#thehoaxfish

Ed had once been a young, hotshot regulator agent ready to protect Earth from secret threats and learn all he could about the cosmos and its inhabitants. Maybe he shouldn’t have come into all of this with the assumption that he’d become Captain Kirk instead of a nameless, faceless Men in Black agent. Maybe he should’ve gone into IT like his parents wanted instead of throwing himself into membership with a secret agency. Maybe he shouldn’t have done an unauthorized memory restoration but listen, he still stands that it wasn’t that big of a deal, it would’ve happened anyway, other people got away with way more with barely a slap on the wrist, the only reason he got into as much trouble as he did was because certain people in management had it out for him, you could hardly fault him for it, it shouldn’t hang over his record even now, he didn’t actually do anything wrong, actually.

That young, eager regulator was replaced by a bitter, caustic man approaching middle-age with little to show for it other than a management position in a department no one else gave a shit about and a truly ridiculous amount of hours spent on ADAM Online. Was he burned out? You betcha. Did he really believe in this great mission anymore? Look, the regulators weren’t anything more than people and most people just kind of suck. Was he bad at his job? No, actually, he still remained an overachiever despite everything, so he was fantastic at job and his progress in MMORPGs wasn’t too shabby either. It’s just that he did not give a single, solitary shit about anything outside of the very specific project he managed, so field work, glamours, the whole “welcome to vampirism” thing, making the messy moral decisions on whether or not a fledgling could still see their family? Not his circus, not his monkeys, even if he stepped back into it sometimes depending on staffing issues.

Someone else was better suited for dealing with an anxious Brux fledgling and it wasn’t him because he was too busy getting paid to watch cartoons all day. Managing the Egregori project had its perks...but also, like, when your greatest professional and personal regret is the fact that you went against the rules to restore the memories of someone that the higher ups had eyes on, subsequently wiped them again because Jackie was not ready for that information in the least and that ended poorly, and sort of, accidentally, kind of fucked up his headspace...well, he figured it was best for everyone not to get too involved in that again.

So he sent off a message to that weird fish or whatever living in a lake to be on the lookout for anyone unglamoured in the woods because he’d seen some weird tracks, which was technically not untrue. Satisfied that was probably good enough, he, not bothering to verify if said message had even been received by aforesaid weird fish, then proceeded to immediately fuck off for a week or two to one of the Egregori communities that didn’t have cell reception where he would run an experiment on seeing if they could make a new Beatles album but, like, for science.

Bunny, of course, remained blissfully unaware of any of that. In fact, he barely even remembered being visited by a █████████ previously, rationalizing it as a weird dream and he usually forgot his dreams shortly after. His mind had a funny way of censoring itself when  ████████ and ██████████ were involved, perhaps as a last-ditch self-preservation tactic. Ed? Didn’t know anyone by that name, though he did know a Ned and by knowing Ned, he mostly means that he once had an existential crisis in her pumpkin patch, which was totally, totally embarrassing or would be if he were capable of being embarrassed anymore because he’s not really sure if he is or not. Maybe? But who knows!

He was, in fact, off to make an offering to the goddess in the lake. He, of course, always knew that there were spirits in the trees and the rocks and even seashells (though of course sometimes little critters were in those seashells instead) but learning that aliens were definitely, for sure, absolutely real (haha, his brothers used to make fun of him because he believed that, but who’s laughing now?) cemented the fact that he existed in a universe of possibility and endless wonder and he was just a bright little butterfly floating around to see all he could or maybe a dragonfly or maybe even a bee or a cicada if he was lucky. He wasn’t sure why he had to be an insect in this metaphor but they were cool and he wanted to be cool, so there you go.

Anyway, the goddess? He had been pretty sure there was a goddess in this lake for awhile. He had plenty of evidence for this fact, such as general good vibes and the uncommonly large rats in the area (or maybe they were normal sized for a rat? He heard that some fish just keep getting bigger if they’ve got enough room, so maybe free of the constraints of a cage, rats keep growing. That’d be nice.) and also the fact that there was a giant eel all decorated nice and pretty with coral in that lake. Bunny (who can move uncommonly quiet when he wants to) was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to see the giant eel and maybe the big rats too but he hasn’t been stricken dead yet, so maybe it was fine.

The offering, by the way? Honey cake (which is really hard to make when you’re still not used to the dimensions of your new and unusual body), milk that he’s going to pour into the cool goblet he got at the ren faire that one time, some dried flowers, an apple, a piece of quartz, and a conch he collected in Florida before everything went to shit. He wasn’t sure if that was a suitable offering for a lake goddess but he figured it was definitely better than no offering. He just hoped that he didn’t offend her sensibilities by looking really and truly ugly. Some of the raw patches started healing and he tried to feel a little more like himself by putting a little lip gloss on but there really was no getting around the fact that he was a nine foot tall werewhatever with teeth like knives and a body like a nightmare, which, by the way, great for his goth cred but deeply horrifying on a personal level.

Bunny, cautiously and carefully, emerged from the trees and limped towards the lake.

“Goddess of the lake, I come bearing libations, seeking nothing for myself,” he said because even though he 100% didn’t expect an answer, if you didn’t announce what you were doing, you were just leaving perfectly good snacks in the woods instead of giving them up to the spirits.

Sometime after the events of have mercy.

It was done.

Mercy found that grief came in many different forms. Sometimes it could only whisper, too numbed by duty and profession to speak its weight into the world. Sometimes it was a torrent that shattered ribs and spilled across granite counters and crumpled napkins in bygone days of youth. Other times, wistful times, it was hands holding a photo album and tracing faces hazed by distance and time.

And sometimes, he found, it was a bloodied hand clutching a small, red charm.

The mirrored surface of a remote lake stretched before the wounded Saint. His body was covered in wounds and blackened by fist and flame alike, but now that flame had gone out and the world was brighter for it, he knew, as much as he recognized how cold it felt as well. 

His nephew was dead. Mercy had done what he’d come for; what he’d spent years preparing for, and yes, none of what he felt was unexpected or new.

The haggard doctor sat at the water’s edge and wrung his blooded garments clean. Each motion incurred a fresh bloom of pain and his vision was smeared by the new burn that raked across most of his face and shoulder. He would live. He could endure.

He looked at the devil charm now sitting on the pack next to him.

(It was done. It was done.)

He should throw it into the lake.

(Let it go.)

Noemi emerged from the trees surrounding the quiet lake in the woods. It was past sunset, but the faint light remaining in the sky was more than enough for her night vision. She was alone this time - Karma had ridden along with her, but they'd split up after leaving the car. The volph had her own business in the woods tonight.

She approached the water, looking for any sign that Hoax was waiting for her. Not knowing what else to do, she sent a text:

Lane adjusted her backpack. With three lobsters in it, it was far heavier than normal. She hoped the ice packs held up; she’d driven as far as she could, but she’d have to walk the rest of the way to thehoaxfish’s lake. She’d realized, too late, that she hadn’t gotten the eel’s name at the party or while they talked. Would she have answered anyway? She was insufferably vague, and not in the frustrating, verbose way certain demons were.

So she barreled down the trail to the lakefront, ignoring the ache in her calves as she stumbled her way up and down the incredibly inconvenient hills. When she arrived at the shore, she set her backpack down and straightened her flannel.

“Hello?” she called out, voice clear, and stared into the lake’s dark depths.. 

Had she ever been one? An eel? Small ones, certainly, she was sure. But thehoaxfish’s kind of eel? She had no idea. Talking to her might stir some memories, if so.

The lake was deep, deep into these woods. So deep that at night, it was a flat plane of blackness, stretching out until it became muddled with the imperceivable shore. No dock lights or streetlamps reflected off its waves. Only the faintest glimmer of stars picked out where the land ended and water began. The moon hadn’t even risen yet. An indistinct time, a time for hidden things.

That is, until a scream split the quiet dark like a lance.

Nemo pulled back, her knife lodged deep into the trunk of a tree, the blade passing cleanly through the palm of a now vigorously bleeding gloved hand. Its owner wailed and swore, boots lashing out at her from an awkward angle as she regarded him coldly. Coward. Sniveling. She bared her teeth behind her mask where he couldn’t see. His eyes flashed, wide, in the dark--red eyes. Not human. Not that it had helped him much. 

She crouched, and then her arm snapped out, gripping him by the throat as his good hand scrabbled at the knife pinning him to the tree. He spat at her. She did not react. Nemo could feel him, again, drawing at her energy reserves. For all the world like a man frantically pulling at a rope that would not stop unraveling, even as he fell into a pit. He could try all he liked. There was more energy in a stroke of lightning than many humans would ever contain in the span of a lifetime.

My teeth are pretty big!!