Chapter Text
Sword closed the door to his house with a silent click, breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of the familiar entrance.
What the hell was that.
Spellbook was cool, that's a fact. They’re good at fighting and they’re… Well, Sword's impression of them was just from the fights, but they seem like a pretty decent guy! Yet that interaction in the locker room? Why did they suddenly get all rigid at the phinisher question? What even was their phinisher if what they said was true? Killing everyone in the room had to be an exaggeration, right? But they didn’t seem like the type to lie, so the only option left was that they weren’t? What if they just had a large ego?
As admirable as they were, Spellbook was just so… Mysterious. Their clothes and mannerisms read as Lower Playground to him, but their unidentifiable accent and fighting style were distinctly not from Playground if you took a closer look.
They had to be some sort of spy, or maybe a serial killer from another region. Maybe that's why they didn’t seem up for conversation, and was rushing Sword. But what if they were just cagey, or had places to be? This was so frustrating.
“Sword.” The voice of his mentor startled him out of his stupor. He flinched knocking back into the door.
“Ah- Hello, Venom… Sorry I didn’t see you-” He stuttered out nervously.
“No need to apologize, Sword.” Venom motioned towards the dining table, where a tea set was already laid out. Sword sat in the seat opposite to his mentor, as Venomshank poured a cup of tea for both of them. “How was the fight?" He asked, unclipping his muzzle and setting it on the table.
“It was great.” Sword picked up a sugar cube and held it between his teeth, letting the tea he sipped melt the sugar. He hummed as the bitter hints of black tea were evened out by the sweet taste of sugar.
Venomshank nodded. “I noticed you were just standing by the door doing nothing after entering.” He took the creamer and poured a few drops into the tea. “Were you lost in thought?”
Sword didn’t expect his mentor to call him out like that. He swallowed the remaining sugar, nervously fidgeting with the handle of the teacup. “Ah- yeah… I met someone new there, one of the fighters.”
“Oh?” His mentor stirred the creamer into his tea. “A new face to you, or to Crossroads?”
“Both.” He clarified, picking up another sugar cube. “They’ve gotten very popular recently, though they just showed up. The one I talked to was… Nice?”
“Nice? Elaborate.” Venomshank held his cup to his mouth, giving it a few blows of air, before letting himself drink from it. Sword watched as his fangs clinked against the porcelain with a light chime.
“Well, they weren’t really nice, I could tell they were probably in a hurry, but they were a really good fighter! They just didn’t use their phinisher? And when I asked them about it, they got mad. Well, maybe not mad, but more…” He trailed off, idly turning the sugar cube around his fingers.
“Cold? Harsh?” His mentor offered. Sword nodded.
“Yeah that! They just became more cold. Granted- they were cold in the interaction too, they didn’t seem the most up for conversation, but it was just different. Like they had a mask on and then took it off, like they weren’t Inphernal.” Sword popped the sugar cube into his mouth, and started toying with it in his mouth, rubbing it against the sides of his teeth. Venomshank nodded in understanding.
Sword continued. “There was also something weird about them too, you know that feeling you get when something unsettles you? Uncanny valley, I think it's called. I don’t know how to explain it, but their build and face is just too flawless.”
Vemonshank set his teacup down. “Are you suggesting they’re not Inphernal?”
“No!” Sword blurted out, then backtracked. “Well, maybe- I don’t know.” He groaned.
“Unfortuanetly, you know I can’t interfere with whatever troubles you.” His mentor continued, tone soft and light. “But if you’d like to discuss anything with me, I’m always right here.”
He nodded, continuing to drink his tea. The two of them continued to chat about anything that came to mind until the sun started to set.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Oh, yeah, I forgot to ask.” Rocket popped a fry into his mouth. “You mentioned visiting a phight? How was it?”
Rocket and Sword were on the roof of some corporate headquarters. It was a place Rocket introduced to Sword, and one where they both frequented as a place to hangout at. It was also close to a pretty good food stall, so they picked up a few baskets of fries and sat down to eat.
“Pretty good! I managed to talk to one of the participants- Spellbook. They were pretty nice, but a bit.. Uh…” Sword trailed off.
“A bit what?” Rocket asked.
“They were kind of blunt? Not blunt, a bit direct. They also looked kinda odd- wait no that sounds mean.” Sword fidgeted with his cape. “They had a tail, which was kinda weird. And they had a lot more markings than the other inphernal. Dunno how to describe how they looked.”
Rocket hummed, trying to piece together a vague image of what the phighter they talked about looked like.
“Ah- but they were really good at fighting! Like, almost Flipside material. You should check them out sometime- their name is Spellbook, and they're incredible.” He smiled and started out to the city line below, like he was reminiscing on something.
Rocket hummed. “Maybe I’ll visit a fight.” He mused, eating another fry. “Which arena did you visit again?”
“The one owned by Bolt, but knowing him? They’re probably moving to Archives for better matches.” Sword sighed. “Man- not that I’m complaining, they deserve the better pay, but tickets for Archive are really expensive nowadays. Not to mention prices have gone up. I'm sure Venom will be ok with paying, but I really don’t want to bother him too much… “
Rocket half-listened as Sword rambled on, occasionally nodding and giving noises of encouragement. While his best friend was talking, he sneakily pulled out his phone and started searching Archives website. Lo and behold, the top of the website had “Welcoming our newest team, Apathy!” and their member profiles, alongside their first match times. Rocket elbowed Sword to get him to stop, and showed him his screen.
“The team has their first match in a week, and it’s one of my off days. Wanna get tickets?” He asked, passing the phone to him.
“What, like a date?” Sword laughed. “Then you better pay for mine too!”
Rocket snickered. “Hell no, they’re increasing my rent for some reason. We’re splitting, but I’ll pay for food if you wanna crash at my place after. Oh- wanna stay the night today? I got a couple new games.”
“Sure then!” Sword cheerfully replied. “I’ll just ask Venom.”
Sword extended his wrist to the sky and whistled something. Seconds later, the sound of wind rushing swept through the air, and a black crow perched on Sword's arm. It cocked its head as if to ask Sword what he wanted.
“Really? Your mentor still doesn't have a phone?” Rocket asked half joking, not phased by his friends' antics. Sword shrugged, and set the crow down onto the pavement of the roof.
“He insists he doesn't need one, and that Sisyphus is a good enough messenger. I think otherwise, personally.” He pulled out a paper and pencil from who knows where. The crow squawked in offense. “Hey, you’re great! I’d just prefer a phone over paper and pen.”
Rocket idly scratched at the crow's chin as Sword wrote down his message. Sword then rolled up the paper, and nestled it into Sisyphus’s mouth. The crow adeptly hopped off the side of the building and flew off.
“Wanna head to mine?” He asked, sitting up and picking up the now empty tray of fries.
“Of course!” Sword stood up and dusted off his pants, following Rocket down the stairs of the roof.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rocket woke up to the sound of someone knocking on the door to his apartment. He yawned and stretched, wearily swinging his leg over the side of the hammock. “Coming…” He mumbled, rubbing his eyes.
He walked through the halls of his apartment, bumping into a few walls before reaching the door and opening it. Rocket squinted at the bright afternoon light assaulting his eyes, before registering Sword standing in his doorway.
“Oh hey.” He grunted, stepping aside and letting Sword in.
“Jeez, do you normally sleep in this late?” His best friend snickered. He gave a sleepy chuckle.
“Only when I don't have work” He yawned and rubbed the sleep out of his eye. “When's the fight again…?”
“In an hour!” Sword set down a plastic bag Rocket didn’t know he was carrying. “I brought some snacks. Figured you’d appreciate them. Go change into day clothes.” Sword tossed a can of something towards Rocket, who miraculously caught it with his non-prosthetic hand.
He pressed the cold can of what looked like an energy drink to his forehead, the refreshing chill of metal against his skin slightly waking him up. “Yeah yeah ok I’ll go.” He stumbled towards his room, being sure to lock the door before rummaging through his closet in an attempt to put together a half-decent outfit.
Rocket ended up settling on a semi presentable gray sleeveless hoodie and his favourite pair of dark blue cargo pants. He studied himself in the floor length mirror, turning his body to survey his outfit. Combined with his accessories and the bright blue visor he always wore, he looked half decent if he had to say so himself.
Walking out of the room (and not forgetting to open the energy drink Sword threw at him), he found his best friend sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone.
“You ready?” Rocket asked Sword. The latter nodded, and put his phone in his pocket.
“Have fun out there, kids.” Zuka, who was standing in the kitchen, called out to the two of them as they left.
The walk to Archives arena was mostly uneventful. They got a few waves from fans here and there, but Rocket didn’t really talk too much. He was more of the listener type. Sword, however, seemed to be able to talk himself in circles, like he did last week on the roof, and like what he's doing right now.
“-I didn’t really understand the meaning of the song, but it was great! I wish more people would make music nowadays, I still remember when the second layer had a few music festivals.” Currently, his best friend was talking about an indie musician he stumbled upon. “Man- I wish I could visit the second layer more. It’s pretty cool! I think the visit to Bolt’s arena was the first time I’ve been in like- two months? Glad Archive’s arena is closer to the first layer, though. Saves me the pain from walking all that distance.”
Rocket didn’t mind listening to Sword, though. His voice was calming in a sense, and the tone he used when rambling was cute. Besides, having Sword talk also helped ground him, and made his mind not wander to places.
The duo made their way to the stadium, where a crowd of people were already gathered. He let the person at the gates scan their tickets, and practically ran inside in order to find their seats before more people started filling in.
“Fifteen minutes left!” Rocket mentioned as he finally found their section, muttering aisle numbers under his breath. His eyes locked onto the row he was looking for, and started making his way towards his seats, Sword following suit.
“You think they’ll do point based this time?” Sword absentmindedly asked.
“Probably.” Rocket shrugged. Archive always liked to make the gamemode randomized, considering their arena had more modifications to do so. When asked, they said something along the lines of “randomizing the game mode would give the participants an actual challenge.” However, Rocket thinks they just like seeing the fighters suffer.
The two of them made idle conversation, chatting about their predictions, the teams, basically anything that could keep them occupied. However, as Rocket was in the middle of asking Sword something, the speakers above them suddenly blared to life.
The announcer introduced the teams and members as they ran onto the large clearing. As the cameras panned on a tall inphernal with straight red horns, Sword elbowed him lightly and whispered in his ear. “Thats the guy I was talking about, Spellbook.”
As the match started (thank the Swords the gamemode was annihilate), platforms and walls started rising from the ground, startling the newcomers. He vaguely remembered why the platforms were there, something about giving ranged fighters leverage? The jungle gym esque structure looked hell to navigate, though. Especially considering that it was randomized every time.
He tried to follow Spellbooks movements from where they were. Sword was right about them being a really good fighter; their movements were graceful, yes, but also carried a more heavy edge to them like they were powered by hatred or determination.
Rocket could understand what Sword meant by them looking “weird”. Tails were decently uncommon, but only because animal gears were uncommon too. Spellbook seemingly had no connection to an animal, and their tail didn’t look like any regular gear byproduct. Something about them also seemed off, Rocket couldn’t see from his seat, but something about them made them stand out from everyone else that wasn’t their own team members. Maybe it was the jarringly bright blue bandana attached to their left horn.
As the match continued on, Rocket found himself watching the other members of Spellbook’s team, instead of just them. Lantern was funny to watch, the way they stumbled over themselves trying to climb up to better sniping spots was a mix of pathetic and endearing- coming from a fellow ranged. Orb was fairing better than the other ranged member on their team, climbing up the tall structures with seemingly practiced ease. What really piqued Rocket’s interest, though, was Cloner.
The shockingly short Inphernal was like a less egotistical, more maniacal version of Subspace. Rocket watched in mild horror as Cloner pranced around the field, cackling every now and then when a poor soul walked directly under their hands. Rocket didn’t even know how their gear worked, which was the most fascinating part. If he had to guess, their gear probably was modified to clone their hands instead of other gears.
Although, Rocket couldn’t get the nagging feeling that something was wrong about the four fighters. They didn’t look distinctly like they were from any region, which Rocket could respect, he was pretty much the same, but something about the four told him that they weren’t normal. Maybe he was being too harsh, maybe Sword’s words influenced him, but there was just a nagging feeling at the back of his head telling him that they were just… alien. But it had to be nothing, right?
Halftime came and went, and Rocket only stared at them more, trying to observe their movements for any proof he was wrong. He didn’t notice anything, but that instinct still wasn't gone. Half an hour later, when the match ended (Spellbook's team obviously won), Rocket realized he wasn’t even paying attention to the phight itself, only Spellbook and their team.
When Rocket and Sword arrived back at Rocket's apartment, Rocket immediately beelined towards his console to boot up a video game. Sword rummaged through the bag of snacks he brought earlier, and pulled out a few Bloxy Colas and bags of chips.
“Catch.” Rocket tossed Sword a controller, who yelped and fumbled trying to catch it a bit before firmly grabbing onto it. He sat down next to Rocket, who was scrolling through the large list of games he had, trying to find one.
“What are we playing?” Sword flopped onto the couch next to Rocket, cracking open a can of soda.
“New racing game that just dropped.” Sword hummed, selecting his character- a large ghost with a crown on its head.
“So what were your thoughts on the phight?” He casually asked.
Rocket shrugged, pressing a button on his controller to start the game. “The other team was alright. You were right about Spellbook, though. Their fighting is really good.”
Sword nodded, holding the control for acceleration down to get a speed boost.
“I also noticed that they were kinda weird..? It's like what you said, they looked odd.” Rocket added on, scowling as someone blue shelled him, knocking him to third place.
“But was it fun?” Sword asked, grinning triumphantly as his place switched from fifth to first. Rocket hesitated to think, before nodding, a smile spreading across his face.
“Yeah, it was.”