Chapter 27 โ Taxonomy of Monsters & Ocean Chickens | +18
แฏโก fandom: The Batman (Reevesverse) | STRAYS
แฏโก word count: 2,400
แฏโก synopsis: In the loft, a lesson on how to spot monsters shifts into sharing crackers and debating whether about โocean chicken.โ
แฏโก warnings: Food as love language โข Trauma โข Manipulation โข mild language โข Grief
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Elara sat curled on the couch, the glow from the television a cool undercurrent beneath the gray, rainy light from the window. Wrapped in a unicorn onesie, white fur trimmed with pink, a small horn and embroidered eyes on the hood, she huddled against the chill. Her focus was on the coloring book in her lap, a birthday gift she gave to herself, and she didnโt notice the cartoon on screen, probably Woody Woodpecker, cut to the news. It was the familiar face that made her glance up, blinking.
The reporter spoke quickly in English about the mayoral campaigns, infrastructure problems, and the persistent blackouts in parts of the city. Then the image shifted to a man; the same man Mama Sofia and Aunt Cat had been searching for. The one they called the Penguin, so the regressor studied him, taking in the weathered features, the facial scars that mapped a history of survival. He spoke about โthe people.โ She wondered who he had been before he became the new kingpin, but maybe it didnโt matter now.
Her eyes scanned the cushions for the remote before drifting back to her coloring page, but unable to find it. The device had probably slipped between the couch cushions again, or perhaps one of the cats had swatted it beneath the furniture, gone and regardless as the news played on.
The Penguinโs voice filled the room, gravelly, performative and carrying the practiced cadence of someone who had learned to sound like โthe peopleโ without ever truly being one of them.
โ-Crown Point deserves better, these families deserve power, light, safety, and Iโm gonna make sure they get it-โ
Elara's marker, a periwinkle blue meant for a cartoon sky, hovered above the paper.
Her gaze was pulled back to the screen despite herself.
The manโs face was weathered, asymmetrical; the scar tissue told stories she could half-read even from here of violence endured and pain worn like armor. The camera loved him in that way it loved a tragedy, lingering on the scars, the working-class affect, the rumpled suit that cost more than it appeared.
He was good at this performance, the Iโm one of you routine.
But Elara's mind, young as it was, recognized patterns.
She remembered the way Mama Sofiaโs jaw tightened whenever his name arose, and how Aunt Cat (Selina) spat his name like poison. โThat little shit.โ
The way they both fell into a sharp and heavy silence whenever the news mentioned Crown Pointโs blackouts mysteriously ending right after he โnegotiatedโ with the city.
She tilted her head, studying him the way she might study a sick animal. Not malice, but a clinical curiosity. What were you before?
The scars said survivor and the eyes said climber, while his words said hero, but the spaces between them whispered something else entirely.
She had seen men like this in her fatherโs world, the ones who spoke of โthe peopleโ while stepping on their backs to reach higher ground.
The news cut to footage of Crown Point residents cheering, like children playing under newly restored streetlights and an elderly woman weeping with gratitude.
The girl's stomach twisted with something complicated.
Because those people were helped, as the lights were on, the children were safer, but Mama Sofiaโs face when she spoke of himโฆ
The door behind her opened with a soft creak, after the sound of measured and familar steps, deliberately carrying weight.
Sofiaโs voice, low and carefully neutral. โWhat are you watching, tesoro?โ
Elara didnโt turn immediately. Her marker resumed its path as shade the sky, staying on the page even as her peripheral vision tracked Sofiaโs approach.
โNews,โ she said quietly, her voice caught in that in-between register, not fully regressed, but not quite big either. โCouldnโt find the โmote.โ
Sofia moved into view, and even without looking directly, Elara sensed the shift in her energy as the rigid set of her shoulders, breath rhythm slightly altered.
On screen, the Penguin was still speaking. โ-because I remember what it was like. I remember being forgotten. And I swore, when I got the chance, Iโd make sure no one else-โ
The reporterโs voice shifted, losing some of its polish, with words like โdisplacementโ and โpending investigationsโ crept in beneath the applause footage, a line of text crawled along the bottom of the screen, families still waiting for answers.
Elara didnโt understand what it meant.
The television went black.
Sofia had found the remote, which had been on the side table, half-hidden beneath a dish towel. Sofia clocks it immediately and shuts the TV off a beat too fast, remembering the bomb she sent to those neighborhood.
This way, silence fell like a curtain.
Elara kept coloring, trading the periwinkle blue deepened from a cerulean to paint the clouds, which looked so soft and safe.
Sofia didnโt move for a long moment. Then, slowly, she came around the couch and sat beside the Brazilian girl, not quite touching, but present.
Her voice, when it came, was carefully controlled. โDid he say anythingโฆ specific?โ
โJust about lights, and families.โ Elara paused, marker still. โAnd being forgotten.โ
She risked a glance upward. Sofiaโs face was unreadable and sharp, but her hands, resting on her knees, were clenched just slightly.
โHeโs good at that,โ Sofia said quietly. โMaking himself the hero of other peopleโs suffering.โ
The regressor processed this, then looked back at her coloring book. โThe lights are really on, though. In Crown Point.โ
โSoโฆ he did help, even if-โ She stopped, unsure how to shape this thought.
โEven if heโs a monster?โ Sofiaโs tone was flat, matter-of-fact. โYes, monsters can flip switches, too. It doesnโt make them less monstrous.โ
Elara trade the marker again, now color a tree now with a florest green. It was rooted, solid.
โWere you scared,โ she asked, very small, โwhen heโฆ when he sent you back?โ
Sofiaโs hand lifted to her own throat as a brief unconscious gesture, then she caught herself and let it fall.
โYes,โ she said simply. โI was terrified.โ
The girl set the marker down, turning fully to face Sofia fully, the unicorn onesie rustling softly. โIโm glad youโre here,โ she whispered. โNot there.โ
Something in Sofiaโs expression cracked, just for a second.
She reached out and pulled Elara close. Not rough, but firm. Needing the contact as much as offering it.
โMe too, piccolina,โ she murmured into the unicorn hood. โMe too.โ
They sat like that for a while as the rain continued outside, television and coloring book lay forgotten.
And Elara thought. The Penguin might have turned the lights on in Crown Point, but Mama Sofia is the reason Iโm not afraid of the dark.
She blinked, still turning over Oz in her mind, searching for a pattern. She considered the monsters she knew, then looked up to ask.
โUh... In Naruto, Sasuke isnโt all bad. He lost his family and got utterly fixed on revenge, but he tried to understand the world and kept some kindness. He changed in the end.โ She explained, trying to make the pattern clearer to the Falcone. โBut in Berserk, Griffith was horrifyingly tortured for a year, but that didnโt make it right to kill his friends. He was mean doing it.โ She added, then asked, โThe Penguin man, which one is he?โ Elara tilted her head a little, unsure where he fit in the taxonomy sheโd constructed. In the end, it didnโt matter if it was Oz, Griffith, or the witch from Hansel and Gretel, because they could hand out candies, but the house was still bad, so donโt approach.
Not the dangerous sort of stillness, but the thinking kind. The kind where her sharp mind caught an unexpected idea and flipped it over like a coin.
She looked down at her little one, at the earnest confusion on the girl's face and the way she was trying to organize the world into categories that made sense: Sasuke versus Griffith, redeemable versus irredeemable. Monsters with reasons versus monsters who became so by choice.
Sofiaโs hand, which had been resting on Elaraโs shoulder, rose to cup her cheek gently. โThatโs a good question, tesoro,โ she said quietly. โA very good question.โ
She was quiet a moment longer, choosing her words with care.
โOswald Cobblepotโฆโ She paused on the name, as if it tasted bitter. โHe lost things, his mother-โ Her jaw tightened. โHis mother wasโฆ complicated. He grew up poor, mocked, beaten down by people like my father.โ
Elara listened, head still tilted, trying to map this onto her framework. โSoโฆ Sasuke?โ she asked tentatively.
โNo.โ Sofiaโs voice was firm. โBecause Sasuke, even at his worst, had lines he wouldnโt cross, people he wouldnโt sacrifice. When it mattered, when he had to choose between his revenge and the people who loved him, he chose them, eventually.โ
She shifted, pulling Elara a little closer, grounding them both.
โOswald had people who loved him, too. Who trusted him. Victor, the boy who worked for him, looked at Oswald the wayโฆโ Her voice caught slightly. โโฆthe way you look at me, like he was safety, like he was family.โ
The regressor's eyes widened a little, as she knew where this was going.
โAnd Oz killed him,โ Sofia said flatly. โNot in a fight, not in self-defense. He strangled him with his own hands and threw him away, because Victor was a liability, because he loved Oswald, and love was a weakness Oswald couldnโt afford.โ
The rain intensified outside, drumming against the windows.
Elara processed this and her hand came up, fingers curling into Sofiaโs sleeve. Not pulling, just holding.
โSoโฆ Griffith,โ she whispered.
โYes.โ Sofiaโs voice was quiet, heavy. โGriffith.โ She stroked the other woman's hair gently, the unicorn hood soft beneath her palm.
โHe was tortured, he suffered, those things are real, but when he had the choice, when he could have stopped, could have found another way, he chose power over everything else. Over his friends, over the people who would have died for him.โ she remembered when the regressor explained to her this anime story.
Elara was quiet for a long moment, absorbing this.
โAnd the candies?โ she asked, very small. โThe lights in Crown Point? The helping?โ
Sofia let out a slow breath. โThe witch gives candies,โ she said softly, โbecause she needs you to come inside, the house is already bad, the cage is already waiting, candies are just the lure.โ
She tilted Elara's face up gently, making sure she was listening. โOswald turned the lights on in Crown Point, but he also controls the drugs that poison those same streets." she says. "He helps them just enough to make them dependent, to make them grateful, so them forget that heโs the reason they needed help in the first place.โ
Elara's brow furrowed, trying to reconcile this. โSo even when monsters do good things-โ
โTheyโre still monsters,โ Sofia finished. โBecause the good is a tool, not a choice, itโs strategy, itโs control.โ She paused, then added more gently. โSasuke chose differently when it mattered; Griffith didnโt. And Oswald?โ Her voice hardened. โOswald chose power, every single time.โ
The little one nodded slowly, the taxonomy settling into place:
Sasuke = trauma + revenge + eventual redemption.
Griffith = trauma + ambition + irredeemable choice.
Oz = trauma + survival + weaponized kindness.
The pattern was clear now. No matter that witchโs house was made of candy, it was still a trap. โDonโt approach,โ she murmured, almost to herself.
โExactly.โ Sofiaโs grip tightened slightly, protective. โDonโt approach, and if he ever comes near you, if you ever see him in person, you run, you find me, you donโt try to understand him, you donโt try to fix him, you just run." she continues. "Do you understand?โ
Elara looked up and saw the fear beneath Sofiaโs control, real, raw, and nodded. โI understand.โ
โGood.โ Sofia pulled her fully into her lap, wrapping both arms around her, and the unicorn onesie rustled softly. โBecause youโre mine, and I donโt share, I donโt lose whatโs mine to men like him, not ever again.โ
The vet student burrowed into her, feeling the fierce protectiveness radiating from Sofia like heat. โMamaโs scary when she talks like that,โ she mumbled into Sofiaโs shoulder.
โGood,โ Sofia said, with the ghost of a dark amusement in her voice. โMama should be scary; thatโs how I keep you safe.โ
They sat like that for a while, Elara thinking. The world has monsters in it. Some wear green parkas, some wear crowns, some give candies and turn on lights, and smile while they strangle the people who love them, but Mommy is a different kind of scary. The kind that protects, that doesnโt let witches take you, no matter how sweet the house smells. And thatโs the kind of monster I want on my side.
She leaned further into Sofia, resting, safe within the comforting scent of her caregiver. After a few moments, the regressor shifted on the couch to reach her black backpack and unzipped it to pull out a pack of Nongshim shrimp crackers.
โโBout penguins,โ she said, opening it before placing it in the arms of Tikuri, her otter plushie, the toyโs arms were arranged as if holding the item. โMama want shrimp crackers?โ she offered, letting the woman decide. โI didnโt see you two eat today, Iโm allergic to it, but you, Tikuri, and Aunt Cat can have it. So tell me, howโs shrimp? Brother said it tastes like ocean chicken.โ
Sofia blinked at the sudden shift, from taxonomy of monsters to shrimp crackers in under ten seconds. It was so perfectly, innocently Elara-coded that something in the Falcone chest got warmth. She looked down at Tikuri, propped against the couch's brown cushions, his plush arms carefully arranged around the cracker packet as if presenting an offering. The otterโs button eyes stared solemnly forward, taking his job seriously.
Sofiaโs lips twitched despite herself. โOcean chicken,โ she repeated, her voice flat but threaded with the barest amusement. โYour brother said shrimp tastes like ocean chicken.โ
Elara nodded earnestly, settling back into Sofiaโs side, the onesie making her look impossibly small and soft. โUh-huh, he said itโsโฆ like if chicken swam? And got salty? And smaller?โ She paused, clearly trying to recall the exact phrasing. โHe also said lobster is fancy ocean chicken, and crab is grumpy ocean chicken.โ
Sofia made a sound that might have been a laugh, a sigh, or both. โYour brother has a very specific taxonomy for seafood.โ
โHeโs a chemist,โ Elara explained, as if this clarified everything. โHe likes categories.โ
Sofia reached out and carefully took the cracker packet from Tikuriโs โhandsโ with the solemnity of receiving a diplomatic gift. โThank you, Tikuri,โ she said gravely to the otter. โVery thoughtful of you.โ
The student giggled softly before wiggling closer.
Sofia opened the packet, so the smell of shrimp, salt, and something vaguely sweet wafted out. She extracted one cracker, studied it as if performing a forensic analysis, then took a small bite.
Elara watched with wide-eyed attention, awaiting the verdict.
Sofia chewed thoughtfully, swallowed. โIt tastes,โ she said carefully, โlike if someone took a shrimp, dehydrated it, ground it into dust, mixed it with MSG and sadness, then baked it into a crispy little lie.โ
The regressorโs eyes widened further. โIs thatโฆ bad?โ
โNo.โ Sofia took another cracker. โItโs oddly compelling, I hate that I want another one.โ
She offered the packet to Elara, then remembered.
โWait, you said youโre allergic?โ
Elara nodded. โShellfishes, makes me itchy, and my throat gets tight, so no shrimp, no crab, no lobster.โ
โNo ocean chicken of any variety,โ Sofia finished, her voice dropping into something more serious. โGood, Iโm glad you know that, and youโre sure you didnโt touch these?โ
The girl shook her head. โUsed a napkin to open, and Tikuri held them.โ
Sofia nodded, satisfied, then deliberately wiped her hands on her pants before touching Elara again as a small gesture that said, Iโm careful with you, I pay attention.
She took another cracker, chewing thoughtfully. โYour brother isnโt wrong, actually. Thereโs a textural similarity to chicken, but itโsโฆโ She paused, searching for words. โโฆbrinier, more oceanic, obviously. Lessโฆ substantial; chicken has weight, shrimp is delicate, easy to overcook, easy to ruin.โ
She said this last part with the air of someone who held strong opinions about seafood preparation.
Elara absorbed this, head tilted. โDid Mama cook shrimp before?โ
โMy mother did.โ Sofiaโs voice shifted to a quieter, more distant tone. โShe made scampi sometimes; garlic, white wine, butter, lemon. Simple, elegant.โ A pause. โMy father preferred steak; Red meat, power foods, but when he was awayโฆโ Her voice softened. โโฆsheโd make shrimp.โ
The Brazilian girl didnโt push, just listened, like she always did when Sofiaโs voice took on that particular tone, as if speaking from somewhere far away.
Sofia took another cracker, staring at it as though it held secrets. โThese taste nothing like her scampi,โ she said finally, a ghost of a smile touching her lips. โBut theyโre not terrible, MSG does a lot of heavy lifting.โ
She glanced down at Elara, curled into her side, safe in the unicorn onesie, maintaining an allergy-safe distance from the shrimp crackers.
โYou havenโt eaten either, have you?โ Sofiaโs voice shifted back into caregiver-mode; gentle, but firm. โWhenโs the last time you had something?โ
The silence was answer enough.
Sofia sighed, set the crackers aside, and carefully shifted to stand, so as not to jostle the girl.
โCome on, piccolina, you gave Tikuri and me a snack, now itโs Mamaโs turn to make sure you eat something that wonโt kill you.โ
She held out her hand and Elara took it, letting herself be pulled up with Tikuri tucked under one arm.
โCan we make okonomiyaki?โ she asked hopefully.
โWe can make whatever you want,โ Sofia said, โas long as you promise to actually eat it this time instead of just pushing it around your plate while you explain Digimon theology.โ
Elara flushed slightly, but nodded.
As they headed toward the kitchen, Sofia paused, glanced back at the crackers still on the couch. โOcean chicken,โ she muttered, shaking her head. โYour brotherโs a lunatic.โ
But she was smiling, and Elara watched it as though; This is better than any cartoon. Mama smiling, mama eating crackers, mama safe and here and not thinking about monsters for a few minutes, thatโs the best channel I could ask for.
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