Garcello didn't know why he had chosen to follow this kid. He didn't know him from the next guy – he had only heard about Skid due to his and Pump's notorious Spooky Month heists. He had to admit, not seeing Skid with his pumpkin themed companion was a bit concerning. With the pace the pandemic was moving at, however, he was certain that Pump was corrupted. He wanted to change the kid's mind about going to find him especially when said idea involved going to the house on the hill but he knew that a child's mind was hard to sway when it was set.
In a way, it wasn't unlike how Whitty's mind had been...
Even now, Garcello was still punching himself in the head for letting Whitty run away. The scene was still clear as day in his head.
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It was a morning just a few days ago. For the past three days, Garcello and Whitty had been traversing Newgrounds with caution. Having found that Hex was corrupted had Whitty shaken up but Garcello had been doing a good job of keeping the bomb head's mind in the right place. With all Garcello's knowledge about the streets and its little hideouts, it was a cinch finding good hiding spots not yet taken by Corruptions. Whitty had wanted to find Carol and while going to her apartment was a bit of a risk, Garcello had agreed to it.
Up until that point, Whitty's infection remained as it was. It was still bad but nothing had gotten worse. Whitty still seemed to have his will aside from the episode he had before. All seemed to be going in their favor – if they found Carol safe and sound, perhaps she could even get rid of the infection. It was a lot to ask but both Garcello and Whitty knew that she was an angel. Perhaps she could grant some sort of blessing to get rid of Whitty's infection. Garcello remained optimistic about the possibility and in turn, Whitty was too. It was something else how Garcello's mood could be contagious even with the relations between the two being so strained.
"I'm going in alone."
Those were the first words Whitty spoke when they reached Carol's apartment complex. On the surface, it seemed to be fine but both knew better than to trust what anything looked like. That was also the reason why Garcello was so hesitant to let Whitty go alone.
"Hang on a minute – I know you're eager to get back to your love angel but what if this is another illusion? Are you just going to go in alone?"
Garcello was hoping to get the bomb head to reconsider but all he got was a head shake.
"Even if it is, I'm ready to face it. I'm not going to let some parasite have Carol. It's bad enough it's got Hex..."
Whitty paused to look at both of his infected hands, magenta claws glowing brightly – brighter than Garcello recalled them glowing usually. Maybe it was just his eyes playing tricks on him though so he didn't bother saying anything.
"...and it's almost got me."
Whitty's words were softspoken and fearful. Honestly, Garcello doubted that the ex-rock star even intended for them to be heard but the former smoker always had a good ear. It was probably how he'd even managed to make it this far. Never mind the fact that he had died to cursed cigarettes.
"Tell me, Whitty. Do you just want to go alone because you can truly handle it or is it because you're worried about your infection?"
Garcello didn't know what prompted him to say that but it was out there anyway. Whitty glared at him, crossing his arms, and turning away.
"I can handle it just fine. I just don't want you getting in my way!"
Garcello wasn't surprised by Whitty's snapping. He could tell that he was the last person that Whitty wanted to travel with. If the situation had been any different, Whitty probably would have gone far off by now. He never blamed him. Their past was not resolved. Honestly, he doubted it could ever be resolved and the former smoker didn't go out of his way to do so. Afterall, it was his fault that things went in the direction they did. If only he had kept his mouth shut back then.
"Whitty—"
Garcello reached a hand out toward the bomb head. He couldn't shake off this sinking feeling in his chest. A feeling that just screamed that if he let Whitty go now he wouldn't see him again. Usually, these little haunches of his are right too.
"Don't get in my way!"
The bomb head cut him off, making Garcello put his hand back down. All he could do was watch as Whitty disappeared into the apartment complex – never coming out again.
"Mister? Are you okay?"
Skid's voice cut Garcello from his thoughts as he looked back over at the child. Full of the same determination – the same stubbornness. He wasn't going to just let him do anything reckless. If Skid was so set on finding Pump then he was going to stick with him whether Skid wanted the help or not.
"Yeah. I'm fine."
He gave a nod. Best not let the kid know the truth. He might jump headfirst into trouble if he knew about Whitty. It was bad enough he was so set on finding someone who was most definitely corrupted.
"If you say so."
God, Garcello hated lying to the kid. He could see the concern written on Skid's face despite the costume he wore. That thing allowed for a lot of expression to come through, didn't it? Nonetheless, the child didn't push him and dropped the subject, focusing his attention ahead once more. Garcello kept close behind the kid with one hand in his jacket pocket.
Geez, this city really has gone downhill. Now that he had paused enough to look at it, the past two weeks have already taken a huge toll on Newgrounds. Many businesses had opted to stay closed until the pandemic was under control. However, the pandemic has only worsened – businesses being closed didn't stop people from going out. People had to go to the store, were bored enough go to what few entertainment businesses did stay open, some just wanted to get out of their stuffy homes or worse, some no longer even had a home to go to. Garcello was one of those people – his apartment was burned down a week ago. He had been out getting McDeedle's for himself and Annie. Annie had planned to stream a movie on Funkflix and they'd planned to just have a chill night together. Instead, Garcello came back to a burning apartment and no sign of Annie. In an instant a chill afternoon was turned to staring down his corrupted best friend. Accepting that she was part of the lost was still hard for him even now.
"You look sad. Let's get some candy!"
Garcello looked ahead of them, seeing that they were right around the corner from the Candy Shoppe. The lights were on and a big flashing open sign could be seen in the window. One of the few businesses that stayed open despite the pandemic. Garcello honestly wondered if the business was just that desperate for money or just simply didn't care about their employees' safety. He didn't have much time to think, for Skid was soon grabbing him by the wrist and dragging him toward the shop.
"Hey, are you sure you have the money to be spending on candy?" the ex-smoker couldn't help but yelp.
"Who cares? The cashier never cares if you pay!"
Huh. Well, Garcello was pretty sure that this business fell on the doesn't care about its employees end of the spectrum. Nonetheless, he nodded. He didn't care about the idea of stealing from a shop either. It wasn't like it was his first time being a thief. Probably wasn't going to be his last either.
As Skid had warned, the clerk at the counter didn't seem to care what they did. He was just watching them with the most unamused expression ever. One that clearly said he would rather be anywhere, including being corrupted, than sitting here at this counter. Honestly, it reminded Garcello of how he felt when he worked as a clerk at a gas station. Simple go by the grind work like that was never for him. Was probably why jobs never lasted too long for him.
Garcello watched as Skid filled his bag with all kinds of Halloween candy. He looked like a child who had just finished Trick or Treating and was going through his massive collection of candies. He couldn't help but chuckle a bit as he wandered over to the lollipops section. Not bothering to take a bag, he stuffed a handful of them in his pocket, Skid swooping up his treats just as fast before the two walked out of the shop both without paying and without the shopkeeper batting an eye. Wow. He truly must have not cared.
When they arrived back out of the candy store, Garcello directed Skid to an alleyway. In times like these it was always better to hide than leave oneself out in the open. Luckily, Garcello was an expert at hiding.
"So, after this, we're going to see Mr. Lemon!" Skid said as he sat down to munch on some candy corn.
"Right on, Little Skelly." Garcello nodded, to which Skid tilted his head.
"Little...Skelly?"
"Well, you're always wearing that skeleton costume around. So, you might as well be Little Skelly, right?"
"Little Skelly...that sounds spooky! I like it!"
"Heh. Had a feeling you would like it." Garcello said as he put a mint flavored lollipop into his mouth.
The lollipop helped more than Garcello thought it would. While he was glad he wasn't bound to those cursed cigarettes anymore, there were times when he wanted to relapse. Those times had been happening a lot more often with the increase in stress thanks to the pandemic. Several times, he had wanted nothing more than a good smoke to calm his nerves. Oddly enough though, lollipops gave him the same feelings of pleasure. To top it off, they were much healthier. He found himself able to calm his nerves without feeling regretful of potentially causing himself to die again.
"How can you eat mint flavored lollipops? I bet they taste like toothpaste!" Skid chimed in as Garcello had his head leaned back, the duo sitting next to each other in the alleyway. The cooling sensation of mint on his tongue had nearly made Garcello forget that the child was even there. He adjusted his hat a bit before turning to Skid.
"It might taste like toothpaste but I like it. Feels calming."
"Huh? How does tasting toothpaste feel nice? I hate it when I have to brush my teeth!" Skid went off on another one of his childish rants. "Mom always stands over me the whole time, talking about how you should only put a pea on your toothbrush! I don't like hearing about peas. They're gross – they're like little green balls filled with..."
A snap made Garcello tune out of Skid's rant as he stood up, dropping his lollipop wrapper onto the ground. Brown eyes widened as he saw a pair of magenta eyes glowing in the distance. The eyes looked so familiar. No. It can't be, can it?
"Get behind me, Skid. Now."
"Huh? But why?"
"Just do it!"
Garcello's slight snap made Skid a bit scared as he scurried behind the former smoker, only peeking his head out ever so slightly as Garcello felt for the handle of the switchblade that he kept for defense.
"Long time, no see, Garcello. Didn't know that you'd become a babysitter while I was gone. Truly pathetic."
Garcello was startled into silence by the Corruption that was approaching them. Magenta eyes glowed as Garcello spotted the fuse of the corruption moving with the cold breeze in the air. Strings covered the being's torso, tightly gripping its magenta colored jacket and black pants. Sharp magenta claws could be seen, occasionally sparking with magenta flame.
It was none other than Whitty...
Damn it, Joey. I can't believe you're calling the general in over this...
Tankman picked up the paper on his desk. It was an official note from the general that he was going to come to the HQ tomorrow to assess Tankman's condition. If he deems him too infected to properly do his job then he has agreed to have Tankman removed from command – if need be, Tankman may be put into complete isolation to avoid contaminating the other healthy officers.
In the back of his mind, Tankman knew he wasn't in the best of shape. His infected hand often tingled and twitched against his will whenever it didn't outright hurt. He found himself with even less of an appetite than just simple stress caused and sleeping was even harder. Whenever he did sleep, it felt as if he were dead due to how deep into slumber he went. Still, he didn't want to be removed from command. Sure, he was being a little harsh but sometimes a harsh command was needed for the harsh circumstances. Joey was a commander as well but he didn't have the same level of experience that Tankman had. He probably never even knew about handling a crisis like this.
"I won't let him do this..." the commander mumbled, running a hand through his black hair, his helmet put off to the side.
His thoughts were cut off by an abrupt knock at the door. Who could it be this time? Was Joey coming back for another yelling session? He was pretty sure that was the case and it was the last thing he needed right now.
"Go away, Joey!" Tankman snapped toward the closed door. "I already got the letter! So just go away!"
"Umm...it's not Joey." The higher pitched voice on the other end said. "It's me, Carlos. You didn't pick up your mail this morning so I was just delivering it to you."
Right. That was another side effect of this infection: forgetfulness. Usually, what Tankman forgot wasn't anything of major importance though. Just minor things such as picking up his breakfast plates or checking his mail in the morning. To Tankman, these symptoms were just as well explained by being a bit tired. Though, in the back of his head he knew the general would be using this as further evidence that he was incompetent to command.
"Fine. Bring it in then."
Tankman put his hands on his desk. His corrupted hand gave a twitch though otherwise remained still for the moment. The door opened, revealing Carlos who was in his proper uniform for once. Good. The last thing that Tankman wanted to do right now was tell Carlos for the tenth time about that blasted jacket. He didn't have the time to give reminders about stupid things such as dress code.
"Is Joey really going to have you removed?" Carlos questioned as he put the envelopes onto Tankman's desk.
"Well, that's up to the general when he comes tomorrow." Tankman wasn't even looking at his fellow soldier's face, instead looking at the envelopes. "Funny. Joey can be bothered to put the general's letter on my desk but couldn't get the other mail out of my mailbox."
"He said that was your job to do." Carlos replied as he glanced at the desk.
Tankman could tell by Carlos's short answers that the soldier was anxious. He saw how the guy kept looking at his arm as if it were some sort of plague waiting to happen. He even flinched back whenever it would twitch and scratch against the side of the desk. Tankman was probably going to have to invest in another desk after all of this with the number of scratches on the thing.
"I'm not incompetent to command. I'm not...." Tankman mumbled as he managed to get his corrupted hand to grab onto the edge of the desk, stopping it from moving. He didn't want to make Carlos even more anxious. "Anyway, you can leave now. I don't need anything else."
"Yes, sir." Carlos nodded, rubbing his arm a bit before looking back at the captain. "Before I go, if I'm allowed to speak, sir."
Tankman looked at his fellow soldier with tired and slightly annoyed green eyes. Nonetheless, he nodded, feeling that he needed to allow his fellow soldier a chance to speak what was on his mind.
"You may speak."
That seemed to make Carlos happy as the private's eyes got a bit more sparkle to them.
"I don't know that it's really my spot to say anything on the matter but for what it's worth, I don't think you're incompetent. I think you're just tired and stressed."
"Who wouldn't be in this mess?" Tankman asked, though he didn't deny Carlos's statement.
Tankman knew he was more than just tired and stressed. Maybe he was pushing his limits some. This headache was unbearable. All he wanted to do was sleep even though he had just had a nap not even an hour ago. Had his infection really gone past a point of return?
"But I'm glad to hear you say that anyway." Tankman continued. "Especially coming from you of all people. Are you sure someone didn't just put you up to this?"
Tankman was aware of the friendship that Carlos and Joey shared. The two had a bond ever since Carlos joined the military. Honestly, their bond reminded him very much of the bond he shared with Steve. Tankman would be lying if he said he wasn't envious of the fact that Carlos still had his most important friend. Tankman had lost those people so quickly. Steve and Ted were lost to the Corruption, as much as he didn't want to recognize it.
"Nobody did." Carlos said. "To be honest, I barely even talked to Joey after we left. His attitude took me for so much a shock that I..."
"It didn't for me. Joey has always been like this. Though this is the first time he's ever suggested a removal from command." Tankman cut Carlos off. He felt his corrupted hand twitch a bit, making him grip onto the desk a bit tighter.
"By the way, if you think that this is going to void your write ups, you're sorely mistaken."
"Right, I'll sign them on my way out if that's okay with you." Carlos said as he reached toward the desk to get a pen, Tankman getting the write ups to be signed.
It felt nice to know that despite everything that was happening being not in his favor, Carlos still believed in Tankman. Even if it was just because he feared how Joey acted. Honestly, in a way, Tankman was just as scared too but not because of how Joey acted – more so with what he had threatened to have taken away. If he lost his position, what would he have? How would he be of any use in this crisis?
Had anybody asked him years ago, Tankman wouldn't have cared about how much use he was to people. He was so sick and tired of war that he would do literally anything to get out of it. Anything that didn't require outright surrendering that is. He'd make as many sacrifices as he needed to without a care – soldiers were just pawns when it came to war. Not every man was going to make it. As commander, Tankman's job was to just make sure that as many of them as possible do make it. The soldiers were all aware of it – well aware of the fact death could arrive at any moment. Tankman only cared about ending the war. Not being useful. Not doing the right thing. In fact, if it were feasible, he might have tried ending the war himself to become the hero forever basked in glory. Basked in glory for ending a war with an unknown aim. The events leading up until their final march were perhaps the things that caused Tankman to change.
"Seriously, why are we still doing this crap anyway? Facing Skittles every day used to be fun but it's starting to bore me ever since he got that injury. Now he can barely hold an aim! It's no fun trying to snipe him anymore!"
Ted ranted as he walked into the run-down temporary base that Tankman had made for himself and his higher ranked soldiers. It wasn't the best situation but they needed to take immediate shelter after retrieving Steve from his imprisonment. Bolt and his army had captured Steve some months back, hoping that he would spill information on the Tankmen army. Despite being threatened with torture, the young soldier had held firm, refusing to tell them anything. Ted and Tankwoman had led a rescue operation which ended up successful. However, the whole thing escalated their little play war.
Bolt was swift to find out about the absolute annihilation of one of his bases by Ted and his fellow soldiers. When he found out that on top of it, Steve had been cleanly taken back, he threw an absolute conniption fit. In war, there was only one way that a commander threw his conniption fits: through battle. The war escalated to an all-time worst.
Up until now, Bolt's army was little more than an unpleasant thorn in Tankman's side. To this day, he still couldn't remember what sprouted their dislike for each other. Maybe it was just because they wore different uniforms, had a slightly different view on how the ongoing trouble in town ought to be handled. Whatever it was, Tankman was sure that it was minor. Either way, it started a strong rivalry between the two armies. Yet up until now, it never amounted to much. Bolt would have his soldiers come and start minor heists in their base, Tankman would do the same. There were even a few times they'd call a short truce and do something stupid together like catch the Titanic movie. Now, though, Bolt was going full force on the Tankmen, sending whatever armies he could at them. The only reason his army was standing a chance was likely because of the tank, which Steve was being more responsible with. It was as if their enemy had taken Steve's rescue personally. Tankman didn't care about that – Bolt made the first move when he captured Steve in the first place.
In all truth, Tankman was sick of Bolt. The little punk was confusing. One moment he was all out against them like a true enemy captain, the next they were sitting and watching a movie together. At first he was all for the joke of a war. It wasn't like they were doing much else with their time and Tankman was rather enjoying the friends he was making by commanding this army. Steve, Ted, Tankwoman, they were his best friends, his best drinking buddies, his best prank partners – they meant everything to him. The war was nothing as long as he had them by his side. However, as the years wore on, the war became more and more of an annoyance. Documenting dead bodies, dealing with distraught soldiers, wrapping people he recruited in body bags – he was sick of it. His grievances hit an all-time high when Bolt got bold enough to capture Steve. He was done playing nicely. All he wanted was to see an end to Bolt's army.
Ted and Skittles always had their little sniping games – a game that took a turn for the worse when the war escalated. What were once play shots were suddenly ordered to be true attempts at killing. Still, as much as he threatened to kill Skittles, Ted knew that the enemy sniper was just a kid. He couldn't actually be responsible for a kid's death. Even when the war hit an all-time serious state, their sniping game was just that. A game. Well, until one stray bullet hit its mark. Ted thought that his shot was far enough off target that Skittles wouldn't be injured. Turns out, he was hit in the arm and was barely able to hold a weapon even after the surgery.
The accident did nothing to help Bolt's state of mind. Even though he was the one launching near constant attacks on the Tankmen Unit that were so frequent that Tankman and Steve couldn't go back to their main base, Bolt took it as a serious act of aggression when Skittles was shot. He even went so far as to call the entire unit heartless and inconsiderate. It was at that moment that Tankman had decided that this enemy commander was simply insane and just wanted to end the war no matter what it took.
"To think that your little sniping games were going to cause Bolt to get this serious."
Tankman always put up a relaxed sona around his fellow soldiers. If he got angry or panicked, they would too. If his soldiers were angry and panicked, then they wouldn't carry out his orders and if his orders didn't get carried out, he was going to be in hot water. Never mind the sort of danger they would be in – Tankman's only concern was making sure he got out of this.
"Am I the only one who thinks Bolt is just insane? It's like he blames us for rescuing a comrade." Tankwoman said next, walking back into the base after patrol. "It doesn't look like we're going to have a clear way forward, Captain. Bolt has a whole set of soldiers camped out just a mile ahead of us."
"So, this is the kind of game he wants to play, is it? Let's get out there and destroy that camp!" Ted yelled, clearly just wanting to get some action in.
"I think that's going to be our only answer. I'm going to head out and check on Steve. If the tank's ready to roll, then we're moving out. It's now or never." Tankman said as he stood up, glaring ahead at the desert sun which was partially blocked out by a raging sandstorm.
"But wait a second! What about the sandstorm? Do you really think we can march in the middle of it?" Tankwoman questioned. However, Tankman was already getting his foot armor on, having had it off for a moment since this was their only area to relax without being able to safely access their old base.
"What more are we going to allow them to take, Sarah?" Tankman glared as he used Tankwoman's real name. "It's bad enough that they overtook our old base, making it suicide to even try to go back there. The army's spread everywhere and the more we sit, the more aggressive Bolt's getting. We're obviously not going to get anywhere unless we take a risk."
"A risk that's reckless as hell, John! If we march in the middle of a sandstorm, we're as good as dead! We won't be able to see our targets until they are right in our faces!"
"Glad to hear how much you trust me after all these years." Tankman said sarcastically as he walked out the door. "Get everyone packed and ready. It's past time that Bolt meets the butt end of a gun."
In the back of his mind, Tankman knew that Tankwoman's concerns were valid. However, at this point in the war he didn't care. He was done trying to keep in hiding. It wasn't doing them any good. It wasn't doing him any good. At this rate, he was going to either end up ambushed or starve in this pathetic excuse of a camp. Bolt's state wasn't improving and Ted's actions didn't do anything to help their case. Not that he blamed Ted. Skittles deserved to be annihilated for constantly playing games with them. This was a war zone not a child's playhouse. Sometimes, Tankman wondered what Bolt was even thinking by recruiting that kid as a sniper.
Tankman was tired of kicking up sand like this. He'd seen so much sand over these years that he would be perfectly fine if he didn't see a desert ever again. He looked ahead for any signs of the tank. If Steve up and lost it again, he wasn't so sure that he would be able to hold his temper on the guy.
"Steve! I know you're out here! Patrol doesn't take that long!" he called into the sand filled distance.
It didn't take Tankman long to see the tank through the sandstorm. Though his expression would hardly tell it, he was relieved to see Steve still okay after a patrol. As much as he wanted this war to end he couldn't deny there was care for his best friend.
"Hey, Cap! I didn't expect you to be out of the base!" Steve sounded happy to see him.
"Yeah, well, I think it's time we wrap up this war. I'm done waiting around for the right moment, Steve." Tankman's tone was enough to take away any good mood, it being completely dry and serious, void of any of the usual jokes he had on duty.
"But, Cap, we're hardly in a position for that! There are forces just up ahead that are waiting on us to make a move. That was why it took so long to get back!" Steve tried to protest – however, the second in command knew just by the look on Tankman's face that he wasn't going to take any excuses.
"I don't care. We'll have to face it." Tankman actually glared at Steve. "Get the tank to the camp and get ready to march. This ends now."
"But—"
"I said GO!"
This was the first time Tankman yelled at Steve. He'd always managed to keep his cool with his best friend. They understood one another so well that Tankman couldn't help but be at ease in Steve's presence. However, this time, all of that went out the window. He wasn't listening to Steve's usual words of advice. He had enough of words of advice – he wanted things done his way, he wanted this war ended Tankman's way and no other. Regardless of how the other soldiers reacted. If they followed his orders, it mattered not how they felt. Even Steve.
Steve didn't take that well. For a moment the soldier looked like he was going to cry, his blue eyes showing hurt shock. However, they quickly went back to their serious expression.
"Yes, sir. I'll do it right away."
This was the first time in a long time that Steve simply replied with a "yes sir" to anything Tankman had to say. Steve wasn't as bad as Ted but thanks to their friendship, Steve enjoyed giving Tankman some sort of lighthearted remark when he was given orders. This time, none of that happened. He didn't even wait for Tankman to say anything else, just getting into the tank and driving away.
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Sure, they won against Bolt and he and his army were taken into custody of the general for "reformation". From there, all the Tankmen Unit became police officers with the war ended and most of them needing to move into the main town. He never heard what became of Bolt but their win felt stale. Perhaps it was because of all the arguments he had with his fellow soldiers because he didn't care about their safety. Seeing Steve react how he did to his orders, so hurt and confused, as he did that day made Tankman start to realize that he should be thinking more about the consequences for his army than what he personally wanted. Tankwoman collapsed on their march through the desert. Ted almost got killed being sent into close quarters with an enemy camp. Tankman himself almost died trying to think he could play hero and storm the enemy base himself. Ever since, Tankman thought more of what his officers said. Or at least he would like to say he did. He had his slip ups but he likes to believe he's doing a lot better from what he was those years ago.
But now, his command was likely going to be taken away. This unit was going to be in someone else's hands and he'd likely end up in isolation with no say whatsoever on what becomes of his fellow officers in this pandemic. It was bad enough Steve and Ted were gone. Tankwoman was still here and returned from all her calls. He wanted to keep things that way. If he was taken out of command, however, the fates of Tankwoman, Carlos and everyone else in this unit would be completely out of his hands. He would be useless.
"Alright. I think that's the last one."
Carlos setting the pen down and placing his three write ups on Tankman's desk took him away from his thoughts.
"Sorry about the uniform, sir."
Tankman glanced at the 3 write up papers that Carlos had signed. His corrupted arm twitched as he started to simply rip them up, making Carlos's eyes go wide with surprise.
"Never mind the write ups. Just make sure you're in dress code from now on, okay?" Tankman asked Carlos. "You are dismissed. Have a safe evening."
"Really?"
Surprise showed in Carlos's voice. Why did it remind Tankman so much of what he liked seeing in Skid?
"Really. Now get out of my office before I change my mind."
Tankman gave a chuckle as he watched Carlos scurry out. For some reason, he had to admit that he liked the kid.