HI GUYS! I'm so glad I could get this out today, I'm very excited about the POV swapping.
Enjoy!
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If anyone in this ever-torturous world could say they knew fear, it was Clay. Maybe he was a monster, maybe he didn’t even have a birthday because he was designed and not born, but that didn’t mean he felt nothing.
He felt plenty, more than anyone else would ever know; except maybe Linus.
Linus was Clay’s tether to reality, his leash that kept him from losing his shit and just killing Carson because he was pissed at the president. He was also Clay’s roommate, sharing a high-end apartment with each other in the West end of the city, appropriately called “Westside” among higher-ups.
After all, the city of Eastwalden was huge, almost taking up half the nation’s land. That had to be separated somehow.
Either way, that’s where Clay was now, letting his mind wander as he did what was ironically probably the least monstrous thing he could right now, as in making dinner.
He could be out hunting down the little fucking worms they called the previous president and vice president.
He could be out looking for himself on where the fuck the only threat to him is.
He should be hunting down the little crow hybrid who inadvertently caused three-quarters of his life’s problems.
But was he? No. He was sitting here making fucking spaghetti because Linus is a spoiled brat who gets tired and hungry after five seconds of physical activity.
Speaking of the fox, Clay could spot him in the corner of his eye, sitting in the living room on the couch with what he assumed was Linus’ Nintendo Switch, as he kept cursing just loud enough for Clay to catch.
“Linus, is it truly necessary to say that many foul words in a simple game of Mariokart?” He asked over his shoulder, smirking as he heard Linus pause and then he saw a flicker of movement as he sat up.
“That’s big talk for the guy who couldn’t stop spewing curse words because he lost a child.” Linus teased back.
Clay paused, glaring at him. “I am making dinner. If you don’t want me to put cheese on yours, you’ll hush.”
Linus gasped dramatically. “You wouldn’t! You know I don’t like cheese!” He whined, his ears flopping down.
Clay tsked. “Damn, I guess you really want a huge handful of cheese on there ‘cuz you still won’t shut your mouth.”
Linus opened his mouth to argue, paused for a moment, then shut it again, glaring pointedly at Clay.
Clay waited about a minute before grinning. “Huh, it’s so quiet. Who knew cheese was such an effective threat?”
Linus huffed, turning to go back to his game. It wasn’t long before Clay was just waiting for pasta to cook, so he came and sat on the couch with him. “Gimme your phone,” He said, giving Linus an innocent smile before the shorter rolled his eyes, tossing the device at him.
Clay caught it and unlocked it, scrolling through news apps. Any technology of Clay’s was easily reachable and monitored by Carson, so he preferred to look at stuff on Linus’, especially after he’d tried to on his once and Carson had chewed his ear off for involving himself in things that didn’t involve him.
Which was absolute bullshit, by the way. He was the vice president or whatever the public thought, he should know what’s happening. He was really more of a bodyguard or hitman for Carson, not a partner, but he didn’t mind. He was the monster after all. If the public had to think something for Carson to stay in office, he’d play that role.
There wasn’t too much important going through the feed at the moment; there was a fire in one of the townhouses further south in the city, some American celebrity was throwing a tantrum over not being able to enter Viaris as normal, and-
“Linus?” He prompted suddenly, Linus just humming for him to continue. “Have you heard anything recently about gun smuggling?”
Linus shook his head. “Nah, that’s a load of bullshit. Supposedly people are joining the army recruits, getting the guns, and quitting and smuggling them with them, but there’s been no actual proof of it happening, or any consequence.”
Clay frowned. “Why would the news lie though?”
Linus shrugged, barely glancing at Clay before going back to his game. “They probably aren’t. They get hundreds of leads on things a day, they’re just putting it out in a way the public would like.”
“Why would the public like there being rouge guns around?” He pressed. Clay was incredibly confused on that matter.
Linus rolled his eyes. “Sometimes I forget you grew up in a basement.” He teased, before continuing, “Guns are very dangerous. Only the government can wield them; it’s basically saying “hey, we can kill you at any time!”. If those scales seem like they’re being tipped...” He trailed off, doing that annoying thing where he tried to get Clay to think for himself.
“Then they’ll be less mad that we have them?” He guessed.
“Exactly.” Linus confirmed. “They’ll be a lot less likely to bring it up. In a way, the news is helping us. God knows we don’t need another problem on top of everything else.”
Clay hummed. That made a lot of sense, actually. After all, Clay knew he wouldn’t be happy if he was constantly being pressed with things that were much more powerful than him. It was why the plan was in place at all, to keep anything from doing that to him.
The timer in the kitchen went off shortly after the conversation, and Clay tossed the phone back at Linus, ignoring his sudden yelling about how he’d messed up his Mariokart move and was now in 5th place. He went back in the kitchen, checking the pasta to make sure it was done before straining and adding the sauce – just a simple tomato one with ground beef in it -- and getting them both a plate; his with cheese, and Linus’ without.
He took Linus’ to him, making the fox hybrid set his game down to eat as Clay settled down on the couch next to him. “What’re we watching tonight?” Clay asked, breaking the calm silence between them.
Linus gave Clay a mischievous grin, and he cut off the furry before he could even start. “No. Linus, I am not watching one of your telenovelas.”
Linus just stared at him, his look softening in what could only be described as puppy eyes, ears half-flattened against his head and tail flicking next to him hopefully. “Come’on Clay, please? You never watch what I want!”
Clay scoffed. “Don’t even start, I watch what you want all the time.”
Linus whined softly. “No you don’t.... Please, Clay, just this once?”
Clay stared at him for a second, which was a huge mistake on his part, before sighing and grabbing the remote, handing it to Linus.
The redhead’s expression lit up as he grabbed it, turning on the TV and flipping it to the right channel before eating happily, his tail flicking the whole time.
Personally, Clay wasn’t a big fan, but figured it was a small sacrifice if it made Linus this happy. He followed the show a bit, piecing together the probable multiple seasons he hadn’t seen before this in the few episodes they watched. As was normal, they ate and then Linus kept watching while Clay did the dishes and listened in. It was easy to follow along even from the different room, as the two were connected. If Clay turned, he could see the entire living room from the sink; so he hadn’t missed much of anything when he got back, settling into the couch again.
About an hour later, Clay had about forty thousand different questions about everything that happened in that show. Everyone was so dramatic, turning small problems into big ones just because of a lack of communication. Like, if they were first meeting and had trust issues and shit, he’d understand more, but these people were doing things that were completely unnecessary, sneaking around people they knew and loved to solve problems that they’d made by doing that in the first place.
Oh, and he also had a completely passed out Linus leaning against him and clinging to his arm, but that was normal. He normally had about zero energy after dinner, and his insistence on Clay seeing the show had made him try and stay up later than he was used to.
Part of Clay wanted to just stay for a bit, let Linus rest without risking waking him up, but he figured the fox would get a lot better sleep in his own bed, so he picked him up – which was about as easy as picking up a bag of flour – and carried him to bed, extending a couple tentacles from his back to open the door and turn off lights, that kind of thing.
It was only when Linus was in his bed, settled comfortably under his blankets to the point Clay was sure he’d sleep through the night, that his phone rang.
Not Linus’ phone, but Clay’s phone, the one who only a couple people’s numbers were in.
Words couldn’t describe the feeling of dread in his gut when he saw it was Carson. The president, while unimaginably better than Apollos, had gone a little power crazed over the last couple years. Clay had progressively had to walk on eggshells more and more with the man, while simultaneously having to be firm and kind of harsh to even get the sheep to listen to reason.
“Hello, sir. It’s quite late for a chat, isn’t it?” Clay asked as he answered the call, hoping to ease the undoubtable tension there was between them.
“Cut the shit, Clay.” Carson snapped back, his voice harsh through the phone. “Where the fuck is the kid?”
Clay winced; he hated reminders of having failed, and this was one of them. “We lost her, sir. We got a good hit on her as she ran, but we lost her in the alleys. We tracked her blood trail, but it cuts off in an abandoned dumpster alley near the shady part of downtown.”
Carson sighed, even that holding a lot of barely contained anger behind it. “I do hope you’re planning on getting back out there and finding her.”
“Of course, sir. Once there’s some light I’m going right back to see if the trail is more visible or leads somewhere else. I’ll find her.”
“Damn right you will,” Carson growled back. “Just so you know, this was a step too far for me. You haven’t been able to get a word out of her, torturing her and making it so I have to hide shit like fucking Apollos did. That roommate of yours that you hold so dear has been having panic attacks at every order that has to do with being within a 30-foot-radius of her, and is getting worse despite all your defenses of him, and now our only chance at making sure we don’t all fucking die is loose somewhere downtown and no one knows how she escaped at all because every camera in the facility just fucking happened to be down for maintenance.”
Clay stared at the ground, the phone still to his ear. He wasn’t with Carson, but he may as well be with the lecture he was getting. “Sir, I’m aware of the issues, but I’ll get her-”
Carson cut him off. “No, Clay, you aren’t aware. You’re the fucking monster, you’re meant to be keeping shit from happening, but instead everything is getting worse because you are getting soft.” He snapped. “You have one month, Clay. One month to get her back, or Linus dies.”
Clay froze, horror and fear worming into his chest, threatening to make his throat close up and block his breathing. “Carson, you can’t-”
“Yes, I fucking can, Clay.” Carson snarled. “That fox is of no use to me. I let him stay because you insist time and time again that he’s important, that turning him away would be terrible for us all, but it’d just be horrible for you. He’s making you soft. If he’s not, then prove it. One month, Clay. One month, and I’m putting you back in your role myself.”
Clay barely managed to choke out an agreement before hanging up. A month was plenty of time, but it wasn’t just about finding Rune. He had to make sure she didn’t escape again. He had to figure out how she’d gotten out in the first place and make sure it could never ever happen again.
It was enough to be an entire police investigation, and it was all on Clay’s shoulders, and he had to do it all in a month’s time.
He glanced towards the hallway that led to their rooms. Should he tell Linus? No, he couldn’t. The fox hybrid would no doubt freak out, or blame himself for not being more use or some bullshit like that.
No, this was Clay’s problem, that was his fault, and worrying Linus over it had no purpose.
He just had to deal with it. Alone. Like he was always meant to.
Maybe Carson was right. Maybe he was getting soft. It’d been a year since he’d moved in with Linus, and somehow the Kiophao hybrid had grown to be more comfortable than he’d ever been. He’d started talking about things he went through as a kid, started to deal with the burning jealousy he had for Archer. Things had been good, for once in Clay’s life, and he’d stopped being so cold.
Maybe that had been a mistake.
During all this thinking, Clay had been pacing, wiping down counters he’d already wiped earlier just to busy his hands to try and stop fucking thinking.
Clearly he’d been too loud double cleaning, or maybe he’d spoken too loud on his call, because there was suddenly a hesitant hand on his shoulder. “Clay...? Are you okay?” Linus asked softly, clearly still sleepy after probably being woken up by him.
Clay glanced at him. The fox hybrid had changed between waking up and coming out here, now in black sweatpants and an old graphic tee that was too old to see outside but worked as a comfy shirt. Clay was already in comfortable clothes of his own, he changed the second they walked in the door. He hated the feeling of jeans and tight shirts and anything that supposedly made him look “proper”. Linus’ ears were drooping a little in worry and tiredness as well, and Clay instantly felt like shit for having been too loud.
But he didn’t let that show, he just nodded. “Yeah... Yeah, I’m fine. Carson just wants me back out looking for the kid first thing tomorrow.” It wasn’t technically a lie, but it wasn’t the full truth either.
Linus tilted his head. “Makes sense I guess... If he wants you out early though, shouldn’t you be in bed?”
Clay sighed. “I guess. I just... needed to think.” He explained weakly.
Linus rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, the big scary monster needs to ponder his streategy for hunting his prey, I’m aware. Now come on, I’m not letting you worry yourself to death.”
Clay huffed. “Who said I was worrying about anything?”
Linus gave him the look that question deserved. “You did by sounding all panicked at the end of that call and then making a huge ruckus cleaning everything you already cleaned.”
“Fine,” Clay conceded, “I’ll go to bed.”
Somehow, Linus didn’t seem happy with that. “My bed.”
Clay shook his head. “No way. I’m getting up early tomorrow, and I already woke you up once.”
“Clay.” Linus said firmly, sounding more like an overbearing mother scolding their child than Clay’s roommate. “Don’t think I don’t know you. With shit on your mind, you’ll either clean all night and be exhausted tomorrow, lay in your bed without any sleep until the dawn, or you’ll come in my room anyway and pass out in my bed.”
Clay scoffed. “I do not do that.”
Ten minutes later, Clay found himself just giving in to Linus’ demands, and the fox hybrid was conked out within five minutes of being sure that Clay was going to stay in bed.
How did he make sure of it? By cuddling right up to him, resting his head on his chest before passing out. There was no way Clay could get up without waking him, and he couldn’t bring himself to argue when Linus had put him in this position.
So inevitably, Clay fell asleep as well, and it’s no one’s business that he did so without a single thought of the chaos that was to come.
The next morning, however, he was much too aware of what he had to do. That being whatever it took to make sure Linus didn’t die.
Starting with finding this goddamn child.
Clay had tried to get up quietly, but just as he couldn’t have last night without waking the fox hybrid, he couldn’t this morning. It led to a quick squabble over whether Linus should come or not, but Clay got him to just stay and go back to sleep as he left.
It was early morning, the sky a painting of cerulean that melted into the warm gold of the rising sun, and the crisp air whisking through the area on a breeze warned of the approaching fall season. It was early enough for only those with extremely early jobs to be out and about; very few shops or stalls were open in the face of the rapidly disappearing dark.
Clay hadn’t been bothered much by the cold as a kid, and still didn’t now, but wind was something that annoyed him to no end. It was one thing to have cold air, but an entire other for that air to move on its own. Especially when he had to wear shirts similar in design to those of a bird hybrid, keeping a slit in the back of it so he could extend his tentacles anytime if he needed to fight or grab something. Normally it was for wings, but Kiophao-specified clothing was a hell to find, and uncomfortable as all hell.
As he got further downtown, nearing the abandoned areas, he camouflaged himself, glad his power also let his disguise anything he was touching. Now invisible to everyone, it was easy to use his power without getting odd stares, hoisting him up from ledge to ledge until he was on the roof of an old building, easily crossing gaps between streets. He was at the spot the trail had ended last night within ten minutes, and he was disappointed to find there was no trail going on from the pool of blood. There were some drag marks going to the opening of the alley, but then the blood had all been smeared off of whatever had been dragged along there and there were no more traces of it.
He searched for a while, until the sky had evened out on a rich light blue color and the now-paled sun was visible from the streets in the mess of towering buildings. It was when he’d almost given up on this area and gone somewhere else to search that he noticed someone.
It wasn’t the kid, no, this guy was different. He seemed to be very relaxed and casual in this part of town, where only the wicked and the stupid dared tread, and he was supposedly on his way somewhere, given the way he seemed to be on the most direct route to Westside as possible. He couldn’t get much more obvious, but when Clay had gotten close enough – still camouflaged, by the way – to see his face, he’d known he just had to tail him.
This guy was Archer’s “dad”, the fucker who’d broken in and whisked away the one person who could kind of relate to Clay’s struggles. Of course, he’d left Clay and every other kid there, only taking Archer.
What was his name again? Alastor or some shit? Sounded demonic enough to be accurate.
No matter what the guy's name was, Clay tailed him all the way to Westside. He had to admit, the guy had good instincts, as once Clay had started following, he’d started looking over his shoulder and taking more discreet routes, meaning he could likely feel the eyes on him.
Good. Be afraid of me.
The man stopped in Westside, like Clay had suspected, but not doing anything of the normal. There was a fountain a short ways from the building Carson and Linus and Clay himself mostly worked in, built in commemoration of some event Clay couldn’t be bothered to know or care about.
This fountain had been completely, utterly unimportant in Clay’s eyes for years, just a sentimental thing people passed by and kids threw coins in for some reason. But as this man glanced around for the billionth time, slipped a letter from his jacket pocket to in a crack between two bricks, and put the brick back, Clay knew this was something important.
He didn’t care about the guy. He was a dad to Archer, and as envious as Clay got of that, he wasn’t gonna go arrest the guy for breaking into their “home” years ago and taking him, nor for the crimes he’d heard of the man commiting.
Was that proving Carson’s point of Clay getting soft? Maybe. Did he care? No.
Especially not as the guy walked away, Clay letting him leave in favor of this letter. He jumped from the rooftop he was on, hooking the ledge with one of this tentacles so he didn’t fall to his death as he went down, and pulled the letter from the crack.
It instantly went into the translucent color Clay himself was shifted into, matching its surroundings until Clay disappeared into an alley on his way back home. There was no trace of the kid, and he figured he’d have to find another way to track her down. At least, that was until Clay had gone back to normal, letting his camo melt away and he opened the letter that was most definitely not meant for him.
We got her. There were minor issues, but we have it under control with constant monitoring. Meet me at the usual spot when the time is right for an update.
-Alastair
So that was the man’s name. Alastair. Eh, he figured he’d gotten it close enough. Alastor was so close to the actual name that Clay would bet money that he existed as Alastair’s twin somewhere out there doing shit just as bad or worse than him and being more public about himself, like be a radio host or some shit.
More importantly, now he knew he had go back. He had to refind Alastair before he got too far away, figure out where he lived, and look into this. No one was this sneaky for no reason. They were going behind someone’s back, and while Clay had a questionable memory when it came to names, reputation was something that stuck, and the only thing people like Alastair snuck around was the law.
They were doing something, and Clay was going to find out what.
(3908 words)