Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Rex has heard of Quarry. Everyone who's lived in Hong Kong for a month has heard of Quarry.

The name is whispered on the street like a new drug; dangerous and illegal and impressive. Not many can give a description to accompany the name, and almost none can say what his face looks like, but anyone can say he's terrifying. He's absolutely deadly.

A crime boss, a dealer, he's connected to ever major crime that happens in Hong Kong. He's intimidating and connected and powerful.

Anybody who knows the name also knows the phrase that follows it like a bad slogan; Nobody messes with Quarry.

Everyone knows that. If some fool even tries to, nobody gets away with messing with Quarry.

Well, that's what they say, anyway.

A smirk tugs Rex's lips up as he struts around the room, trailing fingers over a large oak desk.

“Nobody messes with Quarry, huh?” He mutters to himself, looking around the wide space. “That sounds awful boring. Let's mix things up, shall we?”

He spots the beautiful gray safe behind Quarry's enormous desk chair and his grin stretches. Plopping himself into the chair, “Surprisingly comfortable. Good choice, Quarry.”, he rolls right up to the machine and presses a gloved hand against it.

“Hey there.” He smiles to it. Rex likes to think it's grinning back, just as smugly as he is.

It's one of the most complicated safes that money can buy in Hong Kong, after all. It has layers of codes and alarms and things that are nigh impossible to crack unless you know the combination. Titanium outside, no chance of breaking it open, and it has the latest and greatest software.

Plus, it's in Quarry's office/room, behind Quarry's chair , a tiny security camera in the corner always on it – Rex scoffs a little to himself at the security measures.

“Bit overkill, if you ask me.”

Then again, he reconsiders with a laugh, he's sitting right in front of it, security camera disabled, no Quarry in sight. Maybe the guy needs an upgrade .

“Okay. Be a nice safe and open up for me.” He coos and closes his eyes as he sends his nanites in to unlock it.

There's a soft, almost click feeling from his nanites, and then a high beep from the safe as it creaks open.

And then there's nothing but brown and white (1). Crisp, bundled stacks of bills, all with lovely 1000 's printed on top, all waiting patiently to be stolen from their cold, secure prison.

“Come to Rexy.” He whispers.

He shovels as much as he can into a small bag at his hip, a feeling like hunger overcoming him as he grabs more and more.

Pretty soon he can carry no more and he sighs as he closes the door on the rest of the fortune slowly.

“Sorry, guys.” He says to the remaining bills.

Rex zips the black bag up carefully, making sure not to catch any money in the zipper. There's a certain glee mixing with adrenaline in his stomach, along with another emotion he can't place. A stick'ed-it-to-the-man sort of feeling, he decides, his teeth flashing white in the dark room.

“Thanks for the cash, Quarry.”

He slips out the open window he came in, sure to spin the chair one last time on his way out, and laughs as he drives into the night.

“Que pasa, muchachos! ” Rex yells as he kicks open his front door. It slams against the wall with a loud boom and in the darkness he can see a figure bolt upright on the sofa.

Faint, muttered Chinese cursing meets his ears, as well as distant sleepy groans and mumbles of annoyance. Ah, the familiar sounds of home.

He grins as he flips on the light.

“Isn't this a beautiful morning?”

There are more groans and even a pillow thrown at him, though he dodges the pillow with ease. Two figures stumble into the living room, all three mad at him.

“Shut up, Rex!” Tuck grumbles.

“I will kill you.” Skwydd seethes. The threat is somewhat subdued by the fact that he's wrapped in a blanket and nearly walking into the wall.

“Ugh. It's not even morning.”

Rex makes a big show of looking at a watch he doesn't have.

“Nope, totally wrong, Cricket. It's 4:30 AM. Definitely morning.”

He's the only one to laugh at his joke. He really doesn't care.

“We hate you.” Is the sour, muffled reply.

“Nah,” He denies. “You can't hate awesome. Especially when you hear what I did.”

They don't want to, but one by one they get up, wrap blankets around themselves, and collapse sleepily on the couch to await his story.

Rex gazes out at their bed heads and their droopy eyes and their drool-stained chins and their glares all pointed in his direction, and he's torn.

He wants to laugh himself silly at them, but he also wants to scoop them up and give them the biggest bear hug of their lives.

They are ridiculous oddballs and weirdos, all strange in appearance and a little prickly in personality.

Thing thing is, these are his ridiculous oddballs and weirdos. He would do anything for them.

Slamming the door as hard as he can behind him (What? He likes them, that doesn't mean he's nice), he snickers at the flinches it produces from half-dozing friends and leaps onto his chair. He settles in, comfortable, and tosses the bag carelessly onto the table.

“So who wants to guess what I did tonight?” He asks, smirking.

Tuck half-heartedly raises a bandaged hand.

“You were a horrible person and you interrupted my eight hours?”

“Besides that.” He waves a gloved hand flippantly at him.

“Isn't that enough?” Tuck shoots back.

“Rex. What's in the bag?” Cricket interrupts, her grass-green eyes a little clearer than a moment ago. She's eyeing the black thing as if it's insulting her from the coffee table, a crease in her brow and an offended expression in place.

Rex's smile widens into a grin and he pretends not to notice how she blushes at his bright teeth.

“Guess.” He says.

This is irritating enough to kill Cricket's blush and she stops toying with her hair to glare at him. She's not alone, he notes with a little laugh.

“Come on. Just guess.” He urges.

“What makes you think we're in the mood for guessing games?” Skwydd snaps. Rex doesn't take offense: that's just how Skwydd always is, fully rested or not. Besides, he's learned that Skwydd's bark is worse than his bite. Or maybe sting. Do squids sting? Do they even bite?

He's lost track of the metaphor, he shakes his head at himself and sighs. Getting up, he walks over and unzips the bag and stomps to flop back down on his arm chair.

He finds the most comfort sitting sideways in it, feet dangling off one armrest and head resting on the other. It's a great view to observe their various expressions of shock and disbelief.

“I stole from Quarry.” He informs them gleefully, swinging his legs.

They don't say anything for a moment. He's pretty sure they're all awake now, though.

Skwydd is the first to react – he touches the money gently, reverently, like he's afraid of it, and turns on Rex.

“How much?” He demands.

Rex leans in as if it's a huge, wonderful secret, and whispers,

“Half of what was in his personal safe.”

Suddenly there's an explosion of indignation around him.

“Dude!”

“Rex, why?”

“Of all the stupidest things, Rex, this is just –”

“How much cash you think that is?” Skwydd asks over the other two, tone no grumpier than normal.

“– freaking unbelievable! I mean, I knew you were stupid, Rex, but this –”

“Probably like, three-hundred-eighty thousand dollars.(2)” Rex speculates with a shrug.

“– this is insane! The money isn't worth what's gonna happen next!”

None of them seem to be getting that the money wasn't really the point – although it will be nice to buy some stuff that the guys want for a change.

The point was more of a, look-what-I-did kinda thing. Look-who-I-just-messed-with-and-didn't-get-caught thing.
He wants to giggle like a school girl, almost does – he stole from Quarry. It's a crazy rush.

“What, did you leave a note that says, 'I O U 380 thousand'?” Skwydd snaps irritably. His eyes are continually drawn back to the stack, though, Rex notices.

“What do you think Quarry's gonna do when he finds out, Rex?”

“Oh, he'll probably be furious.” He says dreamily. Rex wishes he could be there to see the look on the man's face – it's gonna be awesome.

Cricket, Skwydd and Tuck all exchange the same look that has the same fear scribbled in Sharpe all over it.

It's the Rex-is-completely-bonkers look. Honestly, they use it so much it's starting to get a little tiresome.

“Rex, you did a bad thing.” Cricket stresses.

A scowl overcomes his face.

Has he suddenly become a five-year-old? What's with the scolding voice?

“I did an awesome thing.” He corrects. “And yeah, I know there will be consequences when he finds out, but I'm telling you he didn't catch me! All he knows is that someone broke in and stole his money. He has no idea that it's me.”

Skwydd and Tuck are looking more and more relieved by the second. It seems they care mostly about the 'being caught' part of this whole endeavor, not about morals of stealing or whatever.

“You're sure though?” Tuck squints at him. “He didn't catch you on camera or nothing?”

“I disabled all the cameras, easy as pie.” Rex promises.

“Still...wasn't this a big risk, Rex?” That's Cricket's quiet, disappointed voice.

She completely ignores Skwydd and Tuck beginning to count out the money in favor of staring into Rex's soul.

He hates it when she does this, hates it worse than her shy, flirty glances and even her infuriated glares.

The girl isn't yelling or screaming or trying to kick him with her tough, strong legs – she's giving him her disappointed gaze, like he's her child and he messed up.

It makes him ashamed and angry at the same time.

“No, it wasn't a big risk. It was a zero risk because I knew I could do it. And I did. This guy is a jerk, Cricket, and he deserved to be taught a lesson.” He insists. “And if we just happen to profit from that lesson, well...good for us.”

“Yay. Good for us.” She says quietly. Though she doesn't argue the point anymore, she has a mix of dread and worry on her face and he knows she still doesn't agree.

Unexpected anger flares sharp in his chest. Abruptly, completely, he's mad at her.

“Say it.” He hisses. “Just say it, Cricket.”

She rolls her eyes, magenta hair falling forward in annoyance as she complies.

“Nobody messes with Quarry, Rex. Nobody.”

“Guess my name's 'nobody' then, cause Quarry just got messed with.”

“'Nobody' won't get away with it.” She says, shaking her head at him like he's the idiot.

“You think she'll shut up if we buy her girly stuff?” Skwydd asks Tuck, the pair now completely at ease with Rex's actions. There are bills warm in their hands and a relaxation to their postures.

“Yeah, like those Blythe (3) dolls she's been wanting for forever?” Tuck laughs. Surprisingly, Skwydd even cracks a smile.

A dark expression flitters over Cricket's face. But maybe Rex only imagined it because it's gone in the next breath and there's only exasperation lingering on her odd, grasshopper-colored features.

"Báichī.” She mutters at them. “I'm telling you, those things are seriously  creepy.”

It's a sentiment she's shared many times before.

“Buy me the new iPhone and maybe I'll forgive you.” She orders.

Normally they would say no way and taunt her, ask what she would do in retaliation. It might turn into a prank war that would be actually pretty amusing to watch on the outside but absolute hell to suffer through on the inside, and Rex would inevitably have to play peace-keeper, a job which he sucks at.

Now, though, they have money and it's no issue, so Tuck shrugs and nods at her. No war, no peace-keeper needed. It brings Rex's good mood back.

Cricket gives Tuck an imperious head dip back, as though he is extremely lucky not to face her wrath.

“Now if you don't mind, some of us have some sleep to get back to.” She shoots Rex a cold look, fury not quite diminished yet, and stomps back to her room.

An uncomfortable, irked feeling worms its way into his rib cage, squeezing his stomach. He doesn't care what she thinks, he tells himself. This was a great a idea.

It doesn't quite feel like the truth, though.

Chapter Text

Rex doesn't remember how he got to Hong Kong. He doesn't even think that it's odd that he's here until he realizes he's mostly speaking Spanish, not Chinese.

On particularly maddening days, he will stretch his memory as far back as it will go, until his head pounds and he is breathless from concentrating, but the first thing he can recall is a damp alley in Hong Kong. There's nothing else.

No images of Mexico or America, nothing.

Just...an alley.

That part, at least, he remembers well.

.

.

.

.

(6 months ago)

It's dark and damp in the alley, with only faint red lights above to see by.

There's a broken bike, crumpled like paper by his feet. A soft rattly noise overhead is made by a kitty balloon tangled in telephone wires.

An air conditioner on the wall has stopped spinning and he stares at it, numbly, without knowing why.

It's raining – or it was, the puddles around him evidence enough – but he doesn't move. He doesn't know where he'd go.

He doesn't know where he is.

It feels like he has just popped into existence, then and there, with no prior experiences with living. But no, that's not right...

He doesn't know nothing, exactly, and he thinks that if he had just appeared from nowhere he wouldn't know up from down.

He knows up from down. He knows that he is cold, shivering in his worn t-shirt. He knows that if he stays cold for too long, bad things will happen – he will get sick.

He knows he is alone and he is scared. He knows, knows like it is carved into his bones, that he isn't supposed to be alone. There are people supposed to be with him, or looking for him at least.

It takes a long, shivering moment for him to find the word he wants. For a second he thinks he is crazy, that there is no such word at all – then it comes to him, shooting through his core.

Parents.

He's supposed to have parents.

But he has nothing on him except dirty, mud-stained clothes and shoes with holes in them. Nothing in his pockets except misery and confusion.

There is nothing and no one to tell him what to do, where to go.

So cold, alone, and bewildered, he stands in the alley and waits.

Ten minutes later, he realizes his name is Rex.

Twenty minutes later, Rex starts to cry.

That first night he sleeps in an old, smelly abandoned building.

He has no watch, no way of telling how long he spent blinking cluelessly in the alley, but sometime after the shivers became constant and his teeth began to chatter is when he left.

The sky didn't change. It was dark when he 'began' (he thinks he likes that better than 'popped into existence' – has a certain poetry to it) and it's dark when he finds a crumbling, boarded up building that looks a bit warmer than outside.

So maybe it's been an hour. Maybe it's been a day – he has no idea. How do you tell such things?

His first night he picks his way through broken bricks and old floors and a couple of rats and he sleeps curled up in the cleanest, warmest corner he can find, head against his knees and arms clutched close.

It takes a long time to get to any actual sleeping though. Mostly, he thinks.

He wonders if he's supposed to be somewhere warmer right now. He wonders if there's a home – and oddly enough he can picture such a thing, clean and bright and filled with warmth – that's waiting for him to return to it.

But if so, no one told him. He thinks he has to have a mother and father, is starting to realize that people don't magically appear in alleys, but he is confused.
Wouldn't he know if he has parents? Wouldn't he recall their faces and names and jobs and hobbies?

He cannot have begun, as he likes to put it, this very night. That is pure fiction. Yet there is nothing in his head. He is as empty as...as what? As empty as his belly is of food, he suddenly decides, a bit pleased with himself.

He doesn't remember ever living before, being hungry before.

What were you supposed to do when you were hungry? He wonders.

Sitting there, still shivering slightly, Rex wracks his brain and thinks and thinks, but all that comes to him is the same word as before:

Parents. Parents gave you food. Too bad he's fresh out of those.

Another idea trickled down the back of his mind, and he almost laughs at it's simplicity.

Money. Money could get you food just as well as parents, even though he isn't sure where he learned that.

Sadly, he thinks as he glances down at his empty pockets, he has no money, either. He has absolutely nothing.

Surely there are supposed to be people who could help him with these things? He thinks. Surely he won't stay lost forever.

There are also things such as ID's and wallets, something tells him, but again, he doesn't have them. But...but. There are adults, police, who are meant to help him if he gets lost.

He isn't sure how he knows that either. Although, that sounds like a good plan, finding police, but he doesn't know how to.

The information feels jumbled up in his head, mixing around like one of those lottery wheels where you stirred around paper numbers; all the information is there, but it's random what comes out and when.

Slowly, a few things slide back into his brain.

911. Something whispers in his head.

Yes! Right! There are numbers you can call when you're in trouble – but he slumped down, defeated. He has no phone. There are people you can ask, people who answer the number probably – but where are they, he wonders?

He thinks someone is meant to explain how to do these things to him, how to live and survive, because otherwise how do other people do it?

He doesn't know. He just doesn't know . A sigh gusts from him. He is sure the night hasn't past and already he is so tired of not knowing.

That's his last thought before exhaustion takes over and he drifts into troubled, bewildering unconsciousness.

 Day is just as perplexing and terrifying as night, only there's more light. He stumbles on cracked sidewalks and travels the City (he doesn't remember if he knew that word the First Night, but it comes now easy enough, though no name follows 'The City'), following crowds and lit signs and voices.

It's unnerving, the way he's ignored(1). People avoid looking at him at all costs – and even when they are caught in his gaze, they give him a fake smile that looks painful and dash away quickly.

He feels like a ghost.

He's not acknowledged, except to be avoided, he's not bumped into, least not often, and he knows he can reach out and touch someone but they glare at him if he does. It's more horrifying than being an almost-ghost, so he doesn't. Not after the first time.

They don't wish to help him. They can't help him, he realizes eventually, because nobody is making sounds that he understands.

Half-an-hour goes by (there's a clock outside a shop that he watches) and he wonders if they are insane or he is, to talk in a way no one else does.

Eventually, though, he bumps into a woman that looks different from the rest, and what she says is perfectly clear to him.

She tells him that she is in a rush, can't help him, and do his parents always let him talk to strangers?

He's just happy he's not crazy.

It's a different language he realizes, with a little laugh to himself. He's not sure why he couldn't summon the word before. It's certainly not hard now.

That evening he sits on a bench, holding a piece of food he'd stolen from the trash, and listens as people stride by. Listening helps – he's beginning to realize that he doesn't fit in in this city, but doesn't yet comprehend why.

They are Chinese. Or Asian or something – but they're definitely speaking something like Chinese. The word fits comfortably on his tongue and following closely behind is the connected word, 'English'.

He speaks English (and Spanish). They speak Chinese. Why hadn't he known that before?

It hits him that he doesn't belong here if he can't speak the language and he wonders where he does belong.

Unfortunately, this...isn't something that ever comes back to him. Not like the words.

But Rex never does stop looking.

The cup of tea his hands are curled around is cold, it's warmth faded hours ago, yet he holds it still.

He stares into the dark liquid but doesn't see it, really, and wonders how he can still feel heat on his fingers.

“Are you alright, kid?” Asks the waitress, concern swirling in her deep black eyes. Everything feels dark here – all the people have scowls and turn their dark heads away, and surely night is night everywhere, but it feels lonelier here, with less light than ever. Yet somehow, despite her ink-blue uniform, she seems full of light.

He tries not to think about how he's brown brown brown in this new world of two colors, like he's a normal person that just stepped into a black-and-white movie.

“I...I'm fine.” He stammers, then blinks and swallows. The words taste strange – he's still so new to this conversation thing. Yes, he spoke with the stranger, before (and don't you need to speak to order tea?), and surely he's been taught how by a person (mother, father, sister, brother), yet he can't recall it. Words still feel so fresh and awkward on his tongue.

“Thank you...” He tests his voice slowly. “For the tea.”

Somewhat bewildered, the girl gives him a smile and ignores the fact that he hasn't drunken a sip of it.

“You're welcome.” There's a sort of mumble on the 'r' and maybe the 'l' too, hinting that this isn't her native language.

Perhaps that's why most people don't look at him or even try to talk with him, he theorizes – none of them speak his language. Indeed, as he breathes and blinks and remembers that there's a whole other world outside of his confused mind, he hears sounds, words, conversations that don't makes sense.

Some remind him of places he's never been, of pictures he's never seen, and it's with a very dry gulp that he wonders when this will hit him fully. This whole...not-knowing-anything thing.

So he attempts to distract himself.

“I'm..I'm Rex.” He tells her, then frowns, momentarily lost in the pause that should've been his last name. Doesn't he have another name? Don't most people have one? He wonders.
Unaware of this, she gives a little head bob that could've become a bow it was so deep; yet she seems to stop herself half-way and grins.

“Rex. Latin for 'king'. That is an odd name for someone so lost.”

He looks up at her. Perhaps this is the distraction he wanted, but...it catches him off-guard.

She offers him a smile, seeing his bewilderment.

“Mai-Wen Ning. I study Latin. And English. And many, many others. I am interested in languages and meanings of things.”

“Oh.” Is all he can say at the semi-speech. This new information looks odd compared with the person before him – a minimum wage worker, dressed in a cheesy maid dress, oily hair escaping confinement.

It's difficult to completely separate intelligence and appearance, he learns, and it's only early in the game but already he doesn't think he's doing very well. He's not doing good with anything, really.

“That's why...you're the only one who'll talk to me?” He's not sure if it's a question or a statement, but she answers anyway.

“Yes. Many people who come through here,” She gestures over the bar at the booths beyond. “Know many languages, but English is not often among them(2).”

“Oh.” He says again.

“If you do not mind...” She begins, and there's a hesitance in her voice that makes him pause. Still, she's been nothing but kind, if certainly not interesting.

“Yes?”

“If you do not mind, what is it that you are doing here...alone?”

Somehow his heart is caught in his throat and he can't breathe. There's something wrong with him, the room is spinning, he should sit down – no, he's already sitting down. Should he stand up? No, no that's silly.
But why can't he breathe, he needs to breathe, isn't that important?

Distantly, he can hear Mai-Wen talking on and on like it matters still, when he's obviously suffocating right in front of her.

“...not many young ones travel by themselves. You are but a child, surely there is someone worried about you?”

Perhaps she means her words to be kind. In his awful, grey, oxygen-less haze, he only feels slicing, stabbing pain blood at her questions and implications.

Because he is alone. And he doesn't know why. He never knows why.

Right now, he doesn't know anything more than this pain.

He is so, so lonely, and so incredibly overwhelmed with grey and depression. It's not fair, all of him is screaming. The girl is right after all – he's only a child, and he is horribly, massively irrevocably, lost lost lost.

Maybe that's why he's been sitting here for so long. Maybe he's waiting to be found.

They have to kick him out two hours later. It's closing time, they tell him. Maybe in apology, Mai-Wen puts a new paper cup of tea in his trembling hands as she guides him outside. She says something about parents and police, and he nods distantly when he feels her worried gaze on him. He has no idea what she asked.

Later, he stumbles back to the same crumbling building that second night, not knowing where else to go. He curls up to sleep in the back, tea clutched like a stuffed animal in his hands.

He still can't breathe.

Chapter Text

They live in an old water tower. The place is inconspicuous on the outside; deceptively small, brown wood and rusting metal, fading spray paint on the side.

It's slightly illegal, but no one cares about the tower anyway, so they don't worry about it.

It's in a part of town that isn't big on the police either, so no one even tries to report them, and it's sad, abandoned appearance is enough to discourage the thieves nearby.

It's their hideout; their lair. It's perfect.

Rex remembers when it wasn't though – he recalls when it was barely habitable.

It used to be a water tower for some small-time investment company, until the corporation went bankrupt and they had to abandon the building. That part of town, already dubious at the time, became notoriously shady and disreputable and no one else would buy the building.

Years past, nails rusted, people forgot. A few people (hobos, probably) had tried to crash there before Rex, as evidenced by the poorly fit door and many food wrappers and things.

The smell drove them away, most likely. Rex couldn't breath the first time he stepped foot in there, couldn't do much besides let his eyes water and try not to suck in the horrible, stinging musk of the place.

He would've abandoned it too, honestly, just like everyone else had given up on it. But then he met Tuck. Then things changed.

Then he decided that although he couldn't do it, maybe they could do this – maybe they could make it a home.

Or at least liveable. Rex thought that was a pretty good compromise.

So they spent months hiding from the world, stealing what they needed, and playing 'house' with a water tower that started off with dead animals in it. They didn't have any parents. They didn't have much food. They had only the money they could steal.

But at the time, for the amnesiac and the outcast, fixing up the place had been fun.

Eventually they moved in cots and a portable stove and chairs. They ran into an older EVO named Ren Zhu, and he helped them immensely, not being flat-broke and all. Probably something to do with the fact that he'd had a job before the Change hit.

Over the years they got a kitchen, a bathroom, a living room complete with a sofa – even a bedroom or two.

It was small, almost cramped at times, but it was nice. It was home.

Rex lived there with Tuck and Ren for a while, till he figured out he could cure people. Ren left a human again, promising to visit. They never saw him again, but they met others.

Rex and Tuck watched four or five people come in, become friends, and leave. Sometimes they hated it. Other times, it just seemed like that was how the world worked.

Now a nice, cozy four live there – Skwydd, Cricket, Tuck, and Rex. Cricket got the back room, Skwydd had glared himself into getting the tiny, bathroom-sized other bedroom, and Tuck and Rex slept in the living room.

They had a pull-out bed on the couch, a cot, and a chair that was surprisingly comfortable to sleep in. Usually Rex claimed the sofa, though, being so called 'leader' and all.

Everyone kinda loved playing family.

Sure, they were too young to work and either had to steal or beg or borrow to eat, and in the mornings everyone hated each other, but they'd found a good place.

They'd found a home.

(present day)

Rex is lying sideways on his chair, blanket pulled halfheartedly over his middle. His boots are still on and his mind can't stop churning as he stares up at the ceiling, an excited smile on his lips.

They have money.

It's such a new concept he's not such that it'll ever really sink in.

They actually have money. Not a few bills, not money enough for groceries, not pocket money – they have serious currency.

He thinks of all the things that could be done with it.

They could fix the part of the roof that leaks when it rains, they could get a laptop so they can watch movies together (he considers a tv but doesn't know how to install one, and doesn't think a cable guy would come up here), they could get new clothes and shoes, they could...they could...

So many possibilities.

The small part of Rex's brain devoted to 'common sense' cautions that he ought to be careful with the money he stole from Quarry, that throwing it around can only lead the man straight to him, but he doesn't want to listen.

His feels uncomfortable and squirmy in his 'bed', in his skin. He wants to go and buy the world for his friends, like right now. Tonight.

He didn't steal from Quarry primarily for comfort, actually he hadn't put as much thought into the theft as is probably smart, but now he wonders why not. If if this is how pumped he feels just having the bills in his possession, how excited will he be when they actually use them?

Still, Cricket's distinct disapproval puts a sour taste on his enjoyment. It taints his good mood even hours after she's gone to bed, hours after he's tried desperately to forget the genuine worry in her gaze.

He insists to himself that she's crazy, even though he's known her for awhile and knows that she's sometimes the most rational one of the group.

She's the one that always says, 'Stop. Think about this'. She's the one who rolls her eyes and walks away when the guys are about to do something they'll regret later. She's the one who actually got a decent education before she Changed(1).

She's the one that only slips into insanity when he grins too wide and she goes into 'crush-mode'.

Tuck and Skywdd are way more likely to act crazy than her.

But she's dragging down his fun. He whines to himself in the dark, feeling like a child.

She's ruining what was supposed to be the best victory of his life.

Scowling, he turns over on his chair – or, as over as he can will such little space.

“She's wrong.” He whispers, as though saying it out loud will make it true. “She's wrong.”

(5 and 1/2 months ago)

He finds Tuck first.

Actually, Tuck finds him, crashes into him while running away, but that's not important. It's pretty overwhelming to meet someone made of bandages, like some sort of mummy monster come to life, though when Rex sees him that's not his first thought.

It's a weird thought, actually, one that makes him question his sanity. As if the real-life mummy before him isn't crazy enough.

Finally, another American.

That accent, that wonderfully perfect pronunciation of English, the phenomenal, unhesitating understanding that bloomed on his face whenever Rex tries to talk.

He has missed this (only he can't remember ever living anywhere else, so how can he miss this?).

Rex forgives his careless running and his appearance and even his rude, “Watch it, punk!” almost instantly, so relieved is he to comprehend someone.

“Hey, you bumped into me.” He replies, tone betraying his delight. In the poorly lit alley way he glimpses the boy's eyes widen as he takes in Rex's non-Asian features, his utterly American accent.

“Y-you speak English.”

Rex wants to say that's because he is English, or American, or possibly Hispanic, but the words fail as uncertainty plagues him. He can't remember where he was born; he wouldn't know if his claim would be truth.

“And you're like, a mummy.” He says instead.

The boy's breathing quickens and he stumbles back a few steps. Rex can see he's about to bolt and as much as he understands, sympathies with the need to flee, he doesn't want this earnest comprehension to end.

“Wait! It's cool.” He calls, desperation in his voice. “I can turn into machines!”

Which probably sounds weird, but that's kinda how Rex's life is going at the moment. As if the no memories thing and the lost thing weren't enough on their own.

And the mummy looks about to smile, if only that terrified, pleading smile that you use to reassure crazy people that 'of course you aren't crazy'.

The guy sends a quick glance behind him. Rex feels the beginnings of worry form like mold in his stomach (what is the guy running from?).

“A-are you one of them? One that the nanites Changed?” The stranger asks.

Nanites. Rex has heard that word many times; on the news, in the language of these strangers, and in the empty, echoing lot of his mind. He knows that, due to an accident there are nanites in every living thing, knows that sometimes they change a person and sometimes it ain't pretty.

But there are only whispers of nanites changing someone into something less monstrous. Folk sometimes mention those who mutate but keep their mind, whisper it carefully like it's a secret or a lie. 

The thing is, there are so many that argue that they are still monsters. That everyone the nanites change are evil and cruel, and it's only a matter of time before those creatures start killing and destroying, as is their nature.

Rex realized what he was only recently. He is Changed, and monstrous too if he believes the tv. But this boy before him doesn't look the part - and Rex doesn't remember ever feeling like a monster. So what did that make them?

“I guess. I just make machines.” He says to the boy in front of him. “And talk to them, occasionally.” He adds.

“That's...that's awesome.” The boy breathes, toying with bandaged hands. It sounds like he means it.

Underneath fraying white cloth, wide orange eyes are excited and shinning. Rex thinks he's never seen a kid smile like that before – he thinks that in the whole time he's been here, he's never met someone so, so human.

There's a word, a kind, warm word that has fuzzy feelings attached to it like lint or cat fluff clings to clothes – a word that had alluded him for forever. Now, looking at this boy, it is the first thing to come to mind.

Friend. Friend.

He likes the way it tastes on his tongue, loves the potential in the single syllable. Could this boy be a...friend?

His face begins to hurt as a grin stretches over his features.

“I'm Rex. And I don't usually hang out in allies.” He introduces himself.

“Um...Tuck.”

It feels like the start of something, and Rex offers a gloved hand to shake like he sees people do in American movies.

A loud scream interrupts the almost handshake.

"我覺得他去這樣!"

The pair jump apart, fear driving everything else from the mummy...from Tuck's strangely emotional eyes.

“I have to go!” He cries, taking off in the direction he started in, before Rex was fortunate enough to be standing in the way.

Disappointment swamps him, making him feel so heavy he swears he sinks a foot into the wet concrete. He watches Tuck flee and has a horrible feeling that something important has just slipped through his fingers – it's the very same feeling he gets when he tries to summon a scrap of his past. It hurts, a little. Well...no. It hurts a lot.

Then the voices get louder, footsteps pound against the earth, and he thinks he ought to get going too.

But his feet don't turn the right way – they turn towards the path Tuck just took, and they run fast.

 He's spent two weeks completely alone.

He's not letting the first friend he's ever made go so easily. 

"Cómo va eso, amigo mío."  He whispers as he crouches next to Tuck. A silent flinch reverberates through his linen-wrapped (or maybe completely made of) body and his head whips around to stare at Rex.

“What are you doing here?” Tuck hisses angrily.

“Hiding.” He says. “This seemed like a good place.”

Tuck rocks uncertainly on his heels for a moment before nearing voices make up his mind for him.

“Just shut up.” He mutters, and presses himself deep into shadows.

There's something besides fear rolling around Rex's stomach, something that says he sucks at hiding, but he ignores it and shoves himself from view.

You could take these guys . A cocky, unafraid voice insists. You could beat 'em up, no problem.

He wonders if that's true. It feels like it is – that emotion, that confidence is growing inside, gobbling up his terror to make room for itself.

Just as he's about to stand up and do something stupid, they're here.

"这边走!" One shouts, voice deep and male. The sound of feet scuffing on concrete echoes, bounces around the alleyway.

Tuck's quick, worried breathing quiets to nothing.

Reluctantly, Rex tries to do the same. 

It takes what seems to be an eternity to Rex, crouched behind an empty, worn crate, but it's probably only about five minutes. Yet slowly, with curses of frustration, the angry men leave.

Tuck doesn't so much as twitch until not even the faint call of their voices can be heard, and doesn't stand up until there are but simple city noises all around them.

"Well, that was fun." Rex says to break the silence.

"Yeah," Tuck says. "Fun."

The mummy gets to his feet, brushing off dirt and water from his very very old jeans (Rex doesn't even think that makes a difference, the boy's pants are so dirt), and Rex quickly follows suit.

“So why were those guys chasing you?” Rex wonders, eyes curious and interested. (honestly, he's an idiot, how is he so thick?)

Tuck stiffens.

“I...look different.” He says. His head is turned away and he's examining the concrete beneath his boots. “Some people think because of that... they think I'm a monster.”

Honestly, Rex doesn't believe that (that Tuck could really be a monster), but he also thinks it would be pretty awesome to know one. He'd be able to brag about it to his friends! If he had friends, that is.

“You're pretty cool for a monster.” Rex tells Tuck with a smile.

He offers a shaky one in return.

“Wish everybody thought that.” He mutters.

“Yeah, well,” Rex flounders for a moment. “Not everyone can be cool.”

His reward is a tiny, choked laugh from the mummy in front of him. It's sad and beautiful at the same time, the small noise, and suddenly Rex doesn't want a million friends – he just wants one. This one, to be specific.

“Hey, um...” Rex has no idea how to ask this. He doesn't know if he's ever had a friend before. It can't hurt to just ask, can it?

“Wanna be friends?”

There's a wary expression steeling over Tuck's bandaged face, a tenseness to his shoulders that wasn't there a second ago.

“Really? Why?” The boy demands.

It kinda stings, Rex won't lie.

He shrugs,

“Just never had one. Thought you seemed nice.”

Tuck relaxes a little.

“Hey, it's cool, though.” Rex adds, covering his hurt. “Not a problem. I'm sure lots of other mummies are wandering alley ways looking for new friends. I'll probably find another one soon enough.”

 A childish, surprised giggle bursts from Tuck, and the boy shakes his head with a full smile on his face.

"I doubt that." He says. "But maybe this one will do."

They stand there for a second before Rex finds the courage to ask,
"You wanna get outta here?"

Because the alley is damp and dark and stinks a little bit, and sure, Rex doesn't have a better place to go, exactly, but they can at least walk cleaner, nicer streets.

And Tuck nods, so they do.

It's been two hours. Rex had enough stolen pocket money (he still isn't sure how money works here - which bills are worth more or less) to buy both of them curry fishballs on a stick (2), and they'd enjoyed their treats as they strolled down the almost deserted street. No one has even looked twice at Tuck or Rex - although Tuck had tugged the hood of his sweatshirt up and shoved his hands into his pockets.

The sun begins to set in between the city buildings. Red and gold play on glass windows and the lights for night bars are starting to flicker on.

Rex knows Tuck will probably leave soon, when night arrives. But this having-a-friend thing has been so fun for the short time it's lasted, and he's not quite ready to go find some abandoned building to crash in and be lonely right now.

So they dally. The pair have meandered into a slightly bad part of the neighborhood, filled with thieves and homeless people - and homeless thieves, Rex supposes - and so Tuck has put his hood down again, walking in plain sight.

 "No, no. I'm serious - I'm like, a total loser." Tuck is promising solemnly. "I know what I look like - I'm not cool at all."

Well that just won't do, Rex thinks. He can't have his new friend thinking badly of his (clearly awesome) self.

“No, no! Eres muy chévere!” Rex assures him with a grin. "Eres como una momia egipcia!"

The Spanish rolls off his tongue with ease and familiarity, and he almost doesn't notice he's switched languages until he sees the look on his buddy's face.

Tuck's returning grin is slower, puzzlement lingering in his orange eyes.

"Um...sorry. No comprendo.”

Oh.

Rex offers a shrug, slinging his arm comfortably around his new friend. Tuck is surprised but doesn't shrug him off, leaving a warm feeling in Rex's middle like he'd just drunken a cup of hot tea. They continue down the street like that.

No one bothers them.

“So what about Chinese? You know Chinese?” He asks.

“Dude.” Tuck groans. Rex wants to laugh because this is the first time someone has gotten him so completely, and it's sorta amazing. “I can't even say hello.”

Although the word for hello is on the tip of his tongue, Rex doesn't tell him. Suddenly curiosity grips him, prickles at parts he didn't know were even there.

“So you don't speak a word of Spanish or Chinese, but you're just chillin' in Hong Kong? What are you doing here, bro?"

Tuck's shoulders tense and the pair slow to a stop underneath a blinky street lamp, the gaining darkness sudden all around them. Rex retracts his hand and wishes he hadn't asked. Wishes he doesn't still want to know.

“Well.. you don't speak the language either!” The mummy points out defensively. “Why are you here?”

Rex swears he would kill someone to know the answer to that question.

A lump in his throat, he fixes his eyes on a empty wrapper near his feet. He thinks that friends....friends don't have secrets.

Plus he doesn't even know how to keep secrets, he reminds himself. But he's also never had anyone to tell secrets to, so maybe the former is a lie.

“I...I've always been here.” He says, struggling to find the words. He still doesn't look up.

“I woke up here. I was just...I just opened my eyes and I was here. I was standing in an alley, and it was an alley in Hong Kong. I can't remember ever being anywhere else.”

Chancing a glance at Tuck he sees confusion, disbelief and feels his heart ache for losing that understanding, that getting-ness between them.

“I don't think I was born here!” He hurries to add. “I mean, I'd probably know Chinese or Cantonese if I were. But...I just...I can't remember it.”

Tuck frowns and taps his chin.

Rex waits for him to run or laugh and wonders if, when the boy does one or both, he might cry.

“There's a word for that.” Tuck says finally. “I think it's...I think it's called amnesia.”

That isn't what Rex thought he'd say.

There isn't..he hadn't thought - there's a word for his problems?

Why hadn't anyone told him?

There could be other people with this issue, there could be- there could even be help, or a cure. This word could fix everything wrong in his life, he thinks, dazed a little.

And yet. Yet...

Yet word hurts nonetheless. It slithers cold down his spine like ice, it tastes smooth and coppery and wrong on his tongue, and he hates it.

He hates that it feels so right.

 “Amnesia. Yeah.” He agrees, desperately wanting to rinse his mouth of the word. It's weird but it fits - and though upset, some part of Rex falls back into place.

Something clicks inside his head.

And so, swallowing back his emotions, Rex feels a bit of confidence slip back in, and he feels like he can ask Tuck the same question the mummy had pestered him with.

"I told you my crazy story." He says, using a cheery tone to lighten the mood. "I promise you whatever yours is, it can't be half as bad."

Rex pokes him with his elbow a couple times because he can't stand the silence. All this gets him is a glare.

But eventually, Tuck opens his mouth.

"Well, it started two years ago. With my mom." He whispers, rubbing his arms.

There's naught but quiet for a minute, but Rex waits. He stands there as the sun goes down and the cold comes out, and he hears all of Tuck's story.

It's long and tragic and not even Tuck's fault, mostly. It's just kinda the way things go sometimes.

When it's over, Rex gives him a hug - his first hug. And though he has to shove down a little anger, a little jealousy (at least Tuck remembers his family), Rex manages to smile at him at the end.

Somehow, Tuck finds the will to smile back.

Right then and there, under a blinking street light with darkness around them, Rex vows that he won't let anyone else hurt his new, oh-so-fragile friend.

Rex has no idea that in a few months, he will be the one to break that vow.

In a few months, everything will have changed.

Chapter Text

(present day)

 It's difficult going to sleep that night. Impossible, in fact.

I'm not afraid of Quarry. Rex insists to himself over and over. I'm not.

But come tomorrow, everyone else is.

When he leaves the hideout the next day (well, in the next few hours, he supposes), there's a subdued sort of terror creeping first into the dark parts of the city. The fear grows silently, quickly, and engulfs everything, especially noise, within the hour.

Really, most have no idea what has happened. No one mentions the word 'theft'. Maybe that's what makes it worse – the fact that they don't know what happened, only that Quarry is pissed.

Well okay, no. He's not pissed.

Quarry is livid. Never having met the man, Rex doesn't know what his rage is like in person, but the second-hand madness is pretty terrifying in itself.

Everyone is quiet. Scared. The slightest prying reveals nerves and explosions that they immediately regret, the slightest push has them swearing that they know nothing.

Many people go into hiding, not even out of force – purely out of fear. Most people refuse to show their face.

Early in the afternoon, Rex stops by the Gang's favorite sushi place, intent on buying the most expensive thing there only to find that Mr. Xiao has closed it for the day.

He frowns intently at the sign taped on the inside of the door. 'Family emergency', it says.

Xiao's only living relatives reside in America.

It's with hunger and something else rolling in his stomach that he trudges away, frown clinging to his face.

These are the consequences Cricket tried to warn him of, he realizes, a bit of doubt creeping in. This is what you didn't see coming.

Rex had known that he would make the crime boss furious – he had – he simply hadn't predicted the full reach it would go.

No matter, he tells himself. You wanted to upset Quarry.

"Good job." He mutters quietly, scuffing his boot against the sidewalk.

The day's initial glee and excitement are tainted now, dirtied by uncertainties and realities and plenty of other things he hadn't thought through.

He shuffles through their neighborhood and on to a less shady one, hands shoved deep in pockets and head pondering half-baked decisions.

Rex decides he doesn't regret this. He won't regret this, he can't. All the original reasons for stealing from this very influential man still lurk deep inside, all the dislike for what he did and the hatred for how he lived.

In his mind, Rex can still picture the way all three of his friends tensed when he casually mentioned the rich guy.

He can visualize the way Tuck slows whenever the pair passes by one of Quarry's buildings, can almost feel how quiet and terrified the mummy gets. Tuck has never even met the guy and yet the mere name of him is enough to send him back to how he was before Rex ran into him.

He can see vividly Skwydd come home in the early days and tug down a sleeve on his bruised arm, can hear him growl that his past is none of Rex's business.

Rex can't picture the look on Cricket's face when they walk past a crime scene that has Quarry  written all over it, but that's only because he has never looked – he can't bear to see the horror and shock there.

So maybe it had been a rebellion in part. Maybe it had been pure disgust at how Quarry's very ripples ruined everything they touched.

Maybe Rex just couldn't stand his family living in fear.

Whatever the reason, he's adamant that the crime boss deserved it and more, and if he had a second chance he'd do the same thing all over again.

Somehow though, he thinks as he swallows and stares out at the city, this was supposed to create less fear.

But maybe this panic would diminish if they knew that Quarry had just been messed with. Badly. And more than that?

They'd gotten away with it scot-free.

A smile slowly tugs itself across his face and he spins on his heel, turning to run back the way he came.

Rumors work both ways, don't they? And Rex knows just the people to help him start one.

(5 months ago)

Silently, unspoken, the pair reach a mutual decision - they are not to be parted.

But they still have to sleep.

"Mi casa, es su casa." Rex says, gesturing grandly to the hovel that is his home. Sure, there's broken bits of bottles and so much dust that you could choke, but it's nice and dark, and there's oodles of corners and crannies that one can curl up in. The building was once upon a time a restaurant of some sort - now several boarded up windows have been unboarded, and most of its bricks lay scattered on the ground.

Tuck takes one look at his current crashing site and drags Rex away.

His grip is tight and worried on his arm, unrelenting and...scratchy, somehow.

"No." Is all he says. "Just..no."

Even if Rex can't remember any other home, he too recognizes the awfulness of it and lets Tuck lead him someplace new.

Who was he kidding! He had known the place was rank the very first night he'd spent there. But when one has no where else to go...

Well. You pretend what's there is enough.

 Glancing over his shoulder, Rex eyes the building - the only place he can remember living - one last time and sighs.

Good riddance.

No place can be any worse than that. Rex thinks, feeling optimistic. Yeah. The mouse in the corner was starting to look murderous. Also, the smell wasn't getting any more pleasant.

Sometime after the third turn around a dark alley corner, he starts to wonder though.

"So..uh...where are we going?"

Because this is starting to feel familiar, and he's somewhat worried that Tuck's going to beat him up and take his money or something. Well, Rex has no money right now, but still. Tuck may not know that.

"Somewhere...safer. That building you were staying at is where gangs and druggies go sometimes. Two weeks ago there was shooting there."

A shiver crawls down Rex's spine. He could've been sleeping near the spot where someone died. Ew.

"Oh." Tuck says suddenly, letting Rex go and rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry. I kinda saw that bad place and just freaked out. You didn't leave any stuff back there, did you?"

Rex thinks of paper cups with tea and empty food wrappers.

"No." He says truthfully.

"Good." Tuck smiles. "I-I just...I didn't want you to stay there are get hurt. You don't have to - I mean, I was just gonna lead you to this neighborhood with people like us."

Rex squints at him.

"Changed." Tuck clarifies. "People there aren't freaked out by appearances like mine," Here he gestured down at himself, "And usually they won't like, stab you in the back while you're sleeping. So, you know - I thought it would be a step up. From where you were staying."

Fair enough, Rex thinks.

Abruptly Tuck looks embarrassed, and would probably be turning red if his skin wasn't made out of white strips of cloth. It's as if he's not supposed to be caught caring about another human being, or something.

"Y-You don't have to stay there. You can do what you what. Well...j-just please don't stay there anymore. Any other place is fine. It doesn't have to be the one I'm going."

A laugh bursts from Rex. He pats his friend on the back, cutting off any more abashed ramblings.

"It's cool, man. Thanks for the warning - I really would hate to wake up shot tomorrow. Now show me this Changed 'hood you was talking about."

"Okay, yeah." Tuck says. He pauses, back against a wooden building, and shoots Rex a look.

"Don't say 'hood, though."

"What? Why?"

"Just..no. You can't pull off 'hood'." 

"Cheh. Whatever dude."

"Seriously. You are not a gangster."

"Tú no sabes lo que estás hablando!"

What Tuck shows him is nothing special - Rex thinks it looks little nicer than the place he was crashing at.

The neighborhood is dark; spray paint on every available wall, apartments full of broken windows, and corners crowded with suspicious, lingering figures with hands stuffed down their pockets. It seems just as bad as Rex's old 'hood (and yes, he is saying 'hood' -Tuck is his friend, not the boss of him), but after a second look, there are subtle differences. 

For one, most of the people milling around are covered up - they have long sleeves and hoodies or hats - and they spend most of their time with their heads down, eyes up and darting. Another difference is the way they actually acknowledge the pair of dirty kids.

Usually, if someone looked or talked to Rex, it meant he was in trouble and should run.

Here? It means he's among friends.

Or so Tuck claims.

 They pass another tall dark shape and it nods at them, whispers in a hoarse tone,

"'Sup, Tuck."

A smile blooms on the mummy's face. It's so bright that Rex has to blink a few times in the darkness, adjust his eyes to this sudden happy in front of him.

"Ren!" Tuck greets enthusiastically. He offers a bandaged fist to bump, and this 'Ren' complies. "Where've you been, man? You've been gone for weeks!"

Somehow this uptight, too-mature-for-his-age kid has become a loose, excited child in less than a minute. The transformation shocks Rex, a little.

The man in front of them tugs back his hood, revealing a dark, bat-like face; he has black, slitted eyes, a furry snout instead of a nose, and sharp, intimidating fangs. And that's not even mentioning the giant, extremely distracting ears Ren has stuck to the sides of his head.

Yet Tuck doesn't so much as flinch when Ren smiles, fangs flashing dangerously in the night.

"No need to worry about me, half-pint. I've been around." He says, a slight lisp to his voice from his protruding teeth.  "You gonna introduce me to your friend?"

"Oh, yeah, yeah." Tuck smiles sheepishly; it seems he'd forgotten about Rex in the moment.

"Ren, this is Rex - Rex, this is Ren Zhou Lim."

"What, you collecting 'r' named people now?" Ren asks, amused. Nonetheless, he shakes Rex's hand. It's one of the weirdest sensations of Rex's life - the man has a paw, not a hand, and it's tipped with sharp claws. They dig into Rex's fleshy, vulnerable palm, but he can't feel blood yet, so he doesn't completely freak out.

However, his brain does kinda do this fritzy, static-y thing.

Later, that is the reason he'll claim for what comes out of his mouth next.

"Nice ears." Rex blurts out.

Well, so much for making a good impression.

The man drops his hand like it's hot, and eyes him intently through beady black orbs. His smile has completely vanished.

"You mockin' me, kid?" He snarls.

Do not say 'yes'. The smartest part of Rex's brain urges him.

"No, I just -"

"Cause if you are, I will find you. Don't care whose friend you are."

"Whoah, Ren! Calm down!" Now this panicked, worried Tuck is the one Rex knows. "Rex didn't mean anything. He's one of us, bro."

Those are the magic words; instantly the creature-like glare disappears and the chill smile is back on his furry face. The quick changes from friend to threat are sending Rex's head spinning, and he smiles back but he can't like this guy, not when the slightest thing seems to send him into 'fight mode'.

"Sorry, dude." Rex manages weakly.

Now, Ren Zhou waves it away as if it's nothing. Two seconds ago you were gonna track me down and murder me to death, Rex thinks bitterly, oh, but now it's all cool? 

"No worries." 

There's a bit of a tight, painful silence. 

Tuck swallows. 

"So, uh, Rex is just gonna crash here for a while. His old place was a Quarry hotspot." 

Ren looks alarmed. 

"Seriously? And he's not dead yet?" 

"Nah. But it's cool that he can stay here, right?"

Rex wonders why Tuck is asking permission from a man who hasn't been here for a few weeks. What, was Ren the boss of the 'hood, or something?

 "Yeah, yeah. It's cool." Ren Zhou murmurs, but his head is tilted towards Rex, and Rex doesn't like the way those giant ears follow his every twitch and lean.

Suddenly, Rex remembers.

He has a friend. He doesn't have to deal with creepy people alone anymore.

Hallelujah.

Rex reaches over and tugs lightly on Tuck's sleeve, which is just as scratchy as the rest of him. When Tuck glances up, Rex looks at him and then meaningfully jerks his head away.

Hopefully, if they are on the same page still, Tuck will get the message.

Can we go now? Please?

Abruptly, understanding blooms in Tuck's orange orbs. He nods ever so slightly, then turns back to Ren. 

"Uh, it's great seeing you, Ren. Stick around, we should catch up later." Tuck says, and begins to walk away. This does not distress the bat-man (Rex do not snicker right now do not do not), who treats it as normal. 

"See you, Tuck." Ren calls. The man flips his hood down over his face, but even through the darkness, Rex swears he can see two red dots following him down the street.

 The sounds of faint sirens and quietly zooming cars accompany the pair on their journey. Rex finds the city noises comfortable, almost familiar, and wonders if he's ever lived anywhere besides the big city. He wonders if he'll ever know if he didn't.

However, the tense silence that starts to linger as they walk is anything but comfortable. It stretches like a string, further and further, until it becomes so unbearable Rex has to snap it.

"So..." He begins, startled a little at how loud his voice is amongst the white noise. "That guy's your friend?"

 Those teeth are definitely going to be haunting Rex's nightmares tonight, that's for certain he thinks with a shudder. Somehow, mummy-people are hilarious but bat-people? Just plain scary.

At those words, Tuck's shoulders hunch up and his head goes down.

"Eh," Tuck says, his face apologetic. "He grows on you."

It doesn't occur to Rex that maybe Tuck has very limited options of friends, and the mummy is making do with what he has - Rex has no experience with friends and thus can't understand why you would want to stick around a bad person.

So he rolls his eyes at Tuck, saying,

"What, grows on you like a fungus?"

At that Tuck does something unexpected; he laughs.

"Shut up." He says, playfully shoving Rex.

"Never, dude." Rex grins. 

That night, they sleep in a building that has multiple stories. Rex thinks it's pretty much the coolest thing ever, even if the fact that there are other people in the building (also homeless, also Changed) make him twitch nervously all night. 

It's okay, though. He has a friend.

Rex falls asleep listening to the sounds of Tuck's snores. He has never felt safer in his life.

When he wakes up the next day, it's to a bright, bright world.

(present day)

Rex walks around more confidently now. It takes a few days, and people still fear Quarry's retaliation, but there's a sense of awe, of hilarity under the fear. People are laughing at Quarry now. Not to his face, but still.

All the low-lives, the thieves and beggars and druggies, they are all hiding snickers when the subject of the rock-man is even mentioned. They are impressed by what someone (ahem, Rex) did. The fear has gone down, as Rex had hoped.

Everything is grand for a long while after that.

But nothing lasts forever.

Chapter Text

(present day)

The day everything goes to hell, the sun is shinning. Rex is almost blinded when first leaving their place, and he has to go back inside for a pair of sunglasses.

The sun is shinning, the air is humid, and everyone is restless.

“Come on, just one. We haven't been in like, forever.” Rex is saying, toying with the sunglasses he's shoved on his head. “Just one little movie. It'll be fun, I promise!”

His audience, all of which sound like the first part of a bad joke (a squid-boy, a mummy, and a cricket-girl all walk into a bar....), aren't interested.

“Eh, I'm not big on movies.” Skwydd shrugs. He is oddly mellow, holding his cup of cold tea and reading a magazine.

Everyone in the room rolls their eyes at him, as Skwydd is big on absolutely nothing except being grumpy, and everyone knows it.
Still, Rex isn't giving up.

“Tuck?” He asks hopefully. He uses his very best tactics – his puppy dog eyes.

The look on Tuck's face says it's working, his resolve is crumbling, but it's not quite there yet when the boy squints up at him.

“Can it be a comedy?”

Rex grins widely.

“Yes, yes it can definitely be that.” He assures him. When Tuck nods solemnly, he pumps his fist in the air and does a little dance in a circle.

“The movies will probably be in Cantonese, you know.” Cricket says as she watches him, hair tied back, sweat trickling down her brow as she leans against the back of the sofa. “And unless one of you learned Cantonese in the last hour, neither of you will be able to understand it.”

Tuck flaps a bandage at her, smile on his face.

“Humor is humor, Cricket. A guy getting a pie to the face is funny in any language.”

Which is true.

“Plus,” Rex adds, “You could come with and translate(1). Hmmmm? Whatta ya say?”

Cricket fans her face in vain to try and cool off. She's giving them both her flattest glance – obviously, her good humor long melted in the heat. That's probably fair, but the extra sun has only energized Rex, and the thought of just sitting here and sweating makes him feel itchy.

“I'm not big on dark rooms with gum and popcorn stuck to the floor.” Cricket tells them, her nose crinkled up.

 Rex grins, however. He plays his trump card.

“They have air conditioning.” He sings.

Immediately Cricket straightens and says,

“I'm in.”

(past)

Cricket's name used to be Ai-Lin.

She would visit them everyday after school, stumbled upon them by accident when looking for friends. The girl was short and quiet, and dyed the very ends of her hair a bright fuchsia in some small rebellion.

Although she wasn't poor – not like them, anyway – sometimes she helped them lift stuff. Ir was easier for her; she had clean, ironed clothes, a sweet smile, and wide innocent eyes.

Ai-Lin was cool. She understood them, she talked with him, she didn't look down on them. But she didn't laugh; she wasn't ever really happy.

Eventually they learned that her parents were divorced and her guardian – her step-mother – hated her.

Rex, still reeling from the fact that not all parents loved their children and wanted to take care of them, offhandedly offered her a place in the gang if she wanted it. Later, he'd be surprised to discover that he meant it.

It would not be the last time she was asked. They took turns, Tuck sometimes bugging her about it.

Each time Ai-Lin would smile, push black hair tinged with purple behind her ear, and shake her head.

“I can't.” The girl would say. She never said why.

But she brought them things (pizza and junk food mostly), laughed at their jokes, and made noises of awe as they showed what EVO's could do.

She didn't mind what they were and they didn't pry into what she was.

She was the Outsider who sort of wasn't.

Until one day, that Changed.

(present day)

The movie is boring and confusing, but Rex still manages a few laughs.

He catches two words out of ten and is put off by some bad acting on the main character's fault, and most of the movie is spent leaning over to Cricket and asking, “What'd they say?” Nonetheless, he enjoys himself.

It's easy to sneak into the cheap theater, even easier to hide their Changes in the dim light, and since those things made his companions relax, Rex did too.

Now they walk along a street sidewalk, laughing as their ice cream melts in their hands. The neighborhood is slow and old, and no one looks thrice at a cricket-girl and mummy walking along it.

“No, no, but that was the best part!” Cricket is crying, chocolate chip mint sticky on her Changed hands.

“But it was weird! I don't even know what was going on in that scene!” Tuck says back, his ice cream a tiny sliver in its teaspoon sized cone. His bandages, old and fraying, are clean of ice cream if nothing else.

“I thought the movie was awesome!” Rex yells, pumping his fist into the air. Luckily, he finished his ice cream cone several minutes ago, and his hands are already licked clean of any mess.

He feels that he partly has to declare this opinion because he badgered these people into going to see the movie, but he also says it because he had a great time, regardless of bad special effects.

They two give him a look; in unison, they drone,

“You think everything is awesome.”

Rex frowns at them.

“Hey! I do not. Just, you know...most  things.”

The pair laugh at him, Cricket with her purple head thrown back and Tuck with his eyes shut and his torso leaning forwards, making for an interesting sight.

Rex hopes they both trip and fall, laughing like that. He even contemplates sticking a foot out to help, but settles for not warning Tuck about a crack in the sidewalk ahead. It's satisfying enough. 

Overall, he thinks, this has been the best day he's had in a while. He smiles up at the gold sun and links gloved palms behind the back of his head. Memories of damp clothes and quiet alleys and empty minds are far away in the bright of this day.

This is as good as it gets.

In that moment he makes a huge mistake, a mistake anyone happy is liable to make (but really he of all people should know better) - he wishes that this day would last forever. Fate, forever his nemesis, is quick to take advantage of his blunder.

They are strolling quieter now, Tuck rubbing a spot of dirt out of the bandages that make his cheek (he really should watch where he's going) and Cricket humming tonelessly. No one speaks, but the silence is far from awkward.

Suddenly something heavy rams into Rex's shoulder and it hurts.

A guy with a large hoodie, the blue hood tugged tight around his face, has shoved past him. Rex rubs his shoulder (oh yeah that's gonna bruise) and turns around to yell at the man.

Somehow, the words die on his lips.

He watches the retreating back of the jerk and realizes that that move seems awfully familiar. Like, scarily familiar.

Rex's eyes widen. Quickly, he pads his pockets and finds one of his large stacks of bills are missing.

“Hey!" He shouts indignantly.

The man begins to run.

For a second, it's all Rex can do to simply stand there and stare, open mouthed.

“He stole my money!” Rex says in disbelief. It's a surreal experience – he's always been the thief, the pickpocket. Now he is on the other end and it feels weird. It makes him feel...angry.

Cricket is quick to correct him, however.

“He stole the money that you stole first.”

“He stole my stolen money!” Rex cries, ignoring her. “¡Vuelve aqui, ladrón!”

Shrugging away his shock, he takes off running, already knowing that his short legs don't stand a chance against the stranger's long, swift ones. Anger propels him forwards, though, righteous indignity burning as fuel in his chest.

Behind him he hears the reluctant footsteps of his friends as they jog to catch up to him, but this isn't the time to slow down and wait for them. Irony of ironies - Rex has a thief to catch.

His heart is racing, his legs pumping harder and faster, and his breath comes in small, frequent gasps.

Still, the man is gaining feet by the second. The thief rounds a corner and disappears for a second.

“Te voy a matar, idiota!”  Someone screams. Rex realizes it's him and almost blushes.

He runs faster.

Just when he rounds the corner, the footsteps ahead still audible, he is sure he has the thief. Victory feels like adrenaline pumping through his veins, giving him strength to push a little faster for just a little longer.

He jumps, throws his body into the air, and collapses on somebody. But to his surprise the slight figure he tackles isn't his thief.

“What the – Tuck?” He chokes out amid heavy breathing. Sure enough, the mummy-like boy scurries out from under him, his bandages more dirty than usual from the fall.

“What are you doing here?” Rex blurts out.

Tuck gives him a look of pure loathing.

Rex thinks, hey, I didn't tackle you that hard, but doesn't say anything. He really is curious how Tuck managed to get in front of him when Rex had half a minute on him. Then again, running had never exactly been a strength Rex added to the group.

“How did you get in front of me?" He asks. "Wait, did you see the thief? Did you catch him?”

“No, no...I took a shortcut. Um, through a backalley. But I didn't see any sign of that guy. Guess he got away.” Tuck offers a shrug, bright orange orbs lowered and busy glancing to and fro.

Narrowing his eyes, Rex growls under his breath and jumps to his feet.

“We'll see about that!” He declares boldly. It probably would've looked more convincing if his legs hadn't been shaking, his breathing still coming in gasps, and sweat pouring down his face. Oh, man is he ever out of shape.

Still, Rex makes a valiant effort to run – er, jog – around the corner and search for the thief. He makes it about ten more steps.

“Oh crap!” He yells as he trips over a curb he had been trying to step over. A couple walking along the sidewalk give him a look (yes, dear, that's definitely an American) and walk around him. That's a bit of a wake-up call, honestly.

Yeah. Scrapped knee, chest on fire, legs trembling, and down 4 grand(2)? Rex thinks he's done here.

Time to go home.

He limps back a street to where Tuck had been, doing his best to ignore the blood trickling down his leg.

“Ow, ow, ow.” He says after each step. Then, starts to replace that with, “Hate my life, hate my life, ow...”

And to think, the day had been going so well earlier. He shouldn't have tempted fate.

By the time he makes it to that particular alleyway, the blood on his knee is beginning to soak through his jeans and there's absolutely no sign of Tuck.

Rex takes a moment to lean against the wall of a brick building and slide to the ground to rest his leg.

“I was just pick-pocketed.” He says to himself. “Someone just stole from me.”

It's such a strange, backwards concept that it refuses to sink in, now that the anger is gone. Rex has always been broke, been so poor no one bothered to steal from him – he's always been the thief. Now the situation is reversed and he wants to be furious, he really does, but he thinks that might be hypocritical of him.

This is...this is...He struggles to think of the word, wrinkling his brow for a moment.

“Karma.” He finally says, an disbelieving laugh on his tongue. “This is karma, for all the times I stole someone else's money.”

For some reason, a Lion King song plays in his head and he thinks, circle of life – and suddenly he just sort of accepts the theft.

He had pickpocketed strangers. He'd stolen from Quarry. And now a stranger had stolen the money that he had stolen from Quarry. It has almost come full circle.

With a little shrug, he slides up the wall to his feet again, a sigh on his lips and apathy on his face.

“Oh well.”

Rex begins walking home, mindful of his throbbing knee.

Maybe he'll be mad about this later. Then again, he thinks, maybe not.

But now he kinda wants to see Lion King again.

(past) 

Rex doesn't recognize her for a long moment. He thinks he should, there's something about the shape of her eyes, the color of her hair – it seems familiar. No matter how strange the rest of her looks.

Tears pour over an odd colored skin (skin like a grasshopper, maybe) and the girl lets out a sob.

“Rex. Oh, Rex.”

Suddenly all the breath whooshes out of him and he spots her. His friend is there, underneath changes that are anything but natural.

It scares him, how he couldn't recognize her before.

“Ai-Lin?”

Nodding, she lifts altered hands to her cheeks and hides her face in them, more sobs forcing themselves out of her chest.

Rex notices that on strange new skin there are strange new cuts and bruises.

“What happened?”

An angry black eye – no, green, it's grass green now – peeks out between her fingers.

“What do you think happened?” She wails.

“You-you're...you're one of Us now.” He stutters. “But what...how...”

“It just happened!”

Rex can't think of anything to say for a long time. What is he supposed to say? Should he comfort her, tell her it's fine? Should he tell her that it's all fun and games, being Different? It's not, but maybe that's what she needs to hear.

How do you tell?

He has no memories of ever being anything else, or ever feeling any sort of normal; this person, able to build and talk to machines is who he is.

How can he sympathize with someone who's been something Other, who has known normal? How can he tell her what to feel?
Standing there, awkwardly, scratching the back of his head like an idiot, he finds that he, at least, doesn't really mind her change in appearance.

Sure it's a surprise; it's still new and an adjustment; but she isn't rampaging in the streets or trying to kill him, so he thinks her Change isn't so bad. It could be worse.

Then again, are his feelings the important ones right now? Damn it, he sucks at emotions.

A helpless sigh emerges from him, his indecision showing no signs of letting up.

Maybe Tuck would understand, he muses abruptly.

“Um...Ai-Lin. Maybe I should go get Tuck?”

Another broken wail bursts from her shaking form.
“What?! C-can't stand the sight of me either?”

“N-no.” He says quickly. The 'either' goes right over his head. He knows nothing about women, but even he is aware that when it comes to their appearance, they can be a little sensitive.

“Your freaky cricket legs look really cool, actually.” He tells her with a grin. Wait is that the right thing to say? Maybe that's insensitive - but it's already out there now, too late. He winces mentally.

But she doesn't sob again.

Ai-Lin's hands slide off of her eyes and down to her cheeks, a glimmer of hope shimmering in red, watery eyes.

“Y-yeah?”

“Yeah. Totally. I don't mind at all. I just...Tuck would probably understand this more than me, you know? I've never not been Changed, I guess, so I don't really how to help. I don't even know why you came to me of all people....”

His brow furrows. It's hard to remember adults, to factor them into his equations, but he recalls hers' now and it worries him.

“Ai-Lin, what are you gonna tell your step-mom?”

How do you explain something like this to your parents? How do you know if they'll understand and accept it?

But then Ai-Lin breaks down into another set of sobs and throws herself at him, odd skin poking at him and tears staining his shirt.

Rex is a guy and a tough one at that, but when the realization drifts down he wants to start crying too.

“Oh.” He whispers. “Oh. Ai-Lin, I'm sorry.”

“S-she said I was...was a m-monster. Said I-I wasn't her daughter a-anymore. W-well, step-daughter but....s-s-still!”

There's probably snot on his shirt now too, joining the tears. Rex pats her back awkwardly and tries not to notice.

“You are definitely not a monster.” He reassures her.

“S-she....threw a plate at me.”

All his hopes and dreams of parents are burning down around his ears, but he tells himself that's not important right now and besides, not all parents are like that. They can't be.

“Well, that's stupid!” He scoffs gently. “You're not even a scary monster!”

The words reach his ears a second after they leave his mouth and his eyes widen as he attempts to stuff them back in.

“I-I mean, you're an adorable monster. No, not adorable – no, I mean, not a monster!”

Unexpectedly, a laugh tickles his shoulder. It's not more crying, he thinks, relieved, until it doesn't stop.

Ai-Lin's head pops up and she's laughing; she still has tears on her face and they haven't stopped flowing yet but her lips are turned up and she's giggling at him.

“Um. Yep. I'm a funny guy.” He gives a nervous chuckle. She doesn't stop.

Her laughs become harder and harder till they're ragged gasps for breath and Rex is seriously starting to lose his cool.

“Hey! Ai-Lin, breathe. Come on, please? You're kinda freaking me out here.”

“Sorry.” She gulps in air. “Sorry, I'm good. It's been a long day.”

“Come on. Let's go see the gang.” He offers, tone soft. At this point, it's all he can think of to do.

A blush staining her new, odd features (she really does look cooler like this, though), she nods and makes futile attempts to scrub the water from her face.

Rex rolls his eyes but doesn't snap at her like he wants to.

“Don't worry about it. You're just going to start crying again anyway.”

Ai-Lin laugh/sobs again, proving his point, and they walk inside to greet the gang.

And if they don't all share his opinion of her new appearance right away, Rex glares at them until they do.

She's one of Them now. They would accept her.

(present day)

As it turns out, he'd completely lost the two-thirds of his gang during his chase. He only found them again because he'd gone home and pretty much hoped they followed. Which, of course, they did.

Rex is laying on the couch, one of his pant legs rolled up, several new, tan band-aids decorating his knee as he waits for Tuck and Cricket. Right now he's pretending to be more injured than he really is in hopes that Skywdd will take pity on him and do stuff for him, like bring Rex a cold glass of tea. It isn't working (yet), and Rex can't help but blame Skwydd's complete lack of sympathy.

He lets out an exhausted groan, a hand held to his forehead.

“You're not dying, Rex! And I'm not your waitress!” Skwydd shouts back from the kitchen.

Rex thinks, fair enough, but still lays there and pouts for a few minutes. He really doesn't want to move.

That's when two sweaty, stinky pre-teens kick open his door to stand there and glare at him.

“Hey, Rex.” Cricket greets him in that fake, I-know-I-sound-calm-but-really-I'm-furious tone that she uses.

“Thanks for ditching us.” Tuck grumbles; he is less subtle than Cricket. The pair stomp into the front room, faces exhausted and shirts damp with sweat. Rex waits until he's struggled into a sitting position (his knee really doesn't hurt anymore, it's just that he's very comfortable and the cushions are difficult to escape from) to give them his totally valid excuses.

“Hey, that guy lifted four grand from me! Tell me neither of you wouldn't at least have tried to get that much money back!”

“Why would you bring that much money to the movies?” Skywdd wonders, unmoved from his position in the kitchen eating instant noodles.

The three in the front room ignore him.

“Well, fine, maybe! But there was no way you were ever gonna catch that guy, Rex! And you didn't even try to find us after you lost him.” Cricket pauses, arms crossed over her chest. “You did lose him, didn't you?”

Rex is too busy rolling his eyes at her to see the same, oddly curious look on Tuck's face. He points to his knee, then to his face, and says,

“Are these the signs of someone who got their money back?”

From behind him, he can hear Skywdd bark out a laugh.

 Both Tuck and Cricket don't lose their annoyance, but they don't really press the issue.

"Fine, whatever." Cricket says, heaving a sigh as she goes on full diva mode. Yeah, the bad part of helping an emotionally repressed kid feel comfortable expressing emotions around you is that she expresses emotions. Loudly. And dramatically.

Rex shoots a glance over to Skywdd and thinks, we're not making that mistake twice. 

Eventually he realizes Tuck hasn't stopped glaring, looking like he'd like to storm to his room, only they are sort of already in his room.

Instead, Tuck storms over to Skywdd's room.

"No more movies!" He shouts behind him. This proclamation is accompanied by the slamming of Skywdd's door, making Rex wince.

Cricket shrugs and makes her own exit, only slightly more calm.

"Yeah. What he said."

Then there's silence again, the house dangerously quiet, and Rex exchanges looks with Skywdd.

Rex blinks.

"So...you gonna let 'em get away with that?"  He says finally.

Skywdd rolls his eyes and takes his noodles back to his room.