Chapter 15: No, Akun, you are the waifu.

Brockton Bay, NH, USA

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Type: Fairy

I watched them rush towards the door. This was important. This was something they cared about, someone they cared about. Looking around, the room had now almost completely changed to look like an asylum, something I'd seen a few times in movies and documentaries. Padded walls. Stoic white lined and unfeeling edges.

I couldn't leave things like this. I stepped forward and joined them.

Fae were some of the best mind-healers out there. They were some of the greatest empaths who toed the line between the strict, regimented minds of psychics and the mysterious, spiritual influence of ghosts. They were…

They were perfect.

"Arceus, I swear you're fucking with me," I swore under my breath, "but thank you. Wherever you are."

"Menagerie, deal's off," Faultline snapped.

"I can help. Labyrinth. It's her, right? Whatever she's going through? It's a mind thing isn't it? Will she feel better if she can go to sleep?"

"You… You can't fix her."

"I can fix a lot of things," I said firmly. "You're the one who wants my healing. Well, here I am. Let me heal her. Or at least put her to sleep so she can rest."

She looked at me for a long time. I didn't know what she saw in my helmet, but me? I saw desperation and hope dance behind her eyes. Then, with a terse nod, she kept walking. We exited into another world, maybe literally. The warm colors and melodic jazz of the club's VIP bar were absent, replaced by a stark, white hallway that seemed to go on forever.

"Where is this?"

"Labyrinth's old asylum," Gregor explained. "She has bad days that remind her of this place and her power latches onto that. If she can be put to sleep, her power will begin to unravel."

Faultline seemed to know exactly where to go. Was she formerly a nurse? Or a janitor?

Didn't matter.

When we arrived, it was to find a girl huddled in one corner of the room, at the very far edge of her bed. She was skinny, on the border of unhealthy even, with platinum blonde hair and a green shawl. Over her head was a face-covering mask decorated with maze-like patterns.

She had drawn in her knees to her chest, making the already small girl look even more petite. Her hands gathered up her shawl and bunched it towards her like a safety blanket.

Next to her was Newter, an orange, lizard-like Case-53 who secreted narcotics from his pores. He was known for distributing his own sweat as drugs but was otherwise considered harmless. I paid him no mind in favor of my patient.

"I'm Labyrinth. I'm Labyrinth. I'm Labyrinth," I could hear her whispering.

"Newter," Faultline barked. "What happened?"

"I-I don't know! She was playing checkers with me one moment and then she suddenly closed up like a clam!" he cried. The boy was all but panicking now. "Every time I try to knock her out, she starts screaming and flailing. I can't get close to her."

He gestured to one wall, where I found a foldable chair embedded deeply inside.

Faultline stepped forward to try and calm her charge. "Labyrinth, it's me. Can you hear me?"

"NO! You can't take me back! I won't go! I won't!" she shrieked. She clung to her shawl like a lifeline. The walls rippled ominously with her sobs. Wherever this asylum was, it had not been kind to her.

Then the room became chaos. Ripples of tiles flooded outward in a wave that knocked Faultline on her ass. Chairs, masonry, and even a vase of some sort seemingly sprouted from the ground, all to be hurled at Faultline.

To her credit, Faultline did not retaliate, instead only cutting down the projectiles in midair with precise strikes of her power. She eventually tired and was forced back.

"See? Can't get near her."

"I can," I said. "Menagerie, Newter. Nice to meet you, though we can chat later."

"The dino-guy? Why are you here?"

"Faultline bought my healing services. Let's call this a down payment."

My heart broke for her. I had heard that powers could be cruel to their wielders, but it was my first time meeting someone like this. From what little I saw, I could tell she clung to her persona as Labyrinth desperately. It was probably a shift for her, proof that she'd left the asylum behind. She needed something to reinforce this, to separate her mental identity from that of the girl in the asylum.

Most of all, she needed empathy, to know she was wanted here. I reached out into my power. There was only one right answer to this, a pokemon who even now put my own mind at ease.

In my past life, she was my left hand, my dear friend and emotional rock. She was the one who reminded me to care, to look beyond the next battle to the people left in my wake. She taught me to build, not just destroy. She taught me to cherish the little things, to count every blessing and every relationship as precious.

"Titania, old friend, please guide me," I whispered. I had no need for a bombastic pose, not here. I clasped my hands together in the closest thing to prayer I'd managed in this life. "Shift, gardevoir."

For once, I remained more or less the same size. My wavy hair flattened and curled around my head into a clean bob, framing high, elegant cheekbones and three earlike protrusions. My eyes bled into crimson as a ruby focusing crystal sprouted from my chest. The white and green raiment of Hoenn's most iconic fairy draped itself over my shoulders and around my ankles.

My aura flooded the room. Gardevoir often had a presence about them that could not be denied. A part of it was their natural beauty. Arceus gave them a near universally appealing visage. They personified grace and elegance to the point that dancers all over the world worked their entire lives just to ape at what came instinctively to them.

Another part was their reputation. They had a reputation for seeking the pure of heart, for amplifying positive emotions. They also had a reputation for incredible loyalty rivaling that of an arcanine's.

But most of all, their magnetic charm was a byproduct of their power. It was a power that was both familiar and foreign. They blended the structured minds of psychics with the awe-inspiring mystery of the fae in a way that struck most dumb with admiration.

I had been no different when Titania fully evolved and Faultline's Crew weren't any better. They stood spellbound as an emotional wave of reassurance flooded them.

Everything would be fine. There was no cause for alarm.

Because I was here.

I allowed myself to spare them a faint smile. The unrestrained surprise and awe wafting from them tasted like fine wine to my newfound senses and I took a second to savor their emotions, their gift to me.

And then the fear hit.

No, fear was not the right word. It only began to touch on the sheer, unmitigated terror in young Elle's mind. It was a horrifying blend of memories and emotions. Terror. Sorrow. Soul-crushing loneliness. They were all here and they tasted utterly revolting. The flavor was the overpowering, cloying sweetness of the deadliest of poisons and the acerbic bite of rotting flesh.

I forcibly swallowed down a gag. I now had a visceral reminder of why gardevoir were generally benevolent: As Titania told me once, tasting emotions wasn't always a good thing. 'I'd rather shovel shit in my mouth than let this continue.'

And so I wouldn't. I was a gardevoir, among the greatest empaths in the world. If I couldn't comfort a single crying girl, what good was I? My old friend would find a way to cross realities just to give me an earful. I wore her visage so I'd do her proud.

"It's okay," I whispered as I took my first step towards her.

"No! Go away! You're not real!" Elle shrieked as she flexed her power. She thrust her hand out at me and an entire bathroom materialized out of the walls. The sink, toilet, and bathtub flung themselves at me like bullets.

I stopped them cold. They glowed with psychic light before lowering themselves to the ground.

"I won't hurt you," I crooned, gently layering myself with fairy energy. Disarming Voice, not as an attack, but as something to bring peace of mind. I took another step. "No one is going to hurt you."

"Y-You're not real."

"I am, little one. And you are not alone. You don't have to be afraid anymore. You have friends. A family waiting for you."

A third step. Then another. I stood next to her bed and gazed upon her with pitying eyes. Her eyes flitted from place to place, seeing but not comprehending. Her consciousness was buried deep in the prison of her own mind.

"I won't go back. You can't take me," she whimpered and my heart broke for her.

I sat on the bed with her and reached out, cupping her chin. Gently, I turned her gaze to meet mine. "You don't have to go back there, Labyrinth. Not now. Not ever again," I promised her. Call it the influence of the gardevoir, but it was a promise I knew I'd keep with my last lifeblood if need be.

"I-I don't?"

Good. Established dialogue was the first sign of clarity.

"No." This time, I abandoned the fairy energy in favor of the psychic, wielding both as if they were but tools in my toolbox. My eyes glowed blue as I placed her under Hypnosis. I lacked the mastery of Titania; I needed her to be deep in a trance for me to do this with any real confidence.

"Labyrinth? She's… She's calm? Is she alright?" Newter asked. Concern and guilt streamed out from him, blending together in a flavor that was both pleasant yet bittersweet.

"She is. Faultline, you are her caretaker. I can attempt to heal her mind if you allow it. Do I have permission to heal her?"

"You can fix brains?" It was a rhetorical question. I saw in her mind that she had guessed as much from prior hospital visits. I'd never hesitated or turned away those who were concussed after all. Her mind ran a mile a minute. Melanie, a woman of angles and edges guarding a compassionate heart.

"Do I have your permission to try?"

"You do… If you hurt her…"

"I will deserve any punishment you deem fit," I said simply. Truthfully, had they refused, I would have simply set them all to sleep before healing her anyway. It would have been a gross violation of trust, but a gardevoir had different priorities.

She had accepted so it was no issue.

I turned my attention back to my patient. Reaching out, I allowed my mind to connect with her on a deeper level than before. This was far more than a simple surface scan, but a full dive into everything that made up the girl called Elle Sullivan.

Elle's mind was, in a word, a clusterfuck.

To begin with, minds were complicated things. I often saw how they were depicted in popular media and had a quiet chuckle at the thought of that condescending sniff Titania had for those who underestimate the mind arts.

For one, "mind palaces" weren't really a thing except in some extremely rare cases. Powerful psychics like Titania could build one and some species, such as claydol and metagross, had minds that were predisposed to such structured organization, but for the most part, mind palaces were pie in the sky goals for the everyday psychic.

The reason wasn't a matter of auto-hypnosis, multitasking, or lack of power. It was simpler than that: Minds. Were. Complicated.

A mental library which stored and cataloged the memories of an individual was surprisingly difficult because memories were intrinsically tied to one another. Psychologists called them schemas, associations formed by the mind in subconscious and conscious ways. Untangling these memories was like trying to build a mountain by stacking individual grains of sand together.

Technically possible, practically a nightmare. The less said about emotions the better.

In Elle's case, she was… I didn't know if I should proclaim her a genius or strangle her for her stupidity.

She'd done it. She'd built a fucking mind palace.

Or, I realized as I extended my senses, her power did.

Elle Sullivan herself had zero input into the construction of her own mind and that was… dangerous.

She wanted out of the asylum and so her power obliged. It constructed for a mental retreat guarded by a labyrinth of infinite possibilities.

The problem?

The problem was that she had no fucking clue how to navigate this mess. Her "bad days" were becoming far clearer to me. She seemed detached because she was; she got lost in her own mind and said mind was inextricably tied to the activation of her powers, bringing about an infinite number of possible worlds for her to marvel at.

I couldn't blame her. Compared to the asylum, such visions must have seemed like paradise. I'd probably try to lose myself as much as I could too.

That was all well and good when she did it intentionally, but on her really bad days? When she wandered her own mental palace and stumbled on the key to her most repressed, traumatic memories because she didn't know where she was going?

No fucking wonder.

"It's okay now," I whispered, a quiet promise to myself as much as Elle. "I'm here. I can fix this."

I spread my senses farther than before, deeper than before. One minute. Five. Until I found it. I found a room that was so dark and putrid to my taste buds that it couldn't be anything but what I was looking for.

A single Teleport later and I was there, locking eyes with Elle.

"No… Go away," she whimpered, drawing her knees to her chest. "Leave me alone."

"I can't do that, Elle," I said gently. I reached out and placed my hand on hers. "I'm here to help."

"You can't."

"I can. Titania would never forgive me if I left you be. I wouldn't forgive myself."

"No one can help me."

I cupped her chin and raised her head before tenderly brushing the tears from her eyes. I wanted to gag. The pressure of her memories was impossible to ignore so close to the worst of her, but I did as all psychics did and compartmentalized.

"I can help you. Will you let me try?"

She nodded. It was a hesitant, broken thing. How many times had doctors promised to make her better? How many different drugs and pills did she choke down for the sake of hope?

Elle Sullivan did not trust easily, but I was a gardevoir. I would give her a reason to hope.

The first step was to give her clarity of mind, to banish the darkness. Her face cupped in my hands, I bridged the gap between us and our minds became one.

"Synchronize," I whispered.

She gasped in shock. As did I. It was one thing to have the knowledge, but this was my first complete mind-meld, a full merging of our most intimate states.

Here, I could feel everything she was. Her fears became mine. Her traumas became mine. Her anxieties and insecurities, the whispers in the deepest part of her mind became my own.

And I became hers.

Two minds could synchronize themselves perfectly with great practice, but that was assuming both were capable psychics. In our case, our minds jostled for place and between the mind of a broken, teenage girl and a gardevoir… There was no contest.

Clarity like a cloudless, moonlit sky imposed itself over her mind as I utterly rejected her panic. I brought the full power of an enraged psychic to bear and shattered the room we were in before bodily dragging her out of her own mind and into my own.

It was perhaps the most violent use of Calm Mind I'd ever heard of and I couldn't find it in me to give a damn. Elle stood in awestruck wonder, gazing up at the full moon as my supernatural calm bled through our connection.

The moon was often called the source of fairy type energy, or at least the embodiment of it. It was the revealer of mysteries, the guide in the darkness. How appropriate then, that it shone as the defining feature of my own mind.

"Elle? Look at me."

She turned to me with a watery smile. "You broke it…"

I grinned back. "I said I'd help."

She launched herself at me and I caught her with a psychic hold. We spent a subjective eternity in my own mindscape with her head buried in my shoulder.

We stood there until the supernatural calm I'd imposed wore off. She began to sniffle then sob then bawl as I rocked her back and forth. She looked so young like this that it was hard to remember she was about my age.

All things must end and I eventually pried her off me, only for her to latch on like a limpet.

"No…"

"Elle, it's time to go back outside."

"I can't go back there… Please don't make me…"

"It's your mind, a part of you. It's up to you to map the labyrinth."

"Hehe… Labyrinth."

"Come on. I'll help you rebuild it."

"Promise?"

"Of course."

Taking her by the hand, I led her back out into her mind. Peace was the first step but now, now was the time for reconstruction.

We stepped out into her mind and stared. I could feel apprehension wafting from my new friend, a tingly, sour taste that made me want to gargle.

"We-We can fix this… right?"

I squeezed her hand. "Of course we can."

"Hehehe… Just like Bob the Builder?"

"Sorry, I don't know what that is."

She gasped in mock disappointment. "You had no childhood."

"Sorry. Orphan."

"Aww…" She leaned in for a hug I happily returned. "So… What now?"

"That starts with you. What do you want to build?"

"Umm… I'm not sure what's possible? I didn't even know my mind looked like this. This is my mind, right?"

"Yes. I think you wanted a safe space for yourself. Your power listened, but it's not you. It gave you what you wanted most at the time, a place where the doctors at the asylum couldn't touch you," I explained. People had a bad habit of treating Elle like a child, but when she was engaged, she could be an intelligent girl. "Even if it meant you couldn't find your way out sometimes."

"I… I see… Is it weird that I kind of like this?"

"No, of course not. This is a part of you now, for better or worse. If you want to keep the maze theme, we can do that."

"Just a bit of redecorating."

"That's right. I think we'll have time for two rooms before my power wears out. How about an atrium?"

"What's an atrium?"

"Kind of like an information desk. Or a map room. Somewhere you come to first and it'll point wherever you want to go."

"That'd be nice."

I took her hand and began to channel my power through her. "Can you feel this?"

"It's… you…"

"That's right."

"It's so warm."

"This is psychic power. You're going to have to work with me. This is your mind after all."

Strictly speaking, that wasn't true. I could forcibly shatter her mind and rebuild it brick by brick, but I didn't have the time for that. Nor would such a thing be good for Elle in the long run. I wanted her to have a say in how her mind palace restructured itself.

We worked slowly, her paralyzed by infinite potential staring her in the face and me careful to not change her. But we finished eventually, an atrium of sorts that could act as the guiding focus for Labyrinth's travels.

The whole thing was as far from the padded walls of the asylum as I could imagine. The walls were clear glass and looked out into a night sky dotted with uncountable stars. At the center was a globe, accurate as far as I could tell, that revolved slowly. There was a huge, leather-bound tome next to it, blank now, but open for her to fill with anything she desired.

"This is perfect," Elle whispered as she leaned into my side.

I ruffled her hair. "A globe?"

"I like architecture… and archeology."

"All the arches?"

"All the arches," she said, nodding seriously as if unveiling some great secret of the universe. Then, just for fun, a pair of golden arches sprouted from the ground. "Dad used to buy me McDonald's…"

"That's wonderful, Elle. Memories are wonderful. Cherish them."

"Mhmm… Can we get McDonald's?"

"Someday. Okay, are you ready to move on?"

"Wait, one more thing!" She ran forward and, on a pedestal that rose up from the ground, placed a single, golden ball of yarn. The string spread out across the ceiling, connecting to every nook and corner of her mind palace.

"Faultline said that when Daedalus built the Labyrinth of Crete, he also wove a ball of golden thread to guide the way. I am Labyrinth. This is my mind. My home. I refuse to be lost anymore," she declared, iron conviction in her voice.

"You won't. Never again. Delight in your power, the beauty of creation, but never forget that people care about you. You have a home to return to."

"Just follow the golden threads…"

I reached out a hand. "Come on. There's something I want to build for you. If you'll let me?"

Her smile lit up the room. "Yeah!"

I reached out and took control. Her atrium was the heart of her mind palace, the foundation from which we could expand anything she so chose. But this? This I needed to do.

I focused all the psychic power I had and forged a door for her. It was more of a vault, really. It was so thick and sturdy that none save another gardevoir or comparable psychic could hope to breach it. And just as important, nothing could hope to get out.

Then, I placed that door in front of her power, a seal to protect her as well as to protect the outside world from her.

"Elle, do you know what this is?"

"A door? Over a part of my mind… Is it the asylum?"

"It's your power. You need to open it to use it again."

"I… How do I do that?"

I smiled and picked up all the stray thoughts she had concerning her power and wove them into a trigger. It took the image of a golden key. Fashioning a necklace of some of her fonder memories, I placed it around her neck.

"You can come back whenever you want. When you want to explore other worlds. When you want to see all the wonderful things you've seen. Come back."

She looked up at the golden yarn leading back to the atrium. Taking the key, she opened the door. "And I won't ever get lost."

"No. Never again."

"Will… Will this help me protect them? My new family?"

"You are phenomenally powerful," I told her truthfully.

Being in such proximity to her mind gave me a lot of insight into her power. She… She wasn't just controlling the earth. She wasn't building or generating dirt and stone like many pokemon could. No. She was warping space, reaching out to alternate realities to bring about the environmental changes she wanted.

Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

She wasn't a rhyperior. She was Palkia-lite.

"I'm not…"

"You are. You are the closest person I've ever seen to genuine, unrestricted godhood. All you need is more control."

"Control? Like this key?"

"Like this key," I agreed. "You need to practice, but so long as you don't get lost, so long as you remember to reach out to your family, you'll grow in time."

"I will," she said firmly.

Then I felt it. My transformation was ending. Time was subjective in our minds, but even that couldn't last forever.

"I'm running out of power," I told her.

"You'll come back?"

"Only if you beg Faultline to let me."

"Then let's go outside. You'll come back."

"Do you know the way out?" I challenged.

"Of course," she laughed. She took my hand and skipped towards the atrium. "Follow the golden threads!"

We did a bit of redecorating along the way. We didn't build any new rooms or make anything actually useful, but as Elle ran her fingers along the wall, the bare brickwork peeled itself apart, rolling up like a curtain. It was replaced by warm, honey-brown wood and blank canvases.

"Elle?"

She hummed a little ditty and answered my unasked question. "Sandstone is so dreary, like the tombs found in the Valley of Kings. I wanted something nicer, you know? The crypts can be neat to look at, but I don't want them to set my entire mood forever."

"Makes sense. And the canvases?"

"Paintings!" she grinned. "I'm going to fill my mind with all the greatest vistas in the world. Mountaintops and ocean depths, abandoned ruins and towering skyscrapers, I want to see them all. I want to collect them all. I want to know what it's like to barbecue a steak on a lava flow. I want shaved ice straight from a glacier. I want to dance along salt plains and carve the most beautiful statues ever."

"That sounds wonderful," I said honestly. It was good that she retained much of her prior interests. Her mind was necessarily malleable right now and having a passion to anchor her would provide her with some much-needed structure.

And who knew? Maybe one day, I'd share some of the fantastical settings from my own memories.

"You'll come with me, right? There is so much I want to show you," she said shyly. "The universe is a beautiful place and… and it'd be great if I could share it with you."

I smiled and pulled her into a hug. Objectively, I'd only known her for the length of a single transformation, about ten minutes or so, but I already considered her one of mine, as precious to me as Emily. I supposed Titania was right; all gardevoir had an instinctive need for relationships.

"Of course I will. I'm honored that you want to share it with me."

X

We reached the atrium and touched the globe. There was a pull that took us back to earth and then we were out.

I staggered and fell onto my ass as the shift timer ran out. A bone-deep exhaustion settled over me as the strain of such a deep mind-meld took its toll.

"Oww…" I groaned, my back on the floor and my legs still on Elle's bed. "That hurts…"

"Labyrinth," Newter cried, rushing forward. "Is she okay?"

"I'm okay, Newt. Menagerie healed me."

"What do you mean by 'heal?'" Faultline questioned with a hint of suspicion.

I didn't blame her. From her perspective, I shifted, stared into Elle's eyes, and then probably remained in a trance for several minutes before suddenly waking. It probably looked suspicious as hell.

"Exactly what you're paying me for," I drawled as I tried to shake off what amounted to a hangover. "I helped her reorganize her mind a bit. We're going to want to do that a few more times by the way."

"What do you mean? How did you reorganize her mind? You're a master?"

"Not what you're thinking. It's complicated."

"Then uncomplicate it."

"Mel, Faultline, it's okay," Elle said. "Really."

"How do you take your coffee?"

"Really? We're doing this?"

"How do you take your coffee?" she asked more insistently.

Elle sighed. "I don't. I prefer hot cocoa."

"When is Newter's birthday?"

"Umm… I don't know? But I promise I'll get him something nice."

"How many hairclips am I wearing?"

"One, but it breaks apart into needles so I guess six?"

"Labyrinth, are you sure you're fine?"

She hopped onto her feet and pulled her foster sister(?) into a hug. "I'm fine. I've never been better. Menagerie made all the bad dreams go away. He helped me separate my mind and my powers."

"What?"

I sat up straight. "Oww… The word you're looking for, Elle, is 'compartmentalization.' The mind is a set of schemas and associations. I basically let her separate them. Nothing's erased, just organized better. Like a filing cabinet instead of having all your crap lying on the desk."

"Right," Elle nodded. "That. Compartmentalized. I have rooms now. I have an art gallery for landscapes, an atrium with a huge globe that takes me back to this world, and even a separate room for my power so my random thoughts don't just make stuff happen in the real world."

Faultline's Crew tried to process that for several minutes. Surprisingly, it was Gregor who spoke. "You were able to restructure her mind to disassociate her trauma from her powers."

I nodded. "That's accurate, yes."

"Ooh, do you think we can build a sculpture garden?" Elle chirped. I felt like we were having two separate conversations almost. Faultline was worried I'd mastered her charge. Elle was just too relieved and happy to care much, like a child on Christmas morning.

"Sure. Maybe next time. You can decorate your room however you want though."

"Oh, right! Sorry, Mel!" She breathed deep and balled her little hands into fists. She spread her legs a little and windmilled her hands before thrusting them out. "Dimension Create: Withdraw!"

The world twisted on itself like a wrung out dish rag before the asylum decor was sucked into a pool beneath Labyrinth's feet like someone had pulled the plug in a bathtub, leaving her room as it normally was.

It was very neat and clean, possibly because she seldom spent time in her room. There were a lot of beige and pastel colors and I wondered if that was Elle's personal choice or if Faultline had picked it because she thought pastel colors ought to be calming.

"Dimension Create? Really?" Newter snorted. "Are you trying to make a catchphrase?" The floor shifted a little bit and Newter almost ended up doing the splits. "Oi!"

"Shush, you. It's not that bad!"

"It was kind of bad," I told her. Honesty was a virtue and all that. "Very cringey."

"It's a work in progress."

"Of course it is."

"You're laughing."

"I'm not."

"You are."

"I'm trying not to," I said with a playful smirk. "It's a work in progress."

"Mel! Menagerie is bullying me!"

Faultline finally snapped to attention. "Names, Labyrinth!"

Elle just snorted and tore off her mask in response. "Relax. He knows your name anyway. And mine too. He was in my head, remember?"

"Ah, yeah… I know her name is Elle Sullivan. And you're Melanie Fitts, though that's got to be the single worst-kept identity I've ever seen," I said sheepishly. "I didn't really have a choice in finding out. Minds work in schemas and 'Faultline' is tied to 'Melanie' in Elle's mind."

"I see…" she said tersely.

"Anyway, yeah. She's better. Her taste in catchphrases, I'm not sure about but hey, everyone's allowed their quirks, right?"

"You have a catchphrase too," Elle pouted.

"I don't."

"You say 'Shift,' and then whatever the monster name is."

"I… Well yeah, but…"

"Heh. Glass houses, Menagerie," Newter chuckled.

"Okay fine, I have a catchphrase, but at least mine is short."

"Then I'll say… 'Trace on?'"

That sounded familiar. Maybe it was something from a show Mark watched as a kid. "Isn't that copyrighted somewhere?"

She shrugged. "I'm a mercenary now. Which means I'm a villain. What are they going to do? Arrest me more?"

"I feel like you're a little too cavalier about your criminal activities."

"Didn't you come here to make a deal with Mel though? And it's probably illegal, right?"

"Well…"

"Glass houses, Menagerie," Elle copied Newter, shooting me a cheeky grin.

I sighed. "I've created a monster."

She crossed the room and gave me a big hug. "You freed a monster and now you're mine."

I blinked. She was short. I knew that, but now that I was seeing her standing, it struck me that she didn't even reach up to my chin. I absentmindedly rubbed her head. "You're short."

"I'm not. The world is just too tall."

"Right… shorty."

"Meanie… I have time to grow."

"You do, you do."

"Ahem," Faultline coughed. "I am… tentatively… convinced that Elle is fine. But we are going to have to talk about the unwritten rules."

I arched a brow. She couldn't see it over the helm, but the doubt dripping in my voice was undeniable. "You mean those rules for that identity that you barely pay lip service to?"

"Yes," she grumbled, "that."

"Relax. I don't talk about anyone's identities. Anyway, just remember to get me the ID. I'll show up to help Elle more with her mindscape nine more times. Ten sessions, right?"

"We hadn't finished negotiations yet."

"If you don't help my friend after this, I'm going to have Elle make you step on LEGOs everywhere you go. Bathroom? LEGO. Stairs? LEGO. Supermarket? LEGO."

"Are you threatening me with my own charge?"

I turned to Elle. "I'll pay you in cuddles."

"Done." She looked at her nominal boss with the most serious look I'd seen from her. "I'll do it, you know. LEGOs. Everywhere. Then I'll replace your drawer with nothing but Newter's underwear."

"Hey, what'd I do?" the orange one complained.

"Shh, Newt. I'm threatening Faultline right now."

Faultline, Melanie, I supposed, let out a longsuffering sigh. "Fine. I'm going to need more information on your friend. A picture and a full name. Preferred date of birth."

I nodded. "Thank you, Melanie. I appreciate it."

"You know, it's customary to unmask when you accidentally unmask others."

"Ooh, what's your name?" Elle hopped in place. It took me a moment to remember that despite the intimacy of our mind-meld, I'd never actually introduced myself to her. She was never strong enough to forcibly draw out information from my own mind so she didn't actually know who I was.

That… I could see the problem here.

Melanie Fits was the responsible sort. When she picked up Elle from the asylum, she all but adopted her in her mind. Elle wasn't just a coworker or subordinate; she was a little sister. Once again, Melanie cared.

She'd watched Elle in her highs and lows. She did her best to keep Elle together, but could do little more than keep her safe and tell her she was wanted. It must have been frustrating.

And then I came along, some new healer that turned this dynamic on its head. I had a positive reputation, but that alone wasn't enough. I was still a stranger, someone who was trying very hard to strike a deal with her.

I just spent several minutes digging around in her little sister's head.

Really, I would have lost respect for her if she wasn't the least bit suspicious. I suspected she'd be grilling Elle like a burger the moment I left. It also explained why she brought up the unwritten rules; she wanted to see how closely I'd follow them.

After all, she was a cape who'd been unmasked involuntarily in her own HQ by one of if not the strongest cape in the city. I was the eight hundred pound gorilla in the room.

I shrugged. My identity was always a formality and… she wasn't wrong. She hid it well, but I'd be pretty scared in her position too.

I reached up and pulled off my helmet.

"Yo. I'm Blake Isley. Nice to meet you."

I could see the weight lift from her shoulders. Not all, but some. Perhaps enough to trust me at my word. She lifted her welder's mask and extended a hand. "A pleasure. Melanie Fitts, but you knew that."

Melanie Fitts, the operations director of the Palanquin, was a sharp-faced woman with piercing eyes and high cheekbones. Even now, with her mask gone, she carried herself with a great deal of pride.

"So, are we good? On the deal. Nine more sessions with Elle?"

"I'll get started on the papers, but hold off on that. I'd like to be able to show you something before you follow through on your end," she said coolly.

I nodded. I knew what she was doing; she was testing for emotional control. If Elle reacted in unexpected ways following our separation, she'd likely cut all contact. It didn't matter to me; she'd have to accept that I did nothing but help her eventually.

"That's fine."

"You're going to come play with me, right? Hang out?" Elle said, her cheeks turning rosy. An obvious crush, though at least with some good reasons unlike most of the vapid nonsense I saw in school. She wasn't doing me any favors in front of Melanie though.

"Maybe," I told her. "I'm pretty busy. But hey, maybe you can practice using your powers. You know, redecorate your room or change up the club dancefloor."

"Ooh! I can do that?" she looked at Melanie with begging eyes.

"Maybe," she said. "I'll think about it."

"Come on, Mel! Wouldn't it be awesome if we let people dance in the Colosseum? Or the Fushimi Inari Taisha? Or the Taj Mahal? I can do a different building every day!"

"That would be a great party favor…"

"Please?"

"Alright… Maybe once a week. We can't let it get too stale."

"Yes!"

I laughed. "Okay, I'm sure you've got a lot to talk about so I'm going to head out if you don't mind. I'll message you the information for the fake ID papers."

"Understood. I'll keep in touch," Melanie said, back in business mode.

I shifted back to gardevoir and gave Elle one final hug before I vanished in a teleport.

I teleported outside the orphanage before waiting a minute to turn into litwick. Sneaking into bed after that was child's play.

Unfortunately, I couldn't find it in myself to get much sleep. I unmasked to someone else. Granted, under extenuating circumstances, but the circle of people who knew Blake Isley was Menagerie had increased threefold from two to six.

I didn't care.

I told myself I didn't care. This nonsense game of masquerade that capes seemed insistent on playing was still so strange to me.

And yet, I had to care. If not for me, then for this orphanage.

Now that I wasn't a powerful empath, I found myself questioning my decisions. Emily told me that I could trust Faultline's Crew. The care they felt for each other was real; they really did treat each other like family. But… But would I be included in that number?

The sisterly bond Melanie Fitts felt for Elle… it could play against me if I approached too quickly. I needed to let things settle, give her enough time to test the changes I'd made to Elle. I needed her to verify that I hadn't in fact turned Elle into a lovesick slave, nor had I altered her memories or sense of self.

Yes, time… They'd need time.

I resolved not to approach the Palanquin again until they approached me. Besides, I had plenty to do. For starters, I wanted to check up on whoever Dinah Alcott was. Emily seemed insistent that she'd be kidnapped sometime in the future, though the exact events escaped her…

And then I had a devious idea.

I did tell Amy I'd ask her out as Menagerie after all…

X

I choked down a mug of instant coffee and ran out the door. It was all I could manage because I woke up late. As I pounded pavement, I thought about the best way to ask Amy out.

On the one hand, neither of us liked each other romantically. The only reason we were even going on the date on Saturday was because she couldn't tell Vicky no. She probably assumed I'd ask her out sometime in the hospital this week, she'd say yes, and that'd be the end of that. Quick and easy, with zero fanfare.

On the other hand, I was the victim here! I didn't exactly enjoy being dragged around on fake-dates just so the sisters can hang out without Amy feeling like a third wheel. Surely I was allowed some recompense?

School was a drag. Coach Mooton worked us like dogs in PE. In physics, we… I… didn't actually know what went down in physics because I fell asleep. I got some stink-eyes from Mrs. Rothelby, but I just couldn't keep my eyes open. Treating Elle last night really took a lot out of me.

It wasn't just the emotionally draining session. Exhaustion carried over and no amount of Heal Pulses could fix it.

Then the lunch bell rang and it was finally time for me to put my plan into motion. I'd told Dean that I had to go help Mrs. Wells out at the Orphanage and that I'd be skipping lunch to rush back. I walked outside a few blocks and ducked into a random alley.

Grinning with anticipation, I whispered, "Shift, gardevoir."

I looked myself over. Slim, elegant, with large, soulful eyes and silky green hair. A white cloak and pastel-green jacket. Yes, a gardevoir was about as universally appealing as could be.

Or maybe I was biased because I raised one.

"Hmm… Well… A man shouldn't show up empty handed…"

Yes. A rose. That was traditional in my old world too. I wasn't much for romance; I'd never done this before, but… but I had a damn good example in the form of the Champion Manwhore himself, Steven Stone.

He was the perfect trifecta of stupid-rich, stupid-successful, and stupid-handsome. That, and growing up as a trust fund baby apparently included learning how to woo the ladies. I remembered him making Caitlin swoon with but a few words during the Pokemon World Tournament.

Taking cues from him, I teleported to the nearest flower shop I could think of, the one in Hillside Mall.

The mall itself was a three story building shaped vaguely like a donut with an open-air food court in the middle. The flower shop was located on the first story so that the delightful aroma of the flowers could lure customers in like honeybees.

That meant my arrival did not go unnoticed.

The flower shop was tended by a gorgeous brunette with dark-green eyes and sweeping bangs that fell down to her chin. She kept her hair in a long braid and wore a red jacket with a pink sundress that did wonderful things for her curves.

She was also sleeping, though not for long. The sudden commotion caused by my arrival woke her from slumber.

"Hmm? Ah… Hello?" she asked more than stated the greeting. "Welcome to Final Fantasia Flowers. How can I help you…"

I flashed her a cheery grin before shifting back, helmet on. "Hi, I'm Menagerie. I'd like to buy flowers for a date?"

"H-Hi… I'm sorry, we don't get many heroes visiting…"

"No worries. Do you have any roses?"

"Oh! Of course," she said, finally getting over her drowsiness. "Sorry! How many did you want?"

"Just one. I'm just asking her out on a date is all."

"Ah, who's the lucky girl?"

"Panacea of course," I told her conspiratorially. Then I remembered something I read: Flowers had meanings beyond the romantic. "Say, are you familiar with flower languages?"

"Panacea? Aww! That's so cute! And yes, of course I am. I couldn't run Fantasia without being fluent in the language of flowers," she said proudly. "What did you want it to say? Usually, it's a bouquet, but single flowers can carry meanings too."

"What says friendship?"

"Are you sure? A yellow rose is the traditional sign of friendship, but if you want to ask her out…"

"That's perfect! I'll take one yellow rose, please."

"Ah… If you're sure," she said. She seemed a little disappointed and I wondered if she was one of our many online shippers. "That'll be $6.50 please."

"No problem. Thank you, ma'am."

After grabbing the rose and tucking it behind my ear, I started to feel peckish. I had, after all, skipped lunch. I looked around the food court and gamely ignored the people staring at me.

"Hmm… Why not?" I shrugged as I headed off to a Mexican store.

Cabrón Tacos was a small little booth, barely a step up from a snack cart, but they served the best birria tacos in the city. Or, if Stacy Camacho was to be believed, the only acceptable birria tacos.

I skipped up to their booth and flashed the cashier a smile he couldn't see. "Say, do you serve churros?"

"Yeah, papi. You want a box?"

"Twelve mini-churros and a side of chocolate sauce please."

"Cool, that'll be $13. And uh… hey, can we get a picture of you with the store sign?"

"Hmm… I really should charge ad revenue, but since you come highly recommended by a friend of mine… Sure, why not?"

I paid him, turned back into gardevoir, and clutched the box of churros in hand. With the rose woven through my emerald locks, I turned towards everyone, swept myself into a curtsy, and said, "Wish me luck, Hillside! Teleport!"

X

I appeared in the Arcadia High cafeteria in a flash of blue light. My senses flooded with the emotions of hundreds of teenagers. There was the general cheer and goodwill of people chatting with friends, some disgruntled people complaining about assignments, and a hefty dose of lust, angst, and everything else that came with adolescence.

My appearance kicked all of that on its head. I had teleported just two feet behind the Dallon sisters. Vicky, to her credit, jumped out of her seat, aura blasting high with fear.

I frowned. That aura had even less of an effect on me now that I was a gardevoir, but it was also much more unpleasant. Fear tasted bitter and sad, like I'd bitten straight into a watermelon rind. Hers also came with that artificial tang of American "cheese" or powdered juice.

She turned to deck me, putting her sister behind her.

I rolled my eyes and locked her in place with Psychic. A gardevoir could, when pressed to their last, create singularities. A girl who could bench a cement mixer had about as much chance of breaking out as a caterpie had of beating a dragonite.

"Points for your reaction speed and putting your sister behind you, but that's really not necessary, Glory Girl," I drawled. "It's me, Menagerie."

"What? Why are you here?" she asked, flushing as she realized she'd cracked the cafeteria table. Again.

I turned to Amy. I saw the moment she figured out what was happening because her eyes widened comically.

No. I tasted what she was feeling. Shock. Awe. Both natural things to feel when facing a gardevoir for your first time. Embarrassment. Flustered rage. Adorable, and honestly quite refreshing. It was a delightful, heady cocktail of emotions to be savored, like a perfectly mixed bloody mary.

A neon blush crept up her cheeks as I placed the box of churros in her hand. If she had something in hand, perhaps she wouldn't take the nearest chance to deck me.

Then, I got on one knee and, with an elegant flourish, took the rose from my hair. I spun it through my fingers with a bit of psychic help and held it out to her.

"Amy Dallon? Will you do me the honor of being my girlfriend?" I asked, face radiating nothing but the utmost sincerity.

Silence. Dead silence. Even the collective emotional stream fell silent at my proposal. Then, as if jointly deciding how to feel about this, the cafeteria burst into a chorus of shouting and squealing.

The tidal wave of positive emotions was positively scrumptious. I felt like a child thrust into a carnival food court without warning. Smoking awe, sweet and tangy joy, savory respect from men and even the slightly bitter hint of envy some girls had for Amy washed over me like a banquet. That it was garnished with the salty, peppery flavor of Amy's flustered blue screen just added to the experience.

I took in Amy's atomic blush and spotted at least two dozen cameras taking videos. The video couldn't be posted to PHO directly thanks to Arcadia's faraday cage, but I didn't doubt that at least a dozen copies would be going online within the moment of my departure.

'Psst, Amy, this is the part where you say yes,' I thought at her.

My outward appearance did not change. I knelt on one knee, flower proffered towards her with both hands in a respectful gesture. I could have been holding a box with a diamond ring for all the difference it would have made. My smile was serene and sincere. I was, as far as anyone could tell, the perfect gentleman.

Inwardly though?

I was currently one of the strongest telepaths in the pokemon world and every last bit of that glorious power and instinctive skill was directed towards projecting my triumphant victory directly into her mind.

"Smug" wasn't the right word. There wasn't a word for the level of my self-satisfied, cocksure attitude. It was like the armies of France marching through the Arc de Triomphe.

The moment of connection between us was enlightening.

'I-Wha-Who-Why-You-ASDGJNQIGOVBEOVQBRV!'

'Hahahaha,' I laughed in her mind. It was the single most delightful bit of confusion I'd ever tasted, not that I had been a gardevoir for long.

Still, I could see her emotions start to sour. As typical of teenagers, Amy tended to mask embarrassment with rage. Embarrassment could not be controlled, but rage was all her own.

I couldn't have that. I reached out to her and layered my voice with just a hint of Charm.

"Amy Dallon, you are the single most impressive woman I know and the person I admire most as a healer. Your wit, humor, and dedication to saving lives makes me want to know you more and more. Will you please go out with me?" I repeated.

I didn't just speak the words aloud. I reached out and allowed her to feel my sincerity. It washed over her like a soothing spring, cooling her budding rage. Like being upset with a puppy, staying angry was impossible with an emotional connection like this.

'Any day now, Ames.'

Still blushing like the world's grumpiest tomato, she took the rose with trembling fingers. "Y-yes," she squeaked out, barely audible even to me.

"YES!" Vicky roared, pumping her fist into the air. "Double date is a go!"

"I'm sorry, Glory Girl, what double date?" I asked her, tilting my head quizzically to sell my ignorance.

"Oh! Dean, that's this handsome guy over here, and I were talking about going on a double date with Amy and a boy this Saturday. So…?"

I looked into Victoria's crystal-blue eyes. Aura aside, she really was beautiful. Still, why would I give up the chance to troll both sisters when it was so freely offered to me?

I brought a hand to cover my lips and let out a dainty cough. "M-my, Glory Girl, that's quite… forward… of you. Amy only just agreed to go out with me. I don't think we're ready to be so… adventurous… yet. Besides, how dare you imply I'd sully our relationship by dating two more people on top of it?"

"What are you talki-Oh… Oh no! Eww!" she flew back as if I'd slapped her.

I turned to my friend who'd mostly been silent until now. "I mean… Despite what I look like now, I consider myself a straight man… I'm sorry to disappoint you, Dean."

"That's alright," Dean said, looking like a constipated sailor. "I don't think that's what she meant."

"But… I suppose if Amy is interested in such a thing…"

"Die," the grumpy healer growled. "Seriously. Die in a fire."

"All I'm saying, dear, is that I would not be opposed to a little experimentation should you feel the need. I'm all about keeping an open mind. Consent is the best fetish and all that."

"I regret everything," she groaned, plunging her face into her hands.

"I know the hospital can be stressful. Whatever you need to destress, as it were."

Amy had enough. She hopped onto her feet and grabbed me by the hand. She started to drag me to the cafeteria door. "Nope. Not doing this here. Let's go."

I gave everyone in the room an innocent smile, remarkably easy as a gardevoir, and said, "It was a pleasure to meet you, everyone. Oh, and yes, Glory Girl, I would love to join you and Dean for a double date on Saturday. Enjoy the churros!"

X

The moment we were out, Amy shoved me into an unused classroom and hissed, "Are you happy?"

I shifted back. "Well… You almost died of embarrassment, we're now officially dating, Vicky has her double date, and I got to let you literally feel my emotional sincerity when I said you're one of the people I admire most in the world so… yes, yes I am."

A dozen emotions flashed across her face and though I could no longer sip them like fine wine, I allowed her to have her moment. Eventually, she took a deep breath and collected herself before outwardly settling on her mask of general apathetic annoyance. "You're the worst, you know that?"

"And I think you're fantastic, Amy."

"That's the worst part," she grumbled. "I can't even be mad at you because you're so honest about it!"

"Having an emotional outlet is a good thing, you know," I teased. "Lets you destress."

"Oh, we're a psychologist, are we?"

"As a gardevoir… kinda? Empathy is kind of its whole thing. I could feel you. I let you feel me."

"You… You talked… in my mind… Can all your forms do that?"

"Nope, just the gardevoir. And a few others. Some better than others."

"One of these days, I want a full list of all your bullshit. Then maybe I won't be surprised."

"Sure, why not. When you have a few centuries worth of time, a library's worth of doctorates, and a firm belief in the power of friendship then we can get started," I said sarcastically. I didn't fully understand pokemon. Amy had no chance.

"Ugh, whatever. You had your fun. I need to go to the hospital. Are you coming with?"

The question was phrased casually, but I could hear the hint of anticipation in it. Maybe it was being a gardevoir for so long that made me pay closer attention, but she wanted me there. Beneath all her huffy snark, she was a surprisingly lonely girl.

Unfortunately for her, I couldn't. If Emily was right, I refused to leave a little girl in danger without at least checking things out. "I'm sorry, but I have to be somewhere else. It's kind of important, maybe even life or death. Buuttt... I'd be happy to take you for a ride."

"Wait, what do you mean life or death?" she asked, all embarrassment gone in favor of the potential danger. "If you need backup-"

I shook my head. "No, nothing like that. I just have a lead."

"What lead?"

"I have a pokemon with precog powers and it warned me that Coil is going to try to kidnap a 12 year old girl."

"You what?" She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Of course you also have precogs in that insane zoo of yours. Next you're going to tell me you can turn into a giant cake monster.'

"…"

"Blake?"

"…" I didn't know what to say anymore. How did I hold up her fraying sanity without lying?

"Blake," she stressed. "Please tell me you can't transform into living pastry."

"I can't transform into living pastry," I repeated robotically.

"No. Nope. Not dealing with your shit. You have a precog power that says some little girl is in danger?"

I nodded. "Yeah. It's kind of a thing…"

"Okay. When? Where? How?"

"I don't know," I admitted sourly. "That's why I'm going. The girl's name is Dinah Alcott and she may or may not have triggered already. Coil, a thinker with the power to split timelines and choose the one with the more favorable outcome, is going to attempt a kidnapping. I want to warn her."

"And you didn't think to ask the PRT for help?"

"With what evidence, Amy? All I have is my good name that I can see the future. I know I can, but as far as anyone else is concerned, I may as well be pulling it out of my ass."

"You've got the rep, Blake."

"As a healer. As a precog? Admit it, the only reason you're even considering that I'm not talking out my ass is that I just proved telepathy was possible to you."

"Well…"

"Ames, I'd love it if I could have some backup, but I don't know enough myself to do more than scope things out."

She let out an explosive sigh. "You're not wrong there. Keep me posted?"

I took her hand and began to lead her out towards the quad. "Of course. Just tell your mom about Coil. He's dangerous."

"My aunt you mean. She's the one in charge."

"Whoever."

"Fine, I will. You know, if you're busy, Vicky can give me a ride."

I punched her shoulder lightly. "I don't think Coil's the sort to act hastily. He's the sort to be cautious and prod at things, probably paying off another villain to do it for him before acting. And that's if Dinah triggered. He needs to hear about her first."

"If you say so. Are you going to teleport me?"

"No, no I'm not. Stand back, you're going to love this." I hopped down the stairs of the main building and said, "Shift, Galarian rapidash!"

I became a unicorn. Pink and Turquoise mane, violet horn, light pink body… I was the dream of every little girl. I tossed my mane, sending it fluttering in the breeze. If I allowed sparks of fae and psychic energy to rain from it like fairy dust, who could blame me?

Then the personality shift hit. A rapidash wasn't just "that horny horse." It was a proud creature known for incredible speed and power. A Galarian rapidash was no different. Of all psychic pokemon, it could boast one of the strongest Psycho Cuts out there.

I wanted to prove it. I wanted to be seen, to be admired. Rather than for my mane, I wanted to be admired for my horn. Yes, I would sally forth and joust against the villains of this land to prove to all that there was nothing my horn could not pierce.

Justice burned in my heart and I could feel psychic power gather in my fetlocks, an Agility a single neigh away.

But first, I couldn't resist one more dig at my dear friend.

"Say, Amy," I neighed.

"Y-You're a…"

"The word you're looking for is 'chick magnet.'"

She snorted a laugh at that. "Oh, fuck off."

"I don't think it'd fit in you."

"Seriously? Dick jokes?"

"Horse dick jokes," I corrected solemnly. "The distinction is important."

"Of course," she said, eyes rolling like pinballs. She placed a hand on my shoulder and gave my mane a good stroke. "Woah… You have really dense muscles, you know that?"

"Considering this is another one of those pokemon capable of breaking the sound barrier? Yes."

"What? How?"

I shrugged, my shoulders rippling at the motion. "Psychic bullshit on top of really swole horsey. Now, I have to ask you a question."

"What?"

"As a certified unicorn and everything, you understand."

She sighed. "I really shouldn't let you talk, but fine… What?"

"Are you a virgin?"

I had the unique pleasure of watching Amy's blood pressure skyrocket twice in one day. Even were I not a psychic horse, I could have easily seen the hit coming by using the color of her cheeks as a litmus test. I immediately blurred out of the way of the incoming slap, nickering uncontrollably.

"You smug ass! Get back here! I'm going to turn you into glue, you son of a bitch!" she yelled as she chased me around the quad.

Was this going on PHO? Almost definitely.

Worth it? 100%.

X

Amy was not a particularly athletic girl. She tired in only a few minutes and slumped onto my back with a pouty glower.

"I hate you so much."

"You get to ride a unicorn to work."

"And that only makes me hate you about three percent less. Think about what you've done, asshole."

"Alright, I'm sorry. Shall we stop by for apology ice cream? My treat."

"Damn straight it's your treat." She sat up straight. "Onward, Pixie Puff!"

"Oi! Not my name!"

"It is now," she said. Between the two of us, if smugness could be an energy source, we'd have generated enough in the past fifteen minutes to power the world.

Sighing, I trotted off at a brisk canter to the nearest ice cream stand.

I rolled my eyes as I trotted into Coldstone Creamery. I didn't see the appeal, personally. The national chain made decent enough ice cream, but the whole place smelled so densely of sugar that I couldn't even tell what other ingredients they had.

"How can you like this place?" I muttered. "I feel like I'm turning into a diabetic just by breathing in here."

"Silence, Pixie Puff!"

"You know calling me that is equally embarrassing for you, right? You, Amy Dallon, are being immortalized as having uttered the words 'Pixie Puff' unironically."

I felt her shrug on my back. "Anything that makes you suffer brings me joy," she said smugly.

"Right… How heroic," I drawled before shifting back, catching Amy in a princess carry. I let her down and walked up to the cashier. "What do you want?"

"Peanut butter cup, obviously."

"I'll take one peanut butter and one matcha, please."

"Y-Yes, sir," the cashier stammered as she went off to make them for us. One of these days, I'd get used to the looks people gave me. Or maybe the city will get used to seeing different monsters and shrug them off as 'Ehh, Menagerie's at it again.'

Amy and I sat around with our ice cream cups and shot the shit for a while. We argued over the best flavor of ice cream, green tea obviously, and talked more about all the different things going on in the city. I found out that Alabaster got arrested when the Empire threw down with the Merchants, something she knew because she had to keep one of the druggies from expiring. Eventually, the conversation circled back to our new romantic status.

"So, what should I expect on Saturday?" I asked.

"Ugh, don't remind me. I can't believe you did that."

"Why? I can't be romantic? I'll have you know that that was one of the tamer options available."

"You're fucking with me."

"Try me, bitch."

"I swear to god I'm going to randomly burst into tears and make you deal with the fallout of making Panacea cry."

"I'll… I'll… Huh… You win actually. I don't think I have anything I would be willing to do that tops that."

She smirked as she polished off the last of her ice cream. "Victory is sweet."

"Fine, whatever, Dame Panacea. Shall we sally forth to conquer the hospital?"

"Giddyup, Pixie Puff."

"Bitch."

"Ass."

"Cunt."

"Dick."

"Friendless loner."

"Pot. Kettle."

I froze. "A-Are… Are we… alike…?"

Amy looked at me with the same horrified look I imagined Oedipus had. "Shit… Pretend this never happened?"

"Agreed."

X

"FEAR NOT MORTALS! DAME PANACEA IS HERE TO MAKE YOUR BOOBOOS GO AWAY OR WHATEVER!" I shouted, rearing back on two legs as I skid to a stop in front of the emergency room doors.

"God, can you just… stop being you for five minutes? Please?" Amy groaned, covering her face in humiliation.

"NO! YOUR NOBLE, MOST GALLANT STEED WHOM YOU BESTOWED UPON THE SACRED NAME OF PIXIE PUFF SHALL FERRY YOU TO THE HOSPITAL. WITH STYLE!"

"God, kill me…" Then I felt her twist her fist through my mane and give a hard yank.

"Ow! Quit it, woman!"

"No! If I have to suffer, so do you!"

It spoke volumes about our relationship that not one doctor did more than arch an eyebrow at her vicious assault. I eventually switched back and joined Amy for an hour or two until it was three in the afternoon, time for the middle school to get out.

Author's Note

Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.