Kaonashi

Honestly, I saw part of this dialogue in a Naruto note involving Tsunade and Sakura and found it funny enough to use here.

Cecil ended up finding out simply because Rex appeared on top of a building in record time. The dots really weren’t hard to connect. Besides, Ron is tracked and monitored constantly (something he’s fully aware of, though he believes having absolutely no sense of privacy outside of the bathroom is normal).

Rômulo is not part of the "TT" and he’s not allowed to participate in field operations, or even BE in the field, without direct orders from Cecil or Donald. But Rex can be very convincing when he wants to be.

With the Mauler Twins’ assistance and a lot of false guarantees, we get a clone of Cecil with teleportation powers (because that’s going to save billions). And thus, Rômulo C. Steadman is born.

For security reasons, Rômulo was instructed to call Cecil “father,” though only a select few know about the project’s true nature. People like Donald and April Howsam, who became Ron’s primary caretakers.

Rômulo knows he’s a clone, since they wanted to avoid him having an existential crisis if he ever found out the truth later. He doesn’t care much about it, though, since the people who know treat him like his own person.

At the start of season one, Rômulo would be around thirteen years old.

Apparently, it’s a very “Cecil” thing to like having Donald around and wanting to keep him close. Ron is very attached to him. The first time he witnessed one of Donald’s deaths, he spent an entire week acting like his tiny shadow.

He has eidetic memory, which helps with the use of his powers.

Extremely good at geography.

Doesn’t really like Immortal or Omni-Man. Their charming personalities make him uncomfortable.

He’s basically Cecil’s main method of transportation (which really does save billions), so he’s almost always around him.

Sometimes he hangs around the Teen Team QG, partly for discreet monitoring purposes and partly because he has a sort of friendship with Atom Eve and Rex Splode. The latter is mostly because Ron is fascinated by the fact Rex somehow managed to survive into adulthood and secretly finds it funny to scare him by appearing out of nowhere.

It had been three days, well, what Pomni assumed had been three days–since the “adventure” at the Mildenhall mansion, and she definitely hadn’t been able to get a decent night’s sleep since then. Her mind was flooded with vivid memories of her possession and the nauseating, disgusting sensation of her body being… violated, for lack of a better word to describe it. Whenever that memory surfaced, the dysphoria in her digital body reached its peak as if it were the first time, and the physical urge to try to tear her skin off with her fingers was beginning to become an increasingly violent and repetitive reflex.

Not sleeping was an option since it wasn’t a physical necessity, but her still-human mind clung to that small bit of routine normality. That was probably why everyone else followed this routine of a night’s sleep as well, and Caine even maintained a day-night cycle with the sun and moon to help. In any case, not sleeping was an option if she wanted to resort to early insanity, but sleeping and returning to the vivid nightmares also seemed like something that would lead her to the basement sooner rather than later.

Ragatha would drop a few reminders here and there that Pomni could always talk to her if she wanted to, or even the others… except Jax, obviously.

It was tempting in a way, even though she didn’t recall ever receiving that kind of offer in her old life. Loneliness and having to figure things out on her own rang a bell of familiarity, and just the thought of going there, trying to explain, and reliving the whole situation in detail made her stomach churn and bile rise. So it was a giant no-no.

From the very first night, she’d left her lamp on; the bright yellow light provided just enough comfort for her to get a few short hours of sleep at a time and… it reminded her a little of Kinger’s light. It was strange how, lately, just being near him had eased her anxiety enough to prevent a full-blown panic attack over the past few days. Although it was a little painful the lack of recognition when he stared at her sometimes when she got too close.

It seemed like a childish wish, but she really wanted that kind of comfort again. It vaguely reminded her of a feeling of safety and warmth in her real past. Maybe it was her parents? She couldn’t remember their names or faces, but the feeling still lingered, and she had relived that kind of sensation in Kinger’s presence when they were in hell. She wasn’t a child; she was almost certain of that, since she vaguely remembered wearing those damn digital glasses in the office where she worked as… as… something.

She mulled over her thoughts and feelings long enough to realize that she really wanted to talk to Kinger about her possession issue. Maybe even apologize for what her possessed body had said, but the likelihood that he simply wouldn’t remember anything was high as well, and the disappointment of having that confirmed felt like a new emotional pain she didn’t want to deal with either.

So no. She wouldn’t bring those things up and would handle everything the way she had been doing ever since: try to ignore it, cry alone, and repeat that almost every night.

It probably wasn’t healthy… Okay, it definitely wasn’t, but it was what was working for now; when it failed, she’d look for other ways.

A shaky breath, a sob, and there she was, curled up in the corner of the bed, pressed against the wall (Pomni had asked Caine to move the furniture over there when he came to ask her about the room, and they had finally made some much-needed changes to the room).

Her skin was starting to tingle again, and she was sure she could hear demonic laughter echoing faintly from under the bed.

How many hours until dawn?

Pomni couldn’t sleep anymore and decided she didn’t feel like leaving the room, even when Ragatha came to check on her. She simply sent her away with all the kindness she could muster at the moment and assured her she’d be fine while they set off on a new adventure created by Caine.

The doll seemed a little reluctant, but fortunately she left, and Pomni even managed to hold back her strangled groan of pain until she was sure she was alone.

It was ridiculous how much everything was getting to her; it all felt overwhelming again, and she simply couldn’t figure out a way to make sense of her feelings properly. She was a capable adult– was she?

She couldn’t remember most things beyond very random details or sensations and emotions. Her exact name and age were confusing blurs. The memories of her own human face were a mess. She couldn’t even tell if her hair was brown or damn blonde!

Even though the notebook of real-life memories she kept hidden under her mattress didn’t contain that information.

One thing Pomni realized was how fleeting her memories of the circus were– They seemed to surface when triggered by a certain situation or simply out of nowhere. So she searched her room until she found a notebook and a pencil and began writing down all the memories she had as a way to preserve them so she wouldn’t forget; it was almost like creating a persona profile… of herself.

Another pitiful sob escaped her, and big tears began to well up in the corners of her eyes. At that point, you could almost say she was a teenager just beginning to struggle with her emotions, and it was all so… frustrating!

A breathless laugh rang out again, and Pomni was already standing on the bed before she realized it was her own laughter.

Was her avatar broken, or was it just her? It’s not normal to be like this.

Rubbing her eyes angrily, she tried to physically wipe away the remaining tears.

Maybe she should finally go talk to Kinger about it; if he didn’t remember, she’d just go back to her room and never try anything like that again. It seemed like a solid, perfectly workable plan. She glanced at the clock, which only tracked the movements of the moon and sun, and realized it was already nighttime. Everyone must have returned by now, yet she hadn’t even heard their footsteps in the hallways.

Uh. She was probably more distracted than she’d originally thought.

Pomni moved down the hallway with silent steps, the soft jingle of the bells on his cap the only sign of his presence. The circus was dark; the sparse lighting came from the moonlight streaming through the large windows (wasn’t this a tent? How did it have windows?). It provided some relief from the saturated colors of daylight; in a way, it was even more comfortable. The fortress was visible in the middle of the courtyard, approaching cautiously and even removing his cap so the bells wouldn’t jingle. She wasn’t sure if sounds carried easily through the stacked pillows.

“Kinger?” She called out to him, barely above a whisper, as she leaned closer to what she assumed was the entrance to the fort and tried to hear if Kinger was awake.

The pillow walls really seemed to muffle the sound. Should she knock, then? Does that actually work? Well… it can’t hurt to try…

A tentative first tap, unsure if it would dislodge the pillow, followed by two more confident ones. It didn’t take long for the “door” to swing open and for Kinger to stare her straight in the eyes very… very close. She quickly backed away as the chess piece screamed in fright, causing Pomni to cover her mouth to stifle her own scream and letting the regret of having left the room seep into her system.

“@$#&! S-Sorry, Kinger. I’m leaving, like, right now.”  Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea.

“Oh, Pomni, you gave me a scare. I wasn’t expecting a visitor at this—” His eyes turned toward the nearest window, the rest of his sentence trailing off as a hint of confusion seemed to creep across his face… or what little of it remained. “Gee, it’s getting late!”

“I-I know, I’m sorry about that again. Seriously, I didn’t mean to bother you.” Stepped back again, laughing awkwardly under her breath and grabbing one of her arms with enough force that was sure that if she hadn’t been wearing gloves, her nails would have pierced the skin.

“Pomni.” Kinger’s serious yet gentle tone made her freeze in her tracks; it reminded her a little of the way he spoke in the mansion’s darkness. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I'm perfectly fine. I'm sorry again for waking you up.” That was what she meant to say when she opened her mouth and turned to look at Kinger, but her emotions betrayed her once more when her eyes began to burn and a tearful sob escaped her lips before she could cover her mouth with her hands again. Not noticing Kinger shifted awkwardly as he opened and closed his hands a few times before offering one to her.

“Why don't we go inside the fort so we can talk comfortably, or… just get this off your chest. Does that sound good?” It was kind of strange how easily she gave in and took Kinger’s hand again, as if it were a lifeline. Maybe it was the traumatic experience forging a bond, or just another one of her weird lapses in the circus.

The king led her inside the fort, which was surprisingly spacious on the inside. When the door-pillow closed, it took only a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the new surroundings, which were even darker than before. A pile of more pillows and blankets lay on the floor, and it was there that Pomni found herself in Kinger’s company, still clutching his hand desperately. When she realized it, she quickly let go, blushing slightly before turning her attention to the blanket she was sitting on-

Oh! Are those little bees in the pattern? That’s kind of cute, actually.

Now she understood why Kinger stayed here for so long, besides it being a place of some final memory with his wife. Being inside the fort was comforting and strangely nostalgic. Her brain was itching with a memory she couldn't access right now.

“Comfortable?” the older one asked, his voice as calm as it had been when they were trapped in hell, which was a sure sign that Kinger was lucid enough.

“Hm, yeah. I think if I’d stayed in my room any longer, I would’ve had another breakdown.” She laughed awkwardly, looking away sheepishly when all she got was a worried look. “N-Not that I was serious about abs—I mean—Ugh! Forget that part, please.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Pomni. You’ve got that old man terribly worried now.” If Kinger had a mouth, he’d probably be giving a small, awkward smile. It was kind of impressive how expressive he was without a mouth, and the strong impressions he could convey just through his speech and eyes.

She chuckled a little, appreciating his attempt at a touch of lightheartedness, and it seemed as easy as breathing to retort:

“You’re not that old, Da…” She stopped, her eyes widening, and seemed to mirror Kinger’s expression before cowardly turning her gaze back to the bees on the blanket as her face flushed. That was painfully embarrassing and annoyingly nostalgic, again. It didn’t even make sense, and it was getting ridiculous how just being with Kinger triggered such nostalgia in her. It was probably just some silly reflex because her dad used to say the same thing when she was little and was trying to– Wait!

Her hands flew to her hidden pockets, searching for the notepad she kept nearby in case something like this happened, and she froze when she didn’t feel it.

Damn it! She’d probably left it in her room so she wouldn’t prick herself with the pencil again while sleeping, and she’d forgotten to grab it in her rush to get here.

Jumped up to run after her notebook, only to freeze again when she felt a hand grab her arm.

“Wait, Pomni! Don’t go– I’m not offended or anything like that.” Kinger’s tone was pleading, and when he realized what he’d done, he quickly let her go. His hands hung limply at his sides. “I’m sorry.”

“ I-it’s okay, I get that it just looked like I was going to run away after that, and– hm – sorry about that, too…”

“ No, no. No hard feelings. I was just surprised because it brought back memories.”

“Wait, do you feel that too?” This piqued her curiosity; she couldn’t recall ever hearing another member of the circus talk about feeling nostalgic for something. Were they just genuine memories, or the frustrated frown of a missing memory.

“Sure, several times, actually. Especially if I’m near an insect that happened to be one of my wife’s fifty favorites. Well, it’s a more painful kind of nostalgia.” He brought one hand up to where his chin would be, a thoughtful expression on his face. “That one was a bit different from the ones I have with her, but I still feel like something’s missing for me to get a clearer picture. But you remembered your father, right? Since that’s what you were going to call me.”

Her cheeks flushed again, but she decided to try not to let it bother her this time.

“Yes. My memories come and go without any real pattern, so I write them down in a notebook whenever I have one. In fact, that’s why I got up to leave—I’ve gotten into the habit of remembering and writing them down; I wasn’t really trying to avoid you.”

“Oh! That’s pretty clever, Pomni.” Her blush deepened, but this time it was accompanied by a shy smile. “I’m a little relieved that I didn’t mess things up, and without meaning to sound rude, shouldn’t you go write them down?”

That was a valid question she could even ask herself, but leaving now felt as though she’d never get the chance to have whatever that was again. So she just shook her head in denial and sat back down on the bee-patterned blanket, absentmindedly running her fingers over the soft fabric.

“I’d probably forget it halfway there; I just need to be more careful to keep a notepad with me in the future.”

“I see.” Kinger settled back down beside her, with just a few inches between them. “I feel a little bad bringing this up again, and I’m definitely not trying to kick you out, okay?” He waited for her to nod before continuing. “But what happened that made you want to come out here? You didn’t look too well when you got here.”

Her fingers clutched the blanket, crumpling it in her tight grip.

“I–it’s just that… It’s stupid.”

“If it bothers you, it’s clearly not stupid, Pomni. I’m not one to judge, but if you want to talk about it, I’ll be all ears—figuratively speaking.” As if to emphasize the lack of ears on his avatar, he gestured toward his own head.

Pomni chose her next words more carefully than she really should have, letting her index finger trace erratic, invisible shapes against the blanket, which was no longer being punished by her grip. Had she always been this restless? Something told her the answer was a resounding ‘yes’. Oh, wait. Kinger was waiting for her to answer, and thankfully he didn’t seem annoyed by her delay.

“D-Do you remember the adventure at the mansion? The one that ended in… hell?”

Kinger hesitates for a moment, thinking carefully for a few seconds.

“I won’t deny that my memories are vague, but I do remember that the creature the baron was hunting was an angel, and that he wanted to take possession of our bodies to escape from there.”

“ That’s exactly it. I was possessed! I was possessed because I was an idiot for rushing ahead when you tried to warn me, and now my brain keeps replaying all those sensations on a loop whenever I’m alone. My body suddenly feels completely wrong, and I want to scratch my skin until I can rip that sensation away from me, and I have to hold myself back so hard I don’t start throwing up. There are times when I can even hear that thing’s laughter where I can’t see it, and it becomes impossible to sleep again because I feel like if I let my guard down, it’ll possess me again and…and…Oh! +@#$! I said something horrible to you too. I’m really sorry about that, Kinger.”

She was sure she’d started hyperventilating again because she was getting dizzy and her vision was blurred by tears.

           Her arms were aching. 

                                           Her arms were…

                                                                         When had she grabbed them?

                                                   It was very dark…

                               The demonic laughter rang out from somewhere far away, but it was definitely coming after her–

A light touch on her back, and her world suddenly tilted; a repetitive rhythm of slow rising and falling began there. It wasn’t oppressive at all– quite the opposite, in fact– rather soothing and painfully familiar. The side of her face was pressed against something soft. She didn’t even think twice as she reached out to grab whatever that soft thing was and bury her face in it before completely breaking down. Crying in a rather ugly and painful way, as if the sobs needed to tear through her throat to get out. She was tired. She was angry, frustrated, and definitely hated all of this–and everything the situation made her feel as a result. She hadn't cried like this since her parents…

Pomni didn’t even know how long she had been crying, and as exhausted as she was after everything, it felt good to finally let out the painful tension that had been building up in her chest.

“Feeling better?” asked the person she had clung to desperately. Only now did Pomni realize this, but honestly, she didn’t have the strength to pull away abruptly, so she decided to try to move away slowly instead.

“Mm-hmm.” She hadn’t even managed to move very far before gentle hands stopped her and guided her into a new position, this time resting her head on what felt like Kinger’s lap, and she realized she didn’t care enough to protest. “Sorry about your cloak. It probably soaked up most of my tears.”

“It’s just a piece of washable clothing. Nothing to apologize for, and you weren’t being stupid.”

“What?”

“At the beginning of your vent, you called yourself an idiot for running away. Maybe you were hasty, but not an idiot. The whole situation was really stressful, and you’re still adjusting to the reality of life in the circus. Honestly, it’s even a little cruel, everything you’ve had to go through in your first few days here, and yet you’ve been so strong and resilient.”

Pomni bit her lower lip when she felt more tears welling up. She thought she’d already cried her fill for the day, but apparently she was wrong.

“You said something like that when we were in hell… though… I don’t feel that way.”

“I know I’ve crossed that line several times today, but is it okay if I touch you again?”

It was almost laughable; they’d definitely moved past that a long time ago, but she agreed anyway. Kinger rested his gloved hand against her head and only then realized he’d left his beanie lying on the floor somewhere along the way. Her chest warmed as he began an awkward attempt to stroke her hair. It was nostalgic, again, and apparently this was the new normal when it came to being with Kinger.

“Now, would you mind telling me why you don’t feel that way?” Kinger asked gently

At first she was confused by the question, until she remembered what she had said a few seconds earlier. She pondered it for several long, silent minutes, while Kinger simply continued to stroke her hair calmly, seemingly more confident in what he was doing, appearing quite absorbed in the motion and giving her time—whether intentionally or not—to think about how to respond, once again.

“Ever since those last two adventures, it’s like I’ve been in crisis mode nonstop. Of course, I know this is my reality now, but my brain always seems to regress every time I make some progress. Okay, I know the situations have contributed to this, but I… I think I’m technically an adult. I should know how to adapt better to situations like this and it’s just frustrating that I can’t properly control my own emotions, which are always on edge. Do I feel broken, or just… defective?”

The movement in her head stopped for a few seconds before starting up again.

“I have some thoughts on those questions. Would you like to hear them?”

She shrugged mentally, then rolled onto her back so she could look directly at Kinger.

 “Go ahead.”

“First of all: No. You’re not broken, and you’re certainly not defective. It’s good that you’re able to cry and let it all out when you feel this way. It makes things a little more human. And personally speaking, I’m proud that you came to seek some kind of comfort from someone else when you felt things had become too much for you to handle alone. Falling into that, especially here, is quite dangerous, as you well know…” Kinger looked away toward a corner of the fort, seeming lost in thought for a few seconds before blinking quickly, but not looking back at her. “As I said before, you’re still new here; I don’t expect you to be okay with all this in just a few days. Actually, it’s really okay if you never get used to this situation, but acceptance comes with time, and everyone’s timeline is quite relative. Being supposedly adults doesn’t guarantee anything either; I was old enough to have been married for years when I arrived at the circus, and yet I still relied heavily on my wife’s company to keep from completely losing it, and… I’ll be honest with you, I still rely on her a lot, even though she’s… no longer here.”

Pomni bit her lower lip lightly as she took it all in, letting out a shaky sigh, and took Kinger’s hand which had been resting motionless on her head since the second half of his speech. The gesture seemed to bring Kinger’s attention back to her.

“Thank you, Kinger.” Pomni truly hoped she could convey all the sincerity and gratitude she was feeling right now. Perhaps she succeeded when Kinger squeezed her hand back. “And also, I’m so sorry you lost your wife.”

He gave a weak, humorless laugh

“I appreciate the sentiment; and just for the record, I’m sure she would have loved to meet you. You’d probably learn about Müllerian mimicry and how to tell a monarch butterfly from a viceroy butterfly in less than a week.

“Honestly, I wouldn’t mind if you told me. It would be like passing on knowledge, and also… I’d like to hear more about your wife; she seems really nice.” “She was… Are you sure you want to do this? I might end up rambling on for hours without even realizing it.”

“I can think of more than five hundred scenarios worse than sitting here listening to you talk about your wife or entomology, Kinger. Besides, I’d really like to do this right now.” A brief laugh, but one that actually sounded sincere this time, and Kinger’s other gloved hand was back against her head, stroking her hair for the third time.

“There was a time when Queenie managed to smuggle an entire beehive, with the bees still inside, into the circus after a adventure Caine sent us on. When he found out, Queenie dragged him off to tell him every fact she knew about bees before he could run off with it and…”

Pomni gradually relaxed completely as Kinger told the story, sprinkling in a few interesting facts here and there, while she herself asked a few questions or made some comments.

It was relaxed and comfortable.

Queenie has several options, but I think it's interesting to play with the opposite and she is fully aware and her memories are intact of the things that happened at the circus, but she doesn't really want to face it so as not to go crazy.

She would probably be a closed person, not very participative and a somewhat grumpy old woman who sometimes forgets that she is trying to be a grumpy old woman and shows a kinder and wiser side when least expected (like Kinger's lucid moments) because she forgot she was trying play a forgettable character.

Pomni is the Ringmaster and Caine is the new human.

Although I don't want to change their personalities too much in this particular exchange.

I like to imagine Caine trying to be very positive about his new situation, even though he's dying inside. Terrible things happen in front of him, but he just flips a mental switch and is smiling again (probably some cast members wouldn't find this the most pleasant thing to witness because it seems like he just doesn't care or is manic)

Caine's extreme self-imposed positivity would break in the mansion adventure and this would touch Queenie's old heartstrings for her to open up a little and offer comfort because she knows what it's like to wear a self-imposed mask just to keep from going crazy.

It would be something good for both of them as it would give Queenie a pass to lower her barriers and start caring about someone again without fear of losing them (side note: And try to mend bridges with the first child).

Caine feels comfortable being able to vent about how he really feels about things.

Yes, I'm waving the "Mother-Son Relationship" flag between Queenie and Caine here.

From here I'm taking the fanfic concept from @galactic-knightmare. Caine being the other son of the royal couple, but in reverse...i guess?

Anyway

As for Pomni, she was close to Kinger and Queenie (He and Queenie being the first to arrive here too, a while before the next human). BUT, especially from Kinger, who asked for help with some codes and bla-bla-bla. After Kinger abstracts and Queenie with her own problems of refusing to care for fear of losing again, they end up moving away.

Queenie feels guilty about this.

Pomni doesn't quite understand, but she accepts that it's her fault for failing as Ringmaster and respects the separation, even though it hurts a lot. (It's a young IA, technically a child, it won't understand the complexity of a human mind beyond a superficial idea or what has already been explained to it by the couple)

Pomni ends up getting into the mindset of doing whatever is necessary for humans to no longer collapse and abstract, which obviously fails many times and she will always feel like a failure about it.

No healthy coping mechanism around here that, I see.

It's just a quick sketch of an idea, but it's a fun idea to work on each element better.