#tyimmy

If it doesn't, that's fine too. You can always have your big comeback night at a different time in a different place. It would righteously suck though. What a waste of a good atmosphere.   

From the second you peeked your head out of the abandoned east canal you could see the city lights. Bright and colorful and blinking, changing, flashing between one advertisement to the next. They were far off in the distance, yeah, but it was nothing compared to the underwater part of the journey. You had been to this particular collection of buildings and bodies a dozen or so times yet you still weren’t bored with it. That, plus one other teeny tiny factor, made it the perfect place for your mission.  

The walk feels a little longer than you remember it being. You chock that up to being mainly horizontal for the past three perigees or so. You’re unused to being the one on your back in any given situation. By the time you get to the residential area and start ducking and slipping behind dwellings, you’re able to find your rhythm again. The initial difficulty is just further proof that it has been way too long since you’ve been out on the town. Hopefully, you don't do anything stupid. And hey, if you do, that's what you brought the shark for. 

Tyimmy trails behind you. You want to call him your lumbering shadow but he seems to be fairing just fine; matching your pace and not making a sound till you hit the city edge. You can talk more freely here with the sounds of the city being your cover.

“You know how to get to this place?” You hear him ask behind you. 

“Obvi, I know how to get to every club from here to Shangri La.” You say as you throw a glance back at him. It still catches you off guard to see him in red rather than his usual black jacket white shirt combo. You convinced him to spice it up for the special occasion and you are so glad you did. If nothing else, it’s extra eye candy for you. 

He doesn't respond to that but you catch him staring at you. The glow of his eyes that he can't turn off is a bit creepy, especially in the dark back alleys the two of you are using to avoid crowds. That's fine, you're a treat for the eyes. Especially tonight.

You'd be damned if you didn't look hot as fuck the first time the public sees you again. Is it impractical to have pants so tight and so bright? Some could argue yes. Is it dangerous to only have a layer of netting between your vital points and the rest of the world? Sure if you’re a little bitch or planning on getting in a fight. Of which you are neither. 

Plus, you earned these new scars, or something, and you’ll show them off if you want to. 

As you step over trash and avoid puddles of suspicious fluid you can admit to yourself that some of your wounds are still sore. Especially the deep one in your side that almost, almost, disemboweled you. There's a solid chunk of flesh missing there now. You were cleared by your primary care physician to be up and about so you know there is nothing wrong with the area medically. It’s probably just in your head. 

In a snap of white across your vision, you are taken back to the moment the wound was made. Your chest hurts from breathing hard. You're dizzy, and everything is so loud in your ears. You have to keep your eyes on that stupid tyrant while also avoiding all the shrapnel they are flinging at you. 

You are so angry. Angrier than you have ever been before.  The feeling of sharp crystal cutting into you doesn't make you any less angry. You manage to move in just the right way to avoid getting part of your intestines ripped out. 

You get him back though. Stab right through them and get them pinned to the floor. You should have taken the chance. Should have pulled back and stabbed into him again. And again. And again. And again.

“Anrifi.” 

Your fins flick at the sound of your name. The buzzing white dissolves out of your veins, lingering but only as a fraction of what it was. You're still in the alleyway. Your side is healed and your hands aren’t sticky with tyrant blood. At some point you stopped moving. Tyimmy is in front of you now. His eyes are too bright to look at.

“Yeah? What's up?” The breathiness to your voice is a mix of exasperation with his constant questioning and the fact that your lungs forgot how to do their job for a few seconds. 

“Checking in.” He says, staring at you, unable or unwilling to manage a crumb of concern in his tone.

You huff out a laugh. That’s what you get for telling him to check on you every few minutes. You swear he’d do it every 5 seconds if you told him to. 

“Doin’ fine, big guy.” You reassure him, throwing in a little smile for good measure.

“Mh.” 

“I'm serious. When I'm not doing fine, you'll know, savvy?" 

He stares for a few seconds before giving you a wordless nod. With that out of the way you continue your trek through the twisting alleys in silence. You kind of don’t dig silence on the average night but your head is loud in the fading white so you’ll take it. 

Ever since the fight you've had… fits. Random bouts of euphoria or panic. Or both. It feels like you touched Tyrant’s Folly for just a few seconds. They aren’t bad or anything but you can get maybe a little itty bitty bit more impulsive when they happen. Also, they seem to be completely random and occasionally accompanied by shitty memories resurfacing. Which is so totally awesome and cool. You definitely don’t wanna dig your own eyeballs out every time it happens in the hopes that you stop seeing them. 

Lol. Lmao, even.

You can handle them for the most part, though. It’s not like when you were freshly hospitalized and they happened 20 times a night. You just need Tyimmy to hold you back in case you lose the battle and start to do something stupid. Only if you lose though. If you’re doing something dumb while fully conscious, that's your own business and it’s probably gonna be funny. He should be able to tell the difference.

After a few more minutes of careful maneuvering, you hear the bustling and chatting of people out enjoying the night. The next turn you take shows you a straight shot out onto the sidewalk. You can see the red buzzing neon light of club Ransacked across the street and the short line of people you know is only going to get longer. 

You also see Hiyett. 

He's standing outside the club under a streetlight. You can't make out his face very well since he's looking down at a palmhusk but he's standing like he's nervous. That coupled with the broken horns and grabble waist -which isn’t drowned in fabric for once holy shit you win life- you're pretty sure it's him. 

One of the things you're very happy about is convincing Hiyett to get out of the hive. Even if he doesn't “do clubs” he still came because you asked him too. Or told him to, depending on interpretation. He's good like that. He's also a wishy washy little asshole who had the gall to throw demands at you like it was his right and you're gonna bite the shit out of him for it wow he's cute.

The soreness that is tucked away inside you pulses white again. 

You barely start to bolt forward before something grabs you around the torso and hoists you up into the air. You throw an elbow back on instinct and feel it collide with what feels like a rock; the hold around your torso barely loosens and something wraps around your elbow and locks your arm away. You wait for the slice of metal, a trap, a knife, or the tearing of flesh, teeth, claws, anything, but it never comes. The only pain you feel is the pressure around your waist. 

You manage to scrape together some of your wits again. You still feel tingly but you can think. Looking back shows you nothing but Tyimmy's stone-like face. No malice, no ill intent. Nothing. You blink at him and he does not blink back. 

Well, would you look at that, your plan worked. You’re such a genius.

“Good job.” You tell him. When nothing changes after a few seconds you add: “Gonna put me back on the ground anytime soon, handsome?”

He shakes his head at you. 

You groan in annoyance. Yanking your arm is a lost cause so you kick your legs. That just makes him tighten his hold. You barely wince, internally of course, because ow, yeah, your ribs. 

“You need to calm down.”

You scoff, only a little offended. “I’m calm enough.”

He finally blinks, tilting his head to look past you in the direction of the street. You follow his gaze and see Hiyett in the same place, now absentmindedly chewing on one of his claws. 

You feel yourself jerk forward, yanking your hand that is less securely held out of his hold, and grabbing at Tyimmy's forearm to try and push it down. You feel yourself being held in place even tighter. 

“You are not calm.” You hear.

You forgot how much of a major buzzkill Tyimmy can be sometimes. 

“It's fine, dude, I just missed his stupid face, alright? I’m just gonna knock him around a little. Prommy.” 

“No. I'm here to keep you from hurting yourself and others.”

You roll your eyes. “I won't hurt him.”

“On purpose.”

It's like getting your head dunked in ice water how quickly that sobers you up. The burning fizzles out completely and you're left aching in new places. Like your chest, for some reason. 

You stop squirming and loosen the bruising hold you have on Tyimmy's arm. Fuck you didn't even notice you were grabbing that tight. You've been cooped up for so long, did you forget how to be gentle? You could hurt Hiyett if you don't keep your shit on lock. You could definitely hurt Ann. Or anyone. Shit, you already hurt Tyimmy.

You reflexively pet over his arm, trying to soothe whatever damage you may or may not have done. He doesn't loosen his grip at all. 

“Are you calm?” He asks you.

He would probably let you down if you just said yes. You'd be ready for his grabbing this time and could even make a decent dodge. He's a grappler, not a chaser, you're faster than him. It's not that far of a sprint. 

You take a breath. 

“Getting there.” You tell him.

You have been in the Underdraft for 7 sweeps. You were 5 sweeps old when you arrived.

You have five jobs.

1) Odd muscle based jobs you do around the city in exchange for favors.

2) Transportation of goods from the upper world to the Underdraft and back again. This has monetary compensation as well as you getting first pick of the imported goods.

3) When it is needed, you work as doorman and security for events. This also provides monetary compensation.

4) You make sure Anrifi doesn't get himself killed. You are not compensated for this. It's more as a thanks to your second keeper.

5) You take care of Toimmi.

Toimmi and Anrifi are very different. Toimmi is smart, Anrifi is of average intelligence. Debatably. Toimmi is very small and very weak, Anrifi is taller than you and has too much vigor for his own good. You watch over them both though. As you are meant too.

There is not much special about how you grew up. You were hatched, you worked in the waste lines, you found Toimmi and your first keeper, you hated check ups, you grew, you moved around a lot, you stole food, you grew, and grew and grew and ate batteries, nails, razor blades, scrap metal.

You couldn't stop growing. Every day was ache and hunger and you couldn't tell anyone. It's not as if you did not want to. You were just hatched with a brain that made it hard to speak when everything was everywhere. It also gave you a face that didn't work, which got you in trouble no matter where your first keeper housed you.

Toimmi had to tell people what you wanted to say, make excuses for your face, and overall just be your link to other people. Toimmi never grew. You think you stole all of the growing when the both of you were young. You regret that.

The two of you came to Alternia from the shadow colony together. Toimmi was sick and too small to be worth wasting medicine on. Too delicate to take the harder stuff you were given. You had to leave. Your second keeper helped you leave. You had to leave your first keeper behind. You regret that, too.

Now that you are here things are easier. You've had practice when it comes to talking and people don't mind your face as much in the city. You still feel the urge to eat metal but now you have other, more abundant options.

It would be objectively better if you didn't live in the Underdraft given the hemospectrum is more enforced on Alternia. Your blood would grant you a lot of things. You don't really want to be snooty and snarly like other violets you've seen on the planet, though. You don't think they'd want you either.

Anrifi does, however. According to everyone else he's making constant and obvious ashen solicitations at you. You don't think he knows he's doing that, though, so until he says something you're not going to treat it like he's doing it on purpose. That being said, you respond to him in kind when you feel like it. Which is more often than not.

Other than Anrifi you don't have any quadrental prospects. The dates you've been on don't lead anywhere. You've been called picky but you only have two conditions.

1) You don't want to be with someone you have to modify yourself for.

2) For flushed or caliginous relationships, you'd like if they had a nice butt.

You don't think that is to much to ask.