Work Text:
It was a nice, sunny afternoon in the Neutral Zone, as is often the case in stories like these. Though several clouds broke up the otherwise clear sky, a pleasant breeze meant that they were well on their way out. A rainbow glowed in the distance from an earlier shower.
K.O. inhaled, then exhaled before stepping through the threshold into Gar's Bodega, his smile just as bright and cheery as the weather outside.
"Oh boy, oh boy!" he chanted. "Another awesome day of working at the bodega ahead of me! I get to hang out with Rad and Enid, help some heroes with their shopping, clean a bunch of stuff, eat all the lightning nachos I want... I can't wait to see what's in store for me today! But first, I have to punch in!"
He made his way towards the breakroom, eagerly awaiting the shift that was to come. But as he threw his fist at the Punch-In Machine, he was surprised to instead strike a bare, golden set of abs.
K.O. thought he blemished his knuckles more than the abs.
"Ah, there you are, K.O.," Mr. Gar greeted him. "Nice to see you're as punctual as always."
"Of course I am," K.O. replied with a bounce, "because my mommy drives me! So, what needs cleaning and sanitating today?"
Mr. Gar rubbed his chin in thought. "Well, actually K.O., I have another task for you in mind."
K.O. gasped. "A new responsibility?! I'm... so... honored! What super important duty are you trusting me with? Do you want me to do a supply run for you? Offer customer service to the customers who hang out in the magazine section too long? Join you on one of your super secret hero missions? Or..." He gasped again, even louder than the last one. "Are you... letting me clean the bathrooms?"
"What? No!" Mr. Gar cut in before K.O. could ramble further. "For the last time, you need managerial training to clean the bathrooms. But I'm not sure even that much rigorous training could prepare anyone for the things that go on in there..."
He shuddered.
"No, K.O. What I need from you is much more important than that."
K.O.'s eyes couldn't have gotten bigger if he'd eaten one of those enlargement candies.
"Even more important than bathroom duty?! Oh, Mr. Gar, you've gotta tell me what it is! The suspense is killing me!"
"Relax, kid. I was getting to it. What I need you to do for me today is... unpack the latest freight shipment and work out the fresh stock!"
K.O.'s smile faltered.
"Stock? But doesn't Rad normally do that part? I'd hate to leave him with nothing to do all day."
"Oh, no need to worry about that," Mr. Gar assured him. "We got a customer call today wanting to take advantage of our delivery service for once. Since Radicles has a large, spacious transport vehicle, I've left it up to him to make the delivery. He should be back in a few hours, but that's a few hours that our shelves are left empty. Enid can't leave the counter unattended, so that leaves you, K.O."
K.O. wasn't as tall as Rad, nor was he as buff. He didn't have Rad's finger beam ability, and more than that, he wasn't forklift-certified. He thought about the sheer size and quantity of boxes, crates, and barrels he saw come in on a daily basis, and how much even Rad sometimes struggled to get them onto the highest backstock shelves, and felt his enthusiasm waning.
Mr. Gar must have seen it on his face, because his severe expression softened, mustache ruffling as he exhaled through his nose. "I know this is a tall order for you, K.O., but you've come a long way on your heroic journey since I first hired you. I know you've got the gumption and the can-do attitude for this, and if you succeed, I will be very, very proud of you."
K.O. perked up at that.
Mr. Gar was right. K.O. was never one to be deterred from tasks that seemed impossible. He always managed to find a way to pull through somehow. Maybe it really would have been impossible when he was a level 0.1, but he was almost a level 4 now. He could definitely handle putting away a few boxes.
Plus, if it would make Mr. Gar proud of him...
Something niggled in the back of his mind. He recognized it as one of his brothers vying for his attention, but he ignored it for now. He had an important job to do.
He raised his hand in an over-eager salute, smacking himself in the forehead. "You can count on me, Mr. Gar, sir!"
His boss grinned. "Happy to hear it! Now, if you need me, I'll be supervising from my office." With that, he made his way out of the breakroom, but not before poking his head in one last time. "Oh, don't forget to punch in!"
K.O. pouted at his retreating back. If Mr. Gar had such high hopes in his freightwork, then surely he had the confidence that his youngest employee would never forget to log his hours before starting work.
That tugging sensation in his brain came back, just a tad more insistent than before. Once again, K.O. waved it off. "Guys, come on. I have important work to do, and Mr. Gar is counting on me to do it before Rad gets back. I can't afford to be distracted."
Whatever it was his alter wanted, he could always take control if it was an emergency. Or use the handy dandy microphone by the console to verbalize what he wanted to say where K.O. could actually hear it. Otherwise, K.O. would just pop in after work to see what was up.
Speaking of work, K.O. cracked his knuckles and steeled his resolve. He had stock to unload.
(~)
Three hours came and went faster than K.O. would have expected. Despite his earlier optimism, moving product from truck to stockroom, and then from stockroom to shelf, was just as grueling as it looked. K.O. didn't have the benefit of having Rad there to help— or rather, Rad wasn't there for K.O. to assist— but T.K.O. was gracious enough to lend him some of his power to help things along, even if he wasn't willing to come out for it himself. While the gift of flight was a much appreciated boost, however, it didn't necessarily make the merchandise any easier to carry.
K.O. was still at it when Rad arrived, so caught up in his duty that he didn't know the alien had returned until he was grabbed from behind and given a vicious noogie.
"Agh–! Oof, oh, hahaha, hey Rad!" K.O. greeted, once he realized who his assaulter was amongst all the squirming.
Mercifully, Rad let him go, instead resting his hands on his hips. "Heh, heya squirt. Wow, you were so focused on what you were doing, you didn't even see me coming. A true hero is always acutely aware of his surroundings. You've still got a long way to go before you're up to my level."
Just then, a small box teetering on the edge of the top shelf fell, landing on Rad's head with a sound akin to a pot shattering.
"... I meant for that to happen."
K.O. ran his fingers through his hair, returning it to its proper upright state. "Right. I guess I've been a little distracted today... I'm so glad you're back! Mr. Gar asked me to work here in the stockroom while you were gone, but it's such hard work, and I couldn't even get to it all! I don't know how you do it every day! Oh, Mr. Gar is gonna be so disappointed in me..."
"Naw, I seriously doubt that," Rad assured him with a dismissive wave of his hand. "This is like, a whole day's worth of freight, and it looks like you got at least an hour of it done. As the top stockboy around here, there's no way you'd be as efficient at it as I am, but you still saved me some work that I don't have to do now. So thanks, brushhead."
"Really?" K.O. tapped his fingers together. "So... does that mean you're proud of me?"
Rad rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. "Yeah, sure. Proud of you, K.O."
K.O. squealed with delight, but that delight quickly became alarm when Rad's hand came down to viciously ruffle the updo he'd just corrected.
K.O. gently slapped his hand away, chuckling all the while. "Hey, that tickles!"
"Heh, what can I say? Your head is like the perfect size and shape for affectionate mussing."
"Haha, I guess that's true," K.O. said with a humorous grin. "It's a good thing I like getting my hair messed up then, right?"
Another twinge at his brain stem. But just like before, no involuntary movements.
Who wanted his attention so badly, and why?
He didn't have a chance to ponder it, because Mr. Gar chose just then to join the pair in the stockroom. "Welcome back, Radicles! I take it the delivery went smoothly?"
Rad raised his hand in a hasty salute. "Smooth as butter, sir!"
"Good! Now, pick up where K.O. left off and finish working this product out. K.O., we've got a Code P.U. by the deli. Hop to it!"
"Ted and Foxy?"
"Ted and Foxy."
Ted really needed to find something else to feed Foxy... "Right away, sir!"
"And K.O.?"
"Yes?"
Mr. Gar tipped his shades down low enough to give K.O. an approving wink. "Good work holding down the fort until Rad got back. That took grit."
K.O. pumped a fist.
(~)
Though K.O. was back in his comfort zone, the remainder of the shift proved to be so busy, what with people tracking in mud all day, that he completely forgot about whatever potential shenaniganery was going on in his subconscious. Whatever the issue might have been, the mental tug never returned, even by the time his mom came to pick him up.
"There you are, my little breadwinner!" Carol boomed, enveloping her son in a bone-crushing hug. "How was work today, hon? You bust up any evil robots?"
K.O. offered a token struggle to his mother's embrace before sinking into it. "Nah, no robots today. But Mr. Gar did ask me to work in the stockroom for a little while so Rad could make a delivery."
Carol whistled, releasing her vice grip on her son before picking him up to get him buckled in. "You got to play stockboy today, huh? That's a high honor! Was it fun? That sounds like it was fun."
K.O. grimaced.
"Yeah... fun."
"Now, K.O., everyone has to do things they don't like every once in a while," Carol gently admonished, buckling in herself. "Besides, stocking is a fantastic way to build your core muscles! You can't be all arms, you know."
K.O. raised his arms up high with a smile. "You're right, mommy! If I want to grow up to be a super strong hero, I have to be ready for anything, and good at everything!"
Carol laughed. "Hold your horses, peanut. I'm not saying you have to do everything! I just meant that broadening your horizons a little doesn't hurt, that's all."
"You're so wise, mommy," K.O. said solemnly.
"Comes with being level 11, kiddo," Carol chortled.
"... Well. Even if I'm not as good with boxes as Rad is, Mr. Gar still said I did a good job," said K.O. "So that must mean I'm one step closer to being just as strong as Rad, right?"
Carol turned in her seat, an expression of doting adoration on her face that only mothers seemed to be capable of, one hand reaching back to pinch and pull at K.O.'s cheek. "A commendation from Eugene?! That big old stubborn lug?! Oh, I'm so proud of you, K.O., my accomplished little munchkin!"
K.O. was squirming with laughter, and yet his skull felt like nothing but alarm bells.
No more putting things off.
He took Carol's hand in both of his, gently prying her away. "Sorry, mommy. T.K.O. or P.K.O. has been trying to talk to me all day, and I think it might be serious. So I'm gonna close my eyes for a bit, okay?"
Carol's expression softened. "Of course, honey. If you're still out by the time we get home, I can bring you inside. But if you need anything from me at all, all you need to do is holler, alright?"
K.O. nodded. He breathed in, breathed out, and closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, he was in the mindscape, the same dreary shades of blue and purple it always was. The enormous K.O.-vision set was consumed with static, as it often was with nobody holding the reins. In front of K.O. stood three houses, one blue, one purple, and one beige, looking exactly the same as when he'd last seen them.
Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. So what was going on for someone to want to bring him here so badly?
It looked like he wouldn't have to wait long for an answer. Almost as soon as he'd manifested, P.K.O. emerged from his house, looking both alert and relieved when he saw K.O. standing nearby.
"There you are!" he called. "I've been trying to get ahold of you all day."
"I know, sorry," K.O. replied meekly, rubbing the back of his head. "I promise I wasn't ignoring you on purpose. There's just been a lot going on today."
P.K.O. pursed his lips. "I know. I saw everything."
"Well, what's going on? Is there an emergency? You could have taken over if it was something bad, you know."
"I know," P.K.O. groaned. "It's just, technically it isn't an emergency, and considering... past events, I'd rather not take control if I don't have to."
K.O. remembered the hostile takeover in question, but he easily brushed it off. "I get it, but this wouldn't be the same as that. I wouldn't be upset with you if it came down to it."
For some reason, P.K.O. looked even more displeased at that.
"Come on, let's talk inside," he said. "It's always better to sit down for stuff like this. I can think us up some hot cocoa or something, if you want."
Funny. P.K.O. had said it wasn't serious, but he was going about the whole thing like he was about to give K.O. some pretty dire news. Despite the sudden dread he felt, he followed his counterpart into his house.
In contrast to the pale oranges of the exterior, the interior was mostly decorated in shades of blue and seafoam green. Art supplies and musical paraphernalia were scattered about the place like P.K.O. had lived there for years, not months. Several drawings and paintings were posted up on both the fridge and the walls.
P.K.O. ushered K.O. to the plush green sofa, gesturing for him to sit. He then summoned two steaming hot cups of cocoa, as well as a tiny little coffee table with a spread of sprinkles, marshmallows, whipped cream, and other toppings.
"Wow, you've gotten really good at this subconscious stuff," K.O. praised, already reaching for the whipped cream.
"Well, I kind of am the living avatar of your subconscious, if you think about it," P.K.O. replied humbly. "So of course I'd be pretty good at making whatever I want in here."
The two of them enjoyed their hot chocolate in silence for a couple minutes, K.O.'s with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles, P.K.O.'s with marshmallows and a splash of caramel.
K.O. spoke up when they were each on their second cup. "So, what did you wanna talk about? I know you said it wasn't an emergency, but I won't know how to help you if you don't tell me what's wrong."
P.K.O. snorted at that. "Heh, funny you should say that, actually."
K.O. tilted his head. "What's so funny about that?"
"Nothing," P.K.O. replied. "It's just, you do know you're a people pleaser, right?"
"Huh? Well, of course I am," said K.O., surprised by the sudden turn in conversation. "Being a hero is all about making sure everyone around you is safe and happy. If I'm gonna be the greatest hero of all time, that means everyone has to be super pleased!"
P.K.O. shook his head. "That's great and all, but that's not what I mean. There's a difference between being a people pleaser, and pleasing people."
"What's that supposed to mean?" asked K.O. "All you did was swap the words around."
P.K.O. stared at the ceiling like he was trying to muster the patience of a saint. "K.O., I know you're not being dense on purpose because there's always some part of you stuck in my head, but I really need you to understand. I know you are one because I am, too. Heck, I probably get it from you, at least a little bit. I'm better about it than I used to be, but it doesn't seem like you're catching on yet, so I wanted to try to help you along."
"You want to help me... not help people?" K.O. pondered. "But that's the exact opposite of what I should be doing! I wanna be a better hero, not a meaner one!"
"I never said you should be mean," P.K.O. refuted hotly. "I just think... I dunno. Maybe you're a little confused about what does and doesn't count as mean."
"I don't know what you're trying to tell me," K.O. whined. "Do you think I'm being too nice, or too mean? Is it better to help by not helping? The way you talk is so mysterious and confusing sometimes!"
"I know, I know, just–!" P.K.O. pinched the bridge of his nose, hissing through his teeth. "... Right. Right. More direct. I thought 'people pleaser' was clear enough, but I guess not. I'll try again." He sucked in another breath, regaining his composure.
"I think the way you help people is fine. You're friendly, you kick butt, and you're good at knowing what people want or need. That's awesome. But sometimes, you take things way farther than you should, but only if it's about you. I don't... like... the way people treat you sometimes, and I don't like that you just let them."
K.O. blinked. "Huh? The way people treat me? But everyone is so nice to me! Well, except the villains, but they're bad guys, so they don't count."
"I know people seem nice," said P.K.O., "and they probably think they're being nice, too. But sometimes they really push it, and it can be so aggravating! Doesn't it ever bug you?"
"Why would people being nice bug me?" K.O. asked, becoming only more puzzled the longer P.K.O. went on. "You're still not making a lot of sense."
"I know I'm not, but... here's an example," said P.K.O. "When you started work today, Mr. Gar wanted you to work in the stockroom while Rad was gone. You'd do it no matter how you felt about it, because you've got a good work ethic like that. But you weren't excited about it until he said he'd be proud of you for doing it."
K.O. tilted his head. "What's wrong with that? He's my boss, and he's dating our mom. His praise means a lot to me."
"Sure, but it shouldn't take you slaving away for three hours in a department you don't work in just to earn it," P.K.O. grumped. "You do a really good job at the bodega, but it feels like Mr. Gar only compliments you if he thinks it'll get him the results he wants. He never counts on you until he's out of options. He doesn't even trust you to clock in unless he tells you to. Haven't you noticed?"
K.O. thought about that for a moment. Now that P.K.O. mentioned it, Mr. Gar was a pretty strict boss. K.O. had always chalked it up to him being a top hero with a tragic backstory, but his approval really did tend to come at mostly K.O.'s lowest points. When K.O. messed up the steaks-out, Mr. Gar bent over backwards to put a positive spin on the situation. Before T.K.O. first took control, Mr. Gar only ever gave K.O. aimless feedback just so he wouldn't feel left out in the wake of his more impressive peers' achievements. He'd never even wanted to hire K.O. in the first place, and only did so because his mom asked him to. He always said the exact thing he thought would perk K.O. up, but outside of that, he rarely ever emerged from his office unless it was to scold his employees, or to threaten his ever-looming disappointment.
"I... guess I did," K.O. murmured. "I just never thought about it that way. He's our boss, and bosses are supposed to push their employees to be the best they can be. Besides, he's gotten a lot nicer lately. He hasn't been disappointed in a while, at least."
"Has he gotten nicer," P.K.O. asked, "or has he just figured out you do better work when he isn't yelling at you?"
K.O. didn't have an answer for that.
P.K.O. shook his head. "Alright, fine, how about this. What about when Rad snuck up on you and kept messing your hair up? And he's always going on and on about how much better he is than you."
"But that's just how he messes around," K.O. argued. "He does all that stuff because he's my friend."
"You don't even like having your hair touched."
K.O. hesitated.
"... Yes I do!"
"Don't lie to me," P.K.O. challenged. "Just because you let people do it, doesn't mean you like it."
K.O. shook his head with fervor. "You've got it all wrong! I'm not lying to you!"
"Fine. Maybe not to me, but you're lying to yourself for sure, even if you don't know it. Half of me comes from you, so I know better than anyone how it makes you feel when everyone treats you like a dumb, naïve, precocious little kid."
K.O. bit his lip. "But I am a precocious little kid."
"We're preteens, K.O.!" P.K.O. shouted. "I'm not saying you need to grow up and stop saying 'mommy' or whatever, but I know it kills you inside when people treat you like that's your whole personality! You don't like being touched when nobody asks you first, you don't like being talked to like you're at the lower end of your age range, and you hate it when people try to decide for you what you can or can't do."
K.O. shook his head even harder. "That's not true! I didn't like when Rad used to call me simple, but that's different because that was actually mean! If the rest of that stuff bothered me, I would know about it, wouldn't I?!"
"If you don't mind the rest of that junk," said P.K.O., "then why did you try to get away when mom hugged you earlier?"
K.O. recoiled like he'd been struck.
"... But... I didn't."
"You did. It was just for a second, but you did."
K.O. stared into his cocoa. It had gone cold.
He didn't hate hugs. He knew for a fact that he didn't. But P.K.O. was right; he'd tried to wriggle out of that one. K.O. supposed it had been a bit too tight maybe, but...
"... But I can't just never let her hug me."
"Never said you had to," said P.K.O. "This is exactly what I mean. You're so zeroed in on making everyone around you happy, that you let them treat you however they want, even if it makes you unhappy. It's gotten to the point you don't even realize they're hurting you."
"Well, maybe they're not hurting me if I don't feel like I'm hurting," K.O. countered, but the argument rang hollow even in his own ears.
It wasn't just the hug; that hadn't even been the only hug he'd ever tried to squirm away from, thinking back on it. He'd pushed hands away from his hair when they got too close. He'd acted tough when people handled him with kiddie gloves or spoke in code-phrases they didn't think he could decipher. When he'd felt like he was lagging behind his fellow heroes, he'd followed a strange hooded man into the forest with the promise of power, just because he'd been the one person who'd acted like K.O. was capable of much of anything.
But he also let these people hug him and ruffle his hair, because it showed that they loved him. He let them coddle him and buckle his seatbelt for him because he knew they wanted to keep him safe. He let them call him silly nicknames because that was how they joked around. He would take any praise he could get if it meant they acknowledged him as an equal, or at least close to it.
To discourage his friends and family of all the ways they cared about him would be downright cruel.
"... I can't stop them," he said, almost too quietly to hear. "If I told them I didn't like how they loved me, they'd be so upset. They'd probably hate me, or die of heartbreak! I can't do that to them!"
"You can," said P.K.O.
"I can't!"
"You can."
K.O. sniffled. "But... why would I do that...?"
"Because they love you, and you love them," P.K.O. replied simply. "We both know that nobody means to actually upset you, but it's like you told me earlier. If you don't tell them what the problem is, they won't be able to fix it. They like you, a lot. If you'd just talk to them, I'm pretty sure they'd understand."
"Pretty sure?" K.O. asked with a hiccup.
P.K.O. shrugged. "I'm in your head, not theirs."
"I don't know about this, P.K.O.," K.O. muttered. "What if I hurt their feelings? What if they get so mad at me, they stop being my friend, and I can never make them happy ever again, and then I never become a hero?"
"It won't come to that," P.K.O. reassured him. "And if it does, I'll come out and kick their butts for you."
K.O. clutched his vest. "NOOOOOOOOOOO!"
"Hey, hands off!" P.K.O. barked, shoving K.O.'s hands away.
K.O. was undeterred by the rough treatment, tears trailing down his face. "Please don't beat them up," he pleaded wetly.
P.K.O. rolled his eyes. "Alright, fine, I won't." He paused for a moment. "So, do you hate me?"
K.O. blinked. "Huh? For what?"
"For telling you to stop touching me."
"... No?"
"Then everything's gonna be fine. You'll see."
K.O. pondered that for a while.
"... Okay. I'll give it a try. But if I do it, and it works, you have to actually tell mommy you don't like being called Peekaboo."
P.K.O. flushed.
"I... I'll think about it, okay?!"
(~)
The following day was just as nice as the one that preceded it. All of the leftover rain had dried up, but the rainbow persisted anyway, lightly obscured by wispy clouds.
K.O., in typical K.O. fashion, had completely forgotten about yesterday's woes, strolling to his workplace with a spring in his step. He whistled an off-key tune, striking the Punch-In Machine to begin his work day.
"K.O.!" Mr. Gar shouted the millisecond the machine hit the wall. His employee immediately spun around with a dutiful salute. "I've got another important job for you today!"
"Ooh, another one?" K.O. asked. "Is it more stockroom stuff?"
Mr. Gar laughed. "Nope. Rad's here today, so no need for that. In fact, you're not covering for anyone. I've got a brand new job that only you can do."
"Only... me?" K.O.'s eyes were sparkling with wonder. "What's my special duty, Mr. Gar?"
His boss cleared his throat. "In order to best assist our customers, I need you... to find an item in The Back."
K.O.'s smile fell.
"The... The Back?"
"Mm-hm, that's right," Mr. Gar affirmed. "Seems like our shelves are out of the VeeVeeYeah lotion one of our customers is looking for. Rad's still working on yesterday's stock with no sign of any lotion turning up, and Enid said she didn't wanna do it, so... yep. That leaves you."
Myriad memories of maps, mazes, and mimics meandered through K.O.'s mind.
He'd experienced The Back exactly once, and it hadn't exactly been a good time. And that was with Rad and Enid's help, too; K.O. liked to think he was brave, but even he knew that venturing into such a place alone was a dangerously monumental task.
He'd do it, of course. Doing what Mr. Gar told him to was what he was paid for, after all, not to mention that K.O. would do anything if it meant lending a fellow hero a hand. But...
"Don't worry, K.O.," Mr. Gar assured him, offering a thumbs up. "The VeeVeeYeah isn't kept too far in, and ever since the last incident, I've made sure the rooms won't randomly generate. I wouldn't ask this of you if I didn't know you had it in you."
K.O. pursed his lips, and at the same time he felt a nudge in his subconscious.
If you're gonna say anything, now's the time, P.K.O. urged.
Mr. Gar's thumb began to sweat when K.O. took too long to return to his usual boisterous optimism. "Er..."
"You don't mean that!" K.O. quickly blurted.
Mr. Gar's eyebrows shot up.
"Bwuh?"
"You're just saying all that because I'm the last person left who can help," K.O. rambled, the words pouring out of him before he could think to chicken out. "You weren't gonna ask me to help unless Rad and Enid couldn't, and you're only saying nice things because you think I'm too scared to do my job if you don't."
"K.O...?"
"I know you're my boss, so it's your job to tell me what to do," K.O. went on. "I'm sure you want me to be the best hero I can be. But when you're only nice to me when Rad and Enid are busy, and yell at me the rest of the time, it... feels like you don't really mean it. Like you don't think I can be a great hero."
"Oh, K.O..."
Mr. Gar ran a hand through his thinning hair. "I didn't realize... I thought I... Do you really feel that way?"
K.O. rubbed his arm, his gaze focusing on anything but his boss. "P.K.O. does. And now that he's said so... it kind of feels like he's right."
Mr. Gar was staring at him. K.O. could feel it without even looking at him. Disappointment radiated from him, piercing K.O. with its potency.
P.K.O. was wrong. Speaking up had been a mistake. It hadn't even been a big deal until P.K.O. made it one. K.O. should have kept his mouth shut, because maybe then Mr. Gar wouldn't be so–
"I'm sorry."
K.O. blinked. He didn't realize how misty his eyes had gotten. "Huh?"
"Well, you were right about one thing. I do want you to be the best hero you can be. But now I understand that I've been going about it all wrong. You've got such a good flow going with the whole cleaning thing, I've been trying to challenge you with harder jobs so you could build up more of your heroing skills. I thought encouraging you was helping, but I guess I've ended up doing the opposite instead."
Was K.O. hearing things right? Was Mr. Gar— the stoic, ex-P.O.I.N.T., level 11 hero— admitting to a flaw?
K.O. sniffled. "But... if you wanted me to do harder stuff, then how come you always wait until Rad and Enid can't do it?"
Mr. Gar scratched his chin. "Well... Rad and Enid have worked here so long, I'm used to checking with them first, or just getting the job done myself. But you're a hero in your own right, and you've more than proven to be their equal. You do a really good job here, and any time I've told you so, I meant it. I don't give anyone any credit they didn't earn, but I, er, guess I've still given you the wrong idea."
K.O. crossed his arms and pouted.
Mr. Gar squirmed.
"D'oh, you know I'm not good at this whole communication thing...!" Still, he sucked in a steadying breath, then knelt so that he and K.O. were seeing eye to eye. Or, well, as close as they could get with Mr. Gar's hulking physique. "But, I'm glad you've told me this, K.O. It was never my intention to make you feel like you were less than anyone else. And I, uh, suppose I do raise my voice a lot. I probably got that from my old boss, to be perfectly honest..."
He stared off into the distance, looking at something only he could see, or perhaps someone. But then he shook his head, refocusing his attention on K.O. "That doesn't matter. What does matter is that I haven't been the kind of boss you needed me to be, and that's going to change. For starters, I'll work harder to look to you first for a job, check in with you a little more often. And if that isn't enough, I want you to be able to come to me if there's a problem, just like you did today. Understand?"
K.O. looked at him like he'd hung the moon. He nodded.
Mr. Gar clapped a hand on K.O.'s shoulder. "I'm proud of you for speaking up for yourself, kid, and I really do mean that. I always have."
K.O. sniffled again, but this time for a different reason. "Thanks, Mr. Gar."
His boss smirked. "Any time. Now, about The Back... I guess I can't expect you to find anything back there if I never gave you the tour. How about we both go, and I'll show you the ins and outs so it isn't so bad next time?"
K.O. smiled, and he was pretty sure P.K.O. did, too.
(~)
Just as Mr. Gar had promised, finding the VeeVeeYeah lotion was a trivial task. Though they located the item quickly, Mr. Gar took the extra time to explain the layout of The Back to K.O., pointing out an interface that enabled and disabled different elements of the veritable dungeon.
"Plus now, we have this handy dandy wall file hanging here by the entrance, with maps for anyone who needs them," Mr. Gar said. "That one was Enid's idea."
"Wow, she's so smart and thoughtful!" K.O. cheered. "Now nobody will ever get lost here ever again!"
"That's the idea, kid. You think you can handle things from here on out?"
K.O. nodded. "Uh-huh!"
"Great! Now take this lotion to that customer, and then you can resume your normal duties. And if you ever have any questions or, uh, any more feedback, come by my office any time. You know, assuming I'm not on a top-secret mission and all that."
"Thank you very much, sir!" said K.O. with a dutiful salute.
"Any time, K.O. Keep up the good work!"
With that, Mr. Gar leapt, crashing through the ceiling rather than taking the stairs ten feet away.
K.O. opted to exit the normal way, humming happily to himself as he began his long ascent.
He's still buttering you up, you know, P.K.O. said cynically.
K.O. shrugged. "I know. But he told me he only says that stuff when he means it, and I believe him."
P.K.O. didn't reply, but K.O. thought it felt like an agreeable silence.
Not long after, he returned to the main lobby of the bodega, ready to find his trusty mop and do what he always did. Enid and Rad looked up from their positions at the register and canned food section, respectively, both their faces lighting up as they approached him.
"Welcome back, brushhead!" Enid greeted. "Glad to see you didn't get melted by any slime monsters."
"Yeah. And thanks for taking care of that errand so we didn't have to," added Rad. "I mean, not that it would have been hard or anything, but since I know that place like the back of my hand, looking for some crummy old lotion would have just slowed me down."
Enid squinted at him. "That makes zero sense, Rad."
The alien huffed. "Yeah, well. Just because you can't comprehend my impressive intellect, that doesn't mean it isn't there. It isn't like you know how to navigate The Back like I do, anyway."
K.O. cut in before that old feud could be reignited. "Oh, well, sure, it was kinda hard before. But Mr. Gar showed me that there's these special controls that can make rooms easier or harder, and you can even turn off the random parts!"
Enid's smile grew tight, teeth clenched so hard it was a miracle they didn't crack.
"... You hear that, Rad? You can turn off the random parts."
Rad blinked, then scoffed. "Um, duh? I know that. But then it wouldn't have been an adventure, now would it?"
Interrupting their brewing argument yet again, K.O. held up the VeeVeeYeah. "Anyway, um! I found the thing for the customer!"
"Oh yeah! Gimme that, K.O.! I know who this is for!" Rad made grabby hands for the lotion, which K.O. happily handed over. Rad then ran up to Fish Dude, who looked pleased to see the item. "I found it, sir!"
Enid rolled her eyes at his antics.
"Well, at least you and I know you were the one who went through the actual trouble of finding it," she said. "Nice work, K.O."
K.O. rubbed the back of his head. "Aww, I don't mind Rad saying he found it. But thanks, I really appreciate iiiiiiiiii-eeeeeeeyahhhh!"
In his brief moment of distraction, Enid's hand was hovering directly above him, coming down almost as if in slow motion. On pure instinct, he stepped out from under the encroaching appendage, his own hands coming up to half-cover his hair.
Enid's hand froze. Rad, returning from his short venture, stopped in his tracks a few paces back. The teens looked at each other, then at K.O. with twin expressions of uncertainty.
"... T.K.O...?" Enid tried.
K.O. fiddled with his wristbands, lips pursed. Did they really think that his alter ego emerging was the only possible explanation for why he didn't want them touching him without warning?
"... No. It's still me," he replied quietly.
"Oh. Well, um..." Enid belatedly retracted her hand. "Then... sorry, I guess?"
"Bad mood?" Rad guessed.
K.O. shook his head. As tempted as he was to let the matter drop right then and there, he felt a gentle nudge from P.K.O., urging him to elaborate. Bolstered by his earlier success with Mr. Gar, K.O. did.
"I'm feeling okay, promise. It's just... I don't... actually like people touching me when I don't expect it. Especially my hair. I work really hard to make it the way I like it, so when it gets messed up..."
"Aw, K.O..." Enid crooned.
"Shoot, dude. I thought you liked it when we messed with your hair," said Rad. "That's how we goof around, right?"
"Why didn't you say anything sooner?" Enid asked.
"Because, you guys are my friends," K.O. replied. Even though he'd mustered up the nerve to speak with them, he still found it hard to meet their eyes. "You mess with each other because you like each other, right? So if you do the same stuff to me, I know for sure we're friends, so if I told you to stop..."
"What? K.O., no!" Enid cried. "We're not friends because of all that junk. We're friends because we like you."
"Yeah!" Rad agreed. "Enid and I give each other a hard time because that's how we joke around. But you don't have to put up with stuff you hate just to hang out with us."
Enid nodded. "Right. Friends don't do stuff that they know hurts their other friends. I'd rather do the stuff you like doing instead."
"Well, I don't not like it," K.O. stammered. "Just... not by surprise."
"Really?" Rad pondered. "So what you're saying is, if I put my hand like this...?" He reached one hand out, a few inches above K.O.'s head, but no closer.
K.O. hummed. "... Yeah. If you're careful," he said slowly.
Silently, almost reluctantly, Rad's hand bridged the short distance to K.O.'s scalp. He held it there a moment, ruffling gently before withdrawing it.
K.O.'s hair held its shape. He smiled.
"Alright, I think I get it now," Enid said. "You like your personal space, and you want people to touch you on your own terms. I can get behind that."
"Yeah, that makes sense," said Rad. "Sorry we didn't realize it sooner. But now that we know, we're gonna be even better friends than ever before!"
"Aw, but we're already such good friends!" said K.O. "But thanks for listening to me. Talking about it was a little scary, but I think I'm glad I did it."
"Well, we're glad you did, too," Enid assured him. She knelt down, arms outstretched, and Rad did the same.
K.O. didn't hesitate to run into their waiting arms.
(~)
The rest of the shift went by in the blink of an eye. K.O. waved his friends goodbye as he left the bodega, easily finding his mom's tank-car in the parking lot.
Carol, as always, was waiting for him, her gap-toothed grin radiant as she caught sight of her son. "K.O.! There's my hard-working baby boy!"
She ran at K.O. at a full sprint, fast enough to kick up plumes of dirt. Her arms were spread wide, fully ready to envelop him.
With much less hesitation than before, K.O. held both arms up to block her approach, taking a step back. "WAAAIIIT!"
Carol skidded to a stop mere inches from him. She craned her neck, looking him all over for something she must have missed. "Huh? What's wrong, sugarcube? Are you hurt somewhere? Did you sprain something? Did one of those robots give you a good wallop? Where's it hurt, baby?"
"No, mommy! I'm fine!" K.O. yelled, waving off her hovering.
"Oh. Well, that's good to hear," said Carol, straightening out with a confused scratch of her headband. "Come on, then, kiddo. Let's get you buckled up."
K.O. held up his hand again when his mom reached to pick him up. "I wanna do it myself."
Carol chuckled. "Really? Oh, alright hun. I know you know how to buckle yourself in. I'll go ahead and start the car."
A moment of quiet passed as K.O. clambered into his seat, reaching for the belt. Carol turned the ignition, idling as she waited for the engine to warm up.
"... Mom?" K.O. dared.
Carol looked in the rearview mirror. The shortening of her nickname didn't go unnoticed. "Yeah, peanut?"
"I don't wanna be your baby boy anymore."
Carol spluttered.
"Bwuh-uh-huh?!"
"I wanna be your big boy instead!" K.O. explained. "I'm kind of almost a teenager now, and I'm almost a level 4 hero. So I wanna buckle my own seatbelts, and not be carried around all the time, and, and, and I wanna learn how to make my own spaghetti, just as good as you!"
Carol sagged with relief.
"Oh, okay. I see what's happening here. Looks like my baby boy— oops, I mean my big boy— is growing up. No more coddling and holding your hand?"
K.O. tapped his fingers together. "Well, holding hands is still okay. I still have a lot to learn on my journey to becoming a great hero, after all! But... it would be nice to be treated like I'm a big kid instead of a little baby sometimes."
Carol affectionately clicked her tongue. "Oh, K.O. You're always going to be my little baby, no matter how old you are. But, I suppose that doesn't mean I should treat you like one forever. You're getting ready to make your own way in the world, and who would I be to get in the way of that adventure? If you tell me you're ready, then that means you're ready, and I'll always be there to help you, every step of the way."
K.O. smiled gratefully. It looked like they were quick to get on the same page.
"... But even if I'm a big kid now," he asked, "can I still call you mommy?"
"Oh, of course, hon," Carol replied. "I'll always be your mommy. Nothing will ever change that."
She began her drive, and K.O. stared wistfully out the window.
Talking about your feelings, especially the ones so far down you barely noticed them, was a scary thing. But, as K.O. was starting to understand, the scary talks were often the talks worth having. Had he remained silent, the problems he hadn't realized were problems would have kept happening, or maybe even gotten worse. Now that things were out in the open, all of K.O.'s relationships were better for it.
Thanks, P.K.O., he thought to himself.
It was going to take practice. K.O. knew that this kind of bravery would take work to become second nature to him. But he had people in his corner willing to help him through it, and friends and family he could trust to hear him out.
A knot in his chest loosened that he hadn't known was there until it got smaller.
Everything was going to be okay.
(~)
Inside the subconscious, T.K.O. was in the middle of reading a comic book when a bout of vertigo hit him, blurring the words on the pages. He was almost alarmed by the sudden onset, but the feeling passed just as quickly as it came, leaving him just as alert as before.
Blinking, T.K.O. cast a cursory glance at his clock. 10:09. He supposed it was getting pretty close to bedtime.
"Huh," he said, scratching his chin. "Weird. Oh, well. It's probably nothing."