared back then — in fact, he had pushed Wemmbu out of the edge. Was Lettuce using the bond instead? Is that what it is? Because Wemmbu couldn't see this ending in anything but resentment from the other man.

A sharp beeping snapped him out of his thoughts. 

It seemed Lettuce had gotten tired of waiting. 

The man gets near his neck, tearing the scarf in a fluid motion, leaving the shock collar out in the open. Lettuce is smiling, like this is the best idea he's had. Wemmbu can't bear to look at Lettuce, so instead, he glues his eyes to the stone floor lift his eyes. The exhaustion makes it impossible for him to try and fight back, skin still boiling from the after effects of the last two days. It's humiliating, a shameful reminder that he's nothing but a tool in this place, one that he tried to erase without success. 

Wemmbu expected some kind of response from the other man, a taunt, maybe annoyance — Instead, the man is completely quiet. It only serves to make him feel more ashamed of the whole situation.

Before he could continue wallowing in his misery, a sharp pain start from the collar. 

Just like last time, the pain is faint, soft waves that are uncomfortable but not enough to send him to the floor. Part of him dares to hope it stays that way, if this was the supposed punishment then it was manageable. Then it stops, which seems fine. Maybe that's it, it wasn't that bad, after all. 

Of course, he'd jinxed himself. 

The pain starts up again, only this time, it doesn't stop. The soft waves turn aggressive, electricity flowing through his veins — it mixes with flame's magic, it feels like it suffocating him. The pain is blinding, body shaking from the current of energy. There's a startled yelp of pain from next to him. Apparently, it's strong enough to send some of it through the bond. Judging for the fact that Flame is still standing and with nothing but a faint grimace on his face. That's no good, really, bonds are not made to channel any amount of pain between the bonded. Wemmbu doesn't have much time to think after that, the pain blinds him, head falling against the desk in agony. His body was in no condition to force this. Still, he doesn't scream, letting the tears fall silently against the papers of the desk.    

It stops slowly, leaving him dazed, vision completely blurry.

Lettuce is talking from next to him, uncaring about the situation. 

There's a spike of heat from next to him, smoke surrounding him, Flame is mad for some reason. With a hum, Wemmbu forces his body upright, grabbing the quill shakily. He signs the tear stained paper in shaky barely legible handwriting while Flame argues, he's tired, so tired. The smoke disminues, heat disappearing slowly, as the sound of a quill echoes the place. Had he said that out loud?

There's more discussions of what might be the upcoming wedding, details that fly over his head — while he tries to appear like he's listening to the conversation. Another contract is right in front of him, Wemmbu tries to read it, but the letters dance around the page in a confusing melody. No matter, how much he rubs at his eyes, trying to focus on the paper to no avail. There's no way he can scan for loopholes in this situation, he doesn't even have enough magic to do anything. Turning his face to Flame's blurry one, he watches as the other man picks up the quill slowly, signing the paper. It's probably safe, Wemmbu concludes, signing in his shaky handwriting.

It's not like he has any other choice.

Warm hands are hauling him up gently, not quite carrying him, but helping him out of the office with slow steps. The body underneath him is shaky, trembling from exhaustion, yet Flame doesn't complain for a single second. The stairs seem endless, as his mind drifts around the place in a hazy calm. His muscles are trembling from the pain, aftershocks running through his body.

"Wemmbu, stay awake yeah? I can't carry you bro" Flame rough voice said quietly, poking at his cheek softly, making him blink sluggishly. The man sounds worried, which is ridiculous, Flame didn't care about him. The man had made that clear ages ago. 

Still, he manages to stay awake, watching dazedly at the guards around them. The sun almost blinds him, as he covers his eyes with a soft groan. Flame is next to him, keeping him steady, helping him into the horse. Huh, when had they gotten a horse? Odd, he could have sworn there were no horses in Flame's base. The man is telling him something that he can't quite make out.

 Just what have the two of them gotten into now? It's the last thought that occupies his hazy mind, ironically.

Finally he lets himself drift into unconsciousness, with Flame's arms holding him steady, the faint rhythmic thump of his rival's heartbeat against his ear. 

Maybe Lettuce would leave them alone after this. 

Maybe.

Chapter Text

It's around noon, the faint light of the torches illuminating the space. 

Wemmbu awakes slowly, limbs aching while he struggles to sit upright for a second. He's in the couch of a surprisingly organized living room, Flame's living room —the one that had been covered in dyes and scattered furniture just that morning. Yet the place is calm, peaceful and clean for once since this whole disaster started. Wemmbu scans the room tiredly, eyes settling on Flame's form. His rival is sitting on the floor, a medkit half opened, redressing his own wounds.

Wemmbu should say something, ask about the contract, anything.

But he's too tired to do so.

As much as he loves chaos, this past week has been too much. It is too much. So, he doesn't speak, content to stay on the comfortable silence of the base.

Just breathing. There are no fights, no rivalry, just Flame and Wemmbu existing in the same space. 

The collar burns into his raw skin, a painful reminder of the lack of control. A reminder that he's the one keeping Flame trapped, that he'd been too weak, too arrogant and paid the price. Now, both of them had become tools for the Law. Wemmbu wondered if Flame resented him for this, for trapping him under the Law's control. There's a steady pressure rising against his chest, suffocating him.

A sigh falls from his lips while he traces the injured skin on his neck. 

It just didn't make sense, normal pain wasn't supposed to be transferred through the soulbond. Well, it could, there were some soulmates who developed abilities but that transferred all of the injuries. That meant, Wemmbu would have been actively bleeding out in the couch from whatever injury Flame was suffering. That discards that option since well, he's still alive and intact. So, this was not normal pain and Lettuce was playing with fire. This could end up killing both of them, bond magic was extremely unpredictable after all. Lettuce managing to control it, is not a good sign at all. The man was either really stupid or he didn't care.    

Wemmbu doesn't know what's worse. 

He really didn't want to end up fused with Flame for such a ridiculous mistake.

It was so stupid, wasn't Lettuce happy? How much does their situation needs to worsen for the other man to be content? A drop fell into his hands, a quiet sniffle as the pressure grew worse. huh, when had he started crying?

He was crying in Flame's living room and Wemmbu couldn't even bring himself to really care, he was exhausted. Things just seemed to get worse by the day, no matter how much he tried. His world had spiralled out of his control. it felt like a different dimension at this point, a nightmare he couldn't wake up from. Wemmbu just wanted a break. He wanted to go to the end, to curl up next to Egg in the library while his best friend talked about constellations. The stress makes his thoughts slow down, a weird haze falling over his mind while tears stained the couch's surface. Wemmbu closed his eyes, preparing himself for Flame to leave or mock him. 

Yet, it seemed even Flame was too tired for his usual responses.

The silence fell against the two of them, much heavier than before.

Then Flame starts talking, hunched over himself while he finished his stitches. 

"-and then, bro, I went to merchant city. We need resources after all." Flame's rough voice mixed with the heat around both of them, it was almost comforting. As the man continued recounting the days events with a hinto of exhaustion on his voice, alternating topics easily. 

Flame's voice chokes up, pausing his chattering, as smoke flows from the man's lips. He clearly isn't faring being under Lettuce's control much better. There's a distinct tiredness falling from the man's shoulders, no hint of his usual defiance. Wemmbu has never seen him look this defeated, not even during their fight, not even after Wemmbu defeated him. A faint anger sparks underneath all of the grief, startling him, his thoughts scattering in a different way. 

"Lettuce will pay. I'll make him pay for all of this." Wemmbu blurts out, sitting slowly, his chaotic energy mixing with Flame's smoke. 

"Yeah how? We can't exactly kill him now" Flame sighs, standing up and walking to the oven. 

"I'll figure it out" Wemmbu takes a deep breath, tail thumping against the floor in clear discontent. He doesn't want to get angry at Flame now, it'll take both of them nowhere. "I'll make him regret forcing me to work for him. I'll get him in so much trouble just by existing! Lettuce is arrogant, a full control freak. What? he woke up one day and decided to play knight in shining armor for an anarchy server? No, he doesn't get to do that. Screw him"

Flame passes him a plate of food, a faint smile on his face as he takes sit in front of him. The man is listening to him, or actually, maybe just too tired to argue. 

"He's an idiot" Flame agrees tiredly between bites of food. "What's the plan, bro?"

That's the problem, Wemmbu doesn't have one —there is no plan. His brain starts thinking for some impulsive half assed plans that always end up somehow working. There's nothing, he has too little information about the wedding preparations. He had spent most of the meeting dazed by the electricity, barely awake to remember any details. Sure, Wemmbu remembered the first contract, the employment one. The rest? It's a complete blur of pain. He has no idea of what type of wedding he's dealing with. Okay, what could he use from the first contract?

Nothing, there was no loopholes and all of the conditions activated after the wedding. 

"I dunno, depends." Wemmbu pauses, just to watch Flame confusion. "What do you know about the wedding? Ya know, the preparations Lettuce was talking about?" 

"Depends? Bro, what kind of answer is that?" Flame replies a bit annoyed, yet there's a small smile on his face. 

"The one you're getting! C'mon dude, spill the tea." Wemmbu chirped, taking a bite from the steak. There's still faint tear tracks on his face, he's tired, yet a smile is present in his face.

"Fine bro, I'll go get a book." Flame stood up from the table, dragging his body to the chest a bit dramatically. Wemmbu rolled his eyes at the motion, grabbing the plates and putting them in the sink for later. 

There were a couple of important details from the work contract that Wemmbu had either forgotten about or Flame had negotiated after the incident. They were both a relief and really annoying to work around. The first one that Flame decided to tell him, was the clause of 'the guard of the redemption program'. Basically, Wemmbu and Flame couldn't get out of the house on their own, they could can together or request a Law guard to accompany them. Which is annoying really, they can't go two steps without their location being tracked. 

The rest was boring stuff about wedding preparation since Lettuce was apparently going to make a huge deal about it. Not the 'I'm going to hold this over your head for your entire life' type of deal. No, no, more like 'I'm going to inviting all of the citizens to watch your wedding' type of deal. Absolutely humiliating, especially since they are the only demons on the server. Everyone will know it's the two of them getting married. They literally couldn't drink any potions before the ceremony. So, what's the point of staying anonymous? 

Bro, make it make sense. 

Is Lettuce really the man who managed to force the both of them into this problem? Embarrassing really. 

"Also bro. you are not gonna believe this." Flame paused for a second, pursing his lips. "Lettuce wants us to dress in white for the wedding, bro"

"You're kidding" Wemmbu replied with an amused smile. He doesn't know a lot of Flame's culture, but he does know his own.

White was the color used for funerals. Since he was a chaos demon and white was like the complete opposite of chaos. It was believed to be of very bad taste, like only permitted if you were a widow or asking for help. A small giggle falling through his lips at the thought. It was ironic, absolutely hilarious in a messed up way. Lettuce wanted to send a message, and the color did send one. Just, not the one Lettuce had been hoping for. In fact, it sent one they could use on their favour. 

"No bro, he was so insistent too! Something about mixing the demonic wedding with overworld rituals." Flame replied a bit puzzled, likely confused about the color scheme "There rest of the wedding will be demonic, just the color of the clothes has to be white."

They could reverse the message. Wemmbu could use the wedding, the thing that forced the two of them together and use it to send a completely different message. The best part? Lettuce is too ignorant to notice.  

Okay, everyone was invited to the wedding. Wemmbu just needs a single player, one that would hate to watch Lettuce rise to power, to notice his message. Sure, the whole plan would depend on them which is less than ideal. In the worst case scenario? They cause some chaos and lose a fragment of their already inexistent dignity, because really, they don't have much to lose at this point. 

The plan, that really shouldn't even be called one, is more of a half assed impulsive idea held by hopes and prayers. But hey! If he couldn't stop the wedding, he will at least try to make it somewhat fun to participate in. 

First course of action, getting some clothes for him. Second course of action? Running to the end. 

Wemmbu needs information about the ritual. He needs to know what exactly to put on his bridal outfit to send the exact message that he wants. After all, there's no way to stop this wedding. Might as well try to sway the event into their benefit. Now, Wemmbu needs to make sure that both him and Flame are on the same page.

Both of them are getting married, both of them need to send the same message. 

Also serves as a big fuck you to the guy for being a narcissistic prick.

"Hey Flame, you feel like taking a trip to the end?" Wemmbu asked, the glare that he received felt like answer enough.

It takes a day of gathering resources, repeating the plan and a nap to convince Flame of going to the end.

And no, Wemmbu was not whining about it, thank you very much Flame. 

The other man agrees finally, throwing a really think coat around his shoulders before going out of the door. Flame had been much less resistant to the cold lately, freezing no matter the temperature. It's worrying, they need more information about the soulbond now. Who knows what kind of side-effects Lettuce's freak experiments with the bond could cause. It's not the only thing they've noticed. Maybe it's because of the collar around his neck. After all, incomplete bonds are fragile things, capable of destabilizing the magic around them.

That's one of the reasons, Flame agreed to meet up in the end.

It was a very cold dimension, hopefully there library is warm enough to prevent Flame from dying from hypothermia. That would be embarrassing, and Wemmbu doesn't even want to find out what happens if one of them were to die.  

"Bro, is this even going to work?" Flame asked halfway through the nether.

The portal was a few miles away so hopefully, they arrive soon. 

"Do you have a better idea?" Wemmbu asked panting, sweat rolling through his face, smiling at Flame indignant huff, as the guy hurried through the hellish domain.

Wemmbu takes a deep breath, struggling with the climate. Unfortunately the heat under his skin remained, after the activation, much like Flame's chills.

He really hoped this was nothing to worry about, just a side effect that would go away on his own. Otherwise, wearing armor will be a nightmare to deal with. A sigh fell through his lips as he stumbled outside of the nether portal, limbs shaking from the heat. It would have been hilarious, surviving the fight with Flame to die a week before their wedding. Oh, Wemmbu would have paid to watch Lettuce's reaction. Still that was horrible, absolutely horrible. 

They were near, really near. 

Wemmbu for once dared to hope, that maybe, maybe there's information in the end.

That this journey, and all of the pain hadn't been for nothing.

A small genuine smile stayed on his lips as he started mining to the stronghold.

Chapter Text

Wemmbu can't spend a single day without being reminded of the Law, apparently. 

Now, as he stands locked in a small obsidian cell next to the questioning stares of Law soldiers — he wonders, which deity did he piss off? Because this level of bad luck is just not normal. To his side, Flame is muttering clearly angry about their situation but really, how was Wemmbu supposed to know? He thought the Law was busy with all of the, ugh, wedding stuff. 

His eyes scan the place, there's absolutely no way they can fight them. It goes against their contracts, they also have no resources to do so. 

Thankfully, Minute arrives a minute later to help them, Yay! Unfortunately, Minute also refuses to let them out since well, Flame is here.

A groan of annoyance slips out of his lips, as he wipes his sweaty hands against the fabric of his new clothes. The scarf around his neck is uncomfortably warm against his hot skin, yet he refuses to take it off. There's no way, absolutely no way, he's letting anyone else know about the dog collar. It's already embarrassing enough that Flame knows about it. His eyes watch the small opening of obsidian, where discarded items lay instead of the players. Right, Wemmbu is going to get in so much trouble for this.

"Bro, now what?" Flame mutters mockingly from next to him, clearly annoyed. Wemmbu huffs in anger, it's not like Flame is the only one suffering. 

"Flame, dude, don't look at me" Wemmbu replies raising his hands in mock surrender. The response only seems to annoy Flame further, yeah? Join the club buddy. Everyone in this place is annoyed, Flame is not special.

"Bro, like- Bro, It was your plan!" Flame stutters exasperated, hands gesticulating wildly to the direction of Minute's body. "Also, who do you want me to look at? Minute? The obsidian wall?"

Flame takes a step in front of the locked door, gripping fragger tightly. Honeslty, he looks like a mess. Dreadlocks dipped in ash, tangled from the lack of care and blindfold crooked against his nose. The man is clearly stressed about the whole situation, eyes searching for a way to escape the place. Yeah, mood. Wemmbu imagines he's not faring much better. A faint huff escapes from his lips, as he passes his hands through his long hair. Isn't it hilarious? They haven't even started working yet, and they already need a vacation. 

"Yeah? Well, what was your plan?" Wemmbu asks, suddenly defensive about the whole situation. It's not his fault alright? It's a shitty situation on the first place. There was no way to plan for a situation as absurd as this. No way to predict that instead of being a normal human being and killing them or something, Lettuce decided to marry them! "Exactly, none and Lettuce is going to marry us off in less than a week!"

"Marriage?" Minute whispers from outside of the cell in disbelief.

"Bro, this plan doesn't even stop the wedding!" Flame answers quickly as he fiddles with the door. There's thick clouds of smoke flowing out of his nose and mouth, a signal that he's upset. It makes the already small space of the cell feel suffocating.

Scratch that, it doesn't feel suffocating; it is suffocating both of them. Great, is this how they die? From smoke inhalation? 

"Dude, stop with the smoke, are you planning on dying or marrying a corpse?" Wemmbu coughs out, trying to clear his airways from Flame's smoke. His already overheated body is sweating heavily, as he sits on the floor of the obsidian trap. 

"OKAY! Both of you stop! Flame step aside, I'll open the door" Minute voice carries through the place, snapping the two of them out of the argument. Oh Wemmbu totally forgot that Minute was outside waiting from an answer, oops. Hey, at least both of them are finally free.

Wemmbu pushes Flame out of the door, happy to feel the cool air of the end against his hot skin. He can basically feel Flame roll his eyes through the blindfold, tension still thick between them. Wemmbu takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself before requesting the books. 

It's fine, they have no time to fight about this mess now. 

"Now, explain" Minute says tiredly, eyes flickering between Flame's shivering form and Wemmbu's sickly pale skin. Right, Minute knows about the wedding now, about Lettuce marrying them. Wasn't that one of the contract rules? It shouldn't be possible for them to speak in the first place. Oh, unless... overheard conversations don't count do they? Good to know. 

"It's kind of a difficult situation." Wemmbu said lightly, smile forced against his lips. "By the way, since when do you have a trap at the entrance of your base? Kinda odd."

"Since the law started sending their soldiers down here." Minute answered quickly, watching Flame with suspicion. Okay, Wemmbu it's fine. They just need the books and some resources, hopefully things don't escalate into a fight. "Don't change the subject Wemmbu"

"Jeez bro, chill a little! I really can't tell you" His voice cracks, as he looks down to the floor. Wemmbu really should have planned for this better, there's no way Minute will help them now. Especially not now that the other man heard about the marriage. 

"Wemmbu" Minute says softly, looking at him with a strange glint on his eyes. "I can't let you return if you are working with Lettuce, you understand that?"

Minute looks at him like he expects to be wrong, like he's hoping for Wemmbu to laugh at the mere suggestion of working with the Law. And Wemmbu hates it, he hates that he can't. He hates the way Lettuce has crave his way through their lives like a parasite, infecting every one of their relationships. It was awfully cruel for a man that claimed to be the epitome of justice. The way he made them watch as their lives went up in flames, as their relationships shrivelled and died under the strain. Lettuce had isolated them completely, maybe without even realizing it.

Wemmbu didn't have any friends who were part of the Law and he doubted Flame had any either. After all, both of them were criminals.

"Yeah, we just need some books and resources" His voice cracks in the middle of the sentence, eyes suspiciously warm. Taking a deep breath, he keeps his eyes to the floor. The tension around him is thick, as Flame stands right behind him.

Oh, he wants to kill Lettuce for doing this. 

"Fine." Minute replies, hurt coating his tone as he passes a book to Wemmbu. "Write what you want, then you need to get out of here."

Wemmbu grabs the book with shaky hands, trying to disguise how absolutely crushed he feels by the whole situation. The list of books is big enough with concerning titles that will hopefully raise the alarms on Minute's head. Flame shifts to read over his shoulder, scanning the paper with poorly disguised interest. 

"Minute, is egg still here?" Wemmbu fidgets with the scarf around his neck before continuing. "Can you ask Egg to come out? so I can say goodbye"

Minute nods before grabbing the list with a questioning stare on his face. The man looks genuinely puzzled at the whole situation, and a little hurt, while he scans the list briefly. Wemmbu watches as Minute goes very still, eyes widening while rereading the whole book once again. Minute raises his head, staring at the two of them for a few minutes before speaking once more.

"Actually, I need your fiancé to accompany me, it's quite a lot of books." Minute says casually, eyes still glued on both of them. The man looks like he's searching for a confirmation for something. What? Wemmbu doesn't know really.

Wemmbu freezes at the label, smile turning into a grimace. Technically, Minute wasn't wrong, Flame was his fiance now. Still, eww. That's the first time (and hopefully the last) anyone has referred to Flame like that. His eyes shift to Flame, watching the matching disgust in the other man's face. An amused smile replaces the grimace, at least he's not alone in this one —Flame looks as mortified and resigned as he does. "Sure, just please don't call him that again." Wemmbu voice comes strained. "oh, and don't kill him either."

"Sorry if I made both of you uncomfortable" Minute sounds apologetic, the hurt tone on his voice replaced by a somber one. Whatever Minute was looking for, he seemed to have found it. "Flamefrags, please follow me"

"It's whatever" Flame voice comes out as tired as Wemmbu feels while he disappears down the hallway with Minute. "Let's just get this over with"

Wemmbu stands in the middle of the room, feeling slightly dizzy. Minute's words echo through his mind, it makes the whole situation real. Wemmbu's getting married, a life changing decision that he had no say on. Would things stay as they were right now? Would they be obligated to do whatever married couples do? His hands shake slightly, feeling overwhelmed by the whole situation. It feels like he's getting ready for an execution instead of a wedding. Wemmbu knows that he's being irrational but he can't help it. He just feels powerless like his life is spinning out of his control and falling directly into Lettuce's hands.  

"Yo bro" Egg voice snaps him from his thoughts. The seraphim is running in his direction, wings fluttering softly. 

"Hey bro, what's new?" Wemmbu feels his voice quiver from relief. He had to take a deep breath to stop himself from bawling his eyes out. "Still doing absolutely nothing?"

"I was writing a book yo" Egg replies stopping in front of him. The man looks concerned, wings dropping as he scans Wemmbu's tired face. "What's up?"

"Egg-" Wemmbu voice comes out choked, a single tear falling down his face. He needs to keep it together, after all, who knows when he'll see the seraphim again. "You'll be stuck here, a bit longer"

"That's okay, man" Egg says softly, one of his wings curling around Wemmbu's side. He's checking for injuries, and the realization only serves to make Wemmbu cry once again. It's stupid, how awfully vulnerable the whole situation has him. The way both of them ready to collapse for a wedding that's less than a week away. 

"I'm getting married" Wemmbu blurts out, immediately cringing. What possessed him to say that? Yeah, you know? Maybe falling to the void would have been better than this. He takes a deep breath, dropping his eyes to the floor. It's okay, Egg would have found out one way or another.

"Oh, uh, i- you kidding?" Egg stutters, coughing awkwardly. Wemmbu raises his head to see the seraphim, laughing a bit at how absolutely baffled Egg looks. Then he just shakes his head, oh how he wished this was an elaborate prank. "Bro- you can't just drop that on me"

"Sorry man, it was a surprise for me too" Wemmbu smiles through his tears, raising his hands to scrub at his face. The whole situation was such a mess.

"Right- congratulations?" Egg looks at him with surprised eyes, scanning his expression for any emotion. The man seems to soften, as he reaches to the air around Wemmbu. Right, Egg was somewhat of an empath. Wemmbu chaotic energy is mixed with another one, sadness probably radiating out of him in waves. "Scratch that, condolences? Congradolences?" 

The comment makes Wemmbu laugh, as both of them sit on the cold floor.

The conversation flows easily after that, just Egg talking about the book that he's been writing. It's not perfect, in fact, Egg looks absolutely confused by the whole situation. The seraphim doesn't push, even if the notion of missing the wedding clearly bothers him.

They stay like that until Flame comes back with a full inventory and a tired smile on his lips. 

And on the journey back home, Wemmbu can barely remember saying goodbye to his best friend.

He can't afford to think about how much he hates this whole situation right now.

Instead, he hurries to get a chest and leaves the books inside of the base. Hopefully, that person hates the thought of Lettuce rising to power enough to help them out. It depends on them now, Wemmbu has given them the resources but he can't do anything else now.

Finally, he leaves the place exactly the same as he found it.

Was leaving the whole plan on a single person wise? No it wasn't. There were too many risks with the whole thing in the first place, risks like alerting the law of the plan somewhat. They didn't have any other options, so for once he dares to hope that this will work. He has no other option.

Suddenly Flame bursts into laughter from next to him, hysteric and free. What? Did he finally go insane over the pressure of something. Oh god, Wemmbu doesn't need to be married to a mental case — ew, that came way too fond for his liking, he'll be ignoring that thanks. His eyes scan the place with curiosity stopping in the entrance with a defeated sigh. Really? He leaves for a single day. 

He's going to kill Lettuce.

There on the living room, lays a pair of mannequins with wedding clothing. Oh then, what's the problem Wemmbu? The problem is that there is a fucking wedding dress on the purple mannequin, it's the most basic design too! Seriously Lettuce? Really? That's what he expects Wemmbu to wear to the wedding. A basic ass wedding dress that looks like it was bought out of target. If Lettuce is going to force him to wear a dress, he could at least put some effort on the design.

Wemmbu turns to glare at Flame, who is still laughing next to him.

Okay, it is pretty funny, he'll give Flame that. 

Actually, huh, he could use this to his favour. You know, just to spite Lettuce.

"Hey Flame, you have any chainmail? oh and some black dye too" Wemmbu says calmly, inspecting the dress. "Stop laughing, dude!" 

Flame continues laughing even while he searches in the chests around them.

Wemmbu can't even bring himself to be angry about it. 

Maybe things won't be so bad after all.

Chapter Text

Wemmbu has never been to a wedding. 

Who would have thought that the first one would be his own?

Loppezz expert hands work on his hair, making a simple crown braid that goes under the veil. It reminds him of the campfire from a long time ago, back when both of them were allies. Wemmbu raises his head, watching the mix of confusion and rage from the woman behind him. She mutters curses while twisting the pieces of hair harshly, obviously unhappy with the circumstances. Normally he would have teased the woman relentlessly, instead of whatever this oppressing silence was. 

"Stay still, damn it! Are you being difficult on propose?" Loppezz grumbles under her breath, grabbing harshly at his chin and forcing him to look at the mirror once more. Part of him wants to bite her for manhandling him like a doll. He doesn't do it. Wemmbu is too numb to care about how much he hates this whole situation. 

He doesn't understand, maybe it just didn't feel real before. More like a nightmare he wanted to wake from soon.

The miserable expression that greets him seems out of place, and not quite his. Wemmbu doesn't remember the last time he had looked so utterly defeated. Loppezz stops for a second, Is she surprised at the lack of a reply?or perhaps she's expecting one. Whatever Loppezz is searching for, she won't get it. He can't help but think bitterly as he forces his face to stay carefully neutral. 

His eyes drift to the gloves on his hands — the fingertips fade into black, stained like the whole ordeal is. A faint glint of pride flickers across his face at the black dye that stains the cloth, even if it disappears just as fast as it came. Wemmbu looks like a ghost, covered in a wedding dress that had been made to humiliate him. The modifications to his whole supposed outfit had been the last act of rebellion he could think of. He couldn't escape his marriage with Flame but he could show how trapped he felt in the whole situation.

"Aren't you supposed to be happy at Lettuce's kindness? It's more than what you deserve" Loppezz says angrily, tugging his hair once more. "For some reason he allowed you to get married even when you should have been in jail!"

Wemmbu let a bitter smile grace his lips, kindness? That man was anything but kind. The more the guard talked, the more angry Wemmbu became. A soft huff fell through his lips as he went back to staring at his dress. Is that what Lettuce had been telling every one of his guards? That Flame and him had agreed, no, wanted to marry each other. That it was the only way Lettuce could convince them to join was to plan their wedding. That both of them had been so utterly in love with each other that Lettuce couldn't help but agree to their terms?

Wemmbu thinks on Flame's tired smile, in the literal dog collar around Wemmbu's neck, in the humiliation, and the fact that both of them will have to correct people the rest of their lives that no they aren't in love. 

The realization hits him like a brick. Wemmbu feels like he's been drenched in cold water and left to rot in the middle of a snowstorm. Rage, humiliation, burns through his body. His agitated state activates the collar around his neck, a wave of hormones entering his body to force it to calm down.

How could anyone call this man kind?

Loppezz goes very still for a second, as a single tear falls through Wemmbu's cheek. He breaths, forcing himself to stay calm. It was already embarrassing enough that the guard had seen him miserable, he's not going to make it worse. 

"I just don't understand." Loppezz mutters while she adjusts the veil in his head.

Welcome to the club buddy, no one understands Lettuce — Wemmbu can't help to think bitterly as he looks at the mirror once more. 

At some point, Loppezz guides him to his feet and into the busy hallway.

The rest of the journey passes like a blur, as he is guided from room to room to Lettuce office. The soulbond mark burns against his skin, the nerves reconstructing to carry the magic of the marriage ritual. He's on edge, skin itching in every single way while he walks around the place. People stop to gawk at him, gossiping to themselves in a way that only serves to make him more self aware of how humiliating the whole thing is. for the first time in his life, Wemmbu can't wait to get to Lettuce's office. At least there, he will be far from the stares for a little longer. 

The dread of what Lettuce could be planning now so soon to the wedding overpowers that thought. 

And before he knows it, he's shoved inside of the office, wishing to go back to the stares of that hallway. 

The collar makes a beep, the same one it made when it was activated manually, followed by a pressure on the front of his throat. It's a hum of electricity that travels through his vocal cords, uncomfortable but not painful. What could it possibly be for? They had followed every single rule. Sure, they had exploited some loophole but Lettuce had no way of knowing that, right? 

If this is a punishment then why doesn't it hurt? There's no sedatives travelling through his veins, no electricity burning his body from inside out. Wemmbu's eyes flicker to Flame's tense posture, searching for any indication of discomfort or pain. There's none. Flame doesn't seem to be feeling the same as him, in fact, the man is speaking normally. The sensation is faint enough to only bother Wemmbu, and that is a frightening thought. It meant that Lettuce wasn't punishing them for the plan, he was doing something else. 

"Well, you are probably wondering why I called you so let's get to that. We don't want to take time off the ceremony now would..." Lettuce raises his head from the documents, trailing off once he sees the dress that Wemmbu is wearing. He raises a paw to the bridge of his nose, reordering the papers loudly. "How did you even manage to make a standard wedding dress look like a funeral attire?"

Wemmbu trails his eyes to the way the white of the skirt fades into black just like his gloves. The chainmail chains wrap around his corset and fall down over the dress train. It's exactly what he was aiming for, to make evident the fact that this wedding is fraud. He opens his mouth to make some snarky comment back at Lettuce, yet his voice doesn't come. It's stuck in his throat. Wemmbu can't talk.

He can't talk at all. There's no sound coming from his vocal cords. 

"I can work with this so, don't even bother responding." Lettuce says nonchalantly, and Wemmbu can only watch with growing horror as the man passes their contracts to them. Was Lettuce mocking him? The man has to know that Wemmbu can't make a sound. 

Wemmbu grabs the contract with shaky hands, trying to focus on it instead of the fact that he's mute now. He scans the paper once, twice and a third time. Wishing that he's read this wrong, each time nausea accumulates on his stomach. The contract says the same every single time. It makes his breathing speed up as he thrusts the contract to Flame's arms and doubles over, vomiting over Lettuce shoes while keeping the dress intact. 

The law dog's ghost, that was his role. Flame was law dog and Wemmbu was the leash, the ghost that echoed behind him. 

Wemmbu wasn't allowed to speak to anyone that wasn't Flame, wasn't allowed to interact with the world around him, he was to be punished every time Lettuce punished Flame. He'd been reduced to nothing but Flame's shadow, and Flame had been reduced to a dog like the ones the man used to train for fighting. The ones that had died over and over again, the ones Flame had buried after every fight. They weren't people anymore, they were tools. Tools that could do nothing but pray for help to arrive, for the plan that they had to work, for the person to be interested enough in taking Lettuce down to do so. 

Wemmbu can feel the crushing grief mixed with rage radiating from Flame, the disgust that flashes in Lettuce's eyes as the man sends a guard to retrieve the cleaning lady — and he feels nothing. He wants to scream, to cry, to curse and to demand Lettuce treats him like a normal human being instead of an inconvenience. Wemmbu can't do that because he can't talk. He can't talk at all during work hours. He opens his mouth, trying to force it to work. No sound comes out of it.

"Now, now, stop that. Wemmbu, you are too rebellious, surely you understand why this is necessary." Lettuce chimes in as if he were talking to a misbehaving child throwing a tantrum. It's condescending, it's horrible. "We don't want you to permanently damage your vocal cords after all the use of the collar is temporary. Just until you learn to contain that sharp tongue of yours."

"Bro, what the hell, what the fuck-" Flame's voice comes out strained, smoke falling off his lips in a waterfall. Incoherent defeated mumbles that fill the space slowly. His tone is too tired to come as accusatory. And Wemmbu can't do anything but watch through the veil covering his face."You are crazy, this is, this is crazy."

Huh, Flame's face is covered by a veil and a flower crown too. Ironic, ironic and utterly humiliating for someone who once was the immortal demon.

"Hush, now, it's time for the wedding so if you please" Lettuce signaled to the balcony door with a smile.

Wemmbu can barely remember the ceremony at all. 

Through the haze of his mind, he has brief flashes of memories. Vaguely, he remembers cutting the arm with the soulmark and letting his blood flow to the fire next to Flame's. Watching numbly as the flames flicker into a sickly white color, it's a signal that Wemmbu had read in one of the books. It meant they were magically compatible but neither of them will ever fall in love with each other. It was rare, it meant there was no possibility of romance in the relationship. He felt oddly relieved at that. He couldn't imagine loving Flame like that, and since their magic was compatible they wouldn't die. The soulbond wouldn't kill them because of the lack of love, they were safe. From next to him, he sees Flame's shoulders relax just a bit.

They were on the same page.

The relief disappears into the haze of his mind as they are rushed into the reception. It's going to fast. 

The whole thing is moving way too fast for him to keep up. 

Lettuce rises to give the wedding speech, beaming about loyalty and the redemption program. He introduces them officially as Law dog and it's ghost. Those are the exact words that fall from Lettuces mouth. Wemmbu remembers the way Flame gripped his gloved hands like a lifeline. He remembers the faint anger shimmering from underneath his skin at how derogatory everything is. More important than that, he remembers the way everyone gossiped around them. The accusing glares scanning his dress. 

And wasn't it funny? The dress that Wemmbu had worked so hard on trying to spite Lettuce, had instead worked in Lettuce favour. It had reinforced the ghost narrative instead of throwing a wrench in that man's plans.

Wemmbu really was a lost cause.

The sound of someone clearing their throat snaps him out of his thoughts. It's the first time since the ceremony that anyone has approached him, for some reason this person is trying to interact with him even after hearing Lettuce words. 

The sight of multicolored feathers has him stopping for a second. Parrot.

Parrot was here. 

"I'm Law dog and this is my partner Ghost." Flame says almost robotically, sounding so utterly tired for a second. The man isn't even registering that this is not some random chungus but Parrot. "He's mute. So, if you have any question about the program, please talk to me."

"Does he know how to use sign language? It's kind of rude to introduce myself and ignore him" Parrot says with a smile that can't quite reach his eyes and it suddenly dawns on Wemmbu just how wrong the whole situation looks like. 

"He's learning, he's mute because of a recent accident." Flame says, eyes finally gaining some clarity, repeating Lettuces cover story robotically. Parrot only seems to tense more at that which ugh- Flameee isn't helping with this. It's not his fault but still. Does he not realize how wrong the whole thing looks like even if their identities are covered?

His eyes scan the way Flame is gripping his hands, to the tense language of his shoulders, to the way Flame is the one doing all the talking. Then he switches his eyes to Parrot tense form, to the way Parrot is trying to get him away from Flame. Ugh, now that he thinks about it... Wemmbu has been tensely following after Flame like a lost puppy, hunched over himself, limiting himself to eat and look miserable. The realization makes him want to burst laughing and has his cheeks burning with embarrassment. Parrot thinks this is some sort of domestic violence situation.

That Wemmbu is the victim of this hypothetical domestic violence situation.

Huh, the bird really needs to stop jumping into conclusions.

Wemmbu snaps his head to look at Lettuce before shrinking into himself once more. This time is not a reflex but he acts like it is. As expected, Flame flinches slightly at that, shoulders tensing while he subconsciously covers Wemmbu from Lettuce line of sight. Then Flame looks at him confused through the veil, like he expected a threat. The man doesn't move from his spot. Wemmbu watches as Parrot's eyes widen at the subtle actions, the suspicious glare shifting from Flame to Lettuce.

Bingo, good, now he needs Parrot to know it's them under the veil. So, he takes a risk, because there is no safer way to reveal who they are without it. Wemmbu raises his veil slightly, making sure to reveal the shock collar and a piece of lavender hair. It's just a second, yet he watches the way Parrot stills in front of him. Then he nods in Flame's direction, hoping the man catches the memo and is subtle about it. Thankfully, it seems that Flame does since a second later the other man is letting a puff of smoke escape from under the veil.

"Wemmbu?" Parrot gasps softly, inaudible in the crowded room. "Flamefrags?"

"I'm afraid you are confusing us for someone else" Flame says glancing at Lettuce rapidly approaching form. 

Wemmbu goes back to hiding behind Flame's tense posture, praying that the man didn't realize what they had done. The fact that they just gave each other away to the smartest person on the server. Thankfully, it doesn't seem like it, since the collar doesn't activate and the man ignores both of them. 

"Parrot, i was just searching for you." Lettuce says smirking, before giving them a faint warning through his eyes. The man is very obviously trying to lead the avian away from them. 

The plan had worked. They had informed Parrot who was a candidate of an opposing party that Lettuce acquired two very powerful hostages. Wemmbu just hopes that it's enough, that the fact that Parrot had once allied with both of them is enough to motivate the man to save them. It all depends on him now.

Wemmbu can't help but watch dumbly at Parrot retreating form.

Lettuce let's them go a while later, probably not wanting to take any chances.

The silence on the two of them is uncomfortable, as he watches the lively plaza around them. Everyone seems cheery about the celebration, everyone but them. The soulbond thrums steady against his ribcage, finally settled after the weeks of side effects. Wemmbu opens his mouth to say something before hesitating. He knows Lettuce deactivated the collar a while ago, after all of the guests had left. Yet he can't shake the fear, the fear of opening his mouth and nothing coming out of it.

Instead, he looks at the town around them uncomfortably. There's people dancing slowly, eyes lovesick as they look at each other like they hung the moon.

"I don't think I can love you like that dude" He blurts out, signaling to the couples still dancing to the music around them. It makes him cringe immediately, that was meant to be an inside thought not an outside one. Thankfully it comes like a whisper, his voice scratchy from disuse. Ugh awkward- "uh, no offense"

"Yeah, I can't either bro" Flame responds easily before smirking slightly. His voice comes out fonder that the man probably intended. "Besides, I wouldn't want to. You are too annoying." 

"I'm not, you take that back" Wemmbu whines trying to look offended, yet there's a relieved smile on his lips for the first time in years. An idea lights on his head as he spreads his wings from where they were hidden. "How could you say that to your partner?"

"Bruhh, shuddup bro." Flame hummed as they stepped into the desert's frigid air. "I wouldn't have called you that If I had known you were going to be insufferable about it." 

"Fine then Mr. Strongest." Wemmbu replies mocking quietly, as he flaps his wings once. "Race ya to the base. Let's see if you are the fastest too"

Flame huffs a laugh before complaining loudly about how unfair it is that Wemmbu can use his wings. Yet, he takes after him without a thought. 

Partners huh, Wemmbu liked the sound of that.

Ew, that came awfully cheesy.

Don't tell Flame he had thought that, thanks.

Chapter Text

The day after the wedding feels strangely normal. 

Wemmbu doesn't know what he expected. 

It's okay, it's the only thought that he repeats to himself while dragging the comb through his hair, at least he's not alone in this. After all, Flame seemed as lost as him. Neither of them know what their doing with their lives at this point.

His eyes drag to the ritualistic marks on his arm. All of the books he'd read repeated the same thing, the marks should be beautiful —and maybe they are, just not for him. It doesn't matter the way the color switches from red to yellow like flames. This thing is still a chain, a very pretty one that he shares with Flame. Everytime his eyes drift to either of the marks on their arms, Wemmbu feels shame.

Shame of his marks and Flame's matching ones whose color is almost the same as crying obsidian. Shame of the fact that he had allowed Lettuce to capture him, that he had let the man use him as leverage, of being so weak. 

Huh, that turned depressing awfully fast. 

Taking a deep breath, he hides the marks under his shirt before exiting the bathroom. 

They had five days left of these impromptu 'honeymoon' vacation that Lettuce had insisted on. Which really, judging from the background noise, Wemmbu could translate as: Parrot is being a nuisance and Lettuce doesn't trust them enough to be anywhere near the Law. Which is great really. 

Wemmbu just feels tired of this situation already. 

Before he knows it, he's sitting on the floor next to the living room right next to Flame. 

Things have been awkward between them, like really awkward. 

Wemmbu is used to their rivalry, to patching each other up, to fighting and bickering. Now both of them are just too tired to do anything but coexist. It's funny, the way Lettuce had managed to crush both of their spirits at the same time. Now they were not comfortable even around each other. He's not used to dealing with a quiet irritable Flame, and Flame is not used to this lowkey depressing side of him either. Wemmbu lets his head rest on his knees with a sigh, hair falling around himself like a curtain. Damn, he's being pathetic.

Ugh, He needs to lock the fuck in and stop crying over stupid stuff.

Wemmbu wishes Egg was here. His best friend would have found a way to cheer him up, even if that meant being a bit stupid. 

"Uh bro, you are not dying on me, are you?" Flame tired voice cuts through the silence, amused and a bit concerned from next to him. "That would suck"

"you for real?" Wemmbu feels a small smile tug at his lips at the blunt question while raising his head. No Flame, sadly Wemmbu is not dying. What made you think that? was it the zombie face or the once again tangled hair? 

"Your wings are being weird bro." Flame says leaning close to him likely to inspect the so called weird wings. He pokes at one of them gently, almost curious. "No offense bro. I didn't mean it in a bad way, okay maybe a little but-"

 "Okay Rudeee, and hey! Don't put your soot stained hands on my wings." Wemmbu replies cutting Flame off, a huff of laughter escapes from his lips as he raises his hand to swat at Flame. What could possibly be wrong with his wings? Wemmbu stretches them, hitting Flame on the forehead gently while he examines them. They look fine, un-preened and messy but fine. "What could bro possibly mean?" 

"Ugh, you are blocking my vieew!" Flame whines as he tries to push the wing away to no avail. Wemmbu keeps pulling the wings up once Flame manages to bring them down. It was funny seeing the man struggle against an appendage so much. "I can't see if you keep pulling them up. Bro, quit the wings or else. I'm veryyy serious"

Wemmbu knew for a fact the man was not serious, a bit concerned sure but Flame would never harm his wings. Flame tone was way too playful, almost like a mock threat that both of them knew carried no weight. If Wemmbu kept pushing his wings into Flame's face, the worst the other man could do is get up and smash some dyes on his wings or skin. (Yes, Flame had done it in a fight before. No he's not giving any details of that embarrassing situation, thanks.) Which is annoying to deal with... You know what? Maybe he should stop annoying Flame and let the other man show him the supposed problem.

"Okay okay, show me why my wings are being weird bro" Wemmbu lowers his wings slightly, raising his hands to make fake air quotes that end up making the other man groan in annoyance.

"Oh my god, bro shuddap." Flame says with a small smile before sitting next to him to examine the supposed 'weird' wing. The man pokes him slightly in a spot, that Wemmbu can't quite see. "Does this hurt?"

"What are you? A doctor?" Wemmbu teases, moving his neck to try and see what has Flame so worried in the first place. It's probably nothing but after this whole wedding fiasco, it's better to be safe than sorry. "No, it's itchy but it doesn't hurt."

"Bruuh, okay bro, just checking." Flame says before slightly twisting a loose feather from his back and laying it in his hands. Instead of the unhealthy washed up purple from before, the feather is purple with a soft black base. "There are like purple scales on your back too. Also, they look kind of like avian wings? I didn't want to bring it up but they used to be more I don't know? bat like?"

"Flame, it's nothing, that's normal." Wemmbu smiles at Flames concern, folding his wings once again. Chaos demons could sometimes change parts of their appearance, some could change their face and others like Wemmbu can change his wings species. This is just like molting, it's completely normal.

"Ya sure? It doesn't look like nothing to me" Flame says with a confused frown, the dreadlock falling around his head and almost reaching his shoulders. Hey, Wemmbu might as well mess a little with Flame. Have some fun. 

"Positive that I'm not dying yet" Wemmbu says while he focuses on shifting his wings into a more insect like species, maybe a dragonfly? It would be shocking enough for the other man after all. 

He feels the energy travelling through his body, while the feathers shift into what looks like liquid ink to form the new wings. It's the first show of magic, he had made without Lettuce forcing him to. It's a bit strange to get used at the feeling at first, almost like getting powdered snow on your wings. Then they just reform into a new species, sure he doesn't do it as often but it's still fun. Wemmbu flickers his eyes to look at Flame's stunned expression. 

How could the man be so expressive even with the blindfold on was a mystery.

"You look like you've seen a ghost." Wemmbu says trying to contain his laughter at how utterly confused his ri- partner is. The way he's sputtering while mumbling to himself and switching his eyes between Wemmbu and the wings is priceless. 

"Can you change them into whatever?" Flame whispers poking gently at the wings, almost as if he were a kid at a carnival. The fact that the man probably has yet to realized he even asked that question outloud is what makes Wemmbu completely lose it.  

Wemmbu looks at the way Flame is poking softly at his new wings and laughs at the situation, it's hilarious man. The immortal demon, the strongest, defeated by a pair of shiny shape-shifting now dragonfly wings. The thought only makes him laugh harder, pausing to take a deep breath and calming himself. Between huffs of laughter, he finds himself saying in a mix of nonsensical sounds something among the lines of: your face, god that was priceless, and I should have bought a camera. In what order? he's not sure actually. 

Finally he composes himself enough to look at Flame, who is hiding his burning face in his hands. Poor man looks mortified by the situation, blabbering something about how he's going to die from embarrassment. The whole thing just makes Wemmbu laugh once again. Oh, he's so going to hold this over Flame's head for the rest of their eternal life. In fact, this situation is getting branded in his memory. Vaguely he feels Flame standing up from where he was sitting next to Wemmbu. And before Wemmbu could try to decifer if the man is really mad or something along those lines, something hits his face. 

One of the couch cushions lands square on his face. 

It drops to the floor and he grabs it with a smile, watching Flame's victorious grin.

"Oh you are on" Wemmbu says with a grin, switching his wings back to their avian form. It's for two reasons, one dragon fly wings are a bit weak for humans and two stunning flame with the transformation for a few minutes.

It works, why does it work once again? Wemmbu is not sure, yet he takes advantage of it. 

At first they throw cushions at each other, then at some point, Wemmbu grabs a couch to hide behind it like a fort which ends up in Flame grabbing another couch as a fort, and it spirals from there. Wemmbu rushes outside to hide above some trees and Flame ends up dragging him from the ankle while he whines dramatically between struggles. It's stupid, it's so stupid and childish. Yet, he feels lighter than before. They are not fighting, they are not training, and Lettuce isn't here to ruin their day. The freedom is fleeting, likely ending before they can even get used to it. 

And of course the Law had to ruin it.

His smile freezes when he sees Loppezzz at the entrance, eyes scanning the place frantically. The guard looks bewildered at them, pink hair falling over her shoulders while she carries some sort of package. Her eyes seem to scan from the sticks and mud covering their heads to the sand covered skin with confusion. Wemmbu is halfway up the tree, feet against the bark with a hand on one of the branches. Flame is trying to poke at him to get him to come down once more. Uh to get to the point, both of them look like feral animals, very unhinged feral animals. 

"What? No actually, I don't even want to know-" The guard says grabbing the bridge of her nose with a tight smile, before very slowly approaching the house. Wemmbu finds all of the shame that was burning on his cheeks disappear, as he watches the woman leave the package almost like it's radioactive. Then with her hands raised, she starts walking backwards. Wemmbu turns to look at Flame trying to hold his laughter as both of them watch her disappear down the road.

Both of them enter the house covered in sweat and sand, matching grins on their faces.

Flame rushes to the bathroom to shower first, ignoring Wemmbu's complaints and whines about his wings like the asshole Flame is. So, he sits on the floor of the living room watching his wings transform. For a moment during his captivity, he had forgotten he could do that. He had been so focused on the soulbond, on the collar, on the restraints of his magic that he'd forgotten one of the few powers that remained no matter how much Lettuce tried to change him.

And maybe it's horribly petty, a soft shout for control — and from that day on he decides that every single work day on Law, he'll show up with different wings. 

There's nothing that could change the fact that Wemmbu is condemned to work for the Law until it dissolves.

It's not enough, he's not free.

Yet as he sits freshly bathed in a now clean living room with a mug of chocolate on his hands, while Flame talks about some random story, he finds himself content. 

It's not enough, it'll never be enough —but maybe, just maybe, it doesn't need to be enough.

Chapter Text

It's strange the way both of them have fallen into some sort of rhythm.

An imperfect awkward rhythm of chores and bickering that somehow feels comforting.

Wermmbu expected the shift from their rivalry to this forced domesticity to be more difficult. Yet somehow, Wemmbu finds flickers of their past relationship mixing in a sloppy patchwork that feels natural. Their rivalry never truly disappears, instead it changes. Their fighting turns into sparring sessions where they tease, bicker and chase each other. When they disagree, they compete; comparing each other's ideas while trying to show whose until someone has no choice but grumble and accept defeat. 

It's natural, it feels right like nothing else has felt in a while.

Flame and Wemmbu know that this peaceful routine is not meant to last forever, that sooner than later Lettuce will come knocking at their door.

Maybe their expected to spend their vacation dreading for what's to come, for the way Lettuce would find a way to drag them through the mud. 

Instead of that, Wemmbu feels the crushing weight of acceptance settling down his lungs. 

He doesn't know if that's better or worse.

Wemmbu just knows that there's absolutely no way to change the past. Flame and him are already married, the collar is still on his raw skin, their souls bonded together permanently. He can't keep fearing, he's too tired to do so. Instead, he tries enjoying the vacation as much as he can. 

Wemmbu refuses to let Lettuce take this fleeting freedom from him. 

And that morning, the morning both of them start working, Wemmbu wakes up somehow lighter than before. 

The sun peeks through the blinds that he'd dyed a mess of purple and blues much to Flame's dismay. Oh and the man had complained about it loudly, huffing about aesthetics that Flame clearly knew Wemmbu gave no fucks about it. Well, he gave no fucks about Flame's opinion of the part of his room. There are splashes of dye that had splattered onto the floor during their fight, swirls of purple that painted the wall and some of Flame's gold hair cuffs from when Wemmbu had splattered the dyed water onto the man's dreadlocks.

Huh, Flame hadn't tried too hard to clean it now that he thought about it.

Instead, he wore the purple stained jewelry almost proudly. 

Wemmbu stands up from his bed, leaving the mess of covers in the floor while he runs to the bathroom. After all, he needs to beat Flame in their daily shower race otherwise the man would take extra long just to spite him. He takes his ugly boring armor that almost every single Law man uses since Lettuce hates personality apparently. Well, expect the veil of course. The man just had to add the veil to their helmets, points for creativity he guesses.

It doesn't take long for Flame's loud complaining to reach his ears while he brushes his wet hair into a more manageable shape. Wemmbu makes sure to take extra long after that, just to be annoying. 

"Finally bro, what were you? taking a nap in there?" Flame mocks when he finally gets out. It would be irritating if not for the stupid pijamas that the other man is wearing, it's difficult to take him seriously with them.

"Oh stop crying about it, you take longer." Wemmbu teases back, sitting in the sofa to start braiding his hair. 

"That's so not true" Flame say before stepping into the bathroom with a huffed laugh.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night!" Wemmbu shouts through the door with a smile, fixing the veil so he looks less like a ghost and more like an actual human being. 

It's barely four in the morning since Loppezzz had insisted that they had to get to the building before everyone else. Why? Well, it's anyone's guess why Lettuce does any of the things he does. Wemmbu is starting to think the man has no idea on what he is doing with his life most days. 

Wemmbu instead focuses on his chores, because ugh living with someone else means double the work. And really, Wemmbu doubts he'll be in the mood to come back from work and make his bed. 

It's almost routine at this point, Flame would shower then cook for both of them while Wemmbu made sure the space was at least liveable. 

Wemmbu had been banned from cooking after he'd experimented with blaze power and sent the place in flames...

It had been an honest mistake! 

How was he supposed to know that blaze powder was too potent to cook with? Hah? He had no way of knowing that. 

Flame had laughed his ass off at the sight of the melted pans, mocking Wemmbu and throwing him out of the room while Flame cleaned the mess.

The alarm on his communicator snaps him out of his thoughts, the glowing numbers indicating that it's five of the morning.

They have to get out now if they don't want to get in trouble. 

The air bites their cheeks as he steps into the cold dessert around them. The veil does almost nothing against the frigid temperatures while both of them walk to the law in silence. 

Something strange happens the moment they step outside of the border of Flame's base. A gurgle falls from Wemmbu's lips as the collar around his neck activates slowly, a uncomfortable flicker of electricity that tightens his vocal cords. Flame stops dead of his feet, turning to look at him in concern while Wemmbu tries to speak once again. 

Nothing but a rasp comes out. 

Lettuce had somehow managed to configure the collar so it'll activate the second Wemmbu is outside of the base— he notes dumbly as he makes a sign at his throat that has Flame expression turning sour.

Part of him wonders if he'll be able to speak outside the house ever again. 

The rest of the journey is made in mournful silence that feels oppressing. Wemmbu wonders if this is what those people had felt when they had battled against the both of them. If the silent dread of knowing that no matter what you'll do you'll lose, was something that he'd had provoked once. The feeling made him almost sick to the stomach.

Wemmbu wonders if he truly deserves this. Maybe Loppezzz was right, hell, maybe even Lettuce was right about his crimes. Had he been so high off power that he hadn't noticed? Was this powerlessness that he felt some kind of karmic justice for enforcing the some feeling onto others?

His mind is spiralling silently the nearer they get to the Law's main base. 

This time, he's not really dreading whatever training Lettuce will put them through, no. 

This time he's dreading that he really is the unforgivable monster that Lettuce claimed he was. 

This time, he wonders if he had forced this onto them. If his actions had caused this. 

After all, there had to be a reason he was the one with the collar and not Flame. There had to be a reason why his whole existence was safer as a ghost than a real breathing human being. That terrifies him more than the Law. 

Wemmbu stumbles onto the concrete floors, shaking his head to discard the thoughts. Lettuce is in the wrong here, there's absolutely no way this could be justified. He hates that man, but most importantly, he hates the part of him that's beginning to believe this was justified.

Yeah, not dealing with that now thanks.

Instead, he scans the new place with curiosity, eyes flicker over the gravel and armor stands on the corner. The place is pretty big, with small separated rooms scattered around. There's a locked room to the side that makes him anxious for some reason, why would you need a locked room in the training grounds? Maybe it's nothing. 

Loppezzz is approaching them, a pair of guards behind her as she walks in front of them. Wemmbu is unsure of what to do since the whole thing is making him really uneasy. At least Lettuce isn't around. That thought does little to comfort him, as his avian wings curl around him. The guard expression is icy cold and she already seems tired of the two of them.

"Lettuce has ordered special training for you two." Loppezzz starts talking, making a signal to the guards next to her. "Law dog, follow Sargeant Vi. Ghost, go to the gravel path."

They are splitting them up. 

Wemmbu is only allowed to talk to Flame, yet they are splitting them up without a care. Dread climbs up his throat as he watches Flame argue with the guard, smoke pouring through his nose. Wemmbu has to physically stop himself from clinging onto Flame, when had he become so needy? So pathetic that his first response was to search for the other's man reaction before acting? He doesn't dare answer those questions.

Instead he takes a deep breath, giving what he hopes is a comforting smile to Flame before stepping in the direction of the gravel path. There's no use fighting, it'll just make things worse for both of them at the end. The sooner they start training, the sooner they are hopefully allowed to go home. 

Home, huh, when had Flame's base become home?

If the guards are surprised for his cooperation, they don't show it. Instead they take Flame into another part of the room, far enough that Wemmbu can barely see him. It's like they are mocking them, taking Flame just out of reach from him. So Wemmbu could see him but not hear him. 

"Ghost is assigned stealth training." The guard tells him, almost like he was talking to the air instead of Wemmbu. "He has to travel through the gravel without making a single sound." 

I'm right here, you idiot! Is what Wemmbu wanted to say instead of the glare that he gives the guard. At least, he hopes the glare is intense enough to make the man uneasy even through the veil as he turns to scan the path with surgical precision. The boots he's wearing are made of heavy metal, no matter what he does it'll clink against the gravel. What is this? A reality show? 'Oooh, Let's see if Wemmbu can turn into a ghost just because we wanted to.' No it doesn't work like that.

As expected, once his feet connect to the gravel a sharp clinking resonates the place. Great, good to know that texture and physics still work! 

The guard doesn't even look up from where he's sitting, demanding he repeats the exercise again... Wemmbu will be here all day at this point. 

No matter how much he tries the gravel still clicks against the metal thunderously. Wemmbu wastes one hour of his entire life to trying to do an absolutely impossible task while someone narrates his actions as if they were telling a spooky story instead of giving orders. It's humiliating, frustrating in the worst way possible. 

"Since ghost is unable to perform the task" The guard narrates almost sympathetically in a way that make Wemmbu's cheeks flush scarlet. "It'll re-try the task bare foot"

The man is phrasing it like it's Wemmbu's fault that he can't walk on gravel silently. At first, he doesn't want to take off his boots since well gravel pretty fucking hurts against skin so... Yet the guard raises a sword to his feathers as a warning, and Wemmbu has no choice but obey.

The gravel leaves his feet bleeding as he repeats the task almost endlessly. The pain dulls slowly while he focuses just on getting to the finish line. His vision is fuzzy from the veil, and eventually without even realizing it, Wemmbu is repeating the task without the guard telling him to. Every time he hears the sound of the gravel crunching, he stops and returns to the original position. The voice of the guard becomes background noise as he repeats each one of his steps until they are soundless.

His feets are cut and blistered from the gravel once this part of training is over. 

The guard only leaves a single health potion at the end of it, enough to prevent infection but not seal the cuts of his feet. As he demands that Wemmbu repeats the exercise once again, this time with the boots on. 

The cycle continues almost endlessly until Wemmbu manages somehow to make sure that the boots move silently even in gravel.  A cycle of failing, bleeding, repeating over and over again until each of his steps are silent.

By the time he checks the clock, twelve hours had passed. 

Twelve hours of training without any breaks before they let both of them go home. 

By the end of the day, he's surprised to find out that even his steps on the desert path are silent. Flame has to check over his shoulder every single part of the way, unable to hear him.

He wonders if his existence would regain sound at one point.

If he'll ever be allowed to exist loudly in the world or if he's condemned to stay silent for the rest of his life.  

And back home, when Flame complains loudly while heating up lunch, starting a petty fight over nothing. Wemmbu finds out, that he can still be loud and more importantly... even if the world can't hear him, he still can be heard and seen by Flame.

The thought makes a small tired smile appear from his lips as he eats, feeling a little bit better.

They end up in the middle of the living room, a makeshift pillow fort as they speak in tired voices. The warmth of the ovens warming the place around them. Flame is snoring through soft puffs of smoke right next to him, curled protectively around him. He feels safe, safe and cozy in a way that feels almost foreign. Trapped under the blankets, just existing without anyone to do so. 

Wemmbu is not invisible to him, and maybe that's fine.

It's the last thought that crosses his mind as he falls back into deep slumber, a smile still of his lips as he leans against Flame's warmth. 

Chapter Text

A hum exits his lips as he runs around the place, wings bound against his back, feet pattering against the wood soundlessly.

One minute Wemmbu had been in the floor of the training compound, heat burning his feet as he walked through the magma blocks. Then he had blinked and his body was sitting in the ceiling rafters. He holds his breath, watching the guards around him, waiting for anyone to shout orders and punish him for breaking the rules. What he gets in return is silence, no one even seemed to notice that he had moved out of the magma path. Wemmbu opens his eyes warily, staring at the guards in utter disbelief. Sure, he knows they are following this whole "Ghost" gimmick but- Are they really stupid enough to leave him without any supervision?

The guard that is supposed to be training him, has his back to the path, occasionally shouting commands as if Wemmbu was still in the path. Who you trynna train? the air? bruuuh... 

Had Lettuce really given the strict orders of ignoring him at the point where he could literally leave without anyone noticing? or had he gotten good enough at stealth that no one noticed him? That seems like a pretty dumb idea... Wemmbu wonders if he could switch things around, maybe mess stuff a bit, would anyone notice then? 

His eyes look at the man still sharpening his sword with his back to the path and realizes that no, they wouldn't notice until the day ended. Wemmbu smiles a bit at that, maybe he ought to give them a lesson too. 

Keeping balance on the roof is a pain in the ass, and the fact that he has yet to fall a miracle. Ah yes! Wemmbu survives a fight against a thousand players, Flame and getting captured by the law; only to die of fall damage, would you imagine that? 

Most winged creatures use their wings as a way to keep balance. That is kinda hard to do with the leathery wings pressed tightly against his back, and burnt feet too. A faint ache that travels his body while he walks in the ceiling, scanning the place with a faint smile. The chests are basically unguarded, a big speaker on that corner of the room, anyone could manage to break in and steal all of the items. 

But, well, Wemmbu doesn't want to get in problems with the law.

The words of last time speech resonate on his brain. It had been not long ago, when someone had gotten a hold of their identities. A guard had tried to stab him during one of the training sessions, apparently he had lost his best friend in the last battle. Wemmbu had injured the man with his tallons, dislocated wing hanging limp against his side. Lettuce was called immediately but the leader hadn't been angry surprisingly. No, Lettuce sent the guard to the locker rooms and then dragged Wemmbu to Flame's training station. Instead of punishing him, Lettuce had held his wing softly while Flame fretted next to them.

Wemmbu remembers the way the man had smiled to him, reminding both of them of the people they'd killed, of the powerlessness that they'd caused to other people while the leader tended the cuts on his wings. 

"I know you value fighting with honor, Flame" Lettuce had said softly while he bandaged the wings on Wemmbu's back. "Does that matter when your actions are dishonorable? When the only thing that people will remember won't be how the way you fought cleanly, but the way you killed whoever was in front of you? Is that worth it? A memory you want to preserve?" 

Sometimes it scared him, how Flame had begun to train more strictly, how he seemed to disappear more every day.

Wemmbu had watched the way they shouted commands at Flame, codes that had ingrained into the man's mind, the way they would sink Flame's head into a bucket of water every time he didn't follow an order exactly as it was told.

The way Flame moved seemed almost robotic now, like a guard dog. 

The way Wemmbu was basically invisible, to the point not even the cold or the bright netherite armor could give him away.

It was like a switch was flipped the moment both of them stepped out of the place.

This place wasn't just assigning them roles.

It was forcing them to become those roles. 

His foot slips, making a tiny sound that startles him. Right, he's in the ceiling, it's probably a dumb idea to get so carried away up here. Wemmbu turns around, trying to gather a better look to his surroundings. He's in the opposite of his normal training area, the one next to the locked door, the one with rows of chests of armor and other supplies. His eyes scan the roof, spotting the bloody footprints that his feet had left in the place. Eh, bro, It's probably fine. Only a weirdo would be walking in the ceiling rafts. 

Not him tho, Wemmbu had a very legitimate reason to be hanging around there yes. 

Now what could he do with this? Mmm... nothing too noticeable after all, isn't he supposed to be a ghost?

Huh, bro had never specified what type of ghost he had to be. There was no mention of any species or characteristics beyond "Don't talk and be silent". In fact, Lettuce never said that Wemmbu had to be invisible, had he? No, he just said that Wemmbu was the lag dog's ghost. 

Sure, the man had ordered Wemmbu to take stealth classes and everyone else to pretend that he doesn't exist.

But otherwise Wemmbu could act as he wished to, no one really cared about what he did. 

His claw reaches out to carefully scratch the speaker, cutting one of the wires while making it look brand new. The next time Lettuce or anyone else made an announcement, only ear piercing static would come out. Wemmbu is not destroying a single thing actually, as far as he is concerned Wemmbu wasn't here, in fact, who is Wemmbu? 

Also, they had it coming. Maybe this would help up the place security a little bit, so it's not bad. There's no rule being broken or anything, just a harmless prank.  

His eyes flicker at the chests around him, not quite satisfied with just ruining the speaker. He sits on the dusty rafters, securing his knees against them carefully, before letting himself fall back. A soft clink of the chains comes out, a sharp pain on his bat wings as they struggle against the chains. Ouch, the fall reflex, right. The chains are way too heavy for his wings like this, a surprisingly dull pain blooms on his shoulders as he hangs upside down in the ceiling. Wrapping his wings around the upper part of the body to keep gravity from fucking them too much, he gets to work. 

Suddenly, Wemmbu is very thankful that he chose bat wings. If he had decided on any other species, he would have shattered some of his bones for sure. 

All that teasing from Flame in the morning had been worth it.

He opens the chests and changes just one stack of items in them. This means the chest would be full of invisibility potions and in the middle boom, golden carrots. It's random, completely harmless in every aspect but it would piss people off. Wemmbu is not switching every supply so it's not a security risk, it's just one in each perfect chest.

Oh this is fun, why didn't he think of this before? 

If they wanted him to be a ghost, he'll be one. Wemmbu will be a poltergeist, and no one can say a single thing about it. After all, no one is supposed to pay attention to Ghost unless he's breaking any rule.

A soft hum reaches his lips, as he pulls himself into a sitting position. He should at least check that the trainer is not searching for him, that would suck. And nope, the man is still talking to the wind, that's funny. Wemmbu walks to the center of the rafters, sitting in the middle while he watches the rest of the guards fool around. Loppezzz is by the doors, speaking with some trainees abou weapons. 

For a second, Wemmbu closes his eyes and imagines. He imagines himself as a normal player, excitedly learning how to wield a sword, running around the Law almost free from fears. He wonders if there's a place, a timeline, where Egg and him just exist. Where Flame and him play around, chasing each other around in some dumb competition. Maybe he could have been a normal player, humming freely and trading stuff in capital city without a care in the world.  

A small piece of gauze peeks from his shoulder blade, the reminder of that soldier, of those scared and vengeful eyes that shouted at him that he was a monster. And just like that the illusion vanishes, because there's no way he deserves a normal peaceful life with all of these crimes hanging off his back. Maybe Wemmbu shouldn't care, he used to not care. Yet, after experiencing the powerlessness, the feeling of being at someone else's mercy, he can't simply not care. He thinks of Rejoice and the way he'd bombed that innocent players base just because he could. 

Sometimes, the collar on his neck feels like a small price to pay for another chance.

Maybe Loppezzz and Lettuce were right in some way.

The bond that was forced into them was wrong, the danger of fusing, the pain. It was wrong, but wasn't it justified? Flame was just as guilty as Wemmbu was. Maybe this was the only way that would force them into a better path, a better life. 

Wemmbu shuts that train of thought quickly, man wasn't that depressing?

A shiver runs through his spine, for a moment he feels like he's freezing, an unnatural cold seeps into his bones. The marks on his arms burn slightly, demanding more of his magic. The cold spreads through his lungs, and he has to suppress the urge to cough. Wemmbu holds on to the ceiling tighter, it made no sense —he was just fine a second earlier. The soul bond is restless, Flame's magic bleeding with his own, why was it acting up? Wemmbu breathes, a stupid idea forming in his head. It's probably normal, right?  

He gives the bond a splash of his magic before cutting contact immediately, ugh that was fucking weird.

He'll ask Flame when they get home, maybe it had activated somehow during his training. 

A faint arguing takes his attention away, two guards are fighting by the chests, probably annoyed with the chests. It's such a small thing to fight about and that makes Wemmbu smile. The man is grumbling while taking stack after stack of the wrong items, snapping at the new trainees. Some accuse each other of the supposed prank, others are indignated with the accusation, and it ends with everyone doing at least one hour more of training for insubordination. 

And people have yet to notice that Wemmbu is not training, and hasn't been traing for... at least four hours.

Huh surprisingly, there's just three hours more until they have to go home. 

A faint frantic movement has him turning his head, a soldier is walking in the direction of the locked room. Usually, he would have dismissed it —yet there was something on the way he was acting. The man whispered something to another soldier, trying to appear nonchalant while his eyes scanned the place anxiously. Yeah, he's not fooling nobody with that attitude. Wemmbu watched silently as the guard opened the room slightly, before shutting it close and whispering something to the trainee. There's a fake calm expression on the guards face as he starts typing in the control panel. 

Wemmbu debates for a while before following the trainee around in the ceiling. 

The man basically runs to Loppezzz, whispering something in her ears that has her body going cold. She grumbles, snapping something under her breath while she walks to the locked room. Oh that's not good, Loppezzz was their direct supervisor, the one in charge of Flame and Wemmbu. The realization has his wings dropping low as he back to the locked room, his foot almost slips from the urgency —and he has to take a moment to breathe before continuing. There's a small crowd when he arrives, watching as they whisper while Loppezzz snaps the door open. 

She reaches carrying something outside and laying it on the floor. 

Wemmbu walks so he is just above them, trying to look what was in that room. 

His blood goes cold at the sight, it's not a thing, that's a person.

That's Flame, that's Flame laying unconscious on the hardwood floor. 

If it wasn't for the bond, Wemmbu would have thought the man was dead. 

Immediately Wemmbu reaches for the soft pulsing magic in his veins, opening the connection once more. There's a reason why people aren't supposed to open soulbond connections frecuently, a soft danger of fusion, of oversaturating the other person with magic. It doesn't matter, Wemmbu has yet to open a connection, the bond can support this one. He lets his body send magic to Flame's unconscious body before turning to look at Loppezzz —who has her back to Flame's unconscious form while she speaks in the comms.

"-Don't let Ghost find about this, for the love of god." She tells the guards at the end, and Wemmbu feels rage coursing his body. 

He lets himself fall, wings opening and landing with the echo of chains hitting the ground. Wemmbu finds himself surprised for a second at the way he'd been silent, even in his fall. The moment doesn't last, and he spreads the wings, uncaring of the way the chains strain them. Flame is completely shielded from the rest of the guards view, as Wemmbu kneels in front of him.

Loppezzz turns to look at him with scared eyes, before calling Lettuce down to the training grounds. Wemmbu moves his wings once more, letting the chains echo through the place. He can hear the murmurs already, people convinced that he's a ghost, but he doesn't care. Raising his head as he snaps the chains once more, demanding Loppezzz to free his wings silently. The woman seems to understand, since she starts undoing the chains slowly. Probably trying to make time for Lettuce to arrive. 

Until then, he checks Flame. The man's lips are blue, fingers frostbitten, and the fire on his curls has turned an ashy black. Had they locked Flame in a freezing room? Were they so stupid to the point where they didn't know that netherborns could not stand freezing temperatures even with warm armor? Had this been something that Lettuce approved or had they gone behind the man's back? Wemmbu presses his hand against the man's cheek, slapping him softly to try and wake him up. 

The skin is cold against his fingers, too cold for a demon of his type.

Lettuce arrives quickly, kneeling in front of Wemmbu with a calm expression. The buzzing of the collar against his throat is the only thing that stops Wemmbu from shouting questions. Instead, he looks at the man silently, waiting for him to confess to his face. 

"This was not in the plans, Ghost I swear." The man starts, voice smooth as he speaks calmly. "The consequences of Law dog's actions sometimes follow it, even while it works for it's second chance. This is not a justification and I will deal with the responsables later. Take Law Dog, the training is over for today."

Wemmbu kneels in front of Flame, maneuvering the man, so he's carrying him in the front of his body. The wings need to be free if he wants to get faster to their base. The blood underneath his skin is boiling, he hates this, he hates the way they refer to Flame as Law Dog. The way both of their names seemed to disappear from everyone's mind. Instead, he focuses on the man limp in his arms. Flame is heavier and taller than Wemmbu, it makes travelling a lot harder —especially with his burnt feet. Wemmbu ignores it, putting the heavy boots on before walking to the door decisively. 

"Ghost, the journey to change, isn't linear. Sometimes the consequences of both of your past actions will haunt you. It is the responsibility of each person to right their wrongs." Lettuce paused for a second, the soldiers around them watching with star struck eyes. Trust Lettuce to make this situation a speech. "For what is worth, the law is truly sorry. Your work is postponed until next monday while things settle."

Wemmbu just nods before rushing out of the door with a conflicted expression. He hates Lettuce, he hates the way he twists everything into their fault, but worst of all he hates the way that Wemmbu almost believes him. The man's words echo his brain, a permanent stain that he can't seem to shake in any way. 

Instead he carries Flame, just as Flame had carried him last time when the electricity of the collar had been way too much for his body to endure it.

"'M up! 'm up" Flame mumbles against his shoulder deliriously, shivering even in the desert heat. The man pokes on of Wemmbu's cheek, as if to prove that he's awake. "'ello, 'm up"

"Yeah bro, I can see that." Wemmbu teases, adjusting the man against his chest. His voice comes out as a whisper, vocal cords forcing against the electricity of the collar. There's relief flooding his system, at least the man is awake now. The man headbuts his shoulder, horns poking at Wemmbu's collarbone. Wemmbu huffs before moving Flame's head slightly, watching exasperatedly as Flame headbuts him again. "C'mon Flaameee, stay still bro, I don't want to die because of your horns."

"Why we whispering?" Flame whispers back deliriously before mumbling nonsense under his breath. Wemmbu just flies a little faster through the sand, wanting to arrive to the base as soon as possible. 

Luckily Flame seems to take the silence as a response, since he goes back to humming under against Wemmbu's shoulder. A soft melody that Wemmbu barely remember hearing the man hum back in the house. 

A soft peace that soothes Wemmbu enough to breathe through the panic. 

"Are we there yet?" Flame asks raising his head to headbutt Wemmbu softly once again. This time Wemmbu lets the man be, if being poked and headbutted is the cost of an awake Flame, he'll bear it just this once.

"No, Flame we aren't there yet." Wemmbu replies with a smile on his face.

He spends two days nursing Flame back into health, running through potions, exhausted and worried. 

By the time the whole ordeal is over, he's exhausted. 

For once that exhaustion is not from training, bleeding and the Law. 

And when a very embarrassed Flame demands him to sleep with a worried frown, Wemmbu can't begin to regret it. 

For once that exhaustion had been his to decide.

Chapter Text

The murmurs start, gossip spreading like wildfire along the server. 

They look at him in fear, some in awe, as if he was just a wandering ghost. 

Wemmbu had heard them, the mumbles that speculated that he was dead and Lettuce had managed to connect his ghost to a soldier.

How could he not notice? The burning eyes that follow every single one of his steps, blurry pictures that players take of both of them, as if to prove they exist. Wemmbu almost prefers the training facility, it felt safer than being outside like this. Flame hums distantly from next to him while they follow Loppezzz in the direction of their first redemption mission. Both of them are tense, well, Flame is a little more for some reason. Wemmbu fidgets with the collar around his neck, pausing when he feels an unfamiliar piece of metal. 

Right, Lettuce had inserted some sort of microphone on his mouth. 

It allowed him to talk with Flame through the man's earpiece, in this ragged whispers that tear his throat. It felt right, yet wrong at the same time. The only good thing that came out of the training facility. Part of him felt happy, as if being able to communicate was a price. Lettuce words still echoed his brain, no matter what he did. Wemmbu forces himself to breathe as his eyes lock into his partner's quivering form, soft burns from the cold still unhealed. The law was in the wrong, they had to be.

Wemmbu is not going to start doubting himself.

"Okay, we are here." Loppezzz huffs with annoyance, turning to look at them. "It's a simple construction mission, so you literally can't mess it up" 

Wemmbu scans the place quickly, looking around the destroyed place. There's ruins of what once was surely a farm, pieces of dirt missing, and a big structure that is almost on shambles. They had come to rebuild a random farm? Wemmbu doesn't recall a fight of theirs in this place. The smell of soot, burnt wood and ash filled his nostrils. Wemmbu turned around, facing Flame. His partner seems on edge, scanning the place with tense shoulders, there's smoke flowing under the man's veil. Flame looks almost sorrowful here, which is surprising honestly. Flame seems to have found something since he adverts his head, still looking nonchalant.

Yeah, he's not fooling Wemmbu with that facade. 

Maybe it's the way they had spend a whole month with only themselves as company, but Flame feels like an open book to him. 

Wemmbu raises his head, trying to see whatever made Flame so upset.

The answer comes in the form of a short brunette with yellow clothes and a sun hat. 

This was Lomedy's farm. 

Flame turns the other way, grabbing a shulker before dragging Wemmbu the opposite direction. The man does not try to approach Lomedy, instead blending with the rest of recruits while Lomedy talks to Loppezzz. Okay, it was weird. Did they have a falling out? Lomedy was Flame's friend as far as he knows, it made no sense. Flame didn't relax at all, focusing on reading the patrol orders and the materials with a distant expression. 

"Jeez, someone's cranky" Wemmbu's voice comes out as an ugly rasp, barely audible. For a moment, Wemmbu wonders if Flame can even hear him. The man gives him a hum in response, not even turning to look at him.

Yeah, something is not right at all. Had Flame been swapped by an alien? There's no way bro decided to ignore Wemmbu out of the blue, after all, he hadn't done a single thing. 

"Flame?" Wemmbu asks again, reaching into the shulker and grabbing a random stack of wood. This time he gets no response, the man just tenses for a while before continuing to build. 

Okay, now he's getting really freaked out. Wemmbu could deal with an angry Flame, a nervous one or even a sad one... but a silent Flame? The Flame that was basically Law Dog? How did he even begin to unpack the fact that the man in front of him is acting like a robot! So, Wemmbu stays silent. Handing the blocks to Flame while the rest of trainees stared at them and gossiped around. How did this place even get so trashed in the first place? Flame hadn't mention a single thing about Lomedy in a while. 

Was it the Law? Too many questions and too little answers. 

Wemmbu hauls his body to the exposed ceiling, owl wings silent against the wind, as he scans the place. Flame continues constructing without twitching, almost as if he hadn't noticed Wemmbu's absence. Flame had to have noticed, right? Yeah, Wemmbu is real and Flame knew that from day one. Wemmbu is alive, then why does everyone act like he's dead? Was it better like that? Wemmbu had faked his death once, maybe he was better like that, maybe he was better as a ghost.

He is just being pessimistic and dramatic. Was he really that used to the attention that Flame ignoring him made him spiral? Puh-pathetic

Yeah, no, lock in Wemmbu. Stop being such a mess about this. 

Instead of that, he focuses on searching for information. Building does get boring after a while, and if he can catch some gossip... (preferably not about them, thank you very much)

So, he walks in the ceiling rafters once again. Uncaring at the way his steps wobble from the destroyed planks and the occasional parkour he has to do. 

"-no need for all of this. Dude, can't you just leave?" Lomedy voice came out strained, tired, as he talked with Loppezzz. 

Huh, so Lomedy isn't happy with the Law being here at all. If the man hadn't ask for help in the reparations of the farm then why were they here? Wemmbu watched at the clearly frustrated man with slight sympathy, mood, dealing with the Law sucked. 

"Lettuce order us to help you with the reparations since well, you got caught in the crossfire." Loppezzz said dragging a hand through her hair before sighing. "Just let us do the job and we'll leave you alone"

Yeah, Wemmbu was not getting any more information out of this conversation. 

A slight huff leaves his lips, as he starts to fix the ceiling with the blocks that he took. The blueprints are scattered just below him, making his job easier but not less tedious. I mean really? You have the strongest players of the server and decide to send them to rebuild stuff. Just make it make sense! 

It's a boring, monotonous task. 

Part of him wonders if Parrot has managed to do something, or if the man simply hadn't care at all. Last time they had talked, it had been under less than ideal circumstances. Maybe Parrot had just gave up, had accepted that Lettuce had crowned himself king and gotten his hands on the two most powerful people on the server. His eyes flicker to Flame's robotic movements, the way they just dunk water on him for each mistake and wonders... Are they even people anymore? 

The question felt heavy against his heart as he placed the blocks, somehow silent. Wemmbu no longer left any traces of his existence, sure, he could cause chaos. it had been fun messing around with the players, yet that only seemed to reinforce the view they had of him. If things went missing or dropped to the floor, he was a poltergeist or a vengeful one. If he was too silent, he was a spirit. No matter what he did, how he acted, that's just what he is now. Wemmbu has heard so many times the same question among the people of the server, questions of a ghost who haunts the soldier of the redemption program. 

Flame was the dog, the tool and Wemmbu was his leash.  

The thought left a sour taste on his mouth as he let a plank fall to the floor. The sound echoed through the whole space, daring them to prove Wemmbu wrong, instead he watches as people murmur among themselves. One particular trainee shouts "Law Dog, calm the ghost down, it's ruining our work"

Wemmbu just watches the way Flame raises his head at him, as if the man was snapped out of a trance before throwing a block to the person's feet. "I'm sure you are just waiting for an excuse to laze around, pathetic, cmon get to work"

Flame's voice is icy, yet Wemmbu can't even focus on it. He can only think of the fear in their faces, of the way they had recurred to Flame to calm him down — they hadn't thought of talking to him at all, instead they had recurred to the supposed link. 

Just like most people did to ghost, actual ghosts.

For a second, he puts his hand on his heart and swears it's not beating. He tears part of his skin apart, just a tiny cut, letting the blood splatter to the floor as some sort of proof. I'm alive, he wants to shout, I'm alive and breathing and... real.

They only stare at the drops in horror, murmuring about a horror movie with a similar ghost, an illusion. Part of him wants to laugh hysterically, it doesn't matter if he can still breathe, he's dead! dead for every single person in this place. No amount of blood, tears or sweat is going to change that. 

The realization snaps like a part of a puzzle, leaving him numb. There's no tears, no sadness, not even anger. There's nothing, he feels nothing and he wonders if he'll survive living in this place. 

"Wemmbu come down bro" Flame soft voice comes as a whisper through the headphone on his ear. "They are stupid chungies, don't listen to them"

The man is looking directly at him, ignoring the way Lomedy is right there. Flame's eyes travel his folded wings, and he sees Wemmbu. He sees him not as a ghost, but as a living breathing player. Flame's shoulders are tense, smoke flowing out of his nose, the man is mad at the others. Wemmbu doesn't know if it's the tenderness on his gaze or the fact that he's the only one looking at him — that makes him want to burst out in tears. He's going to drop next to Flame, yet the stares, the multitude makes him uncomfortable. 

He feels frozen in front of them, dead.

"You people sure love lazing around. I'll make sure to write that down in my report to Loppezzz" Flame says dispersing the multitude around him, dreads lighting up in fire, as they scramble around the place. Somehow, the man had understood him. 

Wemmbu sees the exact moment recognition enters Lomedy's brain, in the way the farmer is scanning the place wideyed. The man seems suddenly angry, approaching Flame from the entry with furic steps. The motion is enough motivation to send him to the floor as quickly as possible, landing right next to Flame. Carefully, he points to Flame's back with a soft grumble — trying to warn him. Loppezzz is close behind, her hand in a red button that Wemmbu barely recognizes. There's a hint of worry behind her eyes, as she watches Wemmbu. It's probably his imagination.

What he does know is that the button is some sort of trigger, since immediately Flame freezes and turns to look at Lomedy nervously.

"The control of the collar" Flame whispers, the same robotic movements from before settling over his body like a practiced facade.

Instead of Lomedy being angry at the Law or concerned, the man marches right into Flame's face.

"You have a lot of nerve, Flame! I thought I told you to stay away!" Lomedy shouts, a hint of sadness on his face as he berates, almost like he was tired.  

"I'm afraid you are confusing me for someone else" Flame says monotonically, hands trembling behind his back as he eyes the control with intensity. 

Now Wemmbu understands what it is. It's a threat, Flame had broken character just this moment. It's a reminder that they are supposed to be Law dog and it's ghost, nothing else. 

"Like hell I am! Bro, haven't you done enough?" Lomedy replies once again, his voice breaks just a little at the end. 

"I'm not Flame. I'm Law Dog, main soldier of the Law redemption program." Flame repeats once more, and oh he's starting to hate that greeting. The man sounds so robotically, in fact, Wemmbu had heard rumors about Flame being part robot because of it. 

"Oh great! You are allied with the Law now. What did it take for you to stop fighting meaninglessly?" Lomedy is clearly distressed. It doesn't matter, the man is pissing Wemmbu off. What did he know anyway? Last Wemmbu checked Lomedy was alive because of Flame. "The destruction of my farm? Almost getting me killed?" 

"You are confusing me for someone else. I'm Law Dog." Lomedy opens his eyes in slight alarm at the repeated frase, a weird concerned expression appearing under all of the anger.

"Is that all you are going to say?" Lomedy snaps once more, a strange kind of nervousness appearing in his face.

"I'm Law Dog. I apologize for upsetting you." Flame echoes before bowing in front of Loppezzz calmly, causing Wemmbu to repeat the motion. Maybe that's one of the more humilliating aspects of having field work, the fact that they have to grovel for permission to leave the place. "It appears as if our presence is unwanted here. Requesting permission to switch to patrol on capital city?"

"Uh, granted Law Dog." Loppezzz looking a bit perturbed at the synchronized way both of them moved. Wemmbu wanted to laugh at her, what did she expect? They had wanted tools instead of humans, this is the result of their training. 

Both of them started walking out the door side by side after that. Wemmbu felt numb, numb and hopeless at the whole affair.

"Wait, Flame!" Lomedy said once more from inside, yet Flame didn't even turn to look at him. Wemmbu watched softly at the now fearful grimace on Lomedy's face, at the way he watched Loppezzz with slight suspicion and disgust on his eyes. 

Wemmbu wishes he could said he felt something instead of the rotting numbness that spread through his chest like an infection. He didn't. 

The walk is silent — a silence Wemmbu has gotten used to, the one where both of them were too drained to talk. 

There's some sort of grey hue in the day, almost matching both of their moods. One of Wemmbu's hands raises to his neck, searching for a pulse without even realizing it. It's weird to explain, the way he doesn't feel real. Wemmbu can feel the way his lungs fill with stale air, blood flowing, the heat of magic that is somehow his. By all means he should feel alive, then why? why does he feel almost dead? His hands shake slightly, before jolting in surprise. 

There's a slight warmer magic, settling under his skin, mixing beyond the soulbond like a small crack. It's Flame's magic, very little quantities of Flame's soul magic seeping through his veins. 

Wemmbu had never heard of something like this happening before. 

Maybe that should scare him. 

Instead, he does something a bit stupid and let's his own magic seep through the crack too. It's comforting, the only proof he has that he exists to Flame.

Part of Wemmbu wishes to be back in the end, to run away with Flame and hide from whatever this shitshow of a server is going to throw at both of them for some reason. He wants Minute and Eggchan to read to him in the library. The memories that are almost tainted by the grey numbness. They seem so far away even if it's only been a month, part of him can barely remember the last time he had been free. 

When they arrive back at home, tired, prepared to pass the fuck down into a mess of blankets in the living room. 

There's a chest on the front of their house without a single sign on it. After a lot of debating, Wemmbu decides to open it carefully. Worst case scenario, it's a trap and both of them either die or get in trouble. He doesn't really know what to expect from a random chest, maybe a threat. 

Only a small book resides on it with post-its and marks all around the pages. 

'An advanced guide to enchanting and modificating accessories and how to remove them'

A singular colorful feather falls from the book, a little note attached to it. 

'Don't die please, thank you.' 

Looks like Parrot hadn't forgotten after all. 

At last, a single feeling tears through the numbness, a small sliver of hope. 

He exists to someone else than Flame, someone else had remembered him, and Wemmbu can't help the tear that rolls down his cheeks as he enters with the book on his hands.

Chapter Text

When had hope become scarier than pain?

That was something he had no answer to. 

It's been three days of that book arriving to the base, and Wemmbu had yet to tell Flame about it. It was not that he didn't trust his partner, no, that would be valid. The real reason was way more stupid. Wemmbu just wanted to keep the only proof that he existed beyond Flame's eyes to himself for a little longer. It was childish and pathetic, the way he clinged to Parrot's actions. Sometimes, he felt his eyes wander around the place. Sometimes staying in the Law seemed safer than existing outside. 

It was stupid. Wemmbu had suffered of betrayal, felt the skulk dig into his open wounds, dealt with the constant adrenaline running through his veins and multiple people hunting him just for breathing. Yet the moment a flash of possible freedom, it was suddenly too much to deal with. 

What was Wemmbu outside of the ghost persona? 

It was molded into his skin, the endless repetitions, the way his only assignment was to wander around like a ghost haunting the Law. Wemmbu had started to get used to it, to being the invisible leash that Lettuce used to control Flame. In fact, Wemmbu had started to consider it fun in some ways. 

Would Egg be able to recognize him once all of the Law stuff was over? Or would he have changed beyond recognition? 

A soft hum escaped his lips, was getting used to the Law really that bad? It's not like they did anything really bad to him. Wemmbu had killed lots of people and destroyed families. Getting to work for the Law and Lettuce is not really that bad on hindsight is it? A soft beep sounded from the collar around his neck, a quick reminder to get his emotions under control before it activated.

Yeah, being a ghost was not terrible.

Wemmbu could change the items on the chests without anyone noticing, appear behind trainees to give them a huge scare or even connecting some of the speakers of the Law into his microphone to hum creepy songs. Lettuce was really not the best when it came to communication devices really. The man had yet to notice that Wemmbu was terrorizing the training headquarters.

or maybe Loppezzz hadn't told the lider about it, since she had definitely noticed.

The sound of a very manly scream jolts him out of his thoughts, making him grab at the nearest block from his usual spot at the ceiling rafters. 

What the fuck?

His eyes search the resource of the noise, only to find a terrified recruit whining to Flame about something. His partner is trying so hard to be nonchalant, but Wemmbu knows him. He sees the way Flame's shoulders rise with poor contained laughter and his head flicker upwards to search for him. 

"The Ghost- and- All of the steak was swapped with rotten meat, and and-" The trainee stutters out, hands flailing around wildly. C'mon, that prank isn't worth all of this fuss now. 

Wemmbu throws himself backwards, dangling in a way only his torso was visible from behind Flame. The recruit went white, and for a moment he wondered if the guard was going to faint. 

"Is that it?" Flame said from under the helmet, his stern voice making the soldier flee without another word. Man, rough first day for that man.

Huh, he'll have to get used to the chaos soon enough.

"Bro- you are going to get us in trouble" Flame said trying to contain his laughter. Wemmbu watched in the direction where Loppezzz was grumbling under her breath, talking with the soldiers almost tiredly. 

"Welp, Lettuce told me to be a ghost, and I'm pretty sure this-" Wemmbu pauses, signaling to the whole place with a pleased smile on his face. "counts as stereotypical ghost behavior."

"Bruh, what? you auctioning for horror movies?" Flame teases amused under his breath, after all the microphone was connected so even the tiniest whisper could be heard to Wemmbu's ears. How Flame didn't cringe at the gurgles and raw whispers that escaped Wemmbu bloody throat was a secret. 

"Hmm...sure, then the Law is the shitty police that does nothing." Wemmbu replies through his messed vocal cords, the words really sound like a ghost's whisper. "This horror movie needs one."

"It'd be a pretty shitty movie then" Flame hums under his breath before signaling to the ground. It around the time they usually clock out, and Wemmbu can hear the unspoken question. Flame is waiting for Wemmbu to get down the ceiling to go home, out of the chaos of the law. 

"Hey, race to the house?" Wemmbu pulls himself up, already running to the nearest window in the ceiling. 

"Broo, you asking with yo' body halfway out the window?" Flame says while he clocks both of them out of the system. Normally, employees had to clock in and out themselves but since Wemmbu has no identity, he needs Flame to clock out before leaving. 

It sucks, really.

"Shush, finish. paperwork before the fun police starts lecturing you" Wemmbu sing-songs, his voice cracks at the end, but Flame says nothing about it. Really, Wemmbu's right and he doesn't want to piss of Loppezzz more than she already is...

It would be funny.

Yeah, annoying Loppezzz was extremely fun when she didn't have the authority to make you sit through three more hours of paperwork. 

"Bro, there's this thing called patience." Flame says while rifling through chests even though he doesn't need to do that. The man just had to sign the forms and rush out of the building, but noo... he decided to check everything before leaving. Knowing Flame he was just doing this to drive Wemmbu crazy. It was petty. Also, who is Flame to lecture him? The man had tried to fight him in the middle of an ambush just because he wanted a rematch. Wemmbu couldn't help the small smile on his lips at the memory. 

Watching Flame run from the Law and stopping every now and then to try fighting him was funny. 

"I know you aint talking. Flameee" Wemmbu rasps, crossing his arms while he waited by the open window. "Flaaaame." 

"Shudup bro" Flame says rushing through the process, still Wemmbu could basically hear the smile on the other man's face. He couldn't understand how anyone could find Flame threatening when he was so easy to annoy. 

Wemmbu just stays by the window watching until Flame is allowed to leave. 

A faint beep sounds from then collar wrapped around his throat, it was getting deactivated from the day. The constant shocks to his throat felt normal now, barely an annoyance. It was the deactivation process what still bothered him. Ugh that was worse that the actual electricity and weakness that was injected into his vocal cords. Wemmbu takes an empty bucket out of him inventory, kneeling in front of it with dread. Feeling the shocks decrease by the second.

This sucks.

"Yo, you good bro?" Flame voice interrupts through the fog of nausea on his brain. 

"Peachy." Wemmbu responds with what ends more like a gurgle, as whatever potion starts to dilute into his body. The effects pass after a couple of seconds, a metallic flavour covering his mouth, Wemmbu wipes his lips with the back of his palm, uncaring of the blood that stains the fabric.

Huh, he hadn't thrown up like the last three times. Yay, small victories he supposes.

What... the fuck was that? Had he just celebrated the fact that he didn't throw up or collapse?

Uh weird- That's a weird ass thing to celebrate about. Forget it, this whole chain of thoughts is weird.

Anyway, once he's sure he's not going to pummel to the ground, he stands up by the window once more. Scanning the place to look for Flame, only to find the man sitting with the legs crossed, right below him, humming softly. Wemmbu smiles softly before clicking his boot against the window, somehow he knows that Flame would hear him. It's not like Wemmbu could speak, his throat feels like sandpaper and there's still blood in his tongue. This was his only option, besides taking off one of his boots and smacking the other man in the head obviously. 

"You done dying?" Flame asks lightly, rising to his feet and running to the door. The man doesn't wait for a question, only trying to race out of the building to get an advantage. Hah, and he calls Wemmbu a cheater? 

The sensation of gliding through the desert should be uncomfortable, but with the time Wemmbu has gotten used to it: to the sand clinging through his feathers, the hot breeze hitting his face and the bright sun against his eyes. The burst of adrenaline that for once didn't come from a fight or fear, instead it came from trying to beat Flame at something. It was an echo of what remained of their rivalry, the endless chasing and trying to one up each other just for fun. 

Wemmbu could hear Flame shouting curses, laughing and claiming that Wemmbu was cheating in the game. 

The race to the base seems shorter that it is, as both of them alternate between pearling away and running. The path to their house is worn with a small purple flag tied around one of the poles, one that Flame had complained before relenting. 

Wemmbu takes a raspy breath, trying to stop the coughs that are building on his throat. Damn flying so much didn't help with the sore throat, if anything it made it worse. Wemmbu raises a hand to the collar around his neck, wiping the sweat around his brow. His eyes focus on Flame, who is just as out of breath as he is. The man is looking at him almost concerned while he opens the door to the base. Why do they do this to themselves? he complains internally, every breath feels like a chore.

Ugh, he feels gross now, he needs to take a bath. 

"You- you sound like a rusty motor." Flame mumbles between gulps of air. One would think that after weeks of chasing and racing each others, it would get easier. Wemmbu opens his mouth to say anything, before remembering that he literally can't. A whistle comes out of his swollen throat and the motion only serves to make Flame laugh nervously at him. Rude, really, extremely rude. Oh, what could he have done to deserve this type of slander? Also, Flame sounds tired too. Oh, What a hypocrite!

Which is why Wemmbu blows a raspberry at him before running to the shower, knowing full well that Flame is distracted and won't be fast enough to stop him. A faint exhale, almost like silent laughter, falling through his lips at Flame's indignant expression. It takes him a while to get out of the Law uniform, noting any injuries before turning on the shower.

"Oh come on!" Flame whines from outside the bathroom door, likely waiting for a response. He seems to remember not long after that Wemmbu can't talk since he responds with a laugh. "Fine bro! but I get deebs on the morning!" 

Yeah, both of them know there's no way in hell that's happening. 

Wemmbu makes sure to get out of the water and change into new clothes as slow as possible. There's a new warmth around his veins from where Flame's magic keeps leaking into his, it's weird —he's never heard of something like this before.

Eh, it's probably nothing.

Wemmbu swallows the bad feeling once again— he's just paranoid. 

Wemmbu looks into the mirror for the first time since the wedding, he really looks. There's bags under his eyes, his skin is pale by the lack of sun, he looks like a ghost. There's no trace of the tiara that he used to wear, no trace of anything that screamed Wemmbu.

Was he recognizable to anyone? Would Egg and Minute be able to look at him and think 'that's Wemmbu'?

It takes everything he has to turn away from the mirror, and out of the bathroom.

The thought echoes through his mind as he goes to sleep.

That night, he's plaged by another nightmare, one that clings to his skin like a parasite.

He feels the soft rays of the sun land on his skin. 

There is no armor, no collar, no veil, just him standing in the middle of a field of flowers. 

Wemmbu walks endlessly, crushing the flowers under his bleeding feet almost uncaring of the destruction. He remembers watching the sky with nothing but numbness, the feeling of freedom feels hollow in his chest. A suffocating numbness that no matter how he tries to dismiss, always comes back. He's free, yet still somehow dead. He walks in the direction of a forest, the path to something is signaled by a couple of torches. For a moment, he observes the dim glow almost mesmerized. 

Yeah, him, getting hypnotized by normal ass torches. It's a dream, so, not much to expect there.

Wemmbu kneels by the torches, watching dumbly while the trees sway with the wind. For a moment he wishes he could stay rooted, just watching the fire dance. Instead he walks. Oh and it takes him way too much willpower to force himself to continue walking down the path. 

The more he walks, the harder it becomes to resist whatever effect the torches have on his mind. 

He walks until the path turns from gravel to roses. The blood soaks through the petals of the roses, each step leaving them frail and withering.

At the end of the path, there's someone

Egg standing in the middle of the flowers, the wings relaxed, as the seraphim stares ahead with a calm smile. His hair is the same mess as always, the same silly tune in his lips. And Wemmbu would run to the man's arms, eyes wet with tears. Only to pass through the seraphim. 

He would beg.

He would cry and scream, while Egg sat calmly on the grass. Unable to hear him. 

Wemmbu wakes up, half convinced that he's not real. There's a feeling that clings to him, no matter how much he tries to calm himself. The numbness extends through his whole body, as he remembers every single instance where he's terrorized others. Why was everyone so convinced that he was dead? 

The dread of not being visible, of not being real, of not existing comes out tenfold. 

Okay, he just needs some fresh air.

Wemmbu trips over his feet, trying to get out of the room, trying to scrub the numbness and the fear and the looks everyone had told him. Oh, he knows his not being rational right now. He just needs to an out, out of his skin that feels invisible, out of whatever this suffocating panic is. Just, how pathetic is he? Obviously he exists, he's being dramatic and irrational about this. There's no need to be so afraid, why is he so afraid?

He stumbles outside the door barefoot, his steps are silent, his breathing too.

There's not a single part of him that makes any noise. Even the whispers and the rasps of his voice are silent.

He doesn't stop running, until he sees Flame. Who for some reason is training with fragger at this ungodly hour. Of course, yeah, of course Flame would train in the night. 

The man whips around, looking straight at him with tear tracks flowing down his face. Is this why Flame is always so tired in the mornings? 

Flame doesn't talk. 

Wemmbu does, kinda, some sort of panicked word vomit about him not being real that makes Flame frown. Really, it's embarrassing the way he can barely recall what he told Flame during the rambles. The man just listens silently, yet he doesn't talk.

Instead Flame tosses a sword at him, waiting for him to pick it up. The cold wind hits his skin as they spar, all of their emotions bleeding out of their bodies with a sort of ruthlessness he remembers from their early rivalry. Wemmbu swings the sword a bit clumsily, after all, he's not the best at this kind of combat. Fragger sparks with the energy that's flowing out of Flame's rage. Their magic mixes in some sort of rehearsed dance, in a way that makes him feel rejuvenated. You couldn't fight something that didn't exist, and that made him breath a little better.

Wemmbu hadn't even noticed how carried away both of them had gotten, until he swipes his sword in an erratic movement. It catches on Flame's blindfold, tearing the fabric in half. Wemmbu watches almost petrified, waiting for Flame to be angry at him. The man looked confused, one of his eyes is red while the other gold, before realization sets in. 

Instead of anger, Flame laughs, this hysteric hoarse laugh mixed with tears while Wemmbu apologizes. 

"it's fine, uhhh, now I need another one for tomorrow tho." Flame says lightly, offering a hand to pull Wemmbu from the floor. The fabric is still in Wemmbu's hands, torn and black. For the first time, he can see Flame's expression.

The man is surprisingly sincere. 

"I'll fix it." Wemmbu says hoarsely, walking to the door of the house feeling lighter. 

Both of them walk to the house in silence.

Wemmbu sits down to sew, and finds himself surprised at the bright purple thread that Flame gives him. No matter what he does, the stitching will stand out in the middle of the black fabric. Yet, for some reason Flame insists that, that's the only color of thread he has. And, honestly? Wemmbu is too tired to fight about something as stupid as thread. 

He stitches at the middle, leaving a clean line of stitches and with a petty smile he chooses to do one more thing. 

His hands embroider a small purple crown, just below the cheek. As a fuck you for that time, Flame refused to let him make a room in his base.

Flame complains about it until the morning, but still uses the blindfold. 

And when the new trainees ask the man about it, he smiles knowingly and says with security "Guess, my partner was bored"

Subconsciously, everytime he feels like a ghost and an echo of his past self, Wemmbu would catch himself looking at the blindfold. 

He doesn't know, why that comforts him so much.

Maybe it's another reminder that he's alive.

Chapter Text

The elections had been a fraud since the beginning. 

That fact hadn't stopped Parrot from at least trying to win against Lettuce. 

In truth? He had been damned the second Lettuce announced the redemption program, one that was supposed to take two of the Law prisoners and give them the opportunity to be better. The man didn't announce directly who the prisoners were, and a lot of people were skeptical at first. Parrot had intended to use that skepticism to dissuade the others from voting for Lettuce. It had worked, and for the first time since this election started, Parrot felt hope. Then Lettuce, the man was running to be a dictator, had added a condition.

The criminals had six months to redeem themselves.

if they failed to do so, they would be executed for their crimes.  

That had sealed the elections. 

Parrot had tried every argument, he'd spent hours reading until Theo dragged him to bed, and hell he even prayed for Wemmbu and the other prisiones to get the fuck out of prison!

After all, without prisoners, there was no program.  

No one had escaped by the time the elections were over, and Lettuce had been crowned king. 

There had been no patterns, no course of action, no alternative where Parrot could have won. Parrot had found no logical reasoning, he'd asked Theo and there was no way to fight against it either. It was frustrating, the lack of clues, the way both of them remained stuck and hopeless. 

Up until that book appeared.

Wemmbu had spent the whole ceremony quiet in that white wedding dress, hiding behind the groom. A shy almost meek demeanor that was so glaringly out of place from the usual chaotic confident demon. Oh and don't get him started on that collar, the literal dog collar tied against the man's throat.

That kind of inhumane behaviour was sickening. 

Killing one thousand players was wrong, but stripping someone of their own existence and trying to use them as a tool was worse. 

Someone had asked for help with that book, it was obvious.

The information directly on wedding rituals and the guide of demonic customs couldn't be a coincidence. Wemmbu or Flame had known they were on danger, they had somehow swallowed their ego to ask for help. If the situation was dire enough for that to happen, then Parrot had to act fast. 

The problem is how?

How do you fix something that has no patterns, no visible cracks and no apparent solution? How do you fix something so unreal that it shouldn't be happening?

How do you fix something with all of the odds against you?

There's no clear answer, and maybe that's what sends him here. 

It's been a while since Parrot has found himself so utterly lost with a problem. There's nothing he could do without enough evidence and he has nothing to get that evidence in the first place. This leads him to start gathering even the smallest amounts of it. Parrot finds himself following Wemmbu around, writing down patrol routes, injuries or any incident that he could use to sway the rest of players opinions on the Law. After a week of that, he gets tired of it. 

No matter what he sees there's nothing indignating enough to cause an escandal. 

Lettuce had covered his tracks just enough that it seems normal. 

The man was counting on the lack of empathy people would have for a pair of strong players who killed one thousand people in a fight. If Parrot brought the collar as an argument, the man could easily counter with it being some sort of meaningless security measure to protect the unstable smp. No, Parrot needed something dangerous enough or a failure that could expose the man as a liar.

He's skimming the notes around his potion store for what feels like the fifth time. 

Theo is next to him, watching everything with this confused expression. Fighting the Law is a big no, trying to free Flame and Wemmbu without knowing what the collar did was also a no. It was dangerous, especially if what the book said about the soulbond ceremony was true. Parrot did not need this situation to become a magical crisis on top of everything.

Nono, it was already complicated as it is thank you very much.

"dude, it just doesn't make sense" Parrot mumbles out loud, putting his head on his hands with a conflicted expression. Theo hums from where he's trying to read one of Parrot's rough sketch of a timeline of events. 

"Bro, how did they even get Flame to agree?" Theo says a bit nervous, sliding the timeline in front of parrot's face. "I don't think he would have sided with the law."

The question makes him pause, maybe they've been researching about this the wrong way. If Parrot has the full timeline, maybe he could find anything that nules the election. His talons scrape the desk leaving a scratch as he fumbles for the paper with Flame's timeline. He needs to prove fraud or coercion for this to work. His feathers puff up as he starts thinking, making plans of every single person who could have interacted with Flame before the wedding.

Parrot compares it with Wemmbu's timeline. 

He knows how Wemmbu got in that situation, after all Lettuce had made an grand speech about taking the man prisoner. That means that Wemmbu was part of the natural selection of prisoners that were supposed to participate in this program.

That's where the small gap starts since Lettuce was still searching for Flame, it made no sense for the man to be part of the prisoners selection at all. Flame was a fugitive, not a prisoner. That makes the whole program null, it had no political standing.

Now he just needs anyone who could have been in contact with Flame before the wedding and maybe Wemmbu. 

The cold calculation makes him freeze, it feels wrong. Maybe he shouldn't be treating this situation with that much emotional detachment is bad, but he has no other way of treating it. Parrot tried everything else without success, this is his last plan. The last thing he can do, his last idea.

A faint dread climbs up his throat, a fear of being too late. Wemmbu and Flame had always been the opposite of him, strong bloodthirsty where he'd been a silent strategist, yet he knows he can't leave both of them to rot inside of the law because of it. 

"That's your thinking face, c'mon, what's the plan bro?" Theo prods gently, snapping Parrot out of his thoughts. Right, back on track. He takes a while to breath, to hear the soft sound of their breathing and feel the soft sunlight against his skin. His eyes dart around the office, watching the scattered books and papers litter the space before speaking.

His mind is already making a mental list, naming every single person Flame had mentioned back when they worked together. The list starts with a memory back in the nether, when Flame had insisted he had friends. It was the nearest place that could hold information about what happened.

"We are going in a little trip" Parrot says while packing his inventory until it's full. Theo looks at him expectantly. "You know which direction is Lomedy's farm?"

"No idea bro, but we could ask around." Theo smiles, raising a hand to adjust the sunglasses on his face before sliding from his spot in the desk. 

It takes a while for them to get out, and a few wrong turns to get into the farm in question. Theo is bickering next to him, insisting that they should create another flying machine to get around the server since it would be cool. No, Parrot isn't creating another one. That'll take a lot of resources, and time he doesn't have. Instead of telling the other man that, he indulges on the familiar bickering. The easy presence of Theo right next to him keeps him calmer. 

It's just enough to light up the banter; as if this is another of their familiar adventures, instead of the last shot they have at saving two lives. He remembers watching Flame and Wemmbu for the first time after the wedding, seeing the exhausted eyes and chained wings of Wemmbu while Flame stood still right next to him. They looked like their soul was being sucked out of their bodies and thrown into the void without care. Parrot shakes his head, trying to get rid of the mental image. 

Flame and Wemmbu are strong enough to resist, they have to. 

Parrot feels himself speeding up, wings puffing to make him the tinest bit faster. The pace in which he walks makes no change, oh he knows that. Still, it makes him feel a little bit better. Maybe it's knowing that he is trying everything he can to make this process as fast as possible.

Even if it's impossible.

He thinks of how much time he has, less than six months. Parrot needs both of them out, like yesterday. Every second feels like it's slipping out of his closed hands like water, no matter how much he tries.

How do you fix something with all the odds against you?

When time feels like it's racing against you, and every single direction feels like it's reaching a dead end? 

Instead of dwelling on that question, he continues bickering with Theo while they rush through the snow in the direction of Lomedy's farm.

The place looks horrible.

There's huge holes that signal explosions all over the whole place, some plants are charred, everything looks almost completely destroyed safe from the barn where there's different types of chopped wood littering the space. It looks like someone tried to fix the more important structure, as if to preserve the image of a farm. The crops on the other side are completely dying next to some animals, new blocks placed over soot covered  wood. Parrot kneels over one of the pieces of the path, fingers tracing bloody puddles on the floor and small scratches that seemed to be made by a sword. 

"What happened here?" Parrot finds himself asking the more they walked around. Every single spot looks like the aftermath of a fight. 

It doesn't take long for them to find Lomedy, the man is kneeling in front of the dirt, tears rolling silently as he tries to fix the farm. The man keeps looking to the side with this conflicted expression, almost like he's expecting someone to be helping him. The man seems miserable, dirt staining his face, while he hums one of the tunes Parrot had heard Flame mumble before. The whole scene makes him feel rather awkward and he turns his head to signal at Theo to come here. Yeah, Parrot is not very good at feelings.

Theo frowns before stepping next to the farmer with a sad expression, watching at the seeds on the man's hands, and kneeling next to him silently. Parrot watches for a second before he decides to join, because really, he'd never interacted with Lomedy at all. Flame very rarely spoke of his friends, always looking paranoid, always on edge. His eyes track to the gentle way the farmer move, the way he stiffens up yet doesn't confront them and wonders. It was odd, it was odd that such a violent soldier decided to spent his days helping a farmer.

They spend in silence. Parrot's brain already jumping into every single conclusion he could, mapping his surrounding, analyzing everything.

"What happened here?" He wonders once more, flinching when he realized he had said that outloud. Theo looks disapproving from the other side of Lomedy, lowering his sunglasses with sass. Okay! It was meant to be an internal thought, not external! Asshole. "Sorry, if that's uh-"

Lomedy pauses his movements for a moment, almost as if he's registering the question. It makes Parrot nervous, while he prepares for anger or more tears. Instead Lomedy lets out a small chuckle, before his eyes turn sad once more. Ow okay, the man in front of him looks like a kicked puppy. Now Parrot feels bad for talking.

"I- Flame-" The farmer's voice wavers uncertainly, a flicker of anger and grief mixing into a bag that Parrot doesn't know how to help with. "I got in a fight with Flame, a really bad one"

Okay, there's more to this story, because Flame can be everything but disloyal? Yeah, there's no fight that could have caused this level of destruction. Parrot watches as the man composes himself enough to continue, shaky hands as regret seems to pour out of his body in waves. The farmer takes a deep breath, planting the seeds and grabbing the watering can next to him. 

"The Law was after him, I was so tired of Flame fighting so much. I wanted peace." Lomedy says almost angry, fists shaking as he moves to grab bone meal from his inventory. "I just wanted peace. Flame tried to fight all of them but- they destroyed everything"

The tears started once again. Lomedy's eyes flickered to the patched barn, almost as if he was remembering something before averting his eyes. The man looked conflicted in that moment, torn between anger, grief and regret. The heavy atmosphere only kept reminding, everything told him that time was ticking. That he was late, way too late once and maybe he would be again. 

"A guard grabbed me from the hair, and held his sword to my throat." Lomedy touched his neck, a faint mark on his throat. Parrot swallowed at that, because Lomedy had been an innocent farmer on all of this. "They told Flame that either he came with them or I died as a criminal."

The man seemed to pause for a second. 

"I told him he was a lost cause, and when he came back I snapped at him" Lomedy sobs, he looks regretful, underneath all that anger. "I was just so scared of what he coming back might mean. I didn't want any more fights!"

"Take a deep breath, alright Lomedy" Theo says a bit awkward, wings extended to help hold the farmer upright. 

"And now, I'm crying into a bunch of strangers and-" Lomedy takes a deep breath, letting his tears fall into the ground while he shook.

Parrot just looks at Theo, who seems conflicted. They had came here to get answers, and they got one. They got answers in the form of someone who managed to lose both everything and almost everyone in the span of a couple of days. It should be enough but Parrot isn't strong enough to barge into the Law demanding answers, no, he needed powerful people. His eyes scanned Lomedy's silent tears, the frown on the man's face. The farmer had done nothing, he had just been friends with Flame. And while Flame is a rather intense person, Parrot can't think of it as an offense.

"Did you see him?" Lomedy says, anger taking over his tone. "He looked so dead, he kept referring to him as a thing"

"I did" Parrot finds himself replying, not quite knowing how to deal with this conversation. "We are trying to save them, Flame and his partner."

"You, you are?" Lomedy looks surprised, eyes opening wide. The expression seems to drop after a while, turning into a determined glare. Lomedy looks around the destroyed farm, to the dead animals and plants.

"Yeah bro, I'm trying." Parrot says looking at Lomedy with slight suspicion. 

"I'm going" Lomedy stands up while he says it, and Parrot realizes he can't stop Lomedy for joining them. That was not a question, it was an statement. His eyes lock on the stubborn frown on Lomedy's face, the icy determination and he realizes. 

He realizes how a farmer and a soldier could be friends.

Theo tries talking Lomedy down of the decision, but the man is already stuffing a shulker with clothes and meds. 

Parrot will need a very strong team to contest this. He has the evidence, now he needs player powerful enough to stop Lettuce from killing him. 

How do you fix something with all of the odds against you?

You don't, you search a crack and start chipping at it until it breaks, even if that takes forever.

Chapter Text

Wemmbu had shown Flame the book finally.

They had made a brave effort trying to read it together. The pages were loaded with different redstone equations and enchantments that left both of them with a headache. The sleep deprivation was not helping, in fact, it had them both acting like college students on finals week. A huff left his lips, as Wemmbu started stacking different notes together. The base was a disaster, scattered papers and pens that littered every living space. Their routine consisted of working, sparring and studying until they dropped. 

Parrot, how did he forget that neither Wemmbu nor Flame knew about this stuff?

Is this supposed to help them or make them lose their minds? It was up for debate at this point.

A soft snore snaps him out of his thoughts, next to him lays a sleeping Flame. Wemmbu huffs in amusement, watching as the man blows soot over his notes. Man, Flame's going to be so pissed about it in the morning. Wemmbu grabs one of the pens, just to doodle a bit on his partner's face. 

Satisfied with his work, he sets his pen down, letting the man sleep. After all, Flame couldn't nap on the job like Wemmbu could. He makes sure the blanket is wrapped around the man before continuing. He just didn't want to deal with Flame getting sick, that would be a problem.

Wemmbu continues with this torture called trying to figure out redstone. 

He gets why Parrot gave them this book, it's could be useful for getting the collar off his neck, but neither of them have the minimum idea on how the collar looks from inside. It's not like the outside reveals much of anything, just a small light and a smooth plastic around it.

It looks like a standard shock collar used to train dogs.

Before they had gotten married (ew, that felt weird to think about it) Flame had trying removing it the normal way. 

They had been desperate, and Flame used to train dogs so it was worth a shot.

The man was unsure since he didn't use that method.

It had gone poorly, and both of them agreed to never try to remove the thing no matter what.  A shudder climbs through his spine at the memory, as he tries to focus on anything else. The pages of the book are dusty under his fingers, while he breathes and continues reading.

Wemmbu wonders what happened to that dog.

The one that slept on Flame's base, the one that followed the man around, the one that Flame loved.

He hopes he ran away, instead of the obvious alternative.

With a huff, he continues with his notes. It's useless to think about it. 

Wemmbu swears he just blinks, and next thing he knows there's Flame shaking him awake with an exhausted grumble. The rays of the sun peek from the blinds, not helping at all the headache that he has. Wemmbu pries his eyes open slowly with a groan, feeling like death itself. He stretches his sore wings, knocking one of the books on the table and watching it fall to the floor. Flame is looking at him a bit unamused, face slightly red from where he had scrubbed it.

Wemmbu shakes his head, turning to look at the clock on the wall.

The number almost makes him jump in alarm.

Judging by the clock, he should have woken up an hour ago. 

"Shit- bro, Flameee, I'm so late" Wemmbu whines, standing up quickly from the chair where he had been sleeping. A really bad idea, that sends him stumbling into the chests while he searches for his clothes. He swears he can hear Flame snickering from the kitchen table.  

"Really?" Flame says from outside the door watching him run into the bathroom with an amused smile. Sure, sure, play dumb asshole! The thought comes out more fond that angry surprisingly. He doesn't really pay any mind to it. Wemmbu turns to the shower, surprised to find his towels and products already there. He huffs grateful for it, not really questioning where they came from while he goes on with his routine as fast as possible.

It takes him embarrassingly long to braid his hair into something that is hidden by the veil, and he hurries through the door.

"Brooo, hurry up" Flame huffs amused, watching at the mess in the house. The man slips him a wrapped sandwich, before kneeling to grab a shulker from the door. "Just so you don't starve to death."

"Awww, going soft on me Flameee?" Wemmbu teases, eyes sparkling under the veil. Taking a look at his feathered wings, Wemmbu sighs. Right, changing them... to what? It takes him a few switches before he settles into a pair of dragonfly wings. Hopefully today's work wasn't heavy enough to damage them.

"Bro, in your dreams bro" Flame says jogging out of the house, waiting for Wemmbu to catch up with a grin. He huffs, eating the sandwich in two bites before running out to the house. Flame makes a face at him. "You have no manners bro."

"You are the one talking, Mr. strongest." Wemmbu teases between bites, making sure to chew obnoxiously loud to bother his partner. 

"Brooo" Flame complained, sighing while he finished adjusting the helmet on his head. Wemmbu smiled, before lowering the veil and continuing down the path. His mood disappearing slightly, as the erratic beeping of the collar begins.

He takes a deep breath, preparing himself for the collar activation.

The process wasn't even painful, just a bit uncomfortable now.

Flame's brow furrows, a hint of what might be guilt on his face before he adjusts the blindfold over his eyes. Wemmbu barely pays attention, too focused on the strange sensations of the shocks. There's not enough to really harm him, but combined with the weakness potion. Well, it keeps him silent. Wemmbu raises a napkin to his face, already dreading the next part. Just as he expected, his jaw opens instinctually, a faint gurgle coming out of his mouth, saliva pouring from his lips. The numbing sensation does nothing but intensify the wet feeling around his mouth. Ugh disgusting, Wemmbu thinks while massaging his jaw until it closes.

It's just until it gets used once more, after an hour or two, then he can go back to whispering.

"Earth to Wemmbu" Flame huffs, walking in his direction.

The man takes his hand without a second thought, used already to the routine of keeping Wemmbu upright enough to walk until the first shocks fade. 

A part of Wemmbu hates how horribly used both of them had gotten to things like this. 

It's natural, the way Flame seems to hear him even if it should be impossible, or the way Wemmbu just knows when the man is injured. It's like both of their existence was hardwired into each other's brains. A small pressure began rising to his throat. It was unsettling, the way Flame was his only way of communicating. They basically depended on each other to exist. In the Law's eyes, they were a single person. Wemmbu needed Flame to communicate but did Flame even need Wemmbu? The question makes him feel worse as he tries to stop his hands from shaking.

He knew they had committed countless crimes, but was this really the punishment they deserved? 

Wemmbu didn't know, and maybe that was the worst part. How could he condemn or approve of something that he wasn't sure of? Did they really need rescuing at this point? Maybe Lettuce was in the right, after all, this wasn't as bad as it could have been right?

Wemmbu breathes in, feeling the way Flame's magic seeped into his veins mixing with his own. 

Lock in Wemmbu, stop being so pathetic about this.

Oh he wishes the journey to the Law headquarters was longer, instead they parade through the whole place. There's people staring at them, rumors flying around the place faster than fire. It didn't make any better the fact that Lettuce refused to let them use elytras or anything to teleport there. No, they had to walk through the whole path. Wemmbu huffed as he felt a hand near his wings, fluttering them in a small warning. The people didn't care about them. They knew Lettuce had prohibited them from hurting any civilian, no matter if it was self defense or an accident. 

The man didn't care, and most law men didn't either.

They just knew that for once Wemmbu and Flame were the ones defenseless.

And they just seemed to enjoy reminding them of it, every single day they walked down this path.

There was a sharp tug on his left wing. Wemmbu had to stop himself from crying out, the last thing he needed was to alert Flame. The man was the public face of both of them and it was actually kind of sad. Flame wasn't able to express any emotions. He was just supposed to act like a machine, following orders blindly without any reaction. Suddenly Wemmbu felt lucky, lucky that at least his emotions remained his own. Another tug snaps him into reality, right. With a sigh, Wemmbu turned around to face whoever decided his wing was a toy. 

He couldn't defend himself, but he could at least give them a scare.

Instead they found a small child, grabbing at the wings like they were a lifeline. She was looking around with watery eyes. Her red hair flying in the wind, while her other hand fidgeted with her small floral dress. Uh no, he was not equipped for this. He did not sign up to be a babysitter, nuh huh. Which part of his contract included that? No no, better yet, who decided to leave a child alone in a server such as this one? Where people died daily, murdered or discarded around like broken dolls? He would know, given that-

Literally, three months ago he murdered a thousand players in self defense.

The child raises her arms into the air with a pout, clearly wanting to be carried around. Wemmbu is tempted to just ignore her, walking away while the kid cries alone. He looks into her eyes, she looks absolutely miserable. Honestly, relatable. This whole living in the Law sucks ass. Taking his chest plate off so he doesn't burn her. Wemmbu raises the kid into his arms, trying to ignore the sticky fingers and snot that fall into the black training suit. 

Gross, really gross. 

What has his life come to?

"You lost?" Wemmbu finds himself rasping, his vocal cords tearing from forcing himself to talk so early, and he can feel the familiar metallic taste on his tongue. Ugh now, he has to deal with Flame, the kid and a sore throat. How fun! 

"Mhm." The child looks up at him with large bug eyes, rubbing her face. Most people had yet to notice them, after all, they had grown used to just ignoring Wemmbu's presence. It comes with advantages. He means, there's very little he can get punished for, since every single one of his actions becomes a myth. 

"You look funny" the girl says timidly, her hands gripping his shoulders. It's been the first time another person has talked to him directly, and what is he even supposed to respond? Sure, he does look more like a ghost than anything. Especially with the wedding veil incorporated to his uniform.

Flame turns to look at him, having heard the little girl's cries. He shrugs in response, what is he supposed to say? Wemmbu doesn't know why he always ends up in the weirdest positions. The girl looks nervous, yet there's a hint of awe in her eyes. She signals the accessories on Flame head, mouthing the word "pretty". Flame turns away, leaving the dreadlocks on full view as he slows down to match Wemmbu much slower pace. 

"Guess. so. What's your name " Wemmbu rasps, trying to ignore his aching jaw. His voice cracks and he has to repeat himself while he walks. Flame starts walking around, searching for another guard to pass the child to.

"Desire" She says with a smile, whispering comically loud. "What's yours mr?"

"Just... call me ghost" Wemmbu tells her, the words like ash in his mouth. It's what he is right now, no matter how much he tries to deny it. It was too dangerous to give the little girl his own name. That would put her into Lettuce watch. 

He didn't know what the man was capable of doing to reach his goal.

The girl seems to contemplate this answer, a confused frown on her face. She pats the veil with clumsy hands, almost smacking him in the face. Desire turns her head to look at the wings that fall from his back like they held the meaning of life. Deciding to leave the girl to her thoughts, Wemmbu hurries to the Law base.

If he could give the child to one of the guards or Loppezzz...

"That's silly. You look like a fairy not a ghost." The girl speaks up with a toothy smile, suddenly excited. The words leave him reeling, as he watches the child start her rant about fairies. She had said it with so much self-righteousness. As if she just started something obvious-

Flame laughed into the mic quietly at the dumbfounded expression on his face. Okay, he's cooked- This man is one hundred percent making fun of him for the rest of their lives because their soul bonded. Wemmbu felt his cheeks redden as he whined, for some reason he didn't shut Flame up. The whole being called a fairy seemed better than a ghost anyway...

It was nice having the man so relaxed during their work hours instead of the cold mask that barely talked. It didn't take long for the man to stop, as they approached the law base. 

The girl seemed to sense the tension since she fell quiet, watching with nervous eyes her surroundings. 

Flame raised his arms to take the girl and send her to someone else, knowing that Wemmbu wasn't able to use the main entrance. With a huff, Wemmbu starts making his way up the ceiling. Flying up to the ceiling rafters once more, resigning himself to follow Flame around once more. 

The little girl looks puzzled at the ceiling, giving a little wave before disappearing through another corridor. 

The interaction makes him smile a little. 

Wemmbu follows Flame around like he's always done in the base, there was literally not anything else he could do. He hums softly, rubbing his aching jaw slowly. The corner is dusty, full of spiderwebs, still Wemmbu has nowhere else to go. This is what he's supposed to be doing, he's a ghost. 

The warmth and slight hunger exhaust him, especially since he's barely slept. 

Wemmbu finally wakes up warmer, as he shifts once trying to get comfier against the wood wall. There's a huff of laughter from his side which is odd given that he's supposed to be alone up here. He turns around with barely open eyes, watching the familiar mismatched blindfold. Huh, when did Flame get up here? 

"Flame?" Wemmbu croaks out, reaching a pillar to stabilize himself. huh, he feels a bit dizier than when he first went to sleep. Carefully he touches the collar around his neck, oh, that explains it. The collar got deactivated while he was sleeping, and nobody even noticed. 

That has to be a security issue.

"Finally bro, what are you sleeping beauty?" Flame jokes, a hand reaching to stabilize Wemmbu subconsciously. Normally he would have teased Flame back, but not now. Now that he was hungry, tired and dizzy from the potions on his veins. He's contemplating just murdering Lettuce or disabling the fuck ass collar around his neck-

Just what is he thinking?

No, this was for his own good wasn't it?

He was better this way, better silent. 

"you up for a race?" Wemmbu says almost desperate, shaking his head. There's no reason for him to think like this. Wemmbu is just being pathetic about this whole thing, yes. He needs to clear his head, maybe the whole stress of the night was getting to him. 

Flame huffed, raising Wemmbu to his arms and carrying him on his back.

"Nah, don't need you to drop dead bro." Flame's voice wavered slightly with worry, as he started the path back home.

Wemmbu was honestly too tired to even argue with Flame, so he stayed there. Humming obnoxiously some pop song  and changing the lyrics just slightly, every so often Flame would try to correct him and he just sang it louder. His vocal cords were still damaged, every word bringing pain to his throat. Yet Flame seemed calmer than usual, laughing and complaining about it. For a moment, they seemed back to normal. They weren't Law dog and it's ghost.

They were... Just Flame and Wemmbu, arguing for everything and absolutely nothing at all. 

Wemmbu was tangling Flame's hair with leaves, leaving little flowers that he could catch in the man's hair while the man complained about his day. 

Maybe this day wouldn't be as bad.

Flame hands him a diluted health potion, as they continue down the road. 

There's a feeling of uneasiness on his stomach, something that's akin to paranoia. It's almost like his chaos energy was trying to alert him of something else at the house, something familiar. Wemmbu continues braiding, trying to ignore the sensation. Flame had noticed it too, maybe that's why he'd given Wemmbu the health potion so early instead of mixing it with tea like always. 

If they need to fight, then he needs to be next to Flame. Wemmbu huffs, they just couldn't catch a break, could they? His wings unfurl as he starts flying away. 

He drops right next to Flame with silent steps, continuing with his songs. 

They get an answer pretty quickly. 

There standing in the top of their base, was a very familiar person. His lion's cape right behind him while he stood there analyzing both of them, his smile curious and full of teeth.

Of fucking course it was Mane. 

Flame was quivering right next to him, a shake barely noticeable as Wemmbu huffed. 

"You know, when I heard some crazy rumors about you." Mane said confident, almost like he believed them to be wrong. "I mean, you two reduced to mere pawns? That's just impossible. And what's with the veil bro?  You trying to be edgy and shit?" 

Wemmbu had jinxed it, this day was as bad if not worse than the others.

Just some peace, is that too much to ask?

Chapter Text

Wemmbu had imagined this moment countless times.

He had wondered in that vulnerable pathetic and almost childish way. He'd imagined his reunion with the hybrid. Maybe it's naive how hard he tried to prove the man wrong, the way he wanted to bask in his approval. 

Mane had abandoned him with nothing but a small sign "lost cause", not even a goodbye. The same Mane that had guided his hands carefully while explaining basic combat skill, the one that had bandaged his wounds and had laughed at his clumsiness. That Mane was also the one who had trapped his bestfriend and discarded him like Wemmbu was nothing but trash.

Wasn't it stupid? The way he had fought battle after battle, convinced that his efforts would bring Mane back.

He had imagined shouting at the man, fighting him, watch him bleed. 

Instead their reunion had proven the opposite.

Wemmbu wasn't some untouchable soldier that could kill hundred on his own. 

No, he was nothing but a ghost.

In the end, instead of proving Mane wrong... he was proving that the man was right.

No matter how much he had tried, all of the blood that he had spread, the destruction; everything had been for nothing. After all, Wemmbu was defenseless and reckless enough to be trapped into this role by his enemy. 

Wemmbu shakes his head, adjusting the veil on his face carefully. There's no point in dwelling on the past; it doesn't matter if Mane was right, not anymore. He had wasted too much time waiting for the man to appear, and part of him refused to waste any more. His eyes flicker around the place, purple pupils softly glowing, as he analyzes his next move. This is going to escalate into a full fight if he didn't intervene, the soft scent of smoke confirms it. 

Flame looks calm, yet there's the slight drumming of his fingers over the hilt of his sword that tell Wemmbu otherwise. The man is tense clearly on the verge of snapping, which would be bad...

Actually, there's supposed to be a Law guard patrolling their house at every moment. 

Fuck, if someone sees Mane here they are going to be in so much trouble, especially Flame. 

"Hi." Wemmbu forces his throat to cooperate, massaging the sore muscles around his jaw. Mane seems startled at the rasp that comes out, a grimace on his face. Right, Wemmbu's voice is damaged. Shame fills his body, as he suddenly becomes self aware of how bad his own voice sounds. He swallows the feeling of shame as he continues talking. "You travelled all the way here for a rumor? huh, you sure have a lot of time on your hands, don't you?"

"It was an interesting one..." Mane starts defending himself, before pausing, looking deeply uncomfortable while his eyes scan them. There's a furrow of his brow as he takes the scene around them. Mane seems to take in the uniform that both of them use, the yellow pattern on the armor that resembles a dog. Mane's voice is coated in disbelief. "Huh, it was true? you two are working for the Law?"

Wemmbu hums softly, not confirming anything. The lion hybrid, Mane, looks unsettled. His features dissolve into a frown, a small twitch on his ears, as he stays silent. 

"Bro, just like leave? I don't see how this is any of your business." Flame speaks detached from next to Wemmbu, looking bored. Right, okay, it seems that at least no one is killing each other yet. Great. 

"Flame, I'm your older brother-" Mane blurts out, cringing like the words are hard to say. "I don't understand! Weren't you all about honor, about being the strongest while fighting honorable? What's honorable about being a lapdog?! Did you think they gave you enough power?"

The smoke only seems to grow thicker around them, great. The word sink deep under Wemmbu's skin, feeling washed away by the tiredness on his bones. Does Mane think that they joined out of their own volition? Ha, maybe the man really is stupid. Wemmbu feels a soft vibration of the collar on his neck, the patrol guard was alerted. Just, what they needed. He sighs, watching Flame's dreads lighting in a soft orange that almost mimics Mane's hair. 

"Are you? Last time, you were trying to kill me! YOU LEFT ME" Flame shouts, his voice thick with emotion. It might be the angriest he's seen Flame in a while. The outburst seems to only last a few seconds, as Flame's face turns icy cold once more. 

The man snaps his eyes to the ceiling, letting the blindfold fall into the grass. Flame stays there for a second, staring directly at Mane's blindfold while his own lays discarded on the floor. All of the anger seems to dissipate into an empty smile that Wemmbu has long gotten used to. 

"You can't judge me, bro. Not when you ran away and left without a word. Not when you don't even know the whole story" Flame annoyed voice speaks once more, turning to the door one last time. There's a deep sadness on Flame's voice, and it's impressive that the man hadn't tried to fight Mane at all. "Just leave Mane, last I checked we weren't brothers anymore and you haven't worried about me in awhile... you don't need to start now."

Flame opens the door, dull eyes as his head signals to the door quietly, his head tilts in a silent question. Wemmbu huffs, shaking his head softly at Flame's questioning gaze. No, he isn't entering the house right now. There's still things to deal with, and he needs to make sure Mane actually leaves. 

There's also the matter of patrol, there was at least someone on their way to question them. 

Wemmbu doubts they can get out of this one. Fuck, okay one thing at the time.

First, dealing with Mane, then whatever trainwreck of an interrogation that the Law comes with.

"Ouch, that must've hurt." Wemmbu rasps mockingly, the veil flowing in the wind almost making him look like a real ghost. It was good seeing someone put Mane in his place, after all the man had vanished with just an insult.

"I, I don't understand." Mane replies, sliding from the roof to land right next to Wemmbu. The frown on his face seems to grow the longer he stares at Wemmbu.

"Funny, you know who also didn't understand back then? Me. I don't recall you caring to explain " Wemmbu snides, knowing full well that he's being petty and cruel right now. There's no real reason for him to care about Mane's feelings right now. The man looks almost surprised, a frown on his face, as he opens his mouth to speak. 

No sound comes from the Lion's hybrid mouth. 

The man looks almost pissed off, frustrated at the lack of answers.

"So while your visit has been so much fun, It's time to leave bro" Wemmbu continues almost cheerfully, leaning a bit into the man's space. "You won't find information here unless you have a good reason why I should explain anything to you."

Part of him panics, this is Mane the one he's talking to.

The other one is just too exhausted to care, he'll panic later. 

When the law isn't about to crash into their house uncaring of the consequences. 

"Huh, you know you've changed." Mane said coldly, swiping his dreadlocks from his face. "I thought you wanted to be strong enough to not be controlled"

"Dude, you used to make less assumptions back then." Wemmbu hums, staring at the guard walking steadily up hill. Now, he has to do damage control on top of everything. That's not his forte. "If you are going to stay then shut up." 

"What? Afraid that your boss will see me here? Write you up?" Mane mocks clearly angry, his tail lashes as he holds the spear on one of his hands. The hybrid flaunts it almost like a reminder, which is absurd. Of course Mane could fight, Wemmbu is not stupid enough to forget who taught him. 

"Afraid of your impulsive decisions landing me in trouble while you run away? Sure." Wemmbu replies almost instantly with a soft laugh, it's ridiculous really. Mane really thinks he's tuff, tough enough to parade to their base and demand answers.

That seems to have done the trick since Mane finally shuts up, sitting on one of the trees. 

Finally, oh my god, now he has to deal with the Law-

This sucks, okay, technicalities of the contract, any loopholes that he could use to justify the man's presence. 

His hands shake as Wemmbu adjusts the veil once more, making sure to look his part. Taking one of the diluted bottles of weakness from his inventory while pouring a few drops into his mouth, ignoring Mane's puzzled murmurs from next to him. It won't make him sick, just numb his mouth a little. The heat makes him slightly dizzy, a bit more exhausted than normal which is good. 

There's less chance of a punishment if whoever is coming to check on him, feels sorry for him. 

It has to be one of the superiors, maybe Loppezzz? That would be a hassle. 

Now he needs a good excuse for Mane's presence. 

Okay, the contract excludes visits from everyone that isn't family. It also allows Wemmbu to speak to anyone that is direct family with Flame's permission. Ugh, he has to make Mane pass as family or null the contract from his end which...

Dalright, Wemmbu's pride isn't big enough to allow both of their executions over something like this. 

The guard finally appears in front of him, a deputy that's never dealt with the Lawdog operation. Wemmbu's only heard of Deputy Ace, for some reason Lettuce was cautious on letting them interact with the man. There's no apparent reason since both of them had interacted with every single one of their superiors except this one. The man is imposing, supposedly with a strong sense of justice. 

Okay like Wemmbu knows the man, but all of his interactions with him were from before the program. You know, back when he was a wanted terrorist and hunted down. 

Uh, there's no way this is going well. 

"There were reports of an unallowed visitor over this area." Deputy Ace says with a wary frown, which surprises Wemmbu. It was the first time a Law soldier speaks with him directly instead of ignoring him. The man continues, unaware of the surprise on Wemmbu's face. "Is your husband home? I would prefer to talk to everyone involved."

Uh, maybe it's a trap? Deputy Ace is trying to get into their good graces. It just makes no sense, none. The man has to know the Lawdog rules right? 

"Uhh, Flame is asleep. Do you need me to wake him up and get him here?" Wemmbu replies warily, knowing full well that Flame is awake but not wanting to bother the man. Mane makes a choked sound of surprise from the tree, mouthing the word husband with growing offense. There's no time to pay attention to it, instead he hopes that the lie holds. 

Part of him is testing, he wants to know if a member of the Law will speak to him directly without Flame. 

Maybe he's being stupid.

"There's no need, I'll give you one opportunity to explain." Deputy Ace replied, grabbing the sword from his inventory as a silent threat maybe. Does Wemmbu lie? No, it feels wrong to lie to the only person in the Law who speaks at him as if he exists. He'll settle for a vague explanation. 

"This is Mane, my brother in Law, He came to talk to Flame and me." Wemmbu explains softly, his hands fidgeting with the veil around his head. The words taste bitter in his mouth as he breathes, afraid of making the minimal sound. "It didn't go well, so he's leaving now." 

The silence feels suffocating, the man is scanning him for a reaction and Wemmbu can't help but hurrying to explain himself as much as he can. He shows the contract that he keeps on his shulker box, a photo of Mane and Flame that the lion had given him in his surprise. Anything he can do to avoid getting in the house and dragging Flame outside to be punished. 

It was unfair, the man had tolerated and worked on Wemmbu's behalf. Flame needed to rest after this whole confrontation, maybe even sleep or something. 

Huh, when had he started caring for Flame's needs? At some point their rivalry had become a friendly one. 

Deputy Ace holds a red button on his hands, and Wemmbu feels himself flinch at the sight of it. Almost bracing himself for the impact of electricity running through his veins. The panic on his mind intensifies. To his surprise the man drops the button on his inventory like it had burnt him. Showing his empty hands once more.

"Breathe Wemmbu, Ghost, Is Mane directly in conflict with the Law?" The man looks at him, analyzing the documents. There's a hint of curiosity on his gaze as he stares at Wemmbu's collar. Huh, did he not know? Did Lettuce hide the collar from the deputy? That's interesting. Why would the man do that?

"No, he left some time ago. He's not in conflict with anyone." Wemmbu replies, taking a deep breath. Forcing his hands to still, as he justified himself. Mane had gone completely still from behind him, face almost unreadable. Oh wasn't it great? His mentor had probably seen his crashout over a simple button. 

It was so stupid, he just wanted to curl up under the covers and cry. 

God, wasn't he pathetic? crying over this situation when it's not nearly as bad as it could have been. Lettuce could have killed both of them in a public execution instead of that crazy ass plan. 

"There's no breach of contract, you can go back to your conversation then." Deputy Ace smiles, there's a hint of conflict on his eyes. His voice is oddly comforting as it snaps Wemmbu out of his thoughts. The man seems to scan his expression, seeming almost concerned which is ridiculous really. "Good luck on your redemption journey." 

"Uhhh, thanks?" Wemmbu replied suddenly really nervous, it had been a while since someone saw him as a person instead of an addition to Flame. It felt odd, part of him craved it. 

His eyes stay fixated on the soldier's retreating form while he feels once more like a fish out of water. 

Will this feeling of utter confusion disappear at all? Everytime he thinks he's adapted to something, it changes. 

Instead of actually sleeping through the exhausted haze of his mind, he forces himself to look at Mane. Just watching the man from every single reaction that seems to flicker his face even with the blindfold. God why is he still here? To mock Wemmbu's inability to function?

There's a slight stubborness that Wemmbu knows too well. 

The man wants answers, he won't leave until he gets them. 

"Ugh, I'll tell you something." Wemmbu hums, voice almost strained with emotion. Part of him wishes to just kneel down and sleep. "If the two strongest people of the server can't give you information, why don't you search on another source? Someone who stood against Lettuce at the election."

Mane huffs with annoyance, clearly not happy with the vague response which really... sucks to suck Mane. 

Wemmbu is not revealing a single thing, and if Mane doesn't want to leave then he can spend the night outside. Wemmbu's not even angry at this point, he's just exhausted, every single one of his emotions is tainted with exhaustion. 

"Well? Scram, you got what you wanted" Wemmbu starts walking to the door, uncaring of the man behind him. Sure, this man was once his mentor and yes, Mane might have been right. Wemmbu was a lost cause, but he was also tired. What's another title to the growing collection? "You don't get to barge into someone's life after leaving them."

Mane hops down the tree, grabbing an elytra and taking into the skies once more. 

Not a single goodbye, not an apology. 

Wemmbu really doesn't know why he expected this to be different. 

He stumbles to the house dazedly, closing the door with a heavy sigh. He runs to the bathroom, throwing his uniform to the floor as he changes into a pair of pijamas. A soft grumble falls through his lips while he unbraids his hair, passing the hands through the strands of violet hair. 

His expression looks almost dead, large eyebags and prominent cheeks. 

He just confronted Mane.

He'd imagined that he would feel pride or delight at the frustrated expression on the lion's hybrid face. Maybe he should, instead of the growing pit of numbness.

Wemmbu huffs while he leaves the bathroom, huh, he should really clean up or something. He stares to the place with slight stress but he doesn't clean. What a pathetic part of him really, one who is not even capable of storing the books on the chests around him. 

Well, that's a problem for future Wemmbu. 

The bedroom is dark when he enters, as he spots Flame miserable expression from where he's laying down.

Flame is crying, it might be the only time Wemmbu has seen the man do that. Flame had never cried in front of him, no matter how hard things had gotten. 

Huh, both of them were messes really. 

Wemmbu could leave the man alone, to weep and cry at the direction of his life. Yet it feels wrong, too wrong to leave Flame alone. Huh, the things he does for the sake of this partnership really. Before he could second guess himself, Wemmbu climbs next to Flame. 

Ignoring the playful kicks that the other man sends his way while he settles next to Flame. 

He just lays there, curled next to Flame while the man cries and complains. Wemmbu doesn't think his words could make his rival feel any better, so he just stays there. Curled against Flame's side with soft hums of what might be songs. 

Wemmbu just waits until the flailing stop, until the sobs turn into soft hiccups before talking. His mind is hazy with sleep, the warmth of the nether demon lulling him. 

"Y'know, when I can, I want to go stargazing with egg." Wemmbu whispers softly, his voice carries that soft nostalgia of his childhood. He sounds almost like he did back then, wishing on falling stars with a toothy grin. "Maybe you could join"

"Yeah? You can come visit Lomedy with me then bro." Flame replies, voice hoarse before falling silent once more.

Wemmbu can feel the man calm down, the way he shifts around with a sleepy huff.

Both of them know that this is just wishful thinking, and yet...

Yet Wemmbu can't stop the sleepy smile from staying on his face.

Chapter Text

Wemmbu is rather rudely woken up by the soft ringing of a communicator. 

Flame's communicator since Wemmbu had lost his comm privileges alongside his citizenship a long time ago. Which was ridiculous since this was supposed to be an anarchy server but whatever, there's not much he could do about it. 

At first, he buries his face against something soft, trying to ignore whoever is bothering on the middle of the night. Part of him is disoriented, curled to the side of who was once his rival. The man is sprawled taking most of the space on the bed, blowing soot over his hair without a care in the world. Maybe Wemmbu should be more bothered at the literal oven sleeping next to him, but he can't even bring himself to care. It'll be annoying in the morning there's no doubt.

The communicator starts ringing again, snapping him of the sleepy daze he's in. 

Flame shifts in his sleep, mumbling incoherently as a hand smacks softly against Wemmbu's wings.

Wemmbu huffs in annoyance, slapping the hand away carefully as he starts to sit up. The chaos energy around his is blending with Flame's fire, it's not defensive surprisingly. It's just leaking almost forming a protective barrier. Weird. Wemmbu doesn't even think about the implications, just focusing on reaching over to take the comm from the nightstand. The annoying thing is still ringing, ugh, they are going to wake Flame up. Someone important better be dying.

Damn, now they can't even sleep in peace. 

The light of the communicator hurts his eyes a bit, as he struggles to answer the call. 

"Who?" His voice comes as a sleepy humm, while he struggles to adjust to the morning. The voice on the other end is panicked, demanding they come to the Law HQ in that instant. Loppezzz is almost shouting into his ear at this point. Ugh, it's friday, at three in the morning- this feels illegal, this should be illegal. 

"There's been a prison break, somehow Spoke got in and-" Loppezzz almost shrieks, as the distant sounds of the battlefield echoes through the speaker. She seems to shout something to the people outside, orders probably. Huh, Wemmbu thought that maybe Mane had done something. What does the prison has to do with them? 

"Mmhm, cool." Wemmbu hums rubbing his eyes while he tries to turn the volume down. Is the girl trying to leave him deaf? Maybe. He ignores this is the second time someone had talk to him, instead of demanding to talk with Flame. "Say hi to him from me."

"GHOST! this is serious! get your ass in here!" Loppezzz snaps through the phone, clearly on edge and huh maybe they should really go help. Oh right, they can't interact with the prison, something about conflict of interest and possible bias? hmm, he can't quite remember the legalities of his contract. 

If they help, they could just get blamed from the outcome.

Someone could just say that they helped the prisoners escape or something...  

"Loppezzz, check our contract. We can't do anything without Lettuce's explicit permission." Wemmbu snaps back, rubbing the bridge of his nose. It's too early for this shit, way too early damn. He debates for a second, trying to decide if helping them anyway is worth the risk.

If they help, they get in trouble. 

If they don't, they also get in trouble but less trouble.

"Good luck Loppezzz." Wemmbu huffs softly, already going to hang up the call. They would be punished tomorrow, and part of him knows. It just knows that this is going to go downhill for them pretty fast. "I think you'll need it."

What's the use of acquiring people as Weapons if you can't use them due to technicalities?

The warmth of Flame's magic leaks through his veins, as if sensing his discomfort. Wemmbu just hangs up the call, debating before curling next to Flame and wondering if he should just wait until tomorrow to tell Flame anything. 

Maybe he could just wake the man up.

The soulbond tattoo glows softly against his skin, as he just lies there awake. There's pressure on the back of his eyelids, the mark almost burns his skin, as he touches the collar over his neck. It's ridiculous, the way both of them are almost property of the Law at this point.

It doesn't seem fair at all.

It feels far too cruel to be mercy, perhaps Lettuce was wrong after all. Living under constant fear, exhaustion, is it even living at all? Huh, there should have been another way to stop them. 

Or had they been too far gone?

Flame shifts from next to him, still sprawled like an starfish, somehow asleep after all this ruckus. And Wemmbu turns to look at him, at the exhaustion that weighs both of their bodies, at the constant fear and stress that feels like poison against their veins.

He doesn't remember a time when the man had looked so drained. 

Even back then when they were chasing each other, battling for the same title, spitting curses. 

Flame had always seem rather unbothered, generally fighting on self defense, always so opposite to Wemmbu's destruction. 

Yet, both of them had always retained their capacity to care. They had made friends, they had trusted other people, they had lived. 

Maybe it's just desperation, desperation to prove to himself that they hadn't been beyond salvation as they were painted out to be.

Sure, they had destroyed countless things, but it was an anarchy server. It was the way it operated, either you were strong enough to live or you were oppressed. Was that really worth punishment? no, Wemmbu really didn't think so. 

"bro, u' tryna burn a fuse in 'ur brain?" Flame raspy voice came from beside him, uh, the soulbond had snitched on him. Jeez, he hadn't wanted to wake up Flame, the man seemed too content to blow soot over his hair, being annoying even in his sleep. 

"I'm thinking Flame, maybe you should try it once in a while" Wemmbu replies playfully, kicking the man softly in the leg. The man huffs, his half asleep brain seemingly having trouble understanding Wemmbu's words. Huh, he can't really judge the poor man.

"I think, bro, in the morning, in the day. Mm, not the middle of the night" Flame adds, sounding so sure of the fractured words that come out of his mouth. The man let's out what might have been a snore, before waking up again.

Damn, he must be really tired huh. The whole shitshow with Mane probably didn't help.

Wemmbu doesn't even know what to think about the lion anymore, he doesn't even want to think about him anymore. 

"Sure, bro. Whatever you say." Wemmbu hums from his side of the bed, hearing as the other man shifts around a bit before settling down. The warmth of Flame's magic makes him a bit drowsy, as the events of the night finally settle on his mind. 

His hair is full of soot, tangles that are going to be a pain to get rid of. Yet he can't bring himself to complain, or leave; instead he just shifts, adjusting to Flame's position almost instinctively. Also, he doesn't want to fall of the bed due to Flame's atrocious sleeping habits. No thanks.

No matter how restless his brain feels, Wemmbu finds out that he at some point had fallen asleep. 

The next time he wakes up is much gentler, Flame's tail is curled to the side of his leg, as the rays of sunlight illuminate the whole room. Part of him wants to turn around and go back to sleep, yet he knows that at some point Lettuce will come and get them. Especially after yesterday's call. 

So with a huff of annoyance, he sits up; jolting Flame awake with a kick to the leg. The man sits up suddenly alert, before glaring at him, rubbing his mismatched eyes with clear exhaustion. Wemmbu smiles innocently, poking softly at the tail still wrapped around his right leg. The man just rolls his eyes, stretching while walking towards the kitchen looking mildly offended. 

Wemmbu speedruns the whole morning routine with quiet dread, struggling to keep the soot out of his hair. 

It takes him a few curses, and by the time he's ready he can hear Flame's voice speaking to someone through the communicator. The man's eyes meet his, questioning, as he continues talking in a tense tone through the communication. Suddenly Wemmbu gets the impression that the frail peace of yesterday isn't going to last very long. 

The man hangs up the call, looking at him with sharp eyes. Ugh, he feels scolded. So he sits up in front of Flame, kicking the man playfully while he reaches for his food.

"Why is Lettuce demanding we show at the Law bro?" Flame asks after a second, eating a part of his sandwich almost looking unbothered. "U did something?" 

"Ugggh, noo. Spoke decided to break prisoners out of the prison in the middle of the night." He whines softly, munching on the sandwich with a nervous smile. Already dreading whatever punishment the law will unleash on them. "Loppezzz wanted us to help her, but because of the soul contract we couldn't soooo... sucks to suck"

"That's stupid bro." Flame hums in defeat, tieing the blindfold around his exhausted eyes.

Without even noticing Wemmbu reaches to his inventory, adjusting the veil over his own face. It's almost routine at this point, disappearing into this ghost of himself. The collar tightens around his neck, mid bite, soft currents of electricity building through his own body. He chokes, huffing for a while, before spitting the food out. Damn, Lettuce isn't even letting him eat. The man must be really pissed off. 

Flame looks a mix of disgusted and worried, as he passes a napkin to him, pressing it into his mouth. Wemmbu hiccups, fighting tears of embarrassment at the whole situation. It's humiliating, the way he can't stop the shocks from messing with the muscles of his jaw.

It doesn't even hurt, and he doesn't know if that makes it better or worse.

Maybe if it hurt it would be better, less humiliating.

"Shit bro, you like alive bro?" Flame reaches behind his arms, keeping him upright with a tight expression. The man swears under his breath, as he helps Wemmbu stand up, coaxing a diluted health potion to his lips. His expression is tense, eyes scanning the comm warily.

Wemmbu just nods softly, swallowing with burning cheeks. Maybe it's because of last night realization, but he feels angrier. Angry at Lettuce for doing something like this. Huh, he's a mess. He can't even trust himself, always doubting, is his anger even justified?

It feels justified. 

He wishes Egg was here, the man would have been able to at least slap some sense into him. 

Huh, he doesn't even know what he wants anymore. 

He hurries to change his wings once more, the ritual of constantly shifting them is tiring, yet he can't bring himself to stop. It's the only part of his appearance that he can control, and maybe that makes it more pathetic. Flame pushes him slightly, watching the wings on his back transform into phantom wings.

Huh, fitting, Wemmbu guesses.

They walk in silence to the Law base, looking completely robotic. For once there's no race, no light banter, just Law dog and Ghost. The dog and it's leash. 

Wemmbu passes the destroyed corridors with hazy eyes, feeling the overbearing warmth of the sun on his skin, while Flame walks tensely in front of him. They look like they are walking to their deaths instead of Lettuce's office. His heels dig into the gravel without even realizing it, leaving silent footsteps all around the place. Evidence that he exists, or ghost marks, that's how the rest of civilians have started calling them

They stumble through greetings with tense shoulders, eyes never leaving the tile floor. 

By the time they've reached the office, both of them look like they are going to explode. 

The hall is silent, the hushed voices of an argument can be heard from inside. Some kind of confrontation that only leaves Wemmbu more on edge, as he looks at the clock mentally counting each second on his head. One, two, three minutes pass. 

Ten, then fifteen. 

Flame leans against him, smoke pouring out of his face like a leaking faucet. The hood of his uniform almost hides his face, but Wemmbu can make out the slight anger in his posture. Huh, for Flame, Wemmbu has always existed. His ex-rival, that after watching him be erased time and time again still chooses to see him. The one who bears the purple on his blindfold almost proudly. 

They are not rivals anymore, they are not quite friends, and by no means are they lovers.

No, Wemmbu just can't imagine Flame like that, and it's a truth that they carry since their forced wedding.

They are just two halves of the same weapon, Lawdog and it's ghost, Flame and Wemmbu. 

Maybe it makes no sense for anyone that's not him. 

Twenty minutes pass, and Wemmbu pretends not to notice how Flame's tail curls around his leg.

Finally the door opens, revealing a slightly angry Deputy Ace. The man stops, scanning their tense posture, eyes lingering on the collar. The soldier looks at their exhausted faces, at the way Wemmbu's jaw hangs still slightly relaxed from the electricity. Something a kin of regret passes his face, as he greets both of them before dissappearing into the corridor. 

Leaving both of them alone in front of Lettuce office. 

Wondering what kind of punishment they will face for a situation they were doomed to fail either way. 

Flame steps inside next to him, shoulders tight, as he looks at the red panda standing next to his desk with a frown. 

"How do you two continue to cause trouble will never cease to amaze me." Lettuce hums, sitting on the chair while looking expectantly at them. "When I decided to give you another opportunity, I didn't think it would be this hard to guide you." 

The man pauses, waiting for them to sit down before continuing. Wemmbu obeys reluctantly. Instead of joining him, Flame declines. Standing right behind Wemmbu with a huff, almost defiant. It makes Wemmbu sigh, this man, if he gets them in more trouble he swears-

"You know? the worst part is that both of the problems you've caused are almost unintentional." Lettuce says almost tired, looking at them with a glint of resentment on his eyes. "Deputy Ace was not supposed to interact with your case at all, and the way you hold that contract is frankly annoying."

"Bro, are you stupid? We are demons. bro, you seriously made a contract with demons without knowing the consequences?" Flame huffs annoyed, tail resting against Wemmbu's leg. His partner makes a good point, after all soul contracts are quite serious in any especies. 

"Calm now, it wasn't an accusation" Lettuce tutts softly, looking almost too calm. Wemmbu pets the tail on his leg almost subconsciously, trying to calm Flame down. There's no way a confrontation will go well in this scenario. Flame takes a deep breath, a hand positioned on Wemmbu's wing. "I was merely stating facts, no need to get defensive."

Lettuce lets the silence linger for a second, as he shifts papers around without a care. Almost like he was ignoring them.

The suspension makes it worse.

They have been in this room for just ten minutes, yet it feels like an eternity.

"You know, almost all of the prisoners that escaped have some kind of tie with you two." Lettuce starts talking once again, hand pressing over the button on the side of the room. "It makes it suspicious, especially with a group of parrot's campaign on the loose." 

Both Flame and Wemmbu tense up, watching the man with surprise.

"You are getting bold, no matter how much chances I give you" Lettuce hums almost sadly, as if the supposed rebellion pained him. Flame starts producing smoke, clearly growing aggressive and Wemmbu just knows what's going to happen. "I hate to recur to these measure Flame but you truly leave me no option."

The collar activates against Wemmbu's skin, shocks of electricity while weakness gets injected into his veins. Great, ouch, Lettuce is defenitely mad.

He feels hands gripping his shoulders, as Flame shouts and tries to negotiate. The electricity leaves him dizzy, pain dulled because of the weakness potions. It should hurt, but it doesn't. His muscles are trembling, locking up, leaving his body writhing on the floor like some worm. It's not painful, it's just humiliating. 

Flame looks like he's going to lash out, as the man watches his shaking body clearly conflicted. In the end, Flame kneels beside him, focusing on trying to stop his seizing body from harming himself further.

It looks worse than it feels, and he wants to tell Flame that, but he can't.

The bond fractures a bit, the possibility of fusion incrementing yet Lettuce doesn't seem to care. 

The man gives them one last pitying look before leaving the room. 

Wemmbu just hums, feeling his body being held by Flame as tears fall from his cheeks. They burn against his skin, soft magma instead of normal water but Wemmbu can't find himself to care.

It's okay, tomorrow would be a better day. 

They don't have work, so maybe they can spar a bit or chase each other around.

Huh, it's been forty minutes since they've entered Lettuce office.

And who knows how much time will pass until they are allowed to leave.

Chapter Text

Flame feels guilty.

It's a fact that Wemmbu can see even from miles away: hidden in the blindfold that covers Flame's, in the way he sits on the corner on the room watching the door for threats, in the way he snaps and trains until his knuckles bleed. The incident with the collar had left him shaken, much like the last time. Everytime Lettuce activated the collar on Wemmbu's neck, it left this effect. At least, the man doesn't treat Wemmbu like he's fragile. Thank god for that. 

Instead he insists on training until his blood stains the grass red.

It's stupid, this guilt, it wasn't Flame's fault. 

Wemmbu sighs, pressing a towel against Flame's bleeding nose. The nether demon is sprawled on the sand, sweat covering the blindfold, as he tries to push Wemmbu's arms away. Flame huffs, which comes more like a gasp, while he complains about how he's fine and Wemmbu's babying him.

Which really, big talk for someone who face-planted face first into sand. Does he think Wemmbu's blind?

He talks like this isn't the second time Wemmbu has seen him collapse from sheer exhaustion after training under the desert sun for five hours straight. 

Ugh, Wemmbu is not good at this feeling stuff...

but as much as he wants to ignore the situation, he can't.

"You know, if you die from exhaustion, I'll-" Wemmbu says, voice strained from his ruined vocal cords. "I'll crave on your gravestone 'the strongest defeated only by his own stubbornness'" 

The words are sharp, cutting, and Wemmbu blames the stress for the lack of tact. Part of him still expects the electricity running through his veins at the sound. Dawg, that was pathetic really- Maybe not good to try and bring their familiar bickering with Flame's state. god what if he just made it worse with his stupid running mouth-

Flame laughs, this strained laugh that sound more like a relieved hiccup, taking off the blindfold from his eyes after days of wearing it. "Yeah, I'll come back to haunt you then bro. I'll give out fliers that say 'Wemmbu is a chungie with no skill who likes cheats' "

Wemmbu gasps at the accusation, shaking his head to the side in mock offense. It's been a while since they could just bicker freely. Nowadays the lines between 'Ghost and Lawdog' and 'Wemmbu and Flame' are blurry. The Law had really taken most of the time they had. Mission after mission often left them exhausted, well, emotionally at least. There's not much to expect when you are patrolling the cities, unable to do anything but follow orders. Most of their days were spent studying from the book, or napping exhausted. 

They had no time to just talk.

Eugh, that sounded corny as hell-

"Why do you assume wielding a mace takes no skill?" Wemmbu continues, part of him almost desperate by the small bubble of normalcy that had formed. Dwelling on the Law was useless. They already took enough time of Wemmbu's life to take the vacation week too. "Betcha couldn't master it"

"Bro- I totally could!!" Flame counters, sticking his tongue out at the challenge. "it can't be more difficult than melee if you were able to master it"

"Ouch, you wound me" Wemmbu hums, swishing his braid around. His eyes advert for a second, going back to watching the grass. Flame hadn't meant it like that. Wemmbu forces himself back to the task, which gives in full force the apologetic look on his eyes. It's fine, that's just Flame's way of communicating. "I could learn melee if I wanted to."

"Yeah? Well, I could learn the mace too" Flame says softer this time, forcing himself to sit up— the cold towel falling to his lap with a thud. "Faster than you could learn melee"

"Nuh uh, betcha can't" Wemmbu reaches for Flame shoulder, trying to stop the man from face-planting into the sand once more. At this point, he's starting to believe Flame likes eating sand or something. Seriously, how many times does one have to face-plant into something before changing training spots.

"Bro- like, bro I totally could!" Flame insists, face lighting up at the challenge. Competitive much? "Bro is gonna losee"

"Dalrightt, now you are getting too cocky" Wemmbu grins, wings folded against his back as he rubs his sore throat. He pats Flame's shoulder in a soft patronizing motion, just to be extra annoying. "Wanna bet?"

"Oh bet!" Flame begins to stand up, since the man has no survival instincts and thinks that fighting after collapsing was a good idea. Immortal demon? more like Immortal dumbass

Honestly, Flame goddammit.

"Wee wa, not today, not todaaay" Wemmbu's voice comes out high pitch, and the strain probably isn't helping. Which- actually nothing in this situation would be able to fix his voice at this point. 

Well, what can he do? 

"Why scared you would lose?" Flame replies, genuine confusion on his voice. Sure Flame, because it was Wemmbu who was sprawled on the sand moments before. The whole situation makes a pathetic worry fester on his ribcage, like an infection spreading through a bleeding wound. 

"Naaah, but Flameeee" Wemmbu starts, making sure to accentuate the e. His voice comes out strained, breaking almost painfully. He flinches a bit at the sound, yeah, Wemmbu doesn't know if he could ever get used to the horrible whine that is now his voice. Forcing himself to continue past the shame, he blurts out: "We have to find a clearing first so we can spar tomorrow"

"Oh yeah bro, good point" Flame huffs with a smile, starting to walk in the direction of the supposed clearing. The man doesn't look bothered by the sound of his voice, his eyes devoid of the familiar pity that Wemmbu had long gotten used to. "I know where!"

"Okeyy, but I won't teach anything today!" Wemmbu sprints after the man, extending a wing to support the stubborn asshole from falling. Flame is going to be the immortal sand-eating demon if this continues. "Nuh uh no way."

They follow a path to a nearby forest, the place looks pretty. Part of him was thankful they lived at the border of the desert and not really in the middle where Law is. 

Wemmbu walks next to Flame, making a mental list of everything he has on his inventory while the man hums. It's peaceful, silent. Well, it's not like Wemmbu talks much anymore At least the Law won't be bothering them today, or the rest of the week. For some reason that he doesn't understand, Lettuce always gives them free days after the incidents with the collar. The man had called them work accidents, even if they weren't accidents at all.

Maybe it was to make himself feel better — like everything Lettuce has done was for a good cause. 

Some days Wemmbu wonders if the way he's treating them, is eating the other man alive. 

Or if Lettuce really believed that forcing them into this situation was the answer. 

He doesn't know which option is better, both feel equally bad. 

The feeling of something falling through his wing snaps him into reality — and before he knows it, his arm comes to grab Flame's elbow. A instinctual movement that leaves him a bit disoriented as he scans Flame for any signs of discomfort. The man look unharmed, if a bit surprised by the movement. Wait, what is he even doing at this point? The demon tilts his head in confusion but he doesn't bat Wemmbu's hand away. Instead Flame sits in a log, seemingly uncaring of the awkward angle that his arm is in.

"Oh, welp, I thought you were gonna eat dirt ag-" Wemmbu starts speaking, letting go of the man's elbow quickly. That was embarrassing, he really needs to stop zoning out. Before he continues, he's interrupted by Flame's shushing. The demon is looking rather intently at one of the bushes around them, his eyes focused on something,

The man doesn't seem alarmed, in fact he seems rather happy. There's a soft smile on his face as he lowers his hands into the ground-

Oh a dog. 

A dog

That's it, do they even have the resources to care for a dog? Because knowing Flame... They weren't leaving this place without it. 

Wemmbu is not really a dog person- Forget that, he's not even a pet person.

God knows that no poor animal would be able to handle the chaos of his daily life.

"Flameee c'mon, we aren't dognapping a random dog" Wemmbu still tries to fight him, knowing full well this is not a battle he's going to win. Not today, not ever. In fact? He's more likely to win a fight against the Law with the collar on than forcing Flame to move without the puppy.

They can't have a pet, not while on the Law. Wemmbu knows how many dogs Flame used to have running around, and he knows not a single one of them remains in the house where they live. The man had a whole army of them before this whole battle started. 

The Law had raided the place so much, that they had found the secret spot with the dogs and left only splotches of blood. 

The hybrid looks at him, eyes so sad with grief and exhaustion. 

The dog had been one of the only things that made Flame look as happy as he did moments before. 

Both of them were exhausted, mentally drained and so utterly miserable. 

Wemmbu looks at the jewelry with purple splashes on Flame's dreads, at the purple stitches across Flame's blindfold. Things that Flame carried on his everyday as a permanent reminder that Wemmbu was alive and not a ghost. Things that the man allowed for him to just be happy.

Ugh, he's going to regret it when the Law comes and inevitably kills the small puppy. 

"Yeah, okay. I'm not taking care of it" Wemmbu snarks, watching Flame as the man continued cooing at the black puppy. The man looks composed, but Wemmbu can spot the way his eyes light up at the statement.

Maybe some company would be good, the house is kinda empty anyways.

Wemmbu drops next to the man while he searches through his inventory, already resigning himself to spending the rest of the day here. Or well, until Flame decides to stop playing with the pup. Okay, so, back to business. A couple of shulkers are almost completely empty by now, which is bad for a fight. Oh there's diluted weakness potions scattered around, the one's he's forced to take when doing official paperwork. Well, not like Wemmbu can do paperwork anyway, he doesn't exist legally.

After all the Law had forbidden him from getting resources without Flame there. Wemmbu will just have to stand there and grab the shulkers Flame gives him. Shucks, not being able to trade is boring.

His eyes lock into one of his back up maces, one that he had borrowed from the Law a couple of days ago. 

That was the thing about being treated like a ghost. 

No one can really accuse him of anything, nor confront him about it. 

It could be used to train Flame, after all there's no way he's letting the man have gambit and crucible.

Nah uh, those are his. His maces, his babies.

Ohhh, he's so going to name this something stupid.

"Bro, this one is going to be smoke!" Flame hums almost like an afterthought, the black puppy nestled on his arms. Ah yes, Flame's weakness, dogs.

"Real original there Flame" Wemmbu teases, passing a hand through the flowers by his feet. The mace on his inventory, as he ponders on stupid names for a weapon for Flame. It had to be both cool and chaotic, after all, Wemmbu's the one who will name it. Even if Flame is the wielder. 

The man won't mind, if anything- 

Flame would demand to name whatever sword he gives him. 

"It suits her, bro. shutupp" Flame huffed, gathering the puppy and standing up. Well Wemmbu can't really argue with that, the puppy is gray with small tuffs of white. She does look like smoke. He looks less shaky now, more relaxed. Good, Wemmbu didn't want to carry the man home. Flame is heavy, like really heavy.

The small clearing is starting to darken, faint rays of sun peeking from the trees, the sky is covered in purple hues.

Wemmbu flexes his knees a bit, a mischievous blink on his eyes, as he tosses a diluted health potion to Flame. 

"Last to enter the house has to do all of the Law paperwork" Wemmbu smiles, before bolting down the path with hushed laughter. It comes out raw, warbled and way too silent from what it used to be. In fact, his loud boisterous laugh is something Wemmbu doubts will ever be the same again. 

Still, Flame laughs, complaining all the way about how he's cheating. With a huff, the man shouts: "You don't have any paperwork"

"Well, I falsify your signature sometimes in paperwork so-" Wemmbu moves his hands as if he's weighing something. "Potato potato"

"W h a t? Bro- " Flame barks a surprised laugh at the comment, almost choking. He doesn't seem offended, instead something like genine amusement courses his features. "Bro you can't just say that."

"yeah? watch me! Not everyone has your freaky super hearing" Wemmbu retorts, climbing the stairs in the direction of the house with a light smile. Which was true, most people couldn't hear Wemmbu's whispers or understand his garbled words.  

"Bro, that's not the point." Flame says, struggling to catch up to his speed which fair actually- Wemmbu has his wings as an advantage, they make him faster. "Learning to falsify signatures on an anarchy server is gremlin behaviour bro. What even is the point of doing that bro? you could just kill them"

"Becaaause it's fun, becaause you can cause chaos with it" Wemmbu drags the vocals as much as he can, smirking, while throwing the door open. "By the way, I won!"

"Yeah, chaos gremlin behaviour" Flame hums settling the dog down with a small smile while he searches for supplies.

The man takes to bowls out of a dusty chest, putting them on the floor gently, watching them before moving to the kitchen to search for any meat. Wemmbu huffs, poking at the pup on the floor with a frown. The little thing is tracking mud all over the hardwood floors. 

Flame is still unmoving by the chests, almost sad. 

And considering how much Wemmbu hates mopping- 

"Hey Flame, this stink-bug needs a bath" Wemmbu hums, giving the pup to Flame and reaching for the steak himself. The man blinks twice, rubbing the skin around his eye before startling out of his daze. The nether demon cooes at the small puppy while he hurries to the bathroom. Well, Wemmbu guesses he has no other choice but feeding the dog. 

Yeah, he can handle cutting meat into small pieces and putting water on a bowl. 

Now that he's realized, he's gotta mop the bathroom too.

Those two are making a mess judging by the sound of laughter, water spilling and a bark. 

Is this what Minute felt when Wemmbu came into the end with bloody boots?

He's starting to understand the man which- really is weird...

Euhh, he hates moping. 

Flame barks another laugh, there's a small yip on the background and surprisingly... Wemmbu doesn't feel that annoyed at the mess anymore.

The nether demon comes out of the bathroom, carrying a miserable looking soggy puppy in his arms. One that he hands Wemmbu with a towel while he runs to their room. Ugh, so much for not taking are of the dog...

Wemmbu sighs, rubbing at the creature carefully. The dog yips, biting him softly, barely a pinch. It's a curious animal judging by the way it shakes and sniffs at the air with sharp eyes.

Flame comes out finally, setting the dog by the bowls before going to the kitchen to cook their meals.

Well, it had been nice the break, but if he leaves the mess unattended then he could slip and fall early on the morning which is not fun. Wemmbu sighs all the trail to the kitchen, and complains while he mops the floors. Occasionally Flame would shout something from the kitchen, making fun of his theatrics like he always does.

It's night when he remembers to name the weapon once more. 

An idea crosses into his head while he scans all of their combined weapons that lay on a single chest.

He grabs some gold, melting it into something that can be molded and carved into a name. The color feels too bland, and Wemmbu searches the ores for anything that could be useful. It takes him a while, a bit of a mess to finally get an idea on what he wants to do. 

At first he craves the words, then he puts the gold and mixes a bit of cooper and redstone to make it look like a Flame. 

'Wildfire' it reads and satisfied he leaves the mace in the chest with the other weapons. After all, Flame is obsessed with naming his weapons after fire and the demon will throw a fit if he sees a weapon of his named anything else.

Which is real edgy, Flame really. 

The next day when he goes to check on it, he finds two new weapons. 

A wooden training sword and a fully enchanted netherite sword.

The enchanted sword is next to Crucible and Gambit.

At the handle it has it's name written in a mix of amethyst and lapis. 

'Checkmate' it reads, huh.

It's not that bad of a name.

Seems like Flame wanted to name his weapon too.

They are even now.

Chapter Text

Flame is a horrible teacher, which he should have expected. 

The man tosses him a wooden sword with a grin while he holds his own and just dares Wemmbu to hit him. Straight to the point much like everything that involves Flame.  

He huffs, landing to the floor with a thud once more. The sword lies scattered over the wet grass, a few feet away from him, as he groans knowing full well he's going to have to retrieve it. His eyes move to the nether demon who is standing to the side, arms crossed, as he waits for Wemmbu to either get up or give up. Wemmbu takes a moment to breath, touching the small bruise on his cheek.  

It doesn't hurt.  

Flame is always careful to leave bruises that easily disappear with their demonic regeneration.  

Wemmbu grins, standing once more and lunging at Flame without any warning. The sun is warm in his skin, soft rays as a faint bark echoes in the background. It's a careful mix of chaos in the middle of the clearing that makes the place feel somehow calm. 

The man only shakes his head in response, looking exasperated as he blocks the slash with his sword. It's slightly annoying the way Flame can easily stops his attacks, it makes sense but it's still slightly frustrating.

They spar until midday when Wemmbu starts whining about being hungry and tired, knowing full well that Flame won't take a break otherwise. The demon huffs about Wemmbu being annoying as he sits down and demolishes a sandwich, before Wemmbu even takes out his own. 

Which says more about Flame than him really.  

Stubborn asshole who doesn't know when to rest. 

Wemmbu shakes his head, picking flowers around them and braiding them into his hair.  

His eyes flicker to where Flame is kneeling. The man had refused to leave the house without the puppy, so here they were.  

Wemmbu braiding his hair while Flame tried to teach tricks to the little dog with little success. The little creature got easily distracted, chasing things or bumping into Flame.  

Then it's Wemmbus turn to teach and really he shouldn't have complained about Flame's teaching methods since... 

Well since he has no idea on how he's supposed to teach the man, at all.  

The mace is an airborne weapon, and considering Wemmbu has wings, it's not really that difficult to use. Being in the air is as natural as breathing to him, but Flame... 

In the end, he ends up thinking of some game of cat and mouse.  

"Well, catch me!" Wemmbu goads, wings flapping behind him as he settles a couple feet of the floor, a distance where Flame can't reach him easily and won't break his feet if he falls wrong. "Oh remember try not to roll if you fall" 

"Bro, this makes no sense" Flame huffs, a concentrated frown on his face.  

"Land on your feet but without harming yourself, cmon" Wemmbu hums, inspecting his braid, looking a bit bored. "The immortal demon afraid of a little height?" 

Flame curses but eventually complies, throwing a wind charge at his feet. The impulse makes him a little unsteady, as he extends a hand to grab Wemmbu's hand. And that would be too easy, so Wemmbu moves just a little to the right, out of Flame's reach.  

The man yelps as he falls, tucking his knees to his chest while he instinctively tries to roll to break the fall.  

"No rolling that's cheating" Wemmbu remarks while he scans Flame position for a way to try and help him. An idea occurs to him. "Dude, okay, try to fall in an arch. Hands extended down and knees a bit straight" 

Flame manages it a bit wonky. The nether demon sways a bit from the impact, landing on the floor disoriented. 

"You moved out of the way bro- that's cheating!" Flame puffs his cheeks, standing up completely unharmed. No limp, no wince, not a single sound of pain. Wemmbu releases a breath he didn't know he was holding before laughing softly. 

"That would have been too easy man" Wemmbu smiles, lowering his hand once more. This time Flame is less hesitant as he impulses himself to the air with a grin.  

He looks less wary than before. 

The nether demon starts losing fear of being in the air after more falls, face spread in a huge grin. Once he gets to cocky, throwing more wind charges than necessary to impulse himself. It makes Wemmbu scramble, getting ready to catch the man and stop him from landing wrong.  

Luckily Flame lands, falling to the floor from the adrenaline with a breathless smile.  

Wemmbu almost sags from relief, heart threatening to beat out of his chest. 

Oh he's just introduced Flame to the beauty of chaos. 

They are all doomed. 

"And I'm the menace, Flame?" Wemmbu scolds, falling next to the man with a nervous smile. The man looks uninjured but that could just be the adrenaline. Wemmbu finds himself fretting over Flame before he can stop himself. Scolding him for being impatient, while the man giggles from the floor. 

Flame looks smug, teasing him, and laughing from the adrenaline rush.  

For once he's the one scolding Flame, what has the world come to?  

Wemmbu sighs, before bursting into laughter himself.  

Free uncontrolled laughter at the way this ridiculous situation had evolved.  

The collar around his neck makes a soft beep that makes him flinch, right. Part of him had forgotten that both of them were still trapped. Wemmbu forces himself to calm down, massaging the muscles around the collar. Suddenly hyper aware of how controlled his reactions were. 

Flame seems to sober up at the sound, face turning into a frown. The man stands up, grabbing the puppy and giving it to Wemmbu carefully.  

"Broo, carry him home, I'm tired" Flame complains, which is strange since Flame would rather die than admit something like that. "Oh what was it? last to get home does paperwork" 

"You're on" Wemmbu replies a bit stunned, clutching the warm puppy against his chest while he flies home.  

The collar itches less than before. 

It becomes a routine, a chaotic, always changing routine. 

Everyday they walk to the clearing without fail, chasing each other no matter the weather. Their footprints dry next to smoke's paw prints, littering the path like a memorial impossible to get rid of. Sometimes they don't really train. Sometimes Flame would stare weirdly at the puppy sleeping on the grass, watching it a if it was going to dissappear. 

Sometimes they would come in the night, stargazing while Wemmbu let his mind run wild. 

He missed Egg and judging by the way Flame would randomly start baking... the man missed Lomedy too. Their grief sometimes hangs around like a permanent cloud, memories that felt heavy, as they spent day by day next to each other.

At least Wemmbu's not alone, and it settles as a balm against the open wound of the loss of his best friend.

Learning takes time much as grief.

And by day three, Wemmbu starts using his wings as an advantage during his sparring with Flame. Instead of relying on Flame's bulky movements, he starts using his flexibility. Flame relies on brute strength that comes natural to the nether demon thanks to his fire.

Wemmbu learns that he has a natural disadvantage in the ground. 

Chaos demons are light, a bit on the leaner side to be able to soar to the skies without fail. Here in the ground, his wings are a clear vulnerable point. 

So instead of lunging, he waits until Flame attacks to dodge and use that movement against the man.

The first time he does it, he almost expects Flame to correct him or complain about his cheats. The man instead had gone eeirly quiet for a while, standing up in the sun before lunging once more. Instinctually Wemmbu had repeated the motion. More confused than scared. 

"Mmm, not that bad for a combat style..." Flame had said with a intrigued frown before turning into a cocky smirk. "Still bro, mine is better."

"Nah, in your dreams!" Wemmbu had teased back, a smile on his face.

It takes Flame a lot longer to get his own mace combat style much to the man's chagrin. 

They practice a lot but Flame is just not able to land gracely on the ground with a mace, every attempt at copying Wemmbu ends up with the man dizzy, mace scattered away from him. The man can hit with the mace once, but doing so consecutively would just end with Flame in a heap on the floor. 

Wemmbu stares at the man who is lying down on the dirt, the puppy is licking Flames face, while they wait until the man tries again. Flame is just dizzy thankfully, no wounds apart of his bruised ego. Wemmbu luckily got the idea of teaching Flame how to fall first instead of going straight to the mace.

The amount of times the man hasn't been able to land well after trying to mace is quite a lot actually. 

Flame gets up eventually with a few curses, elevating himself to the air while Wemmbu watches. 

At first it looks like nothing has changed, but instead of putting the mace over his shoulder, Flame puts it right below his feet. All of his weight on the mace, as he mimics the same position he uses for falling. This time the hands are not up, resting instead on the handle of the mace.

Wemmbu gathers the puppy in his arms, getting out of the way of the impact. 

There's no way to survive a mace, much less a mace that has all of Flame's weight combined in it. 

Ouch, Wemmbu almost feels bad for Flame's future enemies. 

Using a totem with that oughts to be a horrible death. 

Wemmbu lets the man repeat that move twice more before interrupting. Somehow inexplicably, Flame hears him. Flame is able to at least make out what his whispers mean, since the man drops the mace and runs over to where they are. 

"Yah see bro?" Flame says gathering their things and starting the trek back home. "I totally won that bet!"

"Nah you didn't! I learned melee before you learnt the mace" Wemmbu replies sticking his tongue out in response. "I won"

"Please bro, you weren't proficient until today!" Flame replies with a smirk. "You are just being a sore loser."

It's a tie, but neither of them are willing to admit it. 

"Yeah? well I'm still faster than you" Wemmbu replies, holding smoke in his arms with a smile.

"Bro, you wish!" Flame answers almost immediately, already looking ready to bolt. 

"Wee, sure" Wemmbu says, launching himself to the air in the direction of their home without a second thought. "Race to the house!"

"That's cheating, bro!" Flame teases back, already bolting to the house.

Damn, either Wemmbu has gotten predictable or Flame a lot more perceptive than before.

Chapter Text

The day before work starts is simple.  

Wemmbu spends the day sewing a small hoodie for the puppy, just because it'll make Flame mad. The fact that the nights are growing colder has nothing to do with it, a mere coincidence. There are scraps from Flame's old hoodies mixing with some fabric of his cape. 

It's a chaotic mix, a bit of an eye sore with a little hood that has a crown embroidered in the front. It looks kinda hideous.  

Perfect. Wemmbu dresses the small thing into the clothing with a mischievous smile on his face. Smoke yips, squirming in his arms and licking his fingers. Curious as always, sniffing the air with her pink nose.  

He drops the small puppy on the ground, watching her stumble and bite the makeshift hoodie. There’s a sound coming from the basement where he knows Flame is trying to make shelter for the dog. Somewhere hidden, so when the Law comes, it can be safe.  

Wemmbu rolls at his eyes at the paranoia but doesn’t stop the man for doing as he wishes. He understands where Flame is coming from.  

He touches the collar around his neck subconsciously, hands passing over the cold metal.  

A soft licking and biting forces him to relax, releasing the breath he didn’t know he was holding. Smoke is trying to play with his fingers, nipping and growling at them. What a menace honestly, so much chaos and curiosity barely contained in that small body.  

Wemmbu pokes the puppy on the side, sending the little thing sprawling on his unsteady legs. The action is so absurd that it makes Wemmbu snort while he blows a raspberry at the little thing on the floor.  

“Bro, second strongest by the way” Flame says amused, at some point he had entered the room and Wemmbu didn’t even realize. “Fighting with a puppy” 

“Oh shut up, the only reason you won back then is because I ran out of orbitals.” Wemmbu teases Flame, watching as the man huffs and starts sorting the chests.  

“Bro, I still won, didn’t I?” Flame sits right next to him, before scrunching his nose in mock disgust. The man pokes at the hoodie on the animals back. “What did this poor thing do to deserve that” 

“Why don’t you like it?” Wemmbu croaks, scratching behind his jaw. A week without the collar activating had helped his vocal cords heal. Which meant that tomorrow when it activates, it will be hell.  

“Bro you serious? That should count as a crime.” Flame says reaching to stroke behind Smoke’s ears. 

“You critiquing my work?” Wemmbu says in mock offense, throwing a hand to his chest. “After I spent-” The man pauses, watching at the window to confirm the time. Huh, it was already noon. “almost all day on it? You hurt me.” 

“Yep bro, terrible, how will you ever recover from this?” Flame deadpans, moving his arms on the air. The reaction makes Wemmbu giggle before bursting into silent laughter.  They used to complain that his laughter broke the sound barrier, now it’s barely recognizable.  

A broken breathless wheeze. 

Flame gives no sign of discomfort, bursting into laughter himself. There’s a hint of sadness in the furrow of his brow, but there’s no pity on the man’s gaze. 

They stay in the living room for a while. 

Eventually Wemmbu enters their shared room, going to his bed and settling down to sleep. He passes Flame’s side, rolling his eyes at the mess of clothes and materials scattered around.  

Tomorrow is their first day of work after the incident.  

The whole thing stresses him so much that he barely sleeps the whole night. He groans, sitting up and passing his hands through his hair. The strands are sticky with sweat, tangled from the bad night. Wemmbu rubs his eyes, checking the clock. 

4:30 am.  

Thirty minutes before they have to get up and leave for work. 

Great, okay.  

Wemmbu gets up slowly, passing in front of Flame’s bed without wanting to wake the man up.  

The nether demon had insisted on moving his bed just in front of the door, which was a bit uncomfortable but well... 

What can Wemmbu do about it? 

He steps into the cold living room, only ashes remain from the chimney. Nothing to provide any warmth as Wemmbu continues his trek to the bathroom. He stops, grabbing his uniform from one of the chests outside of the bathroom.  

There’s already one of his towels inside as he struggles with the water.  

Washing and detangling his hair feels more tedious than ever. The knots are stubborn, and Wemmbu scolds himself for forgetting to braid his hair before going to sleep.  

Huh, the day had started pretty bad already. 

Finally, he gives up. Getting out of the shower and changing into the uniform, adjusting the armor above his bodysuit. He leaves the veil for later, wanting to first deal with the disaster that is his hair before putting it on. 

Wemmbu sits up, combing through the strands. He has to take care of his hair, there's no avoiding it. Might as well get on with it instead of moping. Thankfully the mix of honey and milk that he washes his hair with seems to have finally worked. As he is finally free to braid it in its usual bun.  

His eyes catch on the veil, technically he could put it later.  

Yeah, after eating.  

Wemmbu sits by the window, feeling completely exhausted, as he watches the time pass. There’s not much to do in a desert, not much to see. 

Time passes slowly and way too quickly for his taste.  

Flame wakes up, entering the kitchen silently and passing him a cup of tea with a sandwich before leaving to the bathroom.  

Wemmbu just stares at the sandwich dumbly, not really wanting to eat, but also not wanting to waste the food on his hands. Really, it’s pathetic the way even mentions of work leave him shaking like this. Disoriented, silent, and exhausted.  

The day hasn’t even started.  

He forces himself to nibble on the food, trying to stop thinking on the fact that the collar would probably make him nauseous enough to vomit all of it later.   

The rhythmic opening of chests makes him turn around, watching as Flame starts passing diluted potions. The man looks composed, but Wemmbu can barely make out the slight frown on his face as he checks over and over again the ender chest. 

Neither of them wants to leave.  

The clock strikes 6 am. 

 Wemmbu gets up slowly, changing his wings into raven ones and adjusting the veil on his face.  

Flame is right behind him, as they step outside just for the collar to click and activate.  

There’s a beep as weakness potions flood his system, small shocks going to his throat. He had forgotten how that felt. Wemmbu makes a nonsensical sound from his wide-open jaw, trying to close it back up, saliva dripping into the sand.  

This part is so gross, ew.  

He hiccups, breaths short and uneven. All of the resistance his body had built against the weakness potions had reset much to his dismay. The whole thing sucks.  

There’s a soft cloth on his mouth, gently closing his jaw while the spasm passes.  

“Breathe bro, you are looking more purple than usual” Flame says, a vial with a diluted health potion on his right hand.  

Wemmbu downs the whole thing in one go as soon as he can, coughing thanks to his sore throat.  

“You good?” Flame asks, stepping in the direction of the path.  

Wemmbu smiles before launching himself to the air weakly, trying to gain some sort of normalcy out of the sucky situation.  

“No, broo, you gonna fall and I’m gonna have to carry you!” Flame protests, following after him as fast as he can with a look of annoyance and a hint of worry. “No racing! Bro, ugh, you’re insufferable” 

That’s how they arrive into the Law base.  

Wemmbu almost crashes against one of the wooden poles of the ceiling, barely able to grab at it in time. His head feels like it’s spinning, as he forces his body to sit on the rafters. Ignoring the very unimpressed look that Flame is giving him from the hall. Wemmbu’s fine, he’s dealt with this before, thank you very much.  

The halls of the Law headquarters are lacking a lot of people, at least a thousand or so of soldiers. A shudder passes through his spine. The place looks like a mess: scattered items, armor, and the training quarters are almost destroyed.  

Something is wrong.  

Something is very very wrong.  

Wemmbu adjusts the microphone hidden under the veil. He was the ghost, only allowed to talk to Flame no matter the emergency. That tiny microphone is connected to Flame’s ear piece, so only Flame is able to hear him.  

Just like Lettuce wanted. 

He scans the place to warn Flame only to freeze.  

Loppezzz is right there, talking seriously to Flame while signaling to the ceiling.  

“Wemmbu, ghost, you are allowed down” Flame voice calls from hie own earpiece. “Lettuce... Lettuce wants to talk to us” 

Fuck, he’s very rarely called down.  

Sure, Wemmbu’s part of the Law but his role is to literally haunt the halls of the place. Somewhat of a spy for them.  

Wemmbu doesn’t reply, immediately dropping right next to Flame. He stumbles a bit but overall manages to get down without making a single sound. His steps inaudible, as he walks right behind Loppezzz, hands shaking.  

He remembers what happened last time they had to go to Lettuce’s office.  

He forces himself to try and think of anything that would be punishment worthy.  

There’s nothing, both of them were on authorized absence.  

The doors of the main office open, Lettuce is sitting in his desk in the middle of the room. The man doesn’t talk at first, watching them in silence.  

Wemmbu can hear the soft ticking of a clock in the still room.  

Flame is just in front of him, hands shaking slightly, dreadlocks starting to light up from stress.  

Tick tack, Lettuce is still working on something as if they weren’t there.  

The silence feels suffocating.  

“Did you know about Parrot’s plan?” Lettuce asks finally, voice low and serious. The man is just sitting there, watching the matching expressions of confusion on their faces before humming. “He swayed the public enough to demand a re-election." 

The man pauses for a second while he organizes papers. “One of the reasons and I quote, is the proof of fraud on the Law dog program and deliberate cruelty.” 

“That’s your program.” Lettuce says with a sickening smile, the man looks ticked off. “Both of you” 

“Bro, Lettuce, we aren’t working with Parrot” Flame replies defensively, standing in front of Wemmbu with a frown on his face.  

Wemmbu comes to a realization that it’s his fault they are here.  

Back at the start of the wedding, when the collar first started, he had asked for help.  

“First, all of the prisoner's escape. Wemmbu was a prisoner only freed thanks to the program” Lettuce starts, counting the facts on his fingers. Then man then points at Flame.  

“Then, Parrot makes an announcement” The man pauses for a second. “Lomedy was there, you know? The prisoner you exchanged your freedom for” 

Flame goes still at the mentioned name. And for a second, Wemmbu just wants to scream and cry at the situation. The soulbond mark itches under his skin. Flame’s magic flowing into his veins in a way Wemmbu doubts is normal.  

Parrot had unknowingly made things worse for them. 

“Bro, we literally work for you.” Flame tries to reason with the man to no avail. Lettuce raises an eyebrow, looking like he’s considering their words.  

“You know, I gave both of you a second chance at redemption with this program” Lettuce starts, looking almost bored at them. “And since I understand that change is hard, I’ll give you a last one.” 

The caracal hums, searching for something on the desk. Probably the button, and Wemmbu tries to force himself to calm down.  

“You are going to fight them and bring them here.” Lettuce says while playing with the panels. The man pauses adding almost like an afterthought. “Oh and Wemmbu, the collar will reactivate every twenty minutes for now on” 

“Bro, that’s not fair!” Flame starts, hands shaking to his side in clear defiance. The sound of their voices fade into background noise for Wemmbu.  

He feels numb, there’s no more fear. Just the weight of a cold acceptance, a fog on his mind, while he forces himself to try and pay attention once more.  

“I expect you to get used to fighting in with this new condition.” It’s the last thing Wemmbu can make out before electricity starts at his throat once more. All of the healing of the potion coming undone in seconds.  

Wemmbu stares dumbly at the floor, watching as Flame calloused hands reach to guide him outside. The man is shaking with anger while he helps Wemmbu walk into the empty halls of the building.  

There’s a strange burning sensation mixing with the nausea on his stomach. Oh, he’s going to throw up. The weakness potions were clashing horribly with his body. Everything in the rooms is spinning the farther they walk.  

Wemmbu makes a strange kind of hiccup, throwing his head down. 

Flame somehow seems to understand since he grabs a hold of Wemmbu’s hair and tilts his chin to the front, stopping him from choking.  

Wemmbu just watches as a mix of blood, and his breakfast falls through his open mouth.  

He feels dead, like a ghost.  

Before he registers it, there is a bucket being thrust into his shaking hands. Flame is hurrying him somewhere else while talking in hushed tones. Wemmbu just groans, wishing he could manipulate his own jaw and swallow.  

He’s sure that the electricity keeping his jaw open is not helping with the nausea. 

The bright lights of the place are hurting his eyes, huh, he’s on the floor.  

At some point Flame had helped him sit in a secluded corner of the room instead of the middle of the hallway.  

Wemmbu raises his head to look at the man or well, tries since the only thing he can see are blobs of colors. There’s a pink creature talking with Flame in hush tones.  

Huh, Loppezzz. 

She looks worried. Is she worried about the floor? Wemmbu didn’t mean to- 

The train of thought is immediately stopped by a hand gently guiding his head back into the bucket.  

Oh, he’s throwing up again.  

“../ourse- Lettuce did this! It’s the collar...” Wemmbu hears Flame whisper shout at Loppezzz while the man searches for his inventory. The man sounds mad, and agitated. The nether demon’s voice wavers from where he’s kneeling in front of him. 

“-he wouldn’t do-” A femenine voice rings out, soft and disbelieving. Wemmbu’s tired, huh, oh... and he’s throwing up again. Fucking great.  

A mix between a hiccup and a whine exits his lips, absolutely pathetic.  

Wemmbu knows that if he’s feeling this miserable then Flame might be nauseous too thanks to the bond. 

Oh, they are arguing about Wemmbu. 

He tries to apologize but nothing really comes out of his mouth. There’s black spots dancing all over the place, and suddenly he’s really tired.  

A faint burst of pain from his hand jolts him awake once more. A small burn from where Flame tears had fallen, lava that the man is trying frantically to wipe.  

“Bro I’m sorry-, you are dehydrated, don’t sleep” Flame frantic voice come out like a plea. Loppezzz is extending a hand to Flame, giving him what looks like a bottle of water.  

Flame tilts the bottle, coaxing the water down his throat. Because Wemmbu is too pathetic to do that on his own apparently. 

Wemmbu looks into the blurry red rimmed eyes of Flame and the guilty eyes of Loppezzz before his head is forced into the bucket as more blood comes down his throat.  

It’s going to be a long day. 

The only thing he receives in response is Flame's hand carding through the sweaty strands of his hair. Ugh this is going to be a pain to wash later. 

Better him than Flame. 

This whole situation was his fault in the first place.  

He had gotten captured. He had contacted Parrot.  

It makes sense that he suffers instead of Flame. 

Chapter Text

Flame used to be the strongest. 

It was a fact that was ingrained into his veins, fight after fight, the way he was recruited by the rest for it. It was a bloody path that came with a mix of betrayals and constant paranoia sinking into his bones. 

It was in his way of life, in his first memory. 

Flame had always fought, not wanting to taste the bitterness of helplessness ever again. 

It was funny the way it had been for nothing. Flame had spent his whole life wasting time at this rate, fighting for a title. A title that was more like a burden that had costed him everything. Maybe if he had done things differently, if he hadn't gotten stuck on the thrill of a battle, then maybe he would have avoided this whole situation. 

Lettuce loved to say that he didn't take accountability for his actions. 

And looking at the frail body of his once rival, Flame can't help but think the man is absolutely right.

First it had been Lomedy, the man had been dragged into every one of his fights and paid the consequences for it. It was Lomedy's mace the one that was stolen, his farm the one destroyed and his life the one that had almost ended. Just because he was Flame's friend. 

Just because Flame was too stubborn, too focused on his goals to care about anything else

Too focused on his title to see how much he was draining the people around him.

Lomedy had been right.

Now it was his rival the one who had to pay for his mistakes. Every time Flame messed up, Wemmbu was the one punished by that collar. He had asked Lettuce once, after a particular day where Wemmbu had convulsed until unconsciousness. He had been punished for a fight Flame had gotten into with another trainee.

"Why him?" He had asked.

"Flame, you don't take accountability, you don't understand" Lettuce had replied almost kindly. "If I were to punish you, I would be the villain and you just wouldn't learn. I have no other choice, you understand yes?"

Flame had taken another look to the limp body before nodding, kneeling to take the man home.

The worst thing it's that it had worked. Flame hadn't make the same mistake since then.

When the rest of soldiers demanded him to fight he hadn't responded, he hadn't moved from his duties once. 

Somehow Wemmbu didn't hate him for it. 

The man didn't hate him for the punishments, he didn't hate him for each mistake, he didn't hate Flame for being the reason both of them were stuck in this mess. No, Wemmbu had let Flame be. He had taught Flame how to use a mace, he had let him keep a dog and he continued bickering even with his destroyed throat. He kept treating him like they were rivals fighting in petty duels.

It made him angry. 

Flame couldn't help but think that Wemmbu's lack of hate was far crueler than any word that the chaos demon could have said.

There's a small sound, a miserable hiccup, one that he's sadly become familiar with. He snaps his gaze in direction of the sound, scolding himself for dwelling in the past. The man looks horrible against the stark white of the lights above them, lips chapped and bloodied while he shivers uncontrollably. Flame just stays there, knowing full well he made the mistake of shouting at a superior before. Well, fuck, he can't let Loppezzz tell Lettuce. Not with Wemmbu in this space. 

"Apologies for stepping out of line. I, Law dog promise to not let this mistake occur again" Flame draws his face as blank as he can. Trying desperately to reach that space of calm that he's forced himself to learn. 

"Wh- Flame?" Loppezzz looks at him surprise which makes sense since she just saw him crying in front of Wemmbu's unresponsive body a few seconds before.

Flame ignores the confused stare before raising a hand to scoop Wemmbu's knees, letting the man rest his chin on his shoulders — uncaring of the mess of saliva that falls from the others mouth. He dismisses the bucket into his inventory before turning around to face the guard. The girl looks frazzled but Flame can't let himself care about it. She doesn't look like she's gonna rat them to Lettuce at least.

"Requesting permission to change patrol route to the empty brewing room" Is what comes out of his mouth, a monotonous almost robotic voice that he hates. 

"Fuck- you aren't going to get him home?" Loppezzz asks in disbelief, signaling frantically to Wemmbu's limp body.

"Superior rules state that neither ghost nor me are allowed near the medbay or dismissed for the day." The strongest robot, a weapon, that's all Flame is right now. He puts a hand in the middle of Wemmbu's wings, trying to fold them a bit. "Failure to comply will result in another punishment."

"Another- no okay, uh what the fuck?" The guard sputters, shaking her hands. 

"Requesting permission once more" Flame starts in that monotonous voice, watching the girl squirm uncomfortable. Good, he can't help but think.

"Granted, i guess. How much time will he be like that." The guard points a shaky finger at Wemmbu.

"Until the leader lifts the punishment." Flame states trying to sound casual. Losing his cool in this situation is bad, so instead he checks the time. Fuck another dosis now. "He's due another dosis by the collar in about now actually."

"What?!" Loppezzz shrieks.

As if on cue, the collar starts beeping once more, dragging the attention of a horrified Loppezzz and leaving Flame scrambling to open his inventory once more. A broken sob mixed a gurgle that Flame has long learnt to associate with seizures starts.

Flame knows Wemmbu won't be able to resist one of them in this condition.

There's a splash regeneration on his inventory, that he rushes to drop to his feet. Flame is not a healer, he's not used to caring for people, but he's not about to let Wemmbu die due to electricity and overdose. Part of him knows that he'll have to study a lot to try and translate healing effects in a way that don't harm Wemmbu.-

He has no time for it.

Flame holds Wemmbu closer to his chest, trying to stop the flying glass from cutting the man's skin. 

The potion works, leaving instead a delirious whimpering Wemmbu in his arms. Flame sighs in relief, eating a gapple to heal all of the cuts in his own skin before turning to Loppezzz absolutely horrified face.

"We'll get going now" Flame states, bowing his head and walking as fast as he can down the hallways.

Leaving the frozen woman standing on the hall alone.

The journey to the brewing room feels eternal while he rushes through the busy halls. Forcing himself to appear calm while hating that same forced calmness, the way he has to pretend to not care about the unfairness of the situation. It sickens him. Wemmbu makes a small sound from his shoulders, grabbing the fabric under the armor and sinking his claws there.

At least Flame knows this menace is still conscious. 

They arrive after a few interruptions including other guards demanding his schedule without a care of the world. 

The place is warm, small bookshelves, chests full of different potions ingredients and lines of brewing stands in the middle. Flame hums as he runs around the place retrieving every single spare blanket he can find from the nearby storage room. 

He kneels in front of the desks with the brewing stands, lying the blankets and cushions from the chairs in a makeshift bed. The place is under the desks where it should be warm with the brewings stands radiating heat, and Wemmbu would be hidden from view. 

He drops Wemmbu gently, taking his cape and wrapping it over the man's shivering form. 

Flame leaves a bucket nearby and sits there. 

He tells himself he's doing this as a messed up thank you, that he doesn't care.

The lie tastes like ashes in his mouth, and he wonders just how many punishments Wemmbu's body can take until it collapses? How many fissures on their soulbond until they fuse and die? Those are questions he has no answers to.

Judging by the burning sensation of Wemmbu's magic filtering through his veins, they don't have much time. 

Maybe he should feel more alarmed by this fact, instead of the steady calmness that flows through him. 

Lettuce is expecting them to fight like this, and Flame has no idea on how they are going to manage it. One thing is for sure, Wemmbu would be weakened, an easy kill. The man might be stubborn but fighting with weakness is risky. 

Ugh bro, Flame has so much research to do. 

This is not going to be fun, Flame can't help but think as he grabs every single book on potions he can find. Pages of pages listing ingredients, magical foods, combinations. Things that he barely understands past the basics, and considering he's trying to contrarest something from zero? Let's say Flame is not moving from this seat for a long time. 

He remembers making fun of Wemmbu back then when the man had dedicated most of his nights to analyze the collar. 

If this is not karma for that incident, then he doesn't know what it is.

Part of him wishes he could ask Parrot about it, then he remembers that Parrot is against the Law and that idea disappears into a cloud of smoke.

Wemmbu is not able to even eat solids right now if Flame had to guess, he doubts his throat is well enough for it. So he has to make something that would combine a golden apple and whatever the fuck contrasts weakness without sending the chaos demon into overdose or shock?

Maybe healing is more difficult than he thought so, maybe Lomedy was right in that aspect. 

Not only fighting was difficult, Flame was just too stupid to see it in a way. 

Destroying a life was easy but trying to heal it was much worse. 

"'ame? Whua?" A delirious whisper hums from under the table, a small hand grabbing his boot. "'m coold"

Flame hums, reaching a hand to grasp at Wemmbu's forehead. Is the man sick? Flame wouldn't be surprised if the man developed a fever from the shock of all the electricity. How is Wemmbu even awake right now? There are countless of things that could be wrong right now, it could be the potions, it could be the dehydration. Flame doesn't know, he's not a doctor. 

Once again he can feel the pressure on his lungs, the festering feeling of worry and helplessness drowning him. 

The man looks wretched, flushed with a fever but still somehow strong enough to stay awake. 

It's unbelievable really. 

"Bro, shh, nap time" Flame says searching for a bucket of water in his inventory. That's what... That's what Mane used to do when they were younger right? Wet a towel to put the fever down. 

"'m fine, no ti'ed" Wemmbu slurs, already attempting to stand up. 

"Bro like, you are taking a work nap" Flame lies through his teeth trying to keep Wemmbu silent. "under my desk. So back to sleep"

"Ooh, m'kay" Wemmbu replies lying down, finally letting Flame put the cloth on his forehead. "wake me up?"

"Sure bro, we still have to race back home" Flame says picking up his notes where he had tried combining strength with milk. To no one's surprise? the combination didn't work. The milk just vanished all of the effects including positive ones.

Back to zero again. This time trying to find a combination while keeping the delirious demon alive under the desk.

Wemmbu wakes up thrice during Flame's attempts, sometimes convulsing due to the periodic electricity travelling through his body, other times vomiting on the bucket next to him. There's only one constant, Flame lack of knowledge on how to treat this. 

The chaos demon is going to die thanks to dehydration at this point.

There's not enough time at this point. Flame spends the whole night in the room, trying combination after combination. There's panic gripping at his chest, as he checks the time, putting an alarm for every twenty minutes. The whole thing is excruciating, a feeling that can't be compared to the paranoia of being hunted. It becomes routinary the constant checking on the demon below while trying to brew whatever combination his brain has conjured up.

A kind of panic he doesn't want to repeat ever in his life. 

Somehow he falls asleep at some point, since he's rudely awoken by the sound of the door being open. 

Flame flinches so hard at the sound that he ends up in a heap of limbs lying on the floor. A great start to the morning without a doubt. Fuck they are going to get punished for this, and Wemmbu can't take another one without dying. The previously pristine place is a mess, the curtains are closed, there are different potion ingredients and books tossed around.

How much time was he asleep? Unable to check Wemmbu, unable to check the various brews...

"Bro- I mean Sorry, I can explain" His brains scrambles for something to say while he organizes the notes around him. 

"Law dog? What are you doing here so early?" A calm yet intrigued voice sounds from behind him, and Flame freezes before turning to look at the man. "Where's ghost?"

Deputy Ace, one that is supposed to not find anything about the Law Dog's program. Lettuce insisted that it was better for everyone if the man didn't know the details.

"Brewing, I wanted to get an early morning" Flame tries to lie, is it already morning? He had spent the whole night trying to find a cure for Wemmbu which was pathetic to admit really.

Deputy Ace hums, stepping into the messy room and walking to the brewing stands. There's almost concern on the man's eyes, concern that Flame has to be imaginating. No one in the Law had bothered to talk at him like this. This calm interrogation before jumping into accusations.

Wemmbu had said the man seemed almost kind.

That he had spoke with Wemmbu without Flame there. 

"This is not a known potion and-" Ace started, abruptly pausing before kneeling in front of the desk. 

Flame felt stupid. Ace was some kind of moth hybrid, it was obvious the man would see Wemmbu's dying face from underneath the desk even in the dark room. They were so fucked. 

"Bro, don't tell Lettuce" Flame finds himself blurting out.

It was the worst possible thing to say in this situation.

When had he became so scared of Wemmbu's safety? At some point their rivalry had shifted and Flame priorities had shifted with it. Maybe it's the fact that they've been living together for months or the guilt. The whole situation felt like trying to count the grains of sand in the desert. Flame had done everything he could, he had tried and that was not enough. 

He was not enough.

And maybe it's his brain running on little but half an hour of sleep.

They have a fight tomorrow. 

Wemmbu is delirious, a wreck under the floor, weakness flowing through the man's body every twenty minutes. 

"Law dog, Flame, can you tell me what happened?" Ace is approaching Wemmbu, trying to grab him, 

It's like something inside of him breaks, and he can just focus on the injured figure. Injured because of him. Flame just reacts, throwing his body in front of the demon, pointing a sword to Ace throat. 

It had been instinct, instinct that had possibly ruined every chance they had of living. 

The man doesn't shout instead racing his hands with a soft click. "I'm sorry, would you let me take a look at ghost?"

Ace is asking for permission, not a hint of anger in his face. It's unreal. The soft genuine concern on his voice makes Flame nods dumbly as he steps away from Wemmbu's body. Hovering in the back with barely concealed anxiety. It's pathetic really. Flame being so on edge that he had to be talked down like a cornered animal, like a dog baring his fangs. 

Maybe if he lets Ace look at Wemmbu, then Ace won't rat them out. 

The man approaches in slow movements, gently grabbing Wemmbu's face and scanning his shivering form.

"Jesus, what happened? Why aren't you home?" Ace asks worriedly, maneuvering the limp whimpering body with visible movements. 

Flame can feel himself calm down, shoulders slumping slightly, as he considers his options. 

For a second he ignores the man, moving to check on the latest attempt he had made. Trying to infuse potions into apples.

"Flame, what happened?" The man asks getting a potion of regeneration out of his inventory. Flame realized dimly that the pot would probably cause a magic overdose, it could kill him.

"No pots, no pots bro" Flame barks out, before forcing himself to take a deep breath. "It'll send him into magic overdose"

"Okay, that's fine. I need you to tell me what happened" Ace replies, guarding the potion in the inventory and adjusting the cloth on Wemmbu's face. "I don't want to make it worse."

There was no other choice was there? At least, the apple thing had worked which is absolutely stupid since Wemmbu can't swallow things. 

And here he was, a wreck, trying to save a person that he had tried to kill a million of times in the past. 

"It's a punishment from the collar" Flame says, hands shaking to the side as smoke pours from his lips. "I- bro, It's weird. It like injects weakness potions into his veins and, there's also small shocks? they aren't supposed to hurt him I think. I-"

"What." Ace face goes blank, and Flame finds himself reaching for his sword, not knowing the cause of the man's change in personality. "I- Is this punishment common?"

"Yeah bro, it prevents him from talking. It makes him play the ghost part, I- you have a copy of the button, no?" Flame asks genuinely confused. "Don't you know what it does?"

"You mean to tell me this is a usual occurrence?" Ace face does a strange frown, as he reaches to adjust Wemmbu's shaking limbs. 

"It's, bro, It's not usually this bad." Flame says, and it's true. He doesn't know why the words feel bitter on his mouth. "It's just one injection during the day, and a diluted health potion works."

"And how many injections are now?" The man looks at him with incredibly sad eyes. He hates pity, Ace is in the Law why would he even care?

"One every twenty minutes, Lettuce said something like that-" He mutters a tad defensively, sue him, every single thing feels suffocating in here.

"Lettuce- Okay, what were you working on?" Ace face does some sort of grimace, dragging a hand to Wemmbu's forehead.

Flame stammers, not wanting to admit that he was literally infusing apples because that sounds stupid. Instead he drops the orange and blue apples to the man, grimacing and turning to the other side. He shouldn't care, Flame was not supposed to care. 

"Flame did you try making applesauce out of it?" Ace asks suddenly, inspecting the apple. "Like mixing this strength one with a golden one"

Right, smashing the apples, that was something he could do. Suddenly Flame felt like laughing, laughing at the absurdity of the situation, at the fact that he had spent hours of his life trying to save someone he should hate. Someone that was supposed to hate him. 

Ace doesn't say a single thing, standing up slowly and adjusting Wemmbu on the floor before going to one of the chests further from the room. He gets out a manual mixer, grabbing a nearby bowl and mixing the two apples into a liquid. The man pours it in a bottle, tossing the mixture to Flame. 

One way to know if this works. 

Flame reaches for Wemmbu's still form, grabbing his slightly open jaw and pouring the liquid down his throat. The strength dulls the weakness enough for Wemmbu's body to heal slowly from the damage. Flame smiles, carrying Wemmbu from where he's resting before looking at Ace. 

"Both of you are dismissed today, Law dog. Take care of ghost, don't worry, go home" Ace says from his spot near the chests.

"Okay, uh, good luck" Flame says softly, unable to thank the man. 

Ace nods, and Flame is finally able to go home. 

Uegh, he's going to have to do at least three stacks of different mixes for tomorrow.

Wemmbu hums, content, resting on his shoulder.

There's tiny pricks of claws piercing his uniform.

Yet, Flame can't find himself to be annoyed by them.