#naykt

“You should go.” Google doesn’t even turn to Mad as he speaks.

Mad doesn’t hesitate, quickly grabbing his jacket from the floor and  throwing it around his shoulders as he heads for the door. Bing takes a few steps forward to let the guy leave but otherwise just stands, staring at Google.

Google hasn’t forgotten what happened. He remembers with crystal clear clarity every one of Mad’s sins against them. He knows what Mad did to them, to Bing, and he has by no means forgiven him. He also knows exactly how this probably looks to the cyborg.

“I wanted to tell you,” Google starts, “I wasn’t sure e-mail was the right way to-”

“It’s fine.” Bing’s words are clipped, his voice tense as he glances away avoiding eye contact. Indication of deception. It’s not fine.

Silence falls between them. It’s been a while since they were in the same room and the air is heavy with awkward tension. With his old processor it would have been easy for Google to ignore it, mostly because he wouldn’t have noticed it, but now he understands the nuance of the discomfort between them; the unspoken anger and feelings of betrayal about Google lying by omission about Mad. It’s not pleasant, and Google doesn’t plan to let it go on any longer than he has to.

The droid stands, heading to Oliver’s workstation and pulling something from a drawer before he strides back towards Bing. The cyborg merely watches in confusion, even as Google stops and holds out a very familiar pair of orange sunglasses.

“What…?”

Google says nothing, patiently waiting as Bing carefully reaches out and takes them.

“You fixed them.” There’s surprise in his voice.

“We improved them.”

They’d found the glasses a few hours after Bing ‘woke up’ again. Snapped in half and abandoned on the floor. Bing had made some off-handed comment about having to get a new pair, but ultimately tried to throw them out. Naturally the Googles weren’t going to stand for that. 

Fixing them was obvious and relatively easy, reinforcing the repaired frames with flexible titanium would stop them being snapped again. The rest of the upgrade was Oliver’s idea and took significantly longer.

Bing turns them over in his hand. “They look the same.”

“Try them on.”

Bing opens them and puts them on, wincing as a bright orange light flashes in his eyes from the lenses.

“Ow!”

Each Google receives a message instantly, and if they’ve done it correctly, the message should be on Bing’s glasses lenses too.

[NEW USER IDENTIFIED]

[WELCOME BING]

[OLIVER] He’s back!

[RED] You finally gave him the glasses then?

[OLIVER] Does he like them? He’s not mad is he?

Bing tears the glasses from his face triggering a [BING IS OFFLINE] message to the Googles. The cyborg stares at the glasses in his hand before looking up at Google in astonishment. “What was-?”

“It’s connected to our network.” Google nods. “Partially anyway. There’s only so much we could manage in a pair of sunglasses. You can see status updates and send and receive messages.”

Bing looks baffled, “Why are you adding me to your network?”

“Well you are our brother.”

Google says it as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world because to him it is. There has been so much madness in the last year but through it all he’s realised that even when he lacked the processing power to truly comprehend it, Bing means no less to the Googles than any one of their brothers. Bing may not be a droid, but he is as much a Google as the rest of them and including him seemed so obvious once the idea had been pitched.

That’s to say nothing of the cyborg’s tendency to wind up in some sort of trouble or other. At the very least, Bing being able to connect to the network would make it easier to figure out when he needed help. No more waiting three days for Google to check the CCTV.

Bing stares at the glasses in his hands, speechless. This isn’t something he ever even thought of, never mind hoped or dreamed of. It almost doesn’t seem real. As he looks up at Google, a warm smile on the droid’s face, Bing’s shoulders relax and he surges forward, tightly wrapping his arms around his older brother in a hug.

“Thanks Goog.”

Google smiles, gently patting Bing on the head. After a moment he chuckles.

“Can you put the glasses on again? Oliver’s worried you fainted.”

Bing laughs.

It’s good to be home.

“The Jims are out of sync.” King’s getting restless, leg bouncing beneath the table, avoiding looking at anyone or anything in particular. The lights, the air, and the din of humanity bustling around them is slowly burrowing its way under his skin. The only thing keeping him half-sane right now is the gentle scrape as he slides the salt shaker between his hands on the table. “They think we haven’t noticed but we have.”

“Out of sync?”

King pauses, shuffling in his seat as he thinks.

“You know how they would always say everything at exactly the same time, no matter what it was and it was so annoying?”

“You’re the only one who finds it annoying.” Bing chuckles.

“He’s not.” Bim mutters.

“The point,” King cuts in, “they aren’t any more. They go to say something but one’s always like a second too early, or says something completely different.” He remembers the first time it happened. The way the Jims’ eyes just went wide and they immediately ran.“It’s weird.”

It’s definitely weird. For longer than Bing’s even known the Jims they’ve always worked as one. They’ve moved, acted, thought, decided as a single person and while yeah it’s weird, you get used to it.

“Do we know why?”

King snorts, going back to sliding the salt back and forth.

“They’re the Jims, who knows why they do anything?”

“Be nice.” Bim reminds him.

It’s no secret; King has never gotten along with the Jims. They’re extroverted, over the top, and reckless at the best of times while King is more reserved, introverted, and generally hateful towards humanity. Still, that’s no reason to be rude.

“We don’t know.” Green finally answers, “They refuse to acknowledge it.”

Damn. If a Jim doesn’t want to talk, there is no known force in the universe that can change their mind. They’re not allowed outside the building so they know every nook and cranny where they can hide away. Once they stayed hidden for two months, only surfacing to steal food from the kitchen, just to avoid being questioned about who broke something in the clinic.

Taking another bite Bing wonders what could be going on with them when he spies a sly glance from Bim aimed at King. The cyborg looks over; King’s not looking but his brow is furrowed and he shakes his head. Bim raises his eyebrows pointedly.

“What?”

They startle, eyes going wide as they realise he saw them. Bing frowns. That’s totally not suspicious or worrying at all.

“Seriously guys, what?”

“Mad moved in.” Green’s blunt in his answer, the others turning to him and trying to hush him. Bing just stares in shock, a fry half way to his mouth suddenly forgotten.

“He what?”

“So much for breaking it gently.” King mutters, sinking into his seat.

Bing shakes his head. “I thought he was staying at the warehouse?”

A lot had happened while Bing was out of it and since then there’d been weeks of trying to sort it all out. Some people chose to leave, some wanted to stick around, and Dark offered for Mad to move into the building if he wanted. An invitation that the madman made stupidly clear the lot of them could shove where the sun doesn’t shine. Even after Natemare took the offer, Mad just said to lose his number and leave him alone.

“That was the plan.” Bim starts.

“Then what the heck?!”

Bing’s fist slams down, rattling the table and drawing the attention of several people nearby.

Bim looks between the cyborg’s fist and his face, not looking amused. “Feel better?”

The cyborg uncurls his fingers. His right hand. He keeps forgetting it’s stronger since his upgrade. Luckily he didn’t leave an impact on the table

“I’m fine.” he mutters. He clearly isn’t.

Green shifts, leaning over while making sure to keep his hand on Bing’s suitcase by his side.

“The warehouse burned down. Mad needed somewhere to stay and honestly we need his help with our processors.”

His voice is low, stern, very matter-of-fact. A clear indication that this is the end of this conversation.

Bing bites the inside of his lip. In Goog’s emails he’d said they were working on new emotional processors for the other Googles, now that they knew they had a limited life-span before they burned out too. Given the extreme circumstances Goog’s new one was made under, they wanted to fine-tune it before making a new one for the others.

Sure that would be easier with Mad’s help, after all no one knows anything near what he does about robotics, but that doesn’t change what a colossal self-serving buttwipe the guy is. Not to mention that he’d probably betray them all at the drop of a hat if it suits what he wants.

Bing drops the fry onto his plate and slumps in his seat. He’s not hungry any more.

Bim’s stopped eating too, and King’s clearly overstimulated. Green stands up, looking between them.

“I think it’s time we went home.”

“Agreed.” Bim nods.

“Finally.” King all but leaps out his seat, shaking away his discomfort.

Bing absently nods in agreement as he stands. At this point he just wants to be home.

Writer's note - Don't let him die! Please Gods, don't let him die!

---

Marvin’s fingers nervously twist at the bottom of his chin-length hair as he stands in the doorway. He needs to re-dye it again soon; his roots have been coming in for a while now. Honestly he kind of likes it, the soft brown roots descending to the faded teal that used to be forest green; but as a Magician-for-hire there’s certain expectations for his appearance, especially from the higher-paying clients.

Jackie’s sat on the stairs. His short hair is still the same vibrant electric green it’s been for the last few years; sticking out at all angles, easy to maintain, and suitable for pretty much any occasion.

Both of them are staring at the front door as firm insistent knocking comes from the other side for the third time is two minutes.

“Are you expecting anything?” Marvin asks.

“Not ‘til Thursday.” Jackie only ordered the cards for his collection this morning and as a man of little means, same-day delivery is somewhat out of his price range. “Not a client?”

“Last one left twenty minutes ago.”

So who could it be?

It can’t be a salesmen or anyone trying to promote anything. The house is brimming with countless wards and sigils to defend those within its four walls from ill intent, malicious magick, and door-to-door solicitation.

The knocking comes again.

“Y’know,” Jackie muses as he pushes himself to his feet, “one of us is gonna have to answer it eventually.”

He hops down the few steps and strides towards the door while Marvin crosses his arms, his lips becoming a firm line.

“I have a bad feeling about this.”

“You always say that.” Jackie chuckles.

True. But this feels different.

It’s not a ‘I can name fifty ways this terrible idea will blow up in our faces’ feeling. It’s deeper than that. Ominous and foreboding – an unshakeable dread that he’s in inescapable danger. Something that Marvin’s only ever felt once before.

He’d been on a date with this guy he really liked. They were at the cinema waiting for snacks when an overwhelming feeling of imminent danger washed over him. Within seconds some thing from another dimension had suppressed his magic, possessed him, held him hostage for six months, and nearly killed him.

It may have actually killed his date...

So I can’t really blame Marvin for just ignoring it.

Jackie opens the door to reveal a stranger, hand raised ready to knock again. Honestly he looks a mess – tattered dark jeans, a wrinkled speckled-grey t-shirt, and a worn grey peak cap sporting a red skull wearing blue glasses on top of scruffy mid-length brown hair. He looks haunted, dishevelled; like he’s not had a decent night’s sleep in weeks.

Stood behind him is someone they know. Daniel Wickes; annoyingly tall, open blue shirt over a white tee, ripped black jeans, black boots, and silver pendant on a black cord around his neck. He looks worried, though that’s nothing new.

Daniel’s carrying another stranger in his arms. One arm hooked under his knees, while the other is supporting the guy’s back. He’s dressed more formally than the other two; a white button-up with black slacks. He’s unconscious and honestly looks like shit, his dark hair and pale face drenched in sweat.

“I need your help,” Daniel says desperately.

“Nope.” Marvin mutters turning to leave through his doorway.

Jackie rolls his eyes. So dramatic, but given the last few times Dan showed up on their doorstep, he doesn’t trust him much either.

“You shouldn’t be here, Dan.”

“I wouldn’t be here if I had literally any other option.”

“See, I want to believe you,” Jackie shrugs, “but I just don’t, sooo…” he starts to close the door.

“Chase!”

The door stops and grey-hat guy, ‘Chase’, cries out. Jackie opens the door slightly to see he’s stepped forward, his foot jammed against the doorframe having stopped the door. One hand is against the doorframe too, while his other is braced against the door, ready to push back if Jackie should try to close it again.

Jackie stares at the foot in surprise before looking up, “Move the foot.”

“He’s not waking up!” Chase pleads.

“And you can find healers over on Kirk Road.” Reaching forward, he presses a hand firmly against Chase’s sternum his eyes hardening. Jackie’s patience is starting to run thin.

He spreads his fingers wide while green sparks of electricity crackle to life around around them. Chase doesn’t flinch; doesn’t even blink. Jumping, sparking, and flitting around his wrist, the sparks slowly get larger, growing stronger but stopping short of entering Chase’s chest. For now.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Agapass!” Dan blurts.

Jackie freezes, the sparks dissipating instantly.

“...what?”

“We found him in Agapass”

Jackie turns to shout but Marvin’s already next to him. He tears the door wide, pinning Daniel with a glare that burns right through him.

“What in the fuck were you doing there?” Marvin demands.

“Looking for him.” Dan nods to his arms.

There it is again. That sickening twist telling Marvin to leave this be.

“How long was he even there?”

Dan shakes his head. “I have no idea.”

Shit.

If this man really was in Agapass, time is a luxury they don’t have, but Magicians don’t take an oath of care like doctors do. There’s nothing that says Marvin has to help this stranger. He could close the door and turn his back and he’s done nothing wrong. His hands would technically be clean…

...Shit.

Marvin snaps his fingers. With a loud BANG the door under the stairs slams open.

“Bring him to the cellar.”

NAYKT Character Facts

Brandon was taken in at a very young age by an elitest society of self-important families with delusions of power and importance. They trained him to be loyal to their cause and after the Maxwells took control, started using him for their experiments with Black Market (synthetic) magic.

Whenever he would fight back or disobey, they would restrain him and place an unusual bronze mask on his face. While wearing it they would only address him as 'soldier'. The intention was to strip him of his indentity and individuality beyond serving the society until he learned to stop fighting back.

For years, the experimentation resulted in nothing but pain and scars across his entire body. Eventually, soon after Brandon turned 12, the highly dangerous, toxic, volatile synthetic magic began to fuse with his body, granting him several varied and fractured abilities that he was trained to use to serve the Black Tea Society.

Several years later, The Black Tea Society HQ building burned to the ground. Every living member of the Society was in the building as it burned except for Brandon, whose only memory of that night is standing in the garden, the bronze mask in his hand at his side as he watched it all burn. He is almost certain that he set the fire.

Esmé soon found him with a tempting offer. Stability, somewhere to live, an income, and protection from anyone who might come looking for him. All she asked was a few small favours in return which didn't stay small favours for long.

While definitely happier and brighter than he ever was with the Society, Brandon isn't ignorant that he jumped out of one frying pan and into another. While he does his best to handle the everyday, he is prone to frequent dissasociation, and can easily lose hours at a time.

Writer's fave fact

The mask is still in his possession, locked away where no one else can use it against him. Whenever Esmé brings him a new job, Brandon pulls it from hiding and reawakens the Soldier. He hates it but he'll do whatever it takes to keep himself safe.