#ashes aus

It had not had a concept of luck before that moment, before the shaking had stopped and the dust had cleared, leaving it mostly in tact. Once it had forced its way up the stairs, it found it was not sure whether surviving the collapse was good or bad luck.

When the nurse bot tried to ring its network for help, it found the line inside its head had gone dead. When it looked to the surrounding street, it found hundreds of buildings similarly smoldering. When it called out, it found only its own voice returning to it.

The nurse bot had tried to comb through the wreckage of its practice, looking for survivors. It found nothing, heard nothing, but it still attempted to sift through the rubble, to search for the people it had been built to assist.

A nurse bot’s arms are not meant to move stone and iron, however. It was not used to the strange things that happened in its processing when it thought about what might be under the wreckage, and did not know how to handle them. It made a mistake, lifting things it could not, and when the wreckage in its grasp had buckled…

Well. It had thought itself lucky, distantly, that unlike humans, robots are not generally “handed” in one way or the other. Statistically, it would have preferred its right hand, and it would have been much worse off when the debris crushed its arm, taking its limb from the elbow down.

Ah, and pain, of course. It would have been quite bad if it had been able to feel pain, or bleed. It probably would have died, had this fallen on it, or had it lost a flesh and blood arm.

It… does not look in the wreckage any longer.

The nurse bot did not know what to do, with the practice it had spent its whole existence in destroyed. It had never been outside before—at least, not while activated. It had never left the walls of the hospital it was built for. It had not been intended to function without direction.

It knew its purpose, though, direction or not. The nurse bot had been built to heal. It knew, direction or not, how to do this, and that it must do this. And certainly, if it looks, it would fine someone out there who needed it.

When it comes to matters of health, time is of the essence. With its direction decided, the nurse bot begins to walk.

It finds people, rarely, stumbling and unharmed, or nursing small bruises or minor sprains. It helps these when it can, and gives advice when it cannot. It finds bodies, often, and it looks away, as it has never seen a funeral, and it does not know to help the dead except to assist the living.

It finds a woman soon to be a body, despite its best efforts to help her. It lacks supplies to stop the flow of blood from her wounds, and the woman lacks any hope without stitches or bandages.

It offers her sympathies, and it holds in its one hand both of hers. There is little it can say to her, but it tries, quiet promises of I am here and I will not leave you and you will be at peace soon.

She holds its hand with all the strength in her body, knuckles white as paper, a stark contrast against the dark blood staining the rest of her body. It feels as the strength fades. It watches as the light in her eyes fades with it. She lets it go, and it closes her eyes.

The nurse bot keeps walking, keeps looking, until it hears crying. The sound is loud, a desperate sob of a young child, and it seems to stem from a building sagging in three places, roof and door and floor all ready to give in.

If it were human, the nurse bot may have thought the place too risky to enter. But it is not, and so in it goes, pushing the door open with one hand.

It finds the boy lying in his crib, a round-faced infant wrapped in a patterned onesie and kicking away a thin blanket. He cannot be more than a year old—the nurse boy would guess him to be maybe six months. The fact the boy and his crib have survived the destruction of the city is a miracle, one not offered to the rest of the home.

It reaches down into the crib, brushing its hand over the boy’s face. His sobs stumble, a bit curious, but the baby ultimately doesn’t stop crying.

The nurse bot hadn’t worked with a pediatrician, but it knows about children, as any nurse bot would.

“Are you hungry?” it asks. He doesn’t answer except to cry more, which is understandable—this is what babies do, it knows, and besides, this has been the chosen course of action for most of the people it saw today.

It could not help those people, but it can help with this.

The nurse bot steps away from the crib to examine the boy’s room, though the boy cries louder when its face disappears from his view.

“I will return shortly,” it tells him. This assurance does not calm him down.

It finds what it can in the rest of the home—food for the baby, a warmer blanket, a box of diapers. It finds the living room, where living is not what his parents are doing, and gingerly shuts the door. It finds a photo album and flips through, searching for the information it needs: delicate handwriting next to an image of the boy, held in the arms of the woman on the floor a room over.

April 7th, 20XX: Welcome to the world, Martyn!

His name is Martyn. His birthday is April 7th. The nurse bot usually keeps these things on file about its patients, and so it files them away.

When it returns to the crib, the baby inside is no longer crying, having worn himself out. It reaches down again, face blank.

“Hello, Martyn,” it says, “I am going to be your caretaker for now. I hope we will get along well.”

— — —

They don’t stay in the house. It finds a baby carrier in a closet and a duffle bag in the bedroom, and it packs what Martyn will need and carries him out of the collapsing home.

Martyn laughs a lot. Once he’s been fed and changed and has slept, the nurse bot finds he laughs all the time.

He doesn’t know, it thinks. He must miss his parents, probably, but he doesn’t know. He isn’t old enough to understand any of this. He watches the broken and bloodied street with awe—has he ever been this far from home before? This is all a big adventure to him.

It doesn’t tell him.

— — —

It stops three times a day to change and feed him, and to let him crawl around in the cleanest and sturdiest places it can find.

“Movement is good for development,” it tells him, watching him play with a piece of rubble.

It doesn’t stop to rest at night—it doesn’t need to, and the rocking motion of his continued steps helps Martyn sleep. When that isn’t enough, it tries to replicate the songs it has heard playing in the clinic’s waiting room, or seen mothers and fathers sing in the clinic to calm their children. Martyn seems to like that.

He likes the nurse bot’s hair, too. He tugs on it all the time as the nurse bot walks, held close to its chest, close enough to its head to access it. It lets him—it doesn’t hurt, and besides, it has few other ways to entertain him.

— — —

Martyn grows. He starts to babble, and to toddle. He becomes too big for the bot to carry him, but by then it has become adept at finding places to hunker down for a while.

“Your name is Martyn,” the bot tells him, pointing to his nose.

“Ma,” he tries.

“Very close,” it says. He grabs its hand, tugging, and continues to babble.

“Da,” he says, and it knows that he doesn’t have a concept of fathers or parents or the English language, and he is only making sounds.

“That is me,” it says anyway, and Martyn continues to babble.

— — —

“Dad,” Martyn tugs on its arm, barely tall enough to reach its fingers. “Daaaad.”

“Hello, Martyn,” it says, “What is it?”

“I’m bored,” Martyn says, “And I’m hungry.”

“We still have some food left for you, though I should start a fire soon,” it says, “We will need to move soon. Children your age need a variety of foods to—”

“Grow up healthy, I know,” Martyn whines, “That’s boring. I’m bored.”

“What would you like to do?” it asks, and he lets go of its hand, running off. It stands to follow, but then he’s back, holding a battered old book—some kind of short novel, something with a torn cover that used to have a dragon on it. The title is gone, as is the dragon’s head.

“Read this,” he says. Martyn is learning to read, but he hasn’t quite got the grasp to read a real book on his own yet.

This hasn’t stopped Martyn from searching for them, though, nor from presenting them to his father to read. It had started reading one aloud to Martyn to entertain him when Martyn had come down with a fever last year, and he hasn’t stopped asking to hear them since.

“After you eat,” it says, and Martyn cheers.

—

There is a group of survivors picking their way through town. The bot sees them before they see it, watching the street from a window. It does not know their intentions, and it doesn’t plan to find out.

It crouches down in front of Martyn, putting its hand on his shoulder.

“Hello,” it says, “We’re going to play a game, okay?”

“Okay,” Martyn says, and it nods, once.

“It is called hide and seek,” it says, “There are some people who are looking around town, trying to play, and we are going to hide from them. We will win if we are not found.”

“That’s a dumb game. Why don’t we play something else?” Martyn asks.

“It is their favorite game. We are going to play because that is what they like to do. But we are going to be very good at it and hide very well,” it says, “You can hide with me, okay? If we win, there will be a special prize.”

That’s all it takes to convince Martyn, who smiles and nods and follows it as it ducks away into the closet. Its legs creak as it sits down, and then it opens its arm, letting him sit in its lap. It can’t be comfortable, all cold metal, but Martyn wraps his arms around its torso and settles right in, content with the hand on his back.

“Now we must be very quiet,” it tells him, “I will tell you when we can talk again.”

Martyn nods, and it puts its hand on the back of his head, and it waits.

When the strangers leave, it asks him what he would like for his prize.

“Hug me again!” He says, and it obliges for as long as he wants.

— — —

Halfway through its sentence, the bot’s voice cuts out.

That has not happened before. Martyn seems unfazed, especially when it begins to talk again, but it takes note of the error.

— — —

It happens more. Its voice cuts out, stutters, corrupts. Martyn really only complains when they’re reading, but it starts to fear the worst.

It sits Martyn down, crouching down to meet his eyes.

“Martyn, I have something very important to tell- to tell- to tell you,” it says, and if it could, it would wince.

“Yeah?” Martyn asks, “Are we moving again?”

“Soon,” it says, “But that is not what I want to tell you.”

“Oh,” Martyn says.

“I am… sick. Do you remember what being sick is?” it asks. Martyn nods, reaching up to put his hand on its forehead, the way it had for him when he had been feverish.

“You feel warm,” Martyn confirms, “It’s okay. I’ll read to you until you’re better.”

“Thank you, Martyn. You are very kind,” it says, “But that is not the kind of sick I am. There are many kinds of sick.”

“Oh,” Martyn says, “Then what kind of sick are you?”

“I am… robot sick. I am- I am- I am- I am- getting old,” it says, “And my voice is starting to… not work properly.”

“I know that,” Martyn says, “You talk funny now and you keep messing up reading.”

“Yes, that’s right. You’re very smart,” it confirms, “But it might get worse. I might not be able to talk anymore soon.”

“But you’ll get better, right? I got better,” Martyn says. It shakes its head.

“I might, but I might not. Robot sick is different,” it says, though it knows it is lying. “I just wanted you to know. If you talk to me and I do not respond, I am not ignoring you. I am still listening. I am just sick, and my voice- my voice- my voice- my voice—”

It shakes its head, the way humans sometimes do, to clear the sentence. When it looks at Martyn again, he seems thoughtful.

“Will you still read to me?” he asks.

“As long as I am able,” it promises. And, for good measure, “I love you, Martyn. Do not forget.”

“I won’t,” Martyn says, “I love you, too.”

— — —

It makes a point to show him how to read. He had already been learning it, but it doubles down when its voice begins to waver.

It picks up novels and reads them to him with Martyn in its lap. It holds its arm around Martyn’s waist, and Martyn holds the book for it to see, and it reads the words Martyn points to, so Martyn knows what they are.

It doesn’t want him to lose this. It doesn’t want him to lose his fun, his creativity, his imagination, just because it cannot read to him anymore.

— — —

It loses its voice for good while it is reading to Martyn.

— — —

Its voice is the first thing it loses, but it is not the last.

Control of its fingers becomes… tricky. Martyn has to help it, doing things that require finer movements.

“Is your hand sick?” he asks, and he sounds afraid. It nods, because it knows it shouldn’t lie to him, even if it wants to.

It loses what little control it had over its face next. Then its neck becomes stuck. It doesn’t seem able to walk as fast, though that might just be due to Martyn getting faster—he grows older still, full of energy, constantly wanting to run and jump and play on his longer legs. It tries its best, but it cannot keep pace like it used to. It used to sing and walk all night, and now it cannot do either.

Martyn is as patient as a six year old can be, which is not very. He gets frustrated and bored, and he complains often. It does not blame him for this. He is doing his best, too, and that is all it can ask.

— — —

There are people. It tries to hide—pulls Martyn into a closet, tucks him close to its chest, pets his hair with his hand—but Martyn doesn’t like to play hide and seek, and he doesn’t know he has to be quiet.

“My name is Martyn!” he tells them, once the closet door opens, “This is Dad. He’s sick.”

They’re nice enough, a woman and her teenage son. It—he, now?—releases Martyn to talk to them, and climbs out of the closet. He hovers at Martyn’s side when they climb out, a hand on his son’s head.

“Why were you two in the closet?” the mother asks.

“We were playing hide and seek. That’s what Dad said other people like to do, but I don’t like it very much,” Martyn explains. She nods.

“Most people do like to play that game,” she says, because, as a parent, she must understand his fear. “But we don’t, either. Do you want to travel together for a little while, Martyn?”

“I want to!” Martyn says, and he looks up at his father, and his father would sigh if he could.

He nods, because what else is he meant to do?

— — —

The teenager entertains Martyn, reading to him the book his father never did get to finish. The mother cooks, and she takes a look at his hands.

“I used to be an engineer,” she says, “You’re a bit above my pay grade, but I could take a look, if you want.”

He doesn’t let her crack him open or anything, but she inspects the pieces of his wiring she can see. He’s reminded of his old clinic, though he can’t tell her how ironic this is.

Her prognosis is… grim.

“You probably only have a few years left in you,” she admits, “Your model was supposed to go for regular updates, replacing parts and…”

He doesn’t listen as she explains the old process, his focus instead on Martyn.

Only a few years? What will happen to Martyn? Who will take care of him?

Humans need care until they are eighteen.

Martyn is six.

“I could try and make some minor repairs for some of the obvious damage, but I don’t have tools for anything more. I can also try and tell you some things you can do to try and stretch that time out,” she says. He nods, understanding, grateful, as she does what she can.

He had been in her place, once, years ago, and so he understands, too, when she offers sympathies, when she holds his hand.

— — —

They split off from each other eventually. The other two are traveling to a place they claim never fell. He does not believe in such a place, and so he does not go with them.

Martyn cries. The mother hugs him, as does her son, and they are gone.

As they walk away, he holds Martyn’s hand, and he does not let go.

— — —

He teaches Martyn how to do… anything he can. He is too young to understand how to hunt or set a trap or clean an animal or cook or treat a fever or start a fire or boil water, and it is very difficult to teach when he cannot speak. He’d wanted to wait until Martyn is older, he does not have the luxury of time anymore.

Martyn is clever, is bright. He takes to the skills as well as a six, eight, ten year old can, and it is only partly due to the fact he has no choice.

— — —

He knows he is dying.

Martyn does not.

He picks up a stick, waving Martyn over. There is a patch of dirt that is mostly clear, and he crouches in front of it.

I AM SICK he writes, and Martyn reads it, and he frowns.

“I know that,” Martyn says, and he shakes his head. The dirt is soft, and so he clears it, trying again.

I AM VERY SICK he writes. Martyn reads it, and he frowns deeper.

“What does that mean?” Martyn asks.

I WILL SLEEP SOON he writes. He wants to be delicate, but he can’t—the patch of dirt isn’t very big.

“Oh, well, that’s okay. I sleep all the time,” Martyn says, “That’s how you get healthy again. It makes you feel better. You told me that.”

He wants to nod, but he can’t. This is the bit he was dreading the most.

I WILL NOT WAKE UP he writes.

For a long moment, Martyn doesn’t say anything.

“What if we get you medicine?” Martyn asks, “When— when I was sick, you found medicine. It made me better. It would make you better.”

NOT FOR ROBOTS

“That… that isn’t fair, though,” Martyn says, “Are you sure? We could get some and try it!”

I AM SURE he writes, and then he erases it, I LOVE YOU

Again, Martyn says nothing. He isn’t sure what Martyn is thinking, and then Martyn charges him, hugging him around the stomach.

He has more he wants to say to Martyn—he wants to teach him so much, to tell him to be careful, to tell him he’ll be okay.

He drops the stick, wrapping his arm around Martyn as tight as his failing joints will let him.

— — —

His goal is to find somewhere safe. An old house, maybe, somewhere where Martyn will be able to survive on his own for a while.

He looks, and he does not find it. He’s been looking for ten years, after all—of course he wouldn’t find one now, just because he is dying.

Other than that, his life does not much change. He holds Martyn’s hand as they walk, and Martyn talks to him about birds and books and whatever else he can think of. Martyn has become very good at filling the air for them both. Neither of them let go of the other’s hand.

He doesn’t actually know when it is going to happen, just that it will be soon.

When the moment finally comes, he does not realize.

They stop to rest for a night. Martyn is tired, as he is a child, and his legs can only carry him so far. He is tired, too, but he does not have it in him to think about why, or how strange that is.

It’s nowhere special, where they stop. A random house that has kept its roof, somewhere safe from rain and sun. Martyn finds a place to roll out his sleeping bag, and when he lies down, his father lies with him.

Martyn steps a bit closer. He’s just outside the edge of the clearing, ducking behind a tree. Not immediately obvious to anyone in the center, though Martyn can see Ren from his hiding place. He’s surrounded by a few men—Martyn doesn’t know their names, but he knows them to be some of Ren’s neighbors. Most of them steer clear of Ren, but one has his boot on the back of Ren’s neck. 

Ren’s hands are muddy. There’s dirt under his nails and across his stomach. Hair falls around his face, and blood stains his teeth and chin. He looks like an animal, and Martyn’s heart hurts looking at him. 

“Must be full from whatever you already ate, you piece of shit,” the first voice says, and Martyn hears Ren make a choked noise of pain—the man must be increasing the pressure. “Whose blood is that?!” 

“No one’s!” Ren’s wheezing, just a bit, “I caught a deer, that’s all.” 

“A deer never satisfies a thing like you.” 

Ren is caught and there’s no doubt about it, and that means there’s nothing left Martyn can do for him. His cloak is dark, and though the rising sun means it won’t help him hide as well, it’s still effective. If Martyn slips away now, he’ll… he can… 

“My cousin had a wolfman in his town. He said it didn’t stop hunting until it had found a man big enough to chew on until the sun rose again.” 

“I didn’t! I wouldn’t,” Ren insists, “You know me, I’ve lived here since I was born. I wouldn’t. You know that!” 

Martyn tugs his hood on, biting the inside of his mouth. He needs to leave, but leaving Ren is…

“Oh, sure,” scoffs someone else, “And I knew you were human, too. But you’ve turned, and you can't trust a wolf.” 

Ren actually whimpers, a sound Martyn has only ever heard him make as the dog. It hurts to hear, but it has Martyn taking an uncertain step to the side, unsure if he wants to run away. 

He threw Ren to the wolves the first time Ren came to him in order to protect himself—he could have cured Ren, but he didn’t, wanting to keep from the magic he’d have to use for a cure being discovered and reported. 

Ren wouldn’t have reported him. He knows that now. If he’d cured Ren, this wouldn’t be happening. 

…But it is. Ren is doomed, and what can Martyn even do? He’s not a hero. He’s barely—

“Hey!” someone calls. Martyn’s head snaps up, and he locks eyes with the owner of the voice. “There’s someone else there! Who are you?!” 

Martyn takes a step back, but the nearest man grabs him by the arm, yanking him into the light. Ren twists his head under the boot on his neck, and his face pales as Martyn is dragged into the light. 

“Christ, do you mind?! Jeez!” Martyn says, shaking the man’s hand off. He brushes his sleeve, annoyed—he’s doing his absolute best to play the part of a random passerby, “What on earth is going on here? I came out to collect some medicinal herbs, and you’ve got some guy under your… is that Ren?” 

“Used to be. Wolf’s curse has him now. Who knows how long ago he turned,” someone says, “Dunno if you’ve ever really met Ren, Doctor.” 

“You’re collecting herbs, you said?” another says, “Why don’t you have any in your basket?” 

Martyn looks down and bites back a swear. All he brought was food, water, and a cloak and some loose pants for Ren—obvious ties, and a clear contradiction to his alibi. 

“Yeah, just woke up and came out for them, though I haven’t found any,” Martyn says, “Easiest to look for by sunlight.” 

“You know, Doctor, I heard something weird about you,” says the one with a shoe on Ren’s neck. Ren lets out a choked noise, another pound of pressure on his spine. “I heard you were seen with the wolf a few months ago.” 

“What? Like, Ren?” Martyn asks, playing innocent, “Sure, Ren comes to my stand, but I thought he was sick…?” 

“Not at your stand. In the night,” the man says, “I heard you’re fraternizing with rabid animals. You’re a witch.” 

Martyn laughs, a touch nervous, “A witch? No. I’m a great doctor and all, but I’m not magic.” 

“You were commanding the wolf-thing, making it obey you. Only a witch could do that,” the man insists, “Joseph’s wife saw you. She looked out the window at the awful beast and saw it knock your hood down before it submitted to your command.” 

“That’s— your friend’s wife must have mistaken me for someone else,” Martyn says. 

“My wife knows what she saw!” says a man who must be Joseph, not that Martyn cares to turn around and check which one that is. 

“You’ve been spending time with him even when he’s not in the form of a monster,” someone says, and Martyn sweats. He should have kicked Ren out, he should have decided not to check on Ren that night, he should have— 

“Martyn’s helping me with the other symptoms,” Ren’s voice cuts through Martyn’s spiraling. Martyn’s head snaps down to watch as Ren attempts to look up at his captors. “I didn’t tell him about my— my curse. He didn’t know. I didn’t tell him.”

“Doesn’t make him not a witch.” 

“He’s not!” Ren insists, “He’s a friend I lied to. Nothing else.”

“The witch was commanding him,” says another man, taking a step closer to Martyn. There’s an axe in his hand, still clean. “He must be commanding Ren now. Why else would Ren defend him?” 

“He didn’t do anything!” Ren insists, “I swear. I swear, Martyn hasn’t used any magic. Please leave him alone, please.” 

Martyn looks down at Ren begging on the ground and his stomach turns with nausea. Ren isn’t prideful, exactly, but like this he seems to have no pride at all.

It shreds Martyn inside to see him like that. Even now, it’s not his own life he’s begging for—Ren wants to protect Martyn. Christ, and Martyn had been about to leave him. 

Martyn knows how it’ll make him look, but he pulls the cloak out of his basket and steps toward Ren. 

“I’m not going to do anything,” Martyn says, holding up the cloak to show the men, “But c’mon. He’s not an animal. Ren’s always been a good man. Let him have some semblance of his dignity before you kill him.” 

“Careful,” the man with a foot on Ren says, “This isn’t Ren anymore. If you’d seen the claws on him…” 

“I’ll be careful,” Martyn says, “Just let him up a second. He’s got no claws anymore.”

The man with a foot on Ren’s neck stares, then releases their hold on him. Martyn only hesitates a moment before kneeling in front of Ren, throwing the cloak over him like a blanket. 

“Sit up,” Martyn whispers, dropping his hand to Ren’s hair. He threads his fingers through for barely a moment before removing them, “Don’t die lying down in the dirt.” 

Ren does as he’s told, sitting up and pulling the cloak around his front. He doesn’t look much better—he’s still dirty, with a bloody chin and knotted hair—but at least he can claim some small piece of pride. 

The way he looks at Martyn is devastating. This close, Martyn can see the sad, guilty eyes, the defeated hang of his shoulders. Martyn may have known he was doomed when he saw him here, but it’s another thing to see defeat so obvious on the face of someone so stubborn and headstrong as Ren. 

Martyn actually gets up and takes a step back—he can’t be that close to Ren looking at him like that. 

The man who had been standing on Ren earlier drops his sword down, holding the edge below Ren’s neck. Ren doesn’t flinch—less an admirable display of courage, and more a simple acceptance of what’s to come. 

“So, Doctor, why did you have that with you?” the man asks, “You’re already wearing a cloak. You wouldn’t carry it unless you knew someone would need it.” 

Martyn looks at his basket. There’s still a pair of pants in there, making his alibi tricky. 

“I did know he’d need it,” Martyn admits, quiet. 

“I told him. I asked him to bring it. I didn’t tell him why,” Ren lies again, fingers tight on the edge of the cloak. 

“Like hell! He was with you, wasn’t he?!” the man says. 

“The wolf defending him is proof. He must be brainwashed by the witch’s magic,” another man says. 

“Monsters have to stick together. Just get rid of them both!” 

“No,” Martyn says, “Look, Ren, I appreciate you lying for me, but you don’t have to. I did know about Ren’s affliction, but we were treating it as just that—an illness. I’ve been trying to help him treat it for the past few months. I never commanded him, never spent a night with him, but we’ve tried a few medicines to lessen the effects of the moon on him and keep him in check. I knew, but not because I’m a witch. I’m a doctor, and Ren came to me as a patient looking for a cure. That’s all.”

“Why wouldn’t you just report him?!” 

“Like I said,” Martyn says, taking another step back, “Ren’s always been a good man.”

Someone grabs Martyn’s arm, stopping him from moving any further back. 

“Good enough to make yourself this damn suspicious for?” he asks, “Because the way I see it, you protected him ‘cuz you’re a witch, and he’s your bitch.”

Martyn resists the urge to cringe at the taunt, trying his best to maintain that aloof doctor facade he’s been wearing so effortlessly for years. He scoffs, folding his arms. 

“No one is good enough to make myself this suspicious over. Especially not some wolfman I just met,” Martyn says, “But could you imagine how much money I’d have made if I’d actually cured him? There’s no one else in the world who could do that. I could charge anything I wanted for it. I saw the chance and I took it, but clearly, it hasn’t paid off.”

Ren says nothing, face unreadable, and Martyn scrambles to make it clear he’s lying. 

“Hell,” Martyn adds, gesturing one arm at Ren, “I could charge Ren anything I wanted. He couldn’t not pay what I asked—at best, I would stop trying to cure him. At worst, I could report what he was to everyone. Shame it had to end this way, though.”

“I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you,” Ren whispers. There’s a venom to it Martyn has never seen from Ren before, far more convincing than Martyn expects. Ren’s head snaps up, and the pain in his eyes has a fire behind it now, “You were supposed to help me!” 

“I would’ve! But I don’t want to be a small town doctor forever,” Martyn says, “The city’s much nicer. I almost have enough to open my own practice, and a few more, er… we’ll say treatments for you would have helped a lot. Especially if any of them had actually worked.”

“Is that all you wanted from me? My money?” Ren asks. 

“I mean, sure. What’s a wolfman need with money, anyway?” Martyn asks, “Your lot never live long. Do you mind if I collect your estate after this? It’s not much anymore, but it’d be really nice to sell the rest.”

“Bastard,” Ren spits. 

“That doesn’t sound like a no,” Martyn says, and Ren bares his teeth into a snarl. Almost immediately, the sword at his neck cuts into his flesh, turning his growl into a sound of pain. 

“Stop riling him up,” the man says, “We don’t know what he’s capable of.”

“Right,” Martyn says, putting up his arms and taking another step back. If they knew Ren like he does, they’d know the answer is nothing. Ren wouldn’t hurt any of them. 

Not that Ren defends himself. He keeps glaring at Martyn, and though it hurts, it’s better than the despair. 

“We need him dead. We’ve stalled long enough already,” the man holding Martyn’s arm says. 

“Just run him through already!” says someone behind him. 

“Drown him, wolves can’t swim,” 

“Yes they can! You have to burn them.” 

“That’s witches, idiot!” 

Ren seems a bit paler as they argue. Martyn can only imagine how he feels—these are neighbors he’s known all his life, and now they’re debating his manner of death right in front of him. It’s the end of the line, and a gruesome one at that. 

“No! All of you are wrong. You have to cut its head off,” someone else yells, “Wolfmen are sturdy, they don’t die any other way.” 

“Hey, Doctor,” the man with the sword says. “Do you ever treat animals?”

“Occasionally,” Martyn says, unsure if he likes the question. 

“Have you ever put down a dog?”

“What?” Martyn asks. His callous costume slips for a moment, though he’s quick to put it back on. “Sure, once or twice. I don’t usually bother with treating dogs, though.” 

“You bothered with a wolf.” 

“A lucrative wolf. People don’t pay as much for dogs as they would themselves,” Martyn says, “Medicine doesn’t generalize that much, you know. I don’t know how to treat anything on an animal beyond stitching up a wound.”

“Sure, sure,” the man says, “But everything dies the same. Even wolfmen. Even witches.”

Martyn narrows his eyes. “I’m not a witch.”

“Prove it, then,” the man says. He pulls his sword away, offering it to Martyn. “Kill the wolfman. If he really means nothing to you, it should be easy. Otherwise, I’ll assume you’re a witch in league with him.”

“I don’t even know how to, to— what do you even want me to do?” Martyn asks. 

“You’ve chopped firewood, haven’t you?” the man asks, “It’s probably like that.”

Martyn stares at Ren a long time, but Ren isn’t looking at him. His knuckles are white, and at the hem, his hand shakes. 

If Martyn can do nothing else for Ren, he can at least make this quick. 

“If it’s like firewood,” Martyn says, “Give me an axe.”

— — —

They set Ren up on an old stump. It’s a bit too tall, and the position he takes the lean his neck against it is awkward, undignified. Most of what they do leading up to his death is—letting him keep the cloak is the only reprieve they afford him. No one lets him wipe the blood from his mouth or pull the twigs from his hair. He’s barely even let off the ground to move to his chopping block—it would be too easy to run on his own two feet, and so he’s made to crawl. 

Martyn is the final person willing to even to use Ren’s name. 

“Part your hair, Ren,” Martyn instructs, “I don’t want to miss.” 

Ren is allowed to do that, at least, pulling his hair away to clear up the skin there. Martyn tugs down the back of the cloak himself, letting his fingers linger at the base of Ren’s spine, looking at what, exactly, he’s about to do. 

His throat is pressed against old bark, putting him at an odd angle. Martyn says nothing, another of many decisions he’ll come to regret. 

“Okay,” Martyn mutters, lifting the axe, “Any last words?”

Ren closes his eyes. “I’ll see you in Hell, Doctor.” 

It should sound like an insult, but Martyn knows it isn’t. It doesn’t make it any easier. 

Martyn swings. The angle is crooked, diagonal against Ren’s bent neck. Martyn knows he’s fucked it when he hears the sound Ren makes: a choked scream, loud enough to startle the birds and as pained as it is wet. 

Martyn rips the axe out of his flesh. Blood streams down the blade and onto the cloak, but Martyn ignores it. Ren begins to sag and Martyn panics, slamming it back down. This angle is worse, and Ren cries a second time. His body shudders, patches of hair appearing on his shoulders and down his arms. There’s shouting behind Martyn, but he doesn’t process the words.  

Ren is in pain. The wolf has only ever wanted to protect him, to soothe him. He’s scared and in pain and the wolf wants to help and it’s Martyn that’s causing it. 

Martyn slams the axe down a third time. Ren makes no noise, at least, or maybe it’s drowned out by the splatter of blood, or the axe hitting bone, or bark snapping under the grip of Ren’s claws. 

Martyn’s hands and chest and legs are covered in it. He’ll probably never feel clean again. 

Rip. Raise. Swing. Rip. Raise. Swing. 

It takes a total of five blows before Martyn hits wood, Ren’s head falling away onto the dirt. 

His body slumps against the wood, leaving blood smeared all down the bark. Like a spider’s legs curling in death, the claws and fur retract as the life leaves him. He looks smaller like that, crumpled against the ground. 

He’s dead. Ren is dead, and Martyn murdered him. 

Martyn processes very little about the next few moments. He’s only seen a few bodies in his life, but this is the worst yet. Ren had been kind beyond anyone Martyn had ever met, and Martyn had killed him. If Martyn had cured him, if Martyn had sedated him, if Martyn had stepped in and saved him, if—

“—tor, Doctor!” Martyn snaps back to attention. The man with the sword is in front of him, and he actually looks concerned. 

“He’s— I’m so, you—” Martyn doesn’t know what he’s saying. Ren is dead and he wants to apologize and he wants to curse this man’s entire bloodline to ends twice as gruesome and violent. He feels small, smaller than Ren against that stump. He feels like a kid again, trying not to sob as he’s carried away from Jay’s smoldering house. His vision is blurring already, and his hands are shaking so bad that he can barely hold the axe. 

“Jesus, you look like you’re going to be sick.”

“I am,” Martyn says, honest. He hears the axe fall to the ground, though he’s not aware of letting it go. 

“Haven’t you, like, done surgery?” the man asks. 

“That— it’s, not like that,” Martyn says, “They don’t— they don't bleed that much. They’re not— they don’t feel— they don’t make noise.”

He hears someone behind him say something like ‘can’t be a witch with such a weak stomach.’ Jay had a weak stomach, too. Was no good at hurting anyone, not even if he wanted to. Not even to defend himself. 

Just like Ren. Not like Martyn. 

Martyn had always thought, if he’d only had the power he has now, he’d have leapt to Jay’s defense. He’s always told himself he’d have saved the only person who ever loved him, comforted himself with versions of the world where he and Jay escaped. 

Ren didn’t love him, but Ren had made himself the only other person who’d gotten so far as to like him. And Martyn hadn’t just let him die, no—Martyn had killed Ren himself. 

What was the point of all this power if Martyn is still a coward? How did he let it happen again? When did he lose sight of what he’d gained it all for?

What can he do with it now? 

“Take a seat, man,” the man says, and Martyn shakes his head—if he sits now, he’ll never get the nerve to move again. 

What can he do with his magic? There must be some way to fix this. Martyn is a healer, better than any other. There must be some spell for sutures or blood or bone, something that could fix this, something that could bring Ren back to h— 

…Something that could bring Ren back. 

Martyn looks up, finally meeting the man’s eyes. He’s still shaking, but he gathers what determination he can. 

“Let— let me bury him,” Martyn says. 

“What?”

“Let me,” Martyn tries again, trying to keep his voice from trembling, “Let me bury him.”

“Why the hell would you bury a wolfman?”

“So he, his body,” Martyn’s determined, but the adrenaline in his body has him scrambled. It’s hard to think, to speak, “It’ll infect the, the wolves, if— if they eat it, the local wolves, they’ll, if we just—”

The man raises a hand, cutting him off.

“So we’ll burn it,” the man says. Martyn shakes his head. 

“I need to, to be the one to,” Martyn says, and when he can’t explain himself, he tacks on the one bit of magic even humans recognize: “Please.” 

“No graveyard will take a wolfman,” the man says. 

“I’ll bury him out here,” Martyn says, “Please.”

“Why does this matter so much to you?” the man asks, “Don’t tell me you feel guilty.”

“I’ve never— I’ve never lost a patient before,” Martyn says, almost a whisper. The man’s face actually softens. He believes Martyn to be a human doctor, after all, simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. He sets a hand on Martyn’s shoulder, sympathetic. 

“I know he looked human, but that thing wasn't human anymore,” he says, “You don’t have to feel bad. It was us or him.”

Martyn doesn’t want to be us with this man. Being safe with these people isn’t worth this. It wasn’t worth Jay. Martyn has paid so steeply for this safety and belonging, and it was never worth a goddamned thing. 

“Ren’s always— always been a good man,” Martyn says, “Just— I need to do this. Let me do this. Please.”

The man sighs, squeezing Martyn’s shoulder. “If this is what you need to sleep tonight.”

It isn’t. If only it were so simple as ever sleeping again. 

“Thank you,” Martyn says anyway. 

— — —

The first thing Martyn does is close Ren’s eyes. 

He doesn’t look at them. He has no idea what Ren’s expression looks like because he doesn’t want to know. He doesn’t check, instead focusing on picking him up. 

He picks Ren’s head up first, gentle, respectful as he can be. He doesn’t take Ren by his hair or hold him by the face, instead cupping Ren’s chin in his hands. Ren’s hair cascades down his arms unobstructed, wet strands and the drenched wound coating Martyn’s sleeves in even more blood. 

Next, Martyn empties the basket. That’s careless—Martyn dumps everything on the ground without even looking. The only thing he picks back up is the pants, which he lays down on the base of the basket, just to give Ren a bit of a cushion when he rests him inside. 

Martyn sets his head down gently, leaning on his cheek. Though he tries to put Ren’s hair inside the basket, plenty of it spills out over the edges. 

Once Ren is secure, he sets the basket in the crook of his arm, and he moves to the rest of him. 

Ren’s body is still curled against the stump. The bleeding has slowed, but it hasn’t stopped entirely.

First, Martyn lays Ren’s body on his back. He covers Ren as best he can with the cloak, wrapping him carefully in the dark fabric. It’s difficult to see blood on, at least, though his stained neck is impossible to miss. Martyn has to be careful as he bends down, hooking his arms under Ren’s knees and back without tipping Ren’s head out of his basket. 

Ren is light when Martyn finally stands. Martyn’s already exhausted—staying up all night hadn’t done him any favors, nor had his awful morning—but he notices that. Ren had been a lumberjack before he… got sick. He must’ve lost the muscle at some point, though Martyn hadn’t noticed. 

Martyn rubs his thumb against Ren’s shoulder through the fabric of his cloak. His body is still warm. 

“It’s going to be okay, Ren,” he whispers, unable to care about being overheard. “I’ll take care of you. I’ll fix this. I’ll fix everything. I promise.”

He doesn’t apologize—as much as he wants to, Martyn holds his tongue. Now isn’t the time for apologies. 

Okay, I'm opening this with a content warning,

CW for Ren's backstory, which comes up in the middle of this, because it's definitely the darkest thing in this AU probs one of the darker things in our AUs in general: near-fatal harm to a child and hanging. Ren had to get the neck scar from somewhere.

Ren and Martyn are childhood friends, having met when they were 10. Both Ren and Martyn are carrying some pretty big secrets/wounds by the time they meet that make it hard for either of them to make friends, so once they have each other, they become very close and very attached. Martyn even moves in with Ren, as neither of them currently live with family, when the two are in high school.

One of Ren's own secrets is that he has powers, and he's terrified of using them. But Martyn loves heroes and idealizes the idea of heroes a lot; It’s Martyn who inspires Ren to stop fearing his powers, and eventually to become a hero, Frostburn, albeit in secret. Keeping a secret like this for months creates a distance, and Martyn is hurt by Ren’s sudden pulling away from him, especially when Ren misses Martyn's birthday.

When Martyn figures out what Ren is doing, he decides to become Ren’s sidekick, crafting the persona of Rose. Unlike Frostburn, who fights by using his fire and ice powers, Martyn uses his interest in robotics to create gadgets he can use to fight with. The two take on a number of villains together, becoming the city's most famous hero duo.

After a few years of fighting villains together side-by-side, though, Martyn's injured badly during a fight, which leaves him with a large scar on his cheek. Ren gets really scared by this—he has healing powers and will recover from an injury like that, but Martyn? If Martyn suffers another injury like that, he could die. He starts convincing Martyn to stay home, which just upsets Martyn, because he feels like Ren thinks he's weak and that Ren doesn't trust him. He's back to sitting around and feeling powerless every time Ren encounters a real, dangerous enemy, the same way he did when Ren was hiding his identity from Martyn. Martyn's just as scared of losing Ren as Ren is of losing Martyn, and so being left to sit at home scares him. He tries talking to Ren about it, but Ren won't budge.

The fics we've posted start here. After a few weeks of being benched for every serious fight, Martyn meets Doc by chance—Doc claims to be a scientist studying powers, and he has a plan to help fix things. He offers to give Martyn short term artificial powers, telling Martyn he should fight Frostburn using them. When Martyn wins against Frostburn, he'll be able to take the mask off and show Frostburn he's strong and doesn't need to be left behind. Perfect plan! And he even helps Doc by doing it by testing the effectiveness of Doc's artificial powers for him, offering valuable practical data to Doc's research. Doc also requests Martyn bring Frostburn back for a blood sample—dual powers like Frostburn's fire and ice are so rare, after all. It would be so helpful to Doc's research if he could study how they work, so it's really the least Martyn can do...

Martyn is skeptical at first, but eventually accepts Doc's help. Doc doesn't just gift Martyn powers, though—he also gifts Martyn a suit of armor that will protect him from injuries and enhance his strength, and helps him create a villain persona, Thorn, so that he can take on Frostburn without Ren knowing it's Martyn he's fighting.

(Doc and Martyn doodle, to make Doc a distinct design different from Datastream DOC, who he was based off of, and also decide what the armor under Thorn's costume looks like. Cherri later removed Martyn from this doodle, colored Doc, and posted him as a full design. We've used him in a lot of AUs now as a reoccurring villain, and he has sort of ended up an OC with a pretty distinct personality that is fairly divorced from the datastream lore character)

(Though only one power can be used at a time, both Doc and Martyn's injectors have three slots for three powers. Martyn always keeps a vial of teleportation in the third slot, so he can always escape in a pinch)

Even with Doc’s assortment of random abilities, though, Thorn isn’t strong enough to beat Frostburn. To make matters worse, Ren often tells Martyn Thorn is no issue at all when the two talk about the villain, not wanting to stress Martyn out with the fact that Thorn is a genuinely tricky and powerful foe. This gets worse when Martyn drops out of being Rose entirely, wanting to focus on getting stronger and better as Thorn, as Ren lies about his struggles to Martyn so as not to worry his friend. The more Martyn pulls away, the worse Thorn becomes, the more Ren lies to Martyn to make sure he isn't stressed, the more Ren makes it seem like he doesn't need Rose, the further Martyn pulls away from Ren. It's a vicious cycle, and it wears their friendship to the ground.

This comes to a head with Thorn deciding to burn down their home, in a last ditch effort to prove to himself their friendship means anything at all to Ren. He needs to see that even if Ren doesn’t care about Thorn or need Rose, he’ll still come to Martyn’s rescue. He knows, or thinks he knows, that Ren's terrified of something happening to Martyn, so he targets "Martyn" as Thorn.

Doc, Martyn's main confidant for all of his plans, ventures onto the field the evening of the fire. He knows what Thorn is planning and why, and knows that if Frostburn doesn't show up, it will destroy their friendship. So he uses his own armor and artificial powers to hold Ren up in a fight, stopping him from going home to put the fire out. The apartment burns without Frostburn ever showing up, leaving Martyn to believe Ren has abandoned him entirely, and leading Ren to believe Martyn is... missing. Not dead. He can't be dead.

This is Ren's worst fear realized, as it's happened to him before, with him in Martyn's shoes. Ren grew up in another city, where his parents become a famous hero duo in their city. When Ren was around 8, he was targeted and nearly killed in an attempt to hurt the otherwise untouchable hero duo, and a couple of villains broke into their home when Ren's parents were out.

Ren awakened his own powers that night, with them activating after Ren is nearly hanged. His healing abilities allowed him to survive what would have otherwise been a fatal injury with nothing but a scar around his neck, and his temperature powers awakened with a vengeance in response to his own fear, leading to Ren accidentally killing his attackers. In the aftermath, Ren's parents moved him out of their home city to keep him out of harm's way from other local villains who could target him, which is what led Ren to meet Martyn.

Ren had been terrified of being recognized or even seen at all, and thus was not particularly social; he was completely unable to bring himself to talk. Martyn had been the only person completely undeterred talking to someone totally nonverbal, and had tried to befriend him anyway. After the first time Martyn made Ren break his silence to laugh, they were basically inseparable.

(Since I talked about Ren's backstory, here's a couple of doodles of Ren as a kid and his parents. They don't show up a lot in this AU, but we've used them a lot in other AUs if Ren needed a parent. The dad's name is Charlie and the mom's name is Clementine. Their hero names are Red and Wolf, and their powers are vitality drain and wolf shifting. Vampire and werewolf, basically!)

(Martyn is aware of all of this, as he'd asked about the scar around Ren's neck when they were younger. Martyn is also aware of the fact Ren is generally uncomfortable with being touched on his neck at all, and that any kind of pressure on the front of Ren's throat or loss of breath also freaks Ren out a lot).

This experience also made Ren very afraid of something happening to Martyn because of him becoming a hero, and made him especially protective of Martyn. Not that it mattered, it seems, because villains found and targeted Martyn anyway.

Back to the present, Ren swears revenge on Thorn for taking Martyn from him. He moves in with a hero group known as the Red Army, not knowing where else to go. They're the ones who show Ren the footage of the apartment fire to let him know Thorn burned it, and offer to help him find Thorn and capture him.

Martyn is now convinced the only way he can fix their friendship is by beating Frostburn. If Frostburn doesn't care about him anymore because he was too weak, he has to prove himself. He moves in with Doc, the only person he feels still cares for him.

(Definitely a trustworthy guy to rely on for emotional support)

Thorn and Frostburn have a few more fights, though they're different now. Thorn is far less willing to banter, and Frostburn's hits are far more intense. Both of them are taking this far more seriously, as both of them are hurting far more. Thorn uses different powers basically every fight, but with the data from his field testing, his powers are lasting longer and becoming stronger.

If you've hero hero/villain from Cherri and I before, we've recently made a change and told absolutely no one, and it's how Frostburn learns Thorn's identity.

One of the powers Thorn uses pulls the user and their victim into little unreality bubbles based of their memories. Ren assumes he's been pulled into his own memories by Thorn to hurt him, as he sees a lot of memories of himself and Martyn, though it quickly becomes clear he's actually seeing Martyn's memories. He sees a conversation where he'd told Martyn he couldn't come with him onto the field, but instead of the memory following Ren to battle, it stays with Ren, hurt and rejected, watching the fight from home.

Ren goes running to find Martyn in this space, passing by other memories. He sees one of Martyn putting on the Thorn suit, which confirms his new suspicion, though he still doesn't fully understand why Martyn is doing this. As he moves through the memories, hoping to find Martyn today, he instead finds Martyn as a child.

If I were to actually write this as a fic, I would have Ren come face-to-face with the memory of child Martyn and his robot dad, then just end the chapter there, so the next chapter would be the oneshot I already posted of Martyn's backstory. I won't go into too much detail since you can read that, but I'll give a short version.

About 20 years prior to the start of the story, an apocalyptic event wipes half the world’s cities off the map and grants special powers and mutations to a fair portion of the survivors. This has been alluded to a few times in the posted fics as the Change. While Ren was born slightly after the Change grew up in one of the surviving cities, Martyn did not. He was an infant when it happened, and was saved by a robotic nurse. They wandered what's known as the "wastes," the areas where no civilizations remained, and the robot cared for Martyn until he ran out of power when Martyn was about 10. At this point Martyn was finally found by someone who brought him to the city of Dogwarts, where he met Ren.

(Please look at our robot I think about him every day of my life he's so so dear to me.)

(His serial number is J-L1-77L3W00D, and when Martyn ends up in the city, he picks Littlewood as a surname because it resembles the bot's "name." The bot technically never actually gets a name in this AU, as Martyn only ever calls him "dad," but In other AUs where we've used him in he's called J or Jay, depending on if he's a robot or a human)

(Ren knows some of Martyn's past, though Martyn's never been specific with the details. For example, while Ren knows Martyn grew up in the wastes and was raised by a nurse, Martyn has never mentioned even once his dad was a robot. It just never came up)

Spending 10 years wandering the world believing that there were no large survivor groups and he was one of the only people left alive gave Martyn a profound fear of being alone. One that came true, because Ren abandoned him. Ren finally finds Thorn in the mindscape, but his attempts to talk to Thorn fall flat. Thorn's far too convinced that, unless he proves himself to Ren, Ren will inevitably leave him. Nothing Ren says to him gets through to him.

Ren's focus shifts in their next fights. He starts trying to get Martyn to come home, but Martyn just won't. We have a few specific scenes of them interacting from this stretch of time, though we've never quite ironed them out in full.

A little after Ren finds out Thorn is Martyn (and Martyn is alive), Martyn's birthday rolls around. This is the only holiday Martyn cares about (he and his dad never celebrated any others growing up), and he likes spending it just hanging out with the person he cares for most. He used to spend it just hanging out with Ren, but they can't now, so he tries spending this one on his own. This makes him miserable and makes him feel truly alone, and so by the end of the evening, he decides well, Ren is still his best friend, after all, or he's supposed to be. He shows up at the Red Army base with a cake to split with Ren, calling a single evening truce so they can finish out his birthday together. It's really awkward and mostly silent, and it kind of just sucks and isn't a good experience, but Martyn still thinks of it as better than the birthday Ren missed entirely.

(This is Martyn's hoodie that Ren is wearing IIRC)

Somewhere in this stretch of time, Doc starts asking Martyn for extra help. The field tests are great, of course, but he tries a few smaller thing on Martyn in the lab. Instead of only giving Martyn stable powers, he also tries some that he hasn't quite stablized yet. After all, Martyn lives at the lab. He may as well help, since he's here all day anyway...

A little after this, the Red Army—I don't think I said who was in that group yet, it's Skizz, BigB, Etho, Joel, and Impulse—fights Thorn without Frostburn and manages to actually beat him. They bring him back to the Red Army base, where there's a small holding cell. They use power suppressant cuffs (bulky handcuffs which stop people from using their powers if they're wearing them. Sort of like seastone from One Piece, but without the energy-draining effect. They just shut your powers off) and bring Thorn to the holding cell, and then Ren finds out he's there. After their awkward birthday truce, Ren decides to go talk to Martyn, trying to get through to him.

Martyn sort of acts like this is the end of the world, because if he's caught, Ren will never think he's strong. He doesn't want Ren to see him like this at all, and decides he has to escape. He has teleportation in his injector, but he needs the power suppressants off of him to use it. So when Ren starts talking, he barely listens. He says what he thinks Ren wants to hear—that he'll give up as Thorn, that he'll come home, that he'll stop trying to go on the field, that he's sorry, that he misses Ren, that he wants to be friends again, whatever makes Ren open that holding cell door. And it works. Ren does open the door, he does go into the cell. Martyn asks to have the bulky cuffs removed so he can hug Ren, and when Ren frees him, he injects teleportation while he reaches around Ren's back to hug him.

The artificial powers take a little while to settle, but Martyn uses teleportation basically immediately. It only takes him outside the door, but that's all it needs to do, because Martyn just kicks the cell door closed and escapes while Ren is trapped inside.

I think this moment is kind of a turning point—it's the first time Martyn is really seeing the actual hurt on Ren's face because of what he's doing. Up until now, I don't think Martyn ever really considered he could actually hurt Ren, and the realization makes him panic. He's put so much stock into the idea that everything will go back to normal once he beats Ren and proves himself, he doesn't want to think about the idea that might not be true. Meanwhile, Ren is left sitting in the cell, starting to confront the fact that Martyn might be too far gone to bring back.

They fight a few times after that, but they're both kind of desperate—Ren to be wrong, and Martyn to be right. Cherri's piece for Yellow Rose AU for treebark week a while back takes place around this era of the plot.

(It was for the prompt "ground," and Thorn is using earth manipulation as a power. It's actually the same power Doc uses when he fights Ren the one time, fun fact!)

Around this area of time there's a holiday which Ren normally visits his parents for. Martyn usually comes with him, though Ren has... not really told them about anything that's been going on (don't ask me how he hid the fire from them I don't know). He doesn't want them to worry, either, but now he doesn't know how to explain why Martyn isn't here with him. Until he actually gets home and Martyn... is there, lying to his parents about getting a job that's kept him too busy to see Ren much. It's awkward as hell but the two of them have to pretend nothing has changed for a weekend which just makes them both weirder and more confused and desperate, especially because they both have to sleep in the same bed when staying here.

They fight more. Martyn's desperation to win makes him cross a line he shouldn't. He uses puppetry, a power which creates threads that wrap around and pilot his victim. He does beat Ren, drawing on Ren’s childhood trauma to do so, scaring Ren so badly he's barely able to fight back. Ren’s trust in him is shattered, and he decides their friendship really is ruined. Martyn tries his best to talk about how strong he is and how he can return to Ren's side, but Ren won't talk to him. He's once again dead silent.

Martyn doesn't know what to do, so he brings Ren to Doc, since he's been relying on Doc's advice this whole time. This results in Doc finally having a mask off moment and truly stepping into his role as the story's actual antagonist, which is always my favorite part of writing him.

The moment Martyn starts really having doubts and trying to apologize or free Ren, Doc comes out of the lab to greet them. He stuns Ren and reveals Martyn's suit has a remote control. He uses it to enable a lock function (see those tubes on all his arms and legs?), immobilizing Martyn. I'm just gonna screenshot this whole conversation because it's fun, so take some writing from like two years ago that Cherri and I did together.

(If these screenshots are hard to read, sorry. Can you tell I fucking love writing Doc)

Martyn realizes all at once how terrible of a mistake he's made trusting Doc and turning against Ren, deciding that he has to do whatever he can to save Ren and get them both out of here, especially since Ren won't be able to free himself as he's constantly stunned. Martyn goes through Doc's desk while Doc is gone to find out how to get into the cell in his lab and ends up finding a lethal poison instead. He pockets it, bringing it with him when he actually stages their escape.

Martyn tries to break into the lab when Doc isn't there, but Doc catches him. Martyn pulls out the poison, but Doc has a trick of his own, which is more poison! The tube over Martyn's heart in his own suit has has poison in it the entire time Martyn's been wearing it, in case Martyn ever tried something like this, though the two of them are at a stalemate. Martyn’s got his vial up to Doc’s neck, and Doc’s got his finger on the remote.

Doc says basically anything to get Martyn not to do it, trying to get him to pull the vial away (so he can kill him without being killed himself). He appeals to them being on the same team, he claims Ren will never forgive him so he should just stay with Doc. He even tries one of those "kill me and you'll become a just like me, a real villain" speeches but, while Martyn does falter, it ends up having the opposite effect, upsetting Martyn enough that Martyn kills him.

(He died doing what he loved: monologuing)

With Doc defeated and Martyn freed, Martyn takes Ren to the Red Army base where the two of them finally talk through what caused the rift in the first place—their mutual fear of losing each other. They’re both hurting, but can admit that all either of them have ever wanted is to stay by one another’s side, and their fear of losing that is what caused their split to happen. They both apologize to one another for where they’d failed—Ren in the start by making Martyn feel unwanted, and Martyn in the end for going way too far trying to prove himself. Their trust and relationship is definitely damaged, but both of them want to fix it, and decide they’ll work on fixing it together this time.

Which,

they find and revive J, though docv sighs and says his technological knowledge just isnt very good, so he cant get J in perfect working order. he cant fix J's voice and thus must leave J mute, and he cant make the battery hold charge for more than a few hours. it'll just have to do, but it should be okay, since Martyn wasnt planning to leave anyway!

this works to make Martyn happy, but J sees through what's happening a little easier and hates docv's ass immediately. he hates that docv puts Martyn in danger and can see docv's advice sucks so bad. plus, docv barely treats him like a person, and wont even acknowledge he's there or can hear him if Martyn isn't in the room to pretend he gives a shit in front of

J is much more fond of this Ren/Frost person that Martyn keeps mentioning, and decides that Ren is probably the only person who can help Martyn out of here. sure, theyre arguing, but Martyn's a good kid. J is sure they can work it out and Ren will help

(fun fact, J is the world's most permissive parent. it's why Martyn is the way he is, probably)

J knows he only has a few hours of battery and no real way of finding Ren, so he mostly just sits on this plan until one day docv mentions something he cant look past. docv makes a joke when Martyn is out: isn't it funny that your kill switch is hereditary?

J looks at him like ???? and docv tells him there's a kill switch in martyn's suit. he's trying to threaten J, tell him without saying clearly that he shouldnt keep trying to convince Martyn to leave or he'll just kill martyn. but it has the opposite effect: it pushes J to finally go looking for Ren. docv sorta assumes he'll break down somewhere since he cant talk to get help and lets him leave

J basically just takes a notepad and asks people about Frostburn until Frostburn finally finds him. once Frostburn finally comes to see him, he writes that he's Martyn's dad, and Martyn needs help, though he's so low on power, he can hardly explain himself before shutting down. Ren takes him back to the Red Army base, where he asks for Impulse and Etho to help him power the bot and figure out what the hell happened

when Martyn comes home and finds J gone, he confronts docv, who pretends he didnt notice J left. he suggests maybe J just doesnt like the person he grew up to be--he was always frowning, after all. why would a healer like a villain? he mustve just been disappointed

Martyn can at least tell that's a lie, and even if it wasnt, he's worried about his dad's safety, so he says hes going to go look for him. docv wont let him, so he tries waiting until docv steps out to steal some powers and search himself. the issue is, docv's got better security than Martyn anticipates and comes back in the middle of martyn's escape attempt.

he locks martyn's suit down and, now that he doesnt need to be nice anymore, just fully drops the mask of pretending to like Martyn. basically tells him okay, we're doing this my way now. you're going to help me with whatever tests i want, no matter how dangerous they are, so i can improve my artificial powers. and you're going to help me catch frostburn, not to fix your friendship, but because i need his dual powers for my research. and if you try any of this rebellion stuff again, i'm just going to kill you. you're not going to look for your dad--in fact, you're not even going to talk to frostburn when you fight, because i dont trust you. you're going to wear a wire when you fight him, and if i hear you talk, it's over. (not that it matters, of course--frostburn hates you. he wont save you)

Martyn cant really do anything but agree with that

meanwhile, Ren gets J fixed. it takes a little while, since they try and fix all the wear and tear from years of going without maintenance, including his voice. when J finally wakes up, it's been a while--long enough for Ren to notice Thorn's stopped speaking on the field, and for Martyn to become convinced

J's a robot, so his memory is accessible files and videos. and he uses those to show Ren what's actually going on with Martyn, including showing him the lab and docv (...and embarrassing baby videos. sorry martyn)