Chapter Text
Mob stood in the lab, hands shaking as he pointed the gun at Verity.
“Do it.” Verity said. He wasn’t some tiny ball, not like how he was in the beginning. He was more humanoid.
Uncanny.
His skin was a pale yellow color. Hair slicked back and short, bright like a dandelion. His eyes wouldn’t stay one way, one moment they’re black voids and the next a white pupil, Mod thinks, forms.
His hands had white gloves yet the claws still showed through. His body was tall and skinny, too skinny to seem at all possible but Mod knew just how strong Verity was.
“Do it. If you think that’ll work.” His tail, a gecko-like tail, was curled slightly at the end and was close to dragging along the floor if it was any longer.
It was dumb, but that fit into his whole thing.
Being dumb, I mean.
“If I could die, do you think I’d still be here?” Voice shaking and cracking like Mob has never heard.
He was dumb for opening that box.
“Motherfucker. I wish I could say I could die alone, but it’s one of God’s best jokes that I can’t!” He sounded so hurt. So sad and..and at his end.
He was dumb for inviting Twixxel.
Being dumb to not figure out shit on his own.
He’s been this way for so long and he felt dumber without his brains. His friend. His brother.
Twixxel was always the smart one and maybe, just maybe, if Mob actually tried for once he could have found out whatever Twixxel did by himself.
“I’ve watched entire quarters of the internet appear and disappear,” Verity was monologuing about something.
“I’ve watched people create worlds, abandon them, forget they ever existed,” About his past, what he’s seen.
“And I’m still here.” The crippling loneliness, depression, and frustration he felt.
He took in a hiccuping breath, did he need to breathe?, “I have wanted this to stop for longer than this realm has been alive.”
It truly sounded like he was crying.
“But I can’t.” Voice weak and still breaking, “that’s the joke.”
Mob wasn’t totally paying attention to what was being said. He was terrified.
“So that’s it?” Mob found his voice, “I’m just…stuck with you?”
He was tired.
His instincts screamed at him to do something he couldn’t do.
His mind craved to go to someone that wasn’t there.
All thanks to him.
He lost someone, again, and it’s all his fault, again.
He lost his mother simply because he was born.
He lost his father because they couldn’t stay in the safety of the end with Mob being a hybrid. A freak.
Then Twixxel all because Mob was too stupid to figure it out.
All because he decided that he needed to run back to Twixxel when shit got hard like he always did.
“You’re not stuck,” a weak chuckle, almost, came and a shaky smile spread on lips.
His body hurt. Bones and joints aching as the tendons and muscles stretched and pulled with the odd lengths his body was at.
It was normal, the pain, by now. The curse of being a hybrid that got all the bad shit.
“Let’s do this together!” Hopeful, begging, voice.
Mob’s mixed genes clashed and fused in the worst possible ways.
He always got the short end of everything.
The gun felt heavier. His hands shaking more and his tail wrapping around his leg like some child.
—————
“Why do you do that?” A small boy asked.
He had pure black skin and stark white eyes. His hair was whispy-like, almost like fog or a cloud. His tail was more wire-like, a tuft of fur at the end but much like his hair it had that fog/cloud effect to it.
“Mmm…I don’t know..” The smaller enderman hybrid answered, wrapped in a heated blanket.
His tail, more fluffy and longer, was wrapped around the other boy’s ankle. It has been since the other sat down near him.
“Sorry, if it bothers you,” the smaller apologized, “sometimes it thinks by itself.”
The other boy hummed, looking at the tail before his own wrapped around it. His mouth formed, a white line being the only way the enderman hybrid could tell, a smile.
Reassuring and calm. Comforting.
“Nah, it’s okay, if it’s okay with you I actually like it.” The boy said, though the smaller was sure he was only saying that
“Okay!” But even if he was only saying it to spare his feelings, the smaller couldn’t help but feel comfortable with their tails wound together like twine.
The other giggled, moving closer and shuffling under the blanket with the smaller. Curling around him, wispy skin and hair curling ever so slightly close.
The smaller smiled, hiding in the dark that came from the other.
—————
Was it bad, wrong even, to say he understood Verity.
He understood that Verity was old as hell. That people left all the time and just used him for what he could offer.
Hell, what he advertised to them.
But was it also wrong for him to not care?
Verity had truly no one but himself to blame, maybe his creator’s but in the end Verity was responsible for his own actions.
He got tired of being left behind, of being used, but instead of trying to let it be known that he was sentient.
That he could offer so much more in ways of friendship and companionship.
He killed them.
They would have left, yes, but maybe if he’d just talked to them like he just had with Mob then maybe someone would have stuck around.
Maybe if Verity didn’t scare them half to death, then expect them to stay, they would actually stay.
But even if they did stay, would he treat them the same as Mob?
Isolate them.
Kill everyone, and thing, around them?
Consistently leaning over their shoulder?
Consistently pushing and pushing for a conversation when the other just wanted to be left alone?
Did it make him a bad person to not care?
To be tired and wanting to leave so bad that he would rather try and tear himself apart to do it?
His hands shook harder on the gun, looking at Verity who was looking so hopeful.
Wishing, hoping that Mob would stay.
“Just..put the gun down and st-” and stay.
Stay here.
Stay trapped.
Stay miserable.
The gun turned on Mob in an instant. The cool barrel pressing flat under his chin, his shaking fingers over the trigger.
“MOB-” It was for the best, right?
The price of being free.
They always say nothing’s more freeing than eternal rest.
Was it wrong to leave?
To do this in front of the creature that just poured his guts out and begged Mob to stay.
Hell if Mob knew.
Hell if he cared.
That form was over him in an instant.
The gangly one.
The one where skin was stretched over bones yet there seemed to be looser skin on the face. The wide open face showing all teeth and sucken in eyes.
The long fingers, bony and cold, wrapped around Mob’s wrist.
“Ver-” Mob tried to protest before his fingers flexed.
BANG
Blood filled his mouth.
Iron choking his throat.
A loud ringing in his ears.
His head buzzed and he couldn’t hear anything.
His vision tunneled, looking up at the ceiling.
A muffled voice speaking to him. Panicked and hurt.
He didn’t hit the ground hard, he thinks, but he was certainly laying down now.
White eyes drew his focus, gentle and almost sad looking but soft in that certain way.
Warm hands cradling his face and speaking in a language he never learned.
That’s okay, he didn’t need to understand to know.
He’d get to see him again.
Him.
Mob’s big brother.
Twixxel.
He’d see him again.
Mob really wanted to see him again.