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Chapter Text

The final confrontation ends with a declaration in the dusky sky of Mataan, the lights below illuminate a showdown between a man reborn and a mechanical abomination. 

“No one was going to accept me if they knew about my dad!” Faux screams into the night. “I had No Choice!”

Despite everything, he still wants his feelings known, fears, grievances, hurt, anger. 

His face twisting into a harrowing wide eyed sweating mess, not composed enough to think of how he looks to anyone. He doesn’t care anymore. It doesn’t matter. 

“Faux!” Felix calls bringing blue eyes to his attention. What comes next though. 

“Just stop all this!”

“Why should I?!” Faux snarls at him bitterly. “Everyone knows my secret, I’d never be accepted! How would you know how that even feels?”

“I’ll accept you! ” Felix declares with his signature unwavering confidence. 

“If you just stop all this.” He breathes. “Just listen, man.”

He finally whips off the Cyberhead, tossing it away into the abyss below.   Revealing his face, which stops Faux in his tracks.

 He’s no longer Red Felix, just… the Felix that Faux knew. 

His messy brown hair hidden underneath his green beanie and familiar scruffy beard , his clear blue eyes. 

His smile is sincere as always. 

“Huh?” Faux blurts out, baffled. Felix takes advantage of the shock to boost forward hanging onto the head of the mechanical beast so he’s finally face to face with the blonde. 

“I promise you, Faux. I’ll put you back together.” Felix puts his free hand behind Faux’s head, his fingers tangling in the wires and gently brings his forehead to his old friend’s. “And even if no one else accepts you, I will.” 

Those words cut deep to the core.

The brunette laughs a bit. “I’ll even treat you to pizza, the sausage pizza you like so much from that old Italian lady in Versum Hill.” 

Faux is silent for a long moment before Felix notices his lips quivering.

 He hiccups, “Yeah, I’d like that. He says almost a whisper. “I’d like that, A lot.”

“…I trust you.” Faux says solemnly. His cheeks glisten in the moonlight. “Thank you, Felix.”

Felix looks at Faux’s serene smiling face encased in that giant mechanical shell, who now looks upon him with  nothing but gratitude. 

 Faux’s gaze darts away when his eyes dampen, wishing his hands were smaller so he could scrub away his own tears. 

Felix wipes his eyes for him.

The blonde feels the dark spots cloud his vision as Felix begins to undo wires attaching him to the machine.

 “Good night, Faux.” He said, smoothing the other man’s blonde hair as he lost consciousness. 

Felix wanted a soft rest for someone who knew the rougher edges of life. 

The structure goes slack and crumbles, allowing Solace to wiggle free. 

Catching Felix when it all comes crashing down because the brunette didn’t think ahead enough to get to solid ground before having that heart to heart.

 Felix and his angel fan collide into the pavement following an unsteady landing, rolling a short distance before the pair are left panting on the ground. 

When the others gathered around, they noticed the way Felix was clutching something to his chest. 

On his back, Felix looks up to the relieved faces of his friends. They’re all congratulating him for putting a stop to the madness until he unfolds his arms and Tryce says. 

“Aw hell naw, what is That?”

“It’s Faux.” Felix answers with a toothy grin. “I’m putting him back together.”

Sounds of disbelief and disapproval disperse around the former member of the Big 3.

Their leader knew that wouldn’t shake him though Felix was always so sure. 

Tryce crossed his arms and shook his head. “What am I going to do with you, my man?” 

Chapter Text

Careless as he was, Felix had wanted to assemble Faux as soon as he could. However, Tryce had the foresight to tell him that they should ideally wait until the police thought that Project Algo was really dead so Faux wouldn’t attract any “unwanted attention”.

That his head had been lost somewhere down below in Mataan and not with Flesh Prince, who had been requested again to keep the head alive. 

The freckled youth almost didn’t agree, but Tryce (with endless showers of thanks from Felix) negotiated for their old hangout back as long as they didn’t encroach on BRC territory.

 It was a deal that couldn’t be refused. Prince eyes the metal tank containing Faux’s head to the sound of his Franks gleefully playing basketball behind him in their beloved court. 

The radio in a tinny voice talks about the new Chief of police Vogelaar, newly promoted to his position following his superior’s passing. 

He takes this position with pride but spares a moment to talk about  the grief in his heart over his dead son Teun. 

It was a closed casket funeral. 

The rest of Faux sits behind the couch, miraculously scavenged from a dumpster behind a grocery store as they made their way back to their old place. 

“Ooo Well…” Flesh Prince whistled. “ if you wait that long, he’s going to lose memories, just like you.” Flesh Prince looked at Felix pointedly. “But maybe, it’ll be better that way.”

Felix frowned. He knew this would happen but he had  asked Dot Exe to tune into the news about Project Algo for him, and it just broke that they had given up on finding the remains of its subject.

 It was only then that he had requested the head back. 

He just needed to get it attached to the body before Solace or Vinyl tossed it in the trash. 

He’s in the covered part of the hideout now, where he had recovered after being shot point blank. 

Felix has the tank with Faux’s head on the table and stares at it for a moment. The vacant  blue eyes stare back  without seeing. He remembered Faux’s earnest desires. 

Companionship, Acceptance, these were the only things he wanted. Why did it all have to be so complicated?

Things he must’ve told Felix in the past in his actions. He doesn’t have all his memories back but he wonders if he ever listened to him. 

Some part of him is being selfish by bringing his old friend back. He knows Tryce is right that he’ll just be a pain in their ass again.

And even worse, what if he hurts someone or what if he betrays the crew?

He did promise to bring him back, just like Tryce did a long time ago before well… everything. 

They would go get pizza, and laugh like they used to and talk about everything in time. 

It wasn’t just redemption for Faux, Felix felt like he had failed him too even if it wasn’t his responsibility. 

Even if it wasn’t even his fault or truly his problem, was it really that bad to give Faux another chance?

Maybe… someone like him could change. 

Famous last words right?

Felix looked at all the tools that he had gotten from one of the Franks, and delicately began reuniting the flesh.

He didn’t want to bug Flesh Prince with the business of fixing Faux of all people after all he had done for them, so he endured the playful scolding of him being a slow learner and settled on absorbing enough so he wouldn’t have to ask for the millionth time. 

By the end, Faux has been put back together and patched up as best he could. He carefully looks over Flesh Prince’s instructions on reestablishing the link between the head and spinal chord.  

With his shirt pulled over his neck, he could barely see the white bandage on his neck that went all the way around. 

And Felix lays down on the couch next to him, exhaustion in every part of his body. He hopes from the bottom of his heart, he’s not just lying next to a corpse. 

Before he falls asleep, Felix puts his head on the blonde’s chest. It’s cold and it makes his eyes dampen even though he’s not entirely sure why.

He swears he hears a silhouette of a heartbeat pumping back to life. 

Chapter Text

It’s dark but it’s loud. 

The wind has a high pitched whistle that engulfs him. Faux can’t remember when he started falling. 

He’s going to keep falling. He’s going to fall forever. 

In the next moments, there’s a firm grip on his arm and breath razors his lungs. He tries his damndest to focus his vision. 

It’s Felix. He has his arm. He’s pulling him up with his other hand. Relief seeps from his heart tissue soaking into his bones. 

In the distance, there’s the sound of an industrial fan whirring. 

Felix is there when he comes back again to the world.

“Morning, my dude” A warm tenor says toward the couch. 

The brunette wants more than anything to lean over the arm of the chair and hug Faux tightly, but he refrains, unsure of how much he remembers.

“Hey Felix.” Faux blinks a few times, adjusting to the bright blue open sky. “…Morning.” 

It feels like he hasn’t seen the sun in years. 

Felix gauges the tone of his voice, watching as he sits up, rolling  the blanket off of him. 

It’s  calm, raspy as the Faux that existed in his dreams. But more importantly, there was no hint of malice anymore. 

With that in mind, Felix passes him the other controller. “You woke up just in time, I was just about to start another race.” 

He thumbed the bandage around his neck as the 2 player screen went up. “What happened? I can’t seem to remember…”

Anything really…

The countdown begins and the low poly race cars zip toward the road wild and free. 

Naturally, Faux’s next question. “How long was I out for?” 

“A long while, man. You took a pretty bad fall. All the way from the top of Mataan” He says, his gaze becomes distant, remembering the way the leviathan’s body crumbled. His blue car drifting behind Faux’s red one. 

It was a believable enough story to Faux, who eyed the beige elastic wrapped around his right foot and the scars on his hands and arms that snaked up and down while moving the controller. 

Not the first time he’s fucked up his ankle, or gotten hurt in any other way and it won’t be the last. 

“Where are we?” He was trying to eye the room while also trying to win the game. 

Not enough that he was ahead of the car in first, he had to lap them too. 

“My crew’s hideout.” Felix says plainly, as if that made all the sense in the world. 

“You never wanted us to be a crew! You gained more from dropping me!“ Faux’s outrage spilled out at him,  flashing in Felix’s mind. 

“Well, not really my crew. I’m a part of it, Tryce is the leader and all…” Felix corrects himself falling farther behind the other cars. 

“ …” Faux wants to say something but he was stuck just looking at him quizzically as his car pushes ever forward, passing the finish line in a spectacular first. 

He would have never taken Felix to be one to join up with anyone. 

Nothing the brunette said makes sense to him and he had a lot of questions and Felix wasn’t doing a stellar job answering them. 

Despite the lack of explanation, Faux has a residual feeling deep in his chest that he could really trust Felix.

Something stuck with from that night that sank deep into his chest. A warm fuzzy gratitude to him for keeping a promise he didn’t have to keep. 

It’s… good. He decides.

He has a sense this feeling came from the hole in his memories, but it’s comforting to hold onto it. 

He decides to just go along with it for now.

“You know what? It’ll all make sense later, I’m going to introduce you to everyone.” He said beckoning him along and leading him up the stairs. Faux limps along after him. 

There’s a familiar looking guy (someone the blonde is sure he’s met before) fixing his bike and a girl clicking away on her phone. 

“This is Tryce.” Felix pointed over to the guy. 

“And this is Bel.” He thumbed over to the girl. “Don’t even try. She’s married to her phone for life.” He mindlessly repeats to Faux the same thing Tryce said ages ago, trying to lighten the mood a little. The other two barely register him. 

“And guys, Faux.” Felix claps him on the shoulder, throwing him off balance a little causing the blonde to flash him an irritated look. 

“Heyo.” Faux meets them with a little wave prompted by Felix.

“Oh hey…”Bel is a little more receptive and does a little wave back, but all in all, they stare at each other for just a moment without words, before Tryce goes back to maintaining his bike and Bel goes back on her phone. 

Not exactly a great first impression, but it’s not like it mattered what they thought about him anyway.

Felix can feel Faux’s eyes on him.

What’s their damage?

There was real tension between them.

It was thick and viscous. 

“Let’s go get something to eat.” Felix desperately changes the subject, taking Faux by the wrist and leading him out of the hideout. 

When he had said Good morning, he had actually lied. 

Felix had spent all morning waiting for his old buddy to finally wake up, and his stomach was rumbling. So he went to keep his other promise.

 Faux doesn’t hide an ever growing grin, delighted that Felix chose this little place and there’s a sort of  grounding nostalgia in the glamorous black and white Italian movie posters and fixtures decorating the walls. 

The old lady behind the counter’s eyes widen and she welcomes them in with open arms, commenting about how she hasn’t seen the pair in forever and asking about their third friend. Something Felix’s companion wonders about in the back of his mind too. 

When they get their food, Faux mumbles “It’s really good. Like Really good.” In between bites of pizza. Faux’s goofy enthusiasm makes Felix chuckle a little bit. 

Felix is straight to the point as always. “So, what’s the last thing you remember?”

Faux takes a bit to really consider the question. When he thinks of what he remembers, he only remembers The Big Three.

When he thinks of Felix, he’s flying through the air without a boostpack. He’s invincible, his airy peal of laughter like bells. The way he takes advantage of the momentum is something else. Faux keeps up with him only because he has a boostpack and they work on a mural together in the spot Felix texted him about before someone in the distance yells at them to stop. 

A hand grips his wrist yanking him toward the abyss below, all because Felix is convinced he can make the jump on a tiny rail down there. 

He’s insane, but Faux has learned by now these crazy maneuvers are the only way they shake the cops. They skate into an alleyway and Faux checks the corner. 

Faux extends his hand and Felix grips it. They laugh, expressing another successful outing. 

Where’s his mask now? And how come he has a boostpack? 

When he thinks of Cyber, he remembers the late night talks they had in their little hideaway in Mataan. 

While  Faux had only told him carefully selected things about himself, the two came up with new graffiti  designs testing the limits of their own individual art styles and continuing to inspire each other. He loved quietly watching him get into the flow with his mixes and jamming to sick beats before the DJ became well known. 

Faux always had feedback when he told him about the new advances in neuroscience. It was pretty interesting stuff even if he couldn’t completely wrap his head around it like Cyber. 

DJ Cyber, according to Felix had started his own crew, Futurism. And when did Cyber join a crew too? 

It was truly Earth Shattering News. 

Felix was trying to gauge his reaction wondering first and foremost if he was to even be believed, but Faux just took the empty pizza tray back up to the counter. 

It was late when Felix and Faux finally returned back to the hideout, and the gang was turning in for the day with everyone waving goodbye.

Faux and Felix were left staring at each other. Felix spoke up first, as usual. “Later, Faux!”

“Bye.” He departed for the flat paid for by his dad, who left it for him to attend college. (Although both of them knew he didn’t.) 

For some reason he can’t find his keys in his pocket, so he takes the spare from under the doormat. 

He remembers the food when he invited Cyber and Felix to come over when they ended their day in the area. The three of them cooking, a fragrant smell of pancakes with fruity syrup wafting through the flat after a day of tagging. The kind that makes Faux forget the way Felix laughed at him when he wiped out earlier in the day and continued laughing at him instead of helping him up. 

 When he opened the door the air was hot, stale and dead. The lights flickered on revealing how food in the fridge was moldy or bad. 

Pretty much all of it went into the trash. And there was dust. So much dust. 

The chips and the canned stuff were still good, maybe? 

He had clicked open his cell phone earlier in the day and it was June. 

How many months of memories were gone, really?

He began cleaning up his house despite his fatigue. His father’s voice in the back of his mind scolding him about how much of a slob he was from his last visit when he just didn’t have time to do the laundry and the rest of the chores were done. 

By the end of it though, the place is sparkling as it was expected to be and he’s so thoroughly exhausted he didn’t have any more energy to think about his missing memories and the bomb that had shattered Faux’s perception of the world as he knew it. 

Still though, as he thinks of the day the thing that sticks out to him the most is the sudden safety he felt while he was with the brunette.  The bold and confident sense of calm born in a sky thick with clouds, moonlight and light pollution. 

He chooses to believe in Felix.

Chapter Text

Faux’s at the Bomb Rush Crew’s hideout jamming out to a mellow track while he basks in the mid morning sun.  It’s where he ends up inevitably. 

Tryce and Bel are engaged in a game of foosball in his periphery. Bel cheers when she wins, and takes a victory selfie, but she couldn’t help but feel eyes on her while she was in the heat of it. She meets Faux’s gaze, noticing that bit of longing in him and waves him over. “Hey, Faux! Wanna give it a try?” 

Vinyl, ( who he didn’t know was in the gang too) was leaning against the wall staring daggers at him. He knew she wasn’t fond of him even before the hole in his memories, but now her glare was made of pure ice. 

He isn’t exactly sure what he did to deserve it, but his gut feeling stabs him with shame. 

She’s right. About what exactly, he’s not sure. 

He walks right past Vinyl, to the now empty position. 

Tryce rolls his shoulders back, eyeing his opponent.

It’s a bit of an odd thing, playing foosball with a man who tried to kill you months ago but soon the crew’s leader and Faux are locking horns in a game. 

The bubbly girl  is watching them intently, cheering on both sides. 

It’s a close game with a lot of scuffing across the checkered floor, the little wooden men nearly fly off their handles with the effort to kick the ball. There’s some cursing abounding but it’s clear they’re having fun. 

In the end, Tryce triumphs.

“GG’s man, GG’s.” Tryce puts his hand out and Faux shakes it reluctantly. The blonde would be lying if he wasn’t a teeny tiny bit (okay more than a teeny tiny bit)  salty about losing but he’ll get over it. 

One foosball game won’t erase everything that happened between them, but Tryce feels it. There’s no ill will from the blonde anymore, it’s almost like when they first met. 

Almost was the keyword here. 

Perhaps Bel was quicker to notice that there was something different when she looked into his blue eyes. Unclouded with hate anymore, and there was an earnestness that just wasn’t present that night they busted out of the police station.

But still, just because he lost his memories doesn’t mean….

Faux hears that familiar warm tenor carried on a summer breeze. 

“Ayo Faux!” Felix waves, trotting toward him with his skateboard on the other hand. “You ready for your checkup?” 

Faux heard his phone buzz that morning, half awake while listening to the hum of the microwave spin his chicken noodle soup around. He finished pulling on a light green shirt, tucking it into his bright orange pants. 

The milky sunbeam shone directly on the screen of his phone, cursing as it’s getting him in the eyes before he snatched it up. 

‘Hey, meet me at the hideout today. We’re going to see Prince.’

They’re skating down the road on the way down toward the court. Felix is mindful of Faux’s ankle so they take it slow. 

They glide past the crowds of people on their morning commute. 

“After we see Flesh Prince today, I’m planning to pick up some stuff from the grocery store.” Faux lets Felix know casually as they skate down the hill. 

He’s recounting the moldy food in the kitchen and Felix scrunches his face. “Yeah, unless you’re trying to start a science experiment in there I’d throw that out too.” 

They turn the corner into the big open area, the slight breeze is pleasant. 

“Speaking of food, you know? After you left yesterday me and Bel and Tryce went out to Mataan to try this Mexican place that Bel’s friend told her about.” 

Felix chuckles a bit, readying himself to tell the tale. 

“So, I get a gordita and it comes with a salad, right? They gave me this bright liquidy orange sauce in a bottle and I just start squirting it all over the salad. Tryce kind of looks at me like ‘damn ok’.  And Bel like, looks up from her phone.” 

Faux raises an eyebrow but Felix sees the beginning of a smile because he knows that Faux realizes where this story is going.

“I take one bite and start choking,  tears in my eyes yo. It was bad.

“Tryce goes,  ‘Dawg, why did you put hot sauce on the salad?’ while Bel snaps a flick of me fighting for my life.” 

Felix reenacts the moment of him grabbing for the water. “I thought it was Italian dressing.”

“Who the hell puts Italian dressing in a Mexican restaurant?” Felix’s friend snorts incredulously.

“That’s what Tryce said!” The brunette replies, throwing his hands in the air. 

His companion laughs out loud, and it’s a wonderful sound to Felix. “You’re just as dumb as I remember.” 

“Honest mistake anyone would make.” Felix says defensively, playfully  punching his buddy in the shoulder. 

They enter the Flesh Prince’s court with cheerful banter. 

Precious Thing plays from the speakers, and the Franks look up from their game to see the new visitors. Disdainful glances fall on Faux, but their leader already told them to expect the pair.

Faux isn’t blind of the aggression, it’s the same looks that he caught from Vinyl earlier in the day.

He’s not going to apologize for something he can’t remember. 

“Yo!” Felix and Prince bump fists.”You told me to bring him back once he wakes up for a check up.” 

“Yeah,” Prince is more curious about Felix’s craftsmanship than anything. “Have a seat, Faux.”

Faux sits on the couch while the Flesh Prince brings out a black briefcase like the kind he saw doctors have in movies. He takes his vitals and taps on his knee with the little mallet. 

“For your sprained ankle,” The young man hums. “I would try and stay off of that if you want it to heal.” He shoots a glance at Felix, for making the two of them walk here. Felix sheepishly grins. 

Flesh Prince leans over to Felix. “Not too shabby”

“The student becomes the master?” Felix boldly asks, raising an eyebrow, nudging the youth. 

He’s just joking around. He’s not a prodigy like the Prince. 

“Not even close.” Prince shakes his head, remembering how many times he had to coach Felix  and even as he was working with the real deal was on a video call with him freaking out. 

“Any complaints?” Prince turns his attention back to Faux. 

“I can’t seem to remember anything from at least a few months back.” Faux narrows his gaze. It’s scary, the way that a whole chunk of his life is nothing more than a vague feeling to him now. 

“Can’t really help you with that.” Prince shrugs nonchalantly. He knew that was coming so he offers different advice.  “But DJ Cyber might be able to. He’s more of a specialist in that kind of thing.”  

“Thanks for the help, man.” Felix says sincerely, for everything he’d done for them. Faux courteously thanks him as well. 

He and his blonde companion wave goodbye, and start walking toward the open area again. They’ve made it to the plaza again when a rush of black suits come running toward them. Anticipation moves up Felix’s spine but oddly enough they shove past them. 

“Suspects are in the area.” is all the two of them need to hear. 

That can only mean one thing though: They were after the Franks.

Faux is already close behind when Felix doubles back toward the court. The Franks are fighting off a horde of officers, and the open garage behind them has a turret where the Flesh Prince is struggling to get free from the handcuffs holding him against it. 

Without hesitation, Faux comes to Flesh Prince’s aid while Felix takes care of the cops, coming to open the jaws holding the Flesh Prince in its clutches. 

The freckled youth thrashes against the machine, panicked his eyes fearful. 

Faux meets his gaze, and it’s one that tells him he won’t leave him behind. Felix did the same for him, he knows it deep in his chest even if his mind can’t retrieve it. That compels him. 

Soon, he was side by side with one of the Franks helping him out. 

They exchange a look of mutual understanding before again,Faux’s lean arms strain against the metal.

Even when the lead flies into the machine denting the metal and causing his helper to take cover.  Even as he registers a stinging in his left hand, he has a quiet determination that allows him to keep pulling until the metal jaws let the Flesh Prince free.

The redhead peels out of the machine sweating and panting on his hands and knees, but is quickly helped up by the blonde who he looks up to see punching the culprit who has got him in the hand square in the stomach hard with a vicious right hook.

Faux’s hand bleeds, and holds onto it with his other while roundhouses the turret with an angry grunt. 

The Frank helping him on the other side, sprays the controls shutting it off. 

Flesh Prince watches the so-called “Guard dog of the Big Three” go wild on the other two assailants , punching ,kicking and snarling until they realize they’re stuck in the vicinity with him and retreat. 

They met back with Felix and the other Franks out of breath from having fended the other goons off. 

Between everyone catching their breath, the freckled youth speaks up. “Shit.” 

It’s getting worse. 

Faux is getting his hand treated to the sound of the basketball beating against the pavement.

The ball flies through the air whooshing into the basket.  “Wajow!” Felix calls. 

“For someone who’s not built like us you’re pretty good.” The blonde Frank compliments the brunette. 

“You’re going to make me blush.” Felix responds back cheekily, stealing the ball from him again. He’s breaking ankles today. Blowing steam off after their close encounter. 

Prince removes the offending piece of lead with the tweezers, watching Faux squirm a little as he puts it into the basin. 

“So,” Faux finally begins to speak after that was over. “When did they start using real bullets?” Staring at the little thing that caused him so much trouble. 

“A little while ago. But especially after that guy took charge,”  he nodded over to the TV.

Faux looked. 

No fucking way. 

His own father giving a speech talking about how he’ll eliminate vandalism from the streets. He wants to run, cry, scream. Throw up. 

“Oh.” 

Chapter Text

Teun remembers the looks the other kids used to give him, when his dad dropped him off at school in a cop car. 

His stepmom assured him while he was pouring milk onto his bland corn flakes that it would be something intriguing to the other students and make him ‘the cool kid’, but he didn’t like the way they were murmuring around him as he waved goodbye to his father. 

The sky blushes pink and orange above them, in a swell of yellow clouds. There’s a grocery store on a side street in Brink Terminal where a pair of young men weave through the tired masses waiting for a bus that’s running late enough for it to be an annoyance. 

The blonde one barely registers when he bumps into people as he skates by, getting dirty looks and angry comments. His brunette buddy grabs his wrist guiding him toward the sidewalk.

They’re outside the store now, the orangey yellow light gleams off the metal carts. 

“Faux.” Felix’s voice goes unheard. 

“Earth to Faux…” 

The blonde snaps back to reality. Finally.

“Hey, do you have 50 cents for this thing?” The brunette says motioning to the coin slot in the shopping cart. 

“Uh ..yeah.” Faux fumbles around in his pocket and finds the shiny golden 0.50 € coin. 

The cart comes out of the line with a click, the chain falling to the side.

Felix is thinking about how zoned out Faux has been since they left Prince’s place. 

“What are you-“ Faux protests as Felix suddenly sweeps an arm under his legs and the other behind his back. He delicately places Faux into the shopping cart like precious cargo.

“There we go.” Felix mumbles, satisfied with himself.

“Why?” Faux breathlessly looks up from the basket at Felix’s shit eating grin. His legs are hanging out the back while Felix rounds toward the handle. 

“Flesh Prince said you need to stay off your ankle for a while.” Felix explains behind Faux’s head. “ so I thought this might help.” 

The other man rolls his eyes, but he’s too tired and injured to argue. 

“You didn’t have to come shopping with me.” Faux informs him, now that they’re in motion. 

“But I wanted to.” Felix replies so earnestly. “So, what are we getting?” 

A piece of notepad paper with small neat handwriting is shoved in his face along with a pen. Felix pushes the cart along the produce section with his elbows while he absentmindedly doodles an onion with Faux’s face on it in the margins. 

He didn’t know what Prince told Faux while he was playing basketball with the Franks, but he had ideas. Out the corner of his eye, he saw his blonde friend’s face pale when he looked at the TV, or maybe he had heard it from the radio.

New Amsterdam’s New Police Chief. 

 He was a shining role model of an officer, the one most suited to take Berlage’s place. 

Mr.Going to finish what Berlage started and get rid of vandalism for good. 

He was an ideal family man, accompanied by his lovely wife (a real looker) on television and vowed to make New Amsterdam safer for families, the way he was unable to with his only son. 

The details of said kid’s death was purposely left out and scrubbed from public record, but it was clear it had to do with the so-called “crime on the streets”. 

Faux tells him to stop while he leans over to get some apples and bananas. The shopping list is handed back to its muse, who sees the drawing and chuckles indignantly. “Hey!” 

His friend lets out a single snort of laughter. 

In this new world that didn’t make sense, spending time with Felix like this he could wrap his head around. 

“We went to this place the day we met, you know?” Faux utters nostalgically. 

The warmth of spring makes it bearable to go outside without a huge jacket. 

His very first feat as a bonafide writer. He did it.

He bombed the Heaven in Millennium Square. 

He steps back to admire his work when (god forbid)  someone pipes up behind him the same way his father did when he caught him taking a break from studying for the momentary respite of his sketchbook and colored pencils like the lazy child he is.  Or at least that’s how he interprets it. 

Faux flinches so bad that he loses balance, and wobbles toward the edge of the billboard. In a quick moment, the stranger snatches his arm and pulls him back up to safety. 

Faux doesn’t thank him.

It’s his fault he almost fell and Faux lets him know it. “Fucking idiot! You could have killed me!” 

“Sorry, sorry.” The masked man rubs the back of neck. “I just wanted to see your piece, that's all.”

“ This spot really is heaven, good job on getting up here! ” Felix beams. 

“And what about it?” Faux growls, ready for whatever he may say next. He looks at the mysterious stranger. Even with the mask, his voice was clear and crisp.

“I think it’s a great piece.” Felix compliments him and tells him things he likes about it while Faux tries to get a read on this guy. There had to be some reason he came up here to talk to him.

 He kept searching for a reason that he should ditch this asshole, that he shouldn’t trust him, but he stays and listens to the guy go on about his clean linework and nice use of line weight to make the piece pop all the way from the ground.

Felix saw a few tags down there with Cyber. 

“Faux, huh?” Cyber observes the signature. That’s not a name he’s heard before. The linework was exact, perfect, rigid but the way he used colors was something else and Felix lets him know. 

“Hey, I’ll buy you a soda or something for almost scaring you off the top of a building.” Felix throws his hands up in surrender. “My friend and I were about to head down to Brink Terminal to this little grocery store. They got really good peach tea there, you should try it.”

“Sure, I guess.” Faux accepts the invitation. 

And with this mundane meeting, the legendary Big Three was born. 

Faux has the same drink cupped in his hand right now. 

Felix smiled going on about how they set the city on fire after that. Maybe he never said it out loud but Faux was uneasy the day they met and every day since. Always one bad scare away from the edge. 

The bearded writer was sure that Faux liked his company, and thought of him and Cyber as friends. He could just never let them in. 

His companion always said it in his actions, that there was a difference between liking someone and trusting someone. 

It must be an exhausting existence, to never feel safe in the bigger writer community and to keep it all inside. Faux was always always suffocating. 

In the magical scenario where Faux told Felix instead of him finding out, he mulls over the different possibilities in his head. He can’t guarantee that past him wouldn’t have been totally put off by the knowledge of who Vogelaar Sr. was. 

Even now, Faux was shaken to the core. He can tell by the one word responses he gives to things he talks about while they continue down the aisle.

Faux is more interested in the shopping list than the brunette.

Sugary cereal (that his dad said was bad for him) , a carton of milk, pasta sauce in a jar, a box of spaghetti.   

Felix  just has to tell him he knows, and that he won’t push him away for it this time. Fuck. 

The wheels turn in his head along with the shopping cart wheels, of the way he should let him down softly. 

They both notice the silence under the LED luminescence . 

In the end, he just decides to rip off the band aid. Be honest, for his friend’s sake and his too.  

“Your pops, he’s the Chief of Police now.” He casually tears down Faux’s entire world. “That’s what you’ve been thinking about, isn’t it?” 

Felix realizes that it sounds confrontational, but there was really no other way to phrase it.

“Family resemblance is that strong, huh?” Faux laughs bitterly. It’s a dry cough of a sound, one that is supposed to replace a sob. He shudders, a shiver running through his body like it’s winter. 

There’s a beat of silence between them. Faux bristles at the information hanging around in the air. As time freezes in the cold air of the meat aisle. It jumps out at him, how cold the metal wiring of the basket seeps through his gloves. His heart thrums in his throat. 

It was inevitable. This moment. 

Here it comes, the disgust, the soul crushing rejection.

The anxiety bores a hole deep into his stomach, sharp and aching like a drill. Felix is going to abandon him after letting him know. 

More than that he will-

“That doesn’t change anything between us, Faux.” 

Felix means this sincerely, it’s slow, soft,  stabilizing. He puts a reassuring hand on Faux’s head. “Can’t change your roots.”

He made that decision when he reunited Faux’s head and body. “ I’ll trust you. It’s on you if you break that trust.”

Faux blinks away the fresh hot tears. “Ah...” Is all he can really say. There’s no getting past the sticky ball of emotion clogging his throat. 

He looks back toward Felix, the light shines behind him in a sort of halo, which keeps him looking in an odd mesmerizing way. 

It’s fine if he doesn’t have words, Felix understands in the tears he sees running down Faux’s cheeks. 

It’s the goodwill that you’ll return the shopping cart and get your .50 euro coin back, but so much deeper. To find safety in him the same way he did for Felix, shines like gold. Faux, he wants to earn the trust given to him. 

Faux wonders what he did to deserve a friend like Felix as they make their way to the checkout. The brunette wheels Faux out of the grocery store, who’s clutching his bag of groceries to himself,  to a brighter future between the two of them he’ll make sure of it. 

Chapter Text

In Mataan, Felix stands in front of the shuttered building with a faded painting of a burger on it, spotting a couple shoddy new tags around it. 

He wonders how this could have happened to his favorite burger joint, where he would drag Faux and Cyber any chance he got. 

It had always so busy. He simply hadn’t been around to see the downfall. Just another vestige of a bygone era, and he was a man unstuck from time. 

He puts his skateboard down to the pavement. 

Well, it’s time to get going then.

The bells clink when Felix pushes open the glass door. A warm orange glow casts upon him, and he scans the faces of  people at dinner and murals of Japanese folklore until he sees a hand waving him over. A group of colorfully dressed writers await him at a large table. 

Tryce has his arms stretched languidly behind his head. “Ayo, Felix. What took you so long?” Their leader asks, as he takes the seat saved for him between Tryce and Bel. 

The question has more meaning to it. It’s been a couple weeks(maybe more?) since the final battle. And longer than that since restoring Faux. The brunette knows he’s been neglecting them, and  there’s a lingering stab of guilt in his chest. “Sorry guys, got a little sidetracked on the way in.”

But when he’s here, it feels like they’re picking up right where they left off. 

Secret relief sparks in his eyes, the more that fact sinks in. Bel giggles, shoving her phone toward him, showing him a  funny cat video. Tryce on the other side telling him about their crew battle with Eclipse earlier that afternoon. 

“The stars told them that we would lose.” The other man rolls his eyes. “We make our own fate, I told them and then we crushed it.”

A smile leaks from Felix’s lips, he wishes he could have been there to see that heroic speech. 

“Couldn’t have done it without you guys.” Tryce announces, looking over the table to Solace and Vinyl. 

“Damn straight.” Vinyl beams.

“I didn’t really help… I just was.. trying to lead them away.”  Solace says nervously and Bel reassures him he did a good job. It warms Felix’s heart, he really has the best homies.

Today they’re having ramen. Felix doesn’t tell them about the burger place, but sits with that bit of melancholy. Just as they’re about to finally order when the slightly annoyed waiter came back for the 3rd time, a man in a big lab coat walks in. 

“Oh look who’s joining us!” Felix claps DJ Cyber’s hand, as he approaches. “Yo can we get another chair? Thanks!” Yet again delaying their order. 

“I thought I saw the BRC in these parts.” Cyber says sitting next to Vinyl in the new chair brought to them by the waiter. “Heard it from one the of the Old Heads. Congratulations on defending your turf.”

“Thanks man.” Tryce replies. “Just hoping that Futurism isn’t planning on moving in right now too.”

DJ Cyber’s deep laugh booms. “You know I can’t promise that.”

They all order and then the chatter resumes.

 Cyber is seated directly across from Felix. Felix finishes a conversation he’s having with Solace when he notices those green eyes on him. 

The brunette knows just from a glance at his longtime best friend that he didn’t come just to congratulate Tryce. He could have done that anytime. 

“I talked to Prince and he said Faux’s back.” The spare moment hovers a bit, The members of the BRC come unintentionally to a hush when DJ Cyber addresses the Leviathan in the room. 

“Faux only remembers us, the Big Three I mean.” Felix explains. “He still thought that me and Cyber were his crew until I broke it to him that the Big Three split. He doesn’t know I went solo, or that he became Project Algo or anything like that.” 

As his eyes scan over each visage, All of this seems to come with an unspoken  ‘Do with that what you will’ to the rest of them. 

Tryce folds his arms, with the sullen looks of Vinyl. Bel and Solace though, have less animosity than the rest of them. 

“And just when I said that there were no more decapitated writers who needed to be reminded of who they are. “ DJ Cyber sighs with some exasperation as the food arrives. 

But Cyber knows it’s not the same as Felix, these weren’t memories that a person really wants . 

And who knows what will happen when Faux recalls them. Those events, the emotions that came with it. 

“He’ll want to know what happened to him, just like you.” Cyber says locking eyes with Felix, obscured in a shroud of steam emanating from the broth. 

With his face hidden, only his question stands. 

“Will you have him live in blissful ignorance? Or will you remind him of his rotten roots?” 

Felix was contemplative as he could finally see the redhead’s face again in the low light. “I know Faux’s memories aren’t all sunshine and rainbows.”

“But, I don’t think that’s for me to decide.” Felix says  firmly, and brings the soup bowl up to his face to finish it off. No one tried to stop him from regaining his memories, so it wouldn’t be fair if he did that to Faux. 

Especially when he just got the blonde’s hard earned trust. 

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

Cyber shook his head at his stupid idiot brunette best friend of his. That was so like him. 

Always leaping and never looking, he wonders how lucky his best friend will remain. 

For now, they’ll celebrate this small victory. 

Chapter Text

Faux is splayed out with his sugary cereal in bed, watching the finale of his favorite anime after binging it for hours.

 (Bel promised not to spoil the ending for him when he had mentioned it offhand at the hideout.) 

That was one of the perks of being missing for months, that he didn’t have to wait so long to know the ending.

The past few days alone, he spent icing his ankle and catching up on the world around him. 

He’s not his dad with the newspaper every morning, but he reads about happenings around New Amsterdam, a new skate park, funding for a new preschool, Netherlands advancing in the World Cup and a series of serious crackdowns on street gangs. (code word:writers)

The stricter enforcement all thanks to New Amsterdam’s Chief Inspector Vogelaar. He was becoming like a rockstar in these parts, which is what he always wanted. 

What sticks out like a thorn in his eye from looking into his dad’s sudden rise to fame is that he’s finally out of the picture.  

He’s dead. He’s dead and the punks on the street killed him. 

Seemed kind of perfect, to get rid of his disgraceful son who was tearing apart his family and use him as a martyr to end crime on the streets. 

Faux throws up in his mouth a little. He wonders genuinely how he came to that one. 

Maybe the old man had enough of his shit and said that he was dead to him. Then  that gave him a good idea. 

When he looks up his own death though, he can’t seem to figure out how he died. 

All just a PR stunt huh? Even this was taking it too far. But nothing was too far for that guy’s image. 

The image that Teun had been continually told he was tarnishing every time he lost that soccer game,wanted anything other than his studies, got any grade less than an A, got pushed to go to school when he was sick to the point he threw up in front of the class. Another embarrassment. 

He was getting angrier. 

Faux checked the messages on his phone, his dad’s number pushed to the bottom under his texts to Felix and the recently revived old Big Three group chat. 

At least that asshole didn’t text him anymore. Thank god. 

Better not to think about the man he hates the most. It’ll put him in a bad mood before the get together. 

Felix is still half asleep, and his phone buzzes. A hand emerges from under the covers and clicks open the one new message. 

Faux’s name appears across the top next to an unflatteringly close photo of the blonde’s face that Felix set as his contact photo.

Yo Felix, I found the presents from Sinterklaas Avond I was supposed to give you guys when I was cleaning out my place the other day. Do you and Cyber want to drop by later?

There’s a knock and Faux goes to answer it. 

As soon as the door swings open, Faux ushers in Cyber and Felix in.

He doesn’t catch that Cyber looks like he’s seen a ghost. The redhead does a hell of a good job hiding it. 

It was a funny little celebration between the three of them. Although it was June, the speakers in Faux’s flat radiate with Christmas music and he made the effort to dig out some colorful lights from the closet.

It made Faux’s place feel less clinical. That was the word for it. Clean, like no one lived there. The way his pops likes it. 

Its resident wasn’t home half the time anyway, but it was cozier like this while they’re catching up. 

The three of them seated around the little cramped dining table, eating cookies and sweets that Felix brought. He can’t find the speculaas and oliebollen that the other two like this time of year but he improvises.  

“My mom didn’t want him to tell me, but dad told me that he bought the gifts when I was little,” Faux tells them with a cookie in his mouth as they’re shuffling gifts around and checking the tags. “Not, Sinterklaas or whatever.” ‘

He goes, in a deep mocking voice. “Sinterklaas? I am Sinterklaas, you ungrateful brat.” The other two chuckle at his impression.

“A couple days after Sinterklaas Avond, my mom would always make carrot stew. It was so gross, I always hated it. I kinda wonder now if she took it out of my sweaty ass shoe and put it directly into the pot.” Felix reminisces. “I was always stoked that Sinterklaas’s horse ate the carrot but I was too dumb to realize it was just my mom.” 

The other two made a face. “My parents let me know that they bought the presents when I was older, I have no idea what you two were doing.” Cyber shakes his head. 

The three of them open the gifts.

From Faux, Felix finds the same beanie he’s wearing, and Cyber has a gift card to his favorite record store. It’s impossible to know what records he already has in his vast collection but it’s thoughtful anyway. The two thank him. 

“You said yours had holes in it, so went and got the same one for you but… not with holes.” Felix chuckles a bit at him. 

From Felix and Cyber, Faux unfolds a luxuriously soft red pullover sweater. He knows it fits since he and Felix pretty much wear the same size and a bag of Sour Patch Kids imported all the way from America. 

Faux opens the bag giving each of them a gummy and watches their faces twist from the tart flavor. 

“I don’t know how you like this stuff. “ Cyber lets out a chuckle at Felix’s still scrunched face.

Soon the Christmas music is replaced by some of the DJ’s new mixes. 

Faux listens to Agua and says jokingly. “I knew that taking out the Spongebob theme would make it hit harder, and you didn’t believe me.” 

Cyber shows him some other beats, and the blonde is pleased to see some of those demos come to fruition. 

“Hey, while you guys are here.” Faux leans on the chair for support getting up, and hobbles across the room to his notebook. “Check out these.” 

He shows them some new mockups, some designs inspired by his favorite show.

In turn, they pore over flicks on Cyber and Felix’s phones of graffiti spots they’ve hit. It’s always like those two to stretch the limits. 

“Sick!” Felix points out a couple of them. “Mind if we…”

Faux hands them a couple pens from the little cup and the three of them expand upon Faux’s rigid linework with Felix’s depth and Cyber’s details. The music fades to the background while the three of them work. 

 It’s something that’s only made by the three of them. And it’s a better gift than the blonde could have asked for. 

“ I can’t wait to get this one out into the streets.” Faux's usually reserved demeanor can’t contain the enthusiasm he has for his craft. 

“You heal that ankle and we’ll be out tearing up the streets again.” Felix pats him on the back.

The two wave goodbye to their third member smiling practically from ear to ear.

They round the block before the brunette speaks up. “You saw it too, right Cyber?” 

They continue down the side street. 

“Uh hmm.” The redhead knits his brow. 

The picture of a leviathan with six arms. It was unfinished with a head. It didn’t know that it’s head was sitting right in front of it. But sooner or later, it would remember. 

Chapter Text

Under the golden glow of late morning sun, Brink Terminal is a mess in Tryce’s eyes. Eclipse really messed with their turf the other day, but to the leader of the Bomb Rush Crew it wasn’t really a setback as much of a challenge. Felix looked at it that way.

It was that kind of mindset that made the masked man so admirable. Like a superhero to the aspiring writer, enough to start his own crew. 

On the subject of meeting his heroes, Tryce got to know the real Faux and isn’t too keen on knowing him before Felix had made his decision to go All City alone. The one who “used to be just like you.” 

 Giant mechanical monstrosity that haunts his dreams sometimes, tried to wipe him and every other writer off the face of the earth. 

Framed others, False idol on a broken pedestal. Murderer. 

He doesn’t forget so easily who Faux is. 

He wasn’t like that now?

What was Felix even thinking? Jeez.

“What?” Faux growls gruffly at him. He turned, noticing Tryce staring. 

“Nothing. Let’s get to it.” Tryce handed him a spray can from the duffel bag on his shoulder. The two of them began sketching out a piece together. 

The day after their winter festivities, Faux is helping Tryce with repainting their territory after they were challenged by Eclipse. 

It wasn’t like a crew like BRC truly needed the help, but Faux offered. 

It was the least the blonde can do for crashing at their hideout for however long. 

Faux’s skills are leagues above his own in both quality and speed. Despite that, his companion seems to be building off what Tryce has. 

In the past, Faux had done all his work himself but there was something about that first time with Felix that made him want to try this with other people. The pair get into a groove. Tryce even catches a smile on Faux’s face.

The lanky man compliments his homemade mixtape playing from the portable speaker hidden somewhere in his boost pack. 

By the end they’re both grinning, and discuss each other’s aspects of the piece.

Soon they’re working together covering Eclipse’s graffiti and really get a feel for blending each other’s styles. 

Tryce starts making idle conversation, and finds that Faux is a good listener. Commenting on the little things he tells him. It’s pleasant. 

Faux in his soft voice tells him slivers about himself. It’s more like they’re striving toward a goal and not just cooperating for the sake of survival like that night at the police station.

Of course Felix’s friend always keeps him at arm’s distance. His father’s profession looms over him, the arms of its shadow clench tight around any new relationship he might make, straining. 

He’s not someone that Faux can trust, and the feeling’s mutual. 

When they round the corner, a younger writer in a blue hoodie makes eye contact with them. The piece they just made, ruined by this punk. He doesn’t seem too phased by the two of them, probably doesn’t know who he’s dealing with.

Faux, with his wobbly gait and lean figure aren’t that intimidating for anyone who didn’t know him. He strides over to the youth with steam in his ears. 

“You tagged over my art.” Faux accuses, his calm voice betrays his fiery challenging eyes. 

“Yeah, I did.” The kid sneers, what he doesn’t expect is for two gloved hands to grip him by the shoulders and shove him against the building. 

Faux grunts, viciously digging his claws into the poor soul’s arms as he throws him to the concrete.

The kid in the hoodie is leaning on one arm to collect himself but never forgets the imminent danger looming above him. 

Tryce intervenes before the blonde can throw the empty spray can at him. 

“Hey stop! Don’t kill him!”

“I wasn’t going to.” Faux replies calmly, watching the culprit scamper off, tail between his legs.

“Could’ve fooled me.” There’s venom in his words.  “Jeez, dawg. I heard it from Felix you were…” 

He cuts himself off. “Damn, just, chill out.” He broadly gestures.

Faux folds his arms in front of his chest. 

When Faux was first starting out, he always played dirty. Tripping other members, body checking, cheap tricks.  Had to, as a solo writer aiming for the top. 

DJ Cyber and Felix were friends before that, but they knew they wanted Faux in their crew when they watched him take on whole crews by himself. 

Though, more than once Felix found himself dragging away their newest member away  when he lost his temper. 

There’s sirens in the distance. Someone must’ve heard the confrontation between writers.

Great. Tryce sighs. 

 It isn’t long before they’re back to back fighting off the officers. Though it’s just like that night, when Faux said he would hold them off, he could very well handle himself in a brawl. 

Tryce, while going hard himself, watches the anger erupt from his partner. Sweeping kicks, boosted punches and a skull crushing headbutt. 

He’s seen it all before but he’s not sure how that much anger fits in a rail thin human being. 

They worked together to take out a turret that had gotten Tryce’s arm in a handcuff and Faux’s neck. They worked fast before it can start retracting and they’re both screwed. 

Even though that brat had painted over their work, Faux sprinted to his rescue. With the broken chain around his neck, looking like a rabid dog rushes the officer that has the kid by the scruff and yells at him to run. 

He’s not any officer though. 

It’s the chief of police himself heroically taking action before he tumbles to the ground with a grunt. He can’t stop staring at Faux. He lowers his cracked shades to get a better look, allowing Faux to see his father’s face in the flesh. “Teun?” 

Faux is caught by the sound of his own name in his father’s voice and the two make eye contact, trapped as soon as father and son lock eyes. “Dad?”

Tryce cuts short the family reunion and grabs his wrist and pulls him up. They’re running now, grinding all the way toward Eclipse’s former hangout with bullets at their feet.

Faux uses the momentum to get farther ahead the way that Felix taught him. He’s definitely running away from something and Tryce knows exactly what it is. 

Their leader makes a mistake when the end of his hanging chain hits a rail throwing off his balance. Faux is quick to pivot  back and grab his hand, saving him from a nasty fall.

Back in the day, it had been rumored that when the police showed up, Faux of the Big Three got rid of the competition by refusing to help anyone who got busted. 

But even when that kid had crossed his path, he still went out of his way to save him from the slammer and even heard he helped Flesh Prince too. 

He was perceptive enough to know that this was in no small part due to Felix’s big act of kindness. 

 Maybe… the blonde isn’t so bad? Hmmmm. It’s complicated. He’ll have to see. 

That night they played Sega GT 2002 on the console by the couch. Although Faux got visibly frustrated when he lost, Tryce hit him with the GG’s anyway. 

He might’ve been different now, but Tryce isn’t sure he’s ready to accept him as a writer just yet. 

Meanwhile, Chief Inspector Vogelaar sits at his desk and looks at his son’s mugshot he stopped from getting through processing. For the wanted poster, this would do.

Chapter Text

Cyber and the girls took up residence in their old hideout in Mataan. More like he never left, ever since Felix departed with a grin under his mask and a small wave and Faux vanished into thin air shortly after.

 The rest of Futurism buzzing around Mataan, but again Faux caught their disgusted glares. Seemed to be a common theme these days. 

Skating under another cerulean sky, Faux’s taking it slow on his skates like he’s remembering how to use them. 

He looks up at the skyscrapers and wonders just how far he fell. 

He just got the ok from Prince to put them on again the other day when he went out with Tryce. 

Today, he’s going to see Cyber with Felix and finally unlock some piece of this puzzle. 

He and Felix are on their usual banter making their way past new and shuttered shops.

“And what is that?  You’re trying to lecture me with your 30 euro haircut. Looking like a lemon.” He draws the shape with his hands. 

“At least mine doesn’t come with a bowl of soup.” Faux huffs back. 

They burst out in laughter. 

Their old stomping ground.

. “Hey, Draw burger-”

“Yeah.” Felix says accidentally cutting him off. “Cyber said they didn’t pay rent for 6 months, so they kind of got kicked out.”

“Ah.”

The two former members of the Big Three know which alleyway to turn into, the one with the best city view when it’s a clear moon. The trio would sit on the roof with a couple of beers and grow closer while they talk about life. 

The red garage where Felix and Faux were breathing down Cyber’s neck while he worked until he told them to back off. 

The place whose concrete floors often shook with the sickest new beats, or stood in reverent silence while the Big three collaborated on their new mural together. 

When the garage opens, It kind of feels like they're stepping into his lair or something. Faux doesn’t know why. 

Cyber is there in his big lab coat tinkering with the machine, but he doesn’t have to turn around to know that there’s two sets of eyes on him. 

When he greets the pair, the mask makes Faux’s breath hitch. Something about Felix’s mask on Cyber drags up the muted terror of a half recalled memory hidden in his chest. He swallows a clipped breath and follows the nonchalant Felix in. 

So that’s where it went. 

Faux’s eyes widen in excitement at the machine though as he leans over Cyber.  “You really finished it! That thing you were telling me about that can look into people’s heads!”

“Yeah.” Cyber says proudly, remembering how Faux curiously buzzed around him during the development process. “I got it up and running too. I tested it on Felix, so you’re not the first person to go into it.”

“Did you see anything interesting?” Faux inquires. “Or is his head just as empty as always?”

Cyber thinks the jab is funny, Felix smiles and rolls his eyes. The brunette is a good sport. 

“Have a seat.” Cyber says as the thing hisses open. Faux leans back into the white leather, but doesn’t like the way that Cyber straps in his wrists. He isn’t going to want to run away, is he?

Cyber doesn’t know about his father. He’ll just not think of him going in. Simple. 

But… that’s not the source of the static in the air. 

 The laptop connected to it shows the system he developed booting up to display it to the rest of them like an ultrasound. 

He finally sets the mask down so Faux can really look at him. “Do you know how much time you lost?” 

Faux tries not to stare at his wrists and thinks back on it. “I  remember us celebrating Felix’s birthday.” he trails off. 

That was late November. 

“Cyber, there’s  a lot of stuff that doesn’t make sense to me.” Faux confesses as his shiny blue eyes meet the DJ’s piercing green ones. 

The memories just fell out of his head when he fell off that building. 

He asks point blank. “Do I want to know what happened to me?”

Cyber chuckles but he's half serious. “Short answer is no.”

He shut up after that. 

Even though Faux didn’t say much, Cyber had become an expert in being able to read any emotion in his eyes in the years they spent together. He was tensing tighter than an airlock. 

“I’ll get this thing started. Dig it?” Cyber gives him a thumbs up. 

“I dig it.” Faux nodded solemnly. 

The doors hiss close, and the last thing Faux sees is the smiles slide off their faces, and Cyber leaning over to Felix. He whispers something in Felix’s ear.

Felix frowns deeply. 

The air is icy and it’s pitch black here. The space around Faux is claustrophobic, his elbows crash with something hard (sounds like wood)  when he tries to move around. 

His gloves touch the surface of his containment in front of him and he pushes. The lid coming off to what he realizes now

is a coffin.

Something about it makes his heart threaten to shatter his chest. Faux stumbles out of the thing, clawing for ground. He gets a handful of soft yellow, red and purple petals. 

He manages to make it to his feet.

 It takes him too long to tear his eyes away from that stupid wooden box. 

Around him are a vast expanse of tulips as far as the eye can see. A few windmills go in the breeze. Breeze that fills his lungs, it’s slightly sweet and carries some of the tension out of him.

The sky here is a spatter of color above him, in hues of tulip reds. He knows this place, it’s where his mom works. Keukenhof. 

He always had an eye for color. It was because when he was young, his mother took him here when he was too small to be home alone, and held his hand. She looked over the vast expanse with him. 

Peers up to see her face, but he only sees her smile under her sun hat. 

The world is clumsy and beautiful and new. 

It’s the most comforting place he can think of. 

He draws her a picture of the tulips with crayons, she hangs it on the fridge. 

Faux hears a voice clear its throat behind him. Cyber appears before him in the flower field.

“Hey.” The blonde isn’t exactly glad to see him. 

Nonetheless, the DJ explains to him that these dreams are his memories. That  the way out is that way, pointing to a heaven spot in the distance in a mush of cobbled together buildings. “You know what to do.”

 Faux nods, as he’s handed a couple cans of spray paint that he sticks into his boostpack. 

His injuries don’t make it to his dreams so he flies on the blades of windmills to get higher. He sees people like ants below him like how he would see them on the run from the cops in Mataan. It feels good, finally moving like this again. 

His skates grind the side of billboards jumping higher and higher until the building that’s so high up like a castle in the sky is revealed to be

The New Amsterdam Police Station

Of course that fucking place would show up in his dreams.

 And of course he would want to tag it. 

He boosts to the roof and whips out the spray can. He paints over the smiling faces of the officers and their stupid mascot with a brilliant white unicorn.

 A symbol of wrath, he read somewhere. He signs his name in his small neat print. 

Sketching out the X, when the metal door on the roof slams the brick.

 A guy in a red jacket is running toward him. 

“Hey! Come on!” Tryce says and Faux finds himself following. He knows this.

While they’re making their escape, the blonde spots Cyber in the distance wearing Felix’s mask , and takes a hard look. It only lasts a fraction of a second. 

It makes him severely uneasy when- 

 Tryce tells him to jump. He whips his attention to the front and uses the momentum to propel himself across the straight. But he never makes to the other side, not when the wheel of steel-

“Faux!” “Hey! Are you alright?” Felix finishes undoing the binding on his left, Cyber on his right. 

Faux’s gaze is glazed over until his breath hitches, remembering where he is. He gets out of that wretched machine and stands in the middle of the garage under the harsh white lights. His expression is unreadable until the side of his mouth twitches. 

“I’m really dead, aren’t I?” He laughs, a crooked broken sound. “And Cyber…did-  he did… he really?  He…killed me.” Faux is shaking, a fear too big for his skin inhabits his thin frame. Tremors rippling through all the way from his shoulders. 

The chief of police didn’t lie. 

He keeps laughing, laughing until his face is wet.

The bandage around his neck falls to the ground,at Cyber’s feet revealing the fleshy pink scar going all the way around. 

Tears rolled out of him uncontrollably. It’s all like a jumbled ball of yarn and the harder he pulls the tighter the knot becomes. 

“What the actual…fuck?” He balks, staring at both of them. The nervous smile lowers and so does his eyes. 

The hesitation from Felix is painful, as Faux searches his friends' faces for answers in the dark garage.

Cyber’s mask hides no lies. He did end him.

Felix is first to step forward toward Faux into the spotlight. 

His brunette friend can’t think of the right thing to say, after witnessing everything from Cyber’s screen. Felix does the only thing he can and snatches him into a tight hug.  “Hey, I’m sorry ok… I just-“

Flesh Prince was right, maybe it really was better that way when he didn’t have any memory.  

“I…I’ll explain in time. Just trust me okay?” Felix urges, trying to talk him through this tremendous realization. Leaping and not looking.

 He didn’t quite know what to do. This is all he can do. 

But he doesn’t have to ask the blonde to trust him, he senses that despite all this, he still does. 

It’s in his eyes.

“Promise.. You won't lie to me. Please...”

Desperation in Faux’s fingers straining on Felix’s puffy orange vest, crinkling the nylon in his hands. Dread, fear. Confusion. 

“I promise.” Faux heard Felix's voice before the weight got heavier, knees gave out, finally going slack in his arms. 

Chapter Text

By the time Felix clicks on the light in his apartment, he dumps the unconscious Faux onto the ratty red couch, tossing a couple of sunken pillows behind his head before slogging into the kitchen. 

He damn near puts his head under the sink faucet, but has enough self control to get the big glass with a half faded cartoon cat on it. 

The hanging lamp over the modest kitchen table shines on Felix and his cup of water.

 An interrogation like many he’s had in the past with his run-ins with the law. He tents his hands over his head, the fabric of his identical new beanie in his hands as he pulls his head toward the table. 

Damn it…

Pandora’s box has been split wide open. 

What’s he supposed to do now? Faux is going to ask why Cyber killed him, and then he would have to explain to Faux-  

Promise… You won’t lie to me. Please.

The whole situation is enough to give him indigestion. 

But just like in the Greek myth, there is hope at the very bottom.

 Hope, light and fluttering. 

The couch cushion rustles, and Felix meekly peers over as if he’s expecting something to come flying at him.

“Where…?” Faux’s husky voice stops because he knows.

 It’s Felix’s place, with the tacky zebra rug to cover up the scratchy gray carpet with the dark spots on it. 

Felix nearly knocks over his big ass cup of water waving over to him from the little kitchen table. “Yo.” 

“I…I’m going to use your bathroom.” Faux hoarsely informs him while already halfway down the hall.

The statement is almost lost in the squeak of the sink and the cold water hitting his face. 

“It’s not like you needed to ask or anything.” Felix calls after him from the kitchen a humorless chuckle in his tone. Faux ignores him. 

Faux can’t wash away the knowledge that he died. But he tries. He gets the sweat off his face and splashes some into his hair. Then comes another biting  unpleasant thought.

“Um.. do you…Do you think she knows?” A small voice sneaks into the hallway, weaving around the stream of running water. The blonde’s voice is weighed down, struck by a stinging sadness.

He read about the funeral. His funeral.

“Who?” Felix asks. 

“My mom.” Faux says, far away. 

 Felix pictures his face screwing up, and that he’s glad he’s in the bathroom where the brunette can’t see it. 

“Probably. All of New Amsterdam does.” Felix sighs matter of factly, but in a soft way. 

It seems to have sunk in then, the statement punctuated by the second squeak cutting the water off.

Faux comes out of the bathroom with the drippy strands of hair framing his face, looking especially pallid. 

Kind of like a cat that was out in the rain. 

He takes the seat across from Felix and they sit in silence. Faux’s a thousand miles away.

He looks vulnerable then, with his elbows on the table and head in his hands. Felix reaches over and grabs the box of tissues from the coffee table and slides it toward him, but Faux just pushes it away and shakes his head.

Instead he just pats Faux on the shoulder. 

They meet eyes. In a glance he tells him he is there for Faux. And it’s comforting. It really is. 

Faux does a kind of half smile. 

He just needs time. 

Felix knew the exact motions one of his best friends was going through. 

When all was said and done, Felix visited his own gravestone one lonely damp April morning.

But, he just couldn’t show the identical scar on his own neck because Faux would ask about it. 

When hyped up by Bel and Tryce (love them forever for this) Felix mustered up the courage to visit his family’s home after his full revival and replays that moment over in his head for the millionth time.

His parents tears of joy and the way they held him. Like they were never gonna let go, seeing someone they thought was gone forever. 

Faux didn’t have that. 

Felix brought Faux back into a world where he had no one to go back to. 

Faux told Felix and Cyber about his mother once when they got drunk and Cyber stopped their angriest member from punching a hole in the wall of Felix’s apartment.

Felix thought that a little beer would take off the edge after he had just spent about 20 minutes trying to get cuffs off of his blonde buddy’s arms and Cyber’s legs with a flathead screwdriver and a sprained wrist.

Faux with four empty beer cans near him and flushed cheeks utters barely audible. “ You know what? I miss her a lot sometimes.”

“ Who?” Cyber asks between a sip of his own drink. 

“ My mom .” He says looking into his fifth.

He was young then, just old enough to learn how to ride a bike. She let go of his back but he knew she was always there by the way she cheered him all the way down the street.

She always had his back, putting herself between him and his father when he doled out wanton punishments for the smallest infractions, and without her well…

She gave him the warmest hugs, and talked to him in the most tender voice. He knew that she truly loved him unconditionally. She bought him colored pencils and crayons and sketchbooks against his father’s wishes, seeing his interest in art and watched it flourish.

 The ones that were missing from his room one afternoon because his father threw all his art and pencils into the trash. 

She tucked him into bed at night after reading him bedtime stories, and went downstairs where he heard the stern murmurs between her and his father before going to sleep. 

But as time went on, stern murmuring turned to shouting. 

One Friday when he came home from school, his little packed suitcase stood by the front door.

She hugged him tight and said all the apologies in the world, before his father yanked him through the doorway into a rainy night. 

He sent her letters to the only address he knew, but they never came back.

 It was  enough before he got them with “return from sender. “

Felix knows the feeling, many friends in school made quiet exits in his life because they were too young to remember 10 digits or keep in touch with email or anything like that. 

But none of those hurt as bad as losing a mother who loved you. 

“ Your dad sounds like a fucking asshole. ” Felix comments righteously. 

No response. 

He finished his story and got really quiet sinking into the couch. It took the other two a minute to realize that he went to sleep.

“ You told me about your mom.” Felix told him in the morning. 

Unbeknownst to Felix at the time the strange relief that he sensed from him at least it wasn’t ‘You told me about your dad’

At some point, Felix moved over to the couch side by side with Faux who’s hugging a pillow to his chest like it’s gonna protect him or something.

They’re watching TV now and it’s just blue light and a game show.

Soon Faux is nodding off, and his weight is pushing against Felix’s shoulder. It doesn’t bother the bearded writer though, he’s just wondering what the answer could be on the board. 

They’re comfortable like this, in silence and worn down to a nub from the day’s events but at least they’re comfy.

 And that’s enough. 

The fluorescent light against the walls makes Faux recall his father’s eyes. A bright sort of intensity mirroring his own blue eyes. “I saw my dad the other day when I was out with Tryce you know?”

Felix recalls that moment his phone started blowing up while he maintained his skateboard. 

Their leader finally FaceTimed him, the cat was out of the bag. (And after all that effort too)

“It’s not a good thing he knows you’re alive.” Felix groans mostly to himself. 

It’s obvious to his friend too. “I..Yeah.”

The ramifications are stupidly clear. 

“I hate to tell you this but because of Cyber’s machine you’re probably going to start having like blackouts from your memory returning.” The brunette tries his best to explain.

“So, you’re really going to have to tell someone if you feel it coming on.” 

Felix got the notion that Faux was only half listening to him, only half facing him, but tried to get the urgency across anyway. 

“I’m going home.” Faux quietly declares. He wobbles a bit getting up from the couch a little too fast. He quickly brushes away the dizziness. 

 He still looks fragile then,like the cool summer breeze from the doorway might blow him over. 

So Felix calls after him before he skates away. 

“Text me when you get back.”

“...I will.”

Chapter Text

Twisting again on the ratty couch, Felix struggles to keep awake in the same spot he left Faux for his journey home.

 A yawn stretches all the muscles in his face, but with how tired and dizzy his friend looked, the thought of Faux collapsing on the way home feels like there’s hands around his throat. 

He will make it back though Felix is sure of it. 

He should have walked him home.

 It’s too late for that…

So, the buzz of Felix’s cell phone is like a prayer answered. The halo of light envelopes it. The text gleams in glory from the message on his phone next to Faux’s name. 

I’m home. 

Faux types those words before disappearing under his comforter, not caring when he’ll ever emerge again. 

With the knowledge his friend is home safe, Felix sleeps soundly, remembering those words.

The next morning begins a day that really feels like summer. The kind of dry heat where the bottom of Felix’s shoes get kind of sticky. The sweat beads off the brunette’s dark eyebrows and he wipes it away with the back of his hand. 

Despite this, him, Tryce and Bel soldier on in the shade of the buildings just to avoid the too bright sun. 

The Franks wanted a rematch. 

Not a crew battle, though something else.

Last week, after their close shave with the police, the blonde Frank got smoked by Felix on the court, but was convinced it was his teammates help that led Felix to victory. 

“You’re just a toy.” The taller man said with a finger on Felix’s chest. “If it was you and your crew we’d beat you real good.”

Tryce was up for a challenge and Bel lit up at the opportunity. It could be fun!

In the meantime, Tryce applies a different sort of heat. Bel is listening, while clicking away about the beating sun to all her followers.

“Let me get it straight.” The dark haired man looks at Felix. “He pushes the ladder out from under you, and kills you.” Tryce cocks an eyebrow. 

“ ‘Cause you know that his dad is a dirty cop”

“Yeah.” Felix answers paying more attention than not. He’s still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. 

“And you agree to bring him back to life, and buy him pizza?” Tryce’s eyebrows knit him a sweater.

The dark haired man then flicks his gaze sharply in Felix’s direction. 

He doesn’t need to ask why, Felix knows he’s expecting it. 

Is it because he’s selfish? Uh huh…

Because Faux is one of his best friends he would literally do anything for?

Tryce and Bel are his best friends he’d do anything for, and they didn’t kill him. 

The true reason-

“I still believe it, he can change.” Felix shrugs, he’s always honest, Tryce is giving him points for that. “I really think so.”

It brings the leader back to tagging with Faux the other day. He might be right, but the dark haired man is just having a hard time separating man from beast. 

“Mmm…” Tryce hums contemplative. “Whatever you say.” He doesn’t quite believe Felix despite the evidence in his face. 

And with that they step into the Flesh Prince’s Domain.

“Ayo!” Felix clear voice calls.“You guys ready?”

A rhetorical question of course. 

“You know it.” Flesh Prince answers back with a toothy grin, ball in hand. 

He is lined up with his team, the blonde Frank is biting at the bit to get the game started. Been a while since they had some good competition like this. 

As soon as the BRC is lined up, the youthful leader of the Franks throws the ball into the air. It’s a close game, and both sides are shouting and flying across the pavement like it isn’t almost 40C. 

It’s just when the BRC are winning that- 

A familiar voice is carried in the hot summer air swept underneath the basketball beating against the pavement.

At first, Felix is sure that it’s just his imagination but it’s louder, more desperate now. Felix thinks he knows that voice. 

“Help!!” The female voice calls out, and Felix answers, abruptly dropping the ball and running after the cry to the open area behind the court. 

“Felix! Where are you going ?” And before long, Tryce is wrapped up in his mess too. 

Rietveld is shoved to the ground, guns pointed at her. When she looks up, the weapons are knocked away and so are the red eyed officers. 

She looks at the familiar faces who came to her rescue. “These tools jumped me!” She explains scrambling to her feet. “Broke my boostpack!” 

She says while Tryce pulls her out of the way out of helicopter fire and subsequently from under the foot of the big walking tank. 

The dark haired man and the policewoman watch Felix gracefully soar through the air in slow motion after spraying the helicopter’s controls and take out the tank walker. He always makes it look so natural.

Felix lands in front of them with a bit of flourish to the amazement of the other two. He straightens his back and it pops though and he doubles over. “Augh the hell.” 

The timing makes Felix’s friend have to reign in a chuckle after that sudden stressful situation. 

As soon as everyone catches their breath, the Franks and the representatives of the BRC are gathered around their former enemy to hear what exactly happened.

 She’s tinkering with her boostpack with the tools the Franks have in the garage. “Thanks for that, I owe you one.” 

Tryce looks with crossed arms.

“I’ve been heading the anti corruption division to rid the force of Project Algo’s influence.” She tells them screwing the parts back into place. “I’ve been tired of tidying up this mess but I can’t quit now. Not with the new Police Chief in charge.”

Chief Inspector Vogelaar. 

He’s been using the Project Algo remnants to crack down on writers, using the knowledge bestowed upon them by the “crime stopping experiment.” 

Every writer has witnessed the increasing intensity on the streets. 

The danger has broken up crews, with members ending up in jail with harsher penalties for writing. In the worst cases, members were wasted, left in alleyways like trash and their deaths covered up. 

It left a curtain of dread draped on the atmosphere of the New Amsterdam writing scene. 

It doesn’t sit right with her, because even though vandalism was bad, writers are the least of the city's worries. She didn’t believe in Berlage’s slippery slope theory.

The slippery slope she did believe in was with her boss’s successor. It felt like writers were just the beginning, and using the failed remnants of Project Algo didn’t sit right with her. 

Stopping all crime in the streets her ass, he would use Project Algo for much more than stopping some kids doing graffiti. 

Another reason she stayed in the force was to keep an eye on him. 

Then something strange happened. 

While walking into the station one morning she overheard a special team that was being assembled. One that was going to catch a certain Teun Vogelaar. She asks Felix. “So that means he’s back. Did this have something to do with you?”

“Yeah.” Felix fesses up. “I asked Flesh Prince here to help me.”

Prince frowns being roped into this. 

“What?” Rietveld hisses at them.

“He’s alive-“  Felix repeats himself. 

Rietveld got that part. “After all that-“ she didn’t even know what to say. “You’re crazy, you know that?” 

But Felix was used to that by now and with a soft sound he answers. “I know.”

The brunette looks at her though. “There’s something that I need to tell you, about your new boss.”

“Huh?” She leans forward toward him. 

“His secret is that Faux is actually his son. He’s a dirty cop who has been cleaning his kid’s record for years.” Felix says carefully.

“And now he wants the evidence gone.” Rietveld echoes, putting together the pieces. 

Sick of him to martyr his own son for his cause. 

“This is even worse than I thought.” Rietveld groans. But at least it gives her a case against him. 

“I heard that team is going to raid places where they believe they’ll find your friend. I’ll look into it and give you a call.” She said patting her newly patched up boostpack. 

She made sure that Felix was really looking into her eyes. “I want to get a taped confession if all of this is true. In the meantime, keep him safe okay?”

“What do we look like: witness protection?” Tryce raises a brow.

Felix in turn throws the ball to her, and she catches it instinctively. “You want to stick around for some b-ball first?”

Chapter Text

“Don’t do it, Faux. Don’t do it.” Felix begs wide eyed at the nozzle of the spray bottle. Bel peers over the blonde’s shoulder, ready to get a photo. 

Too late.

Felix squeezes his eyes shut, getting a face full of water. Faux dissolves into his soft mischievous snicker before remembering to actually comb out his bangs. 

Bel giggles wildly in solidarity, spinning away with her phone. 

From her spot on the couch Vinyl laughs at him. 

“Oh come on, Bel. Don’t encourage him.” Felix groans, but it just makes the other two crack up. 

It’s good to see Faux in higher spirits since learning of his own death not too long ago. 

Like Felix, he wears the neck of his shirt a little higher now.

There’s no telling exactly what’s going on through the blonde’s head. He didn’t ask about why DJ Cyber would off him like that.

The answer was simple though: he’s too scared to touch it with a ten foot pole. 

 After a couple day’s rest he seemed a little better at least. And Felix is glad.

He’s in an even better mood after finally beating Tryce at a very furious game of Sega GT 2002, full of swearing and elbows. It was the beginning of a friendly rivalry. 

At first, Felix wasn’t sure if he wanted Faux this close to his neck but he’s sitting in a spinny office chair with a tablecloth hastily duct taped in the back. 

He made sure to pull the collar of his jacket way above his scar. 

His quiet friend continues the trim and his discussion with his bubbly “assistant” about his feelings regarding the final fight of his favorite show. 

The mid afternoon sun beams over them with cotton clouds. Another bright and sunny day in New Amsterdam. They’re all wiping the sweat off their foreheads every so often.

“You’re really good at this.” Bel is impressed as he carefully cleans up the sides, she hands him the buzzer. 

“Thanks.” He murmurs, he wants to get it just right. 

“Faux used to cut my hair a lot back when it was him, me and Cyber.” Felix fills her in. 

“Since Felix always looked like a wild man.” The blonde man retorts without breaking concentration. 

“Hey, it’s not like I can really afford to get a haircut.” Felix protests languidly.

“You um… look a lot cleaner with the new cut Felix.” Solace suddenly pipes up from under the table. His head peering out.  

Faux flinches backward, almost dropping the clippers. He is not expecting him to be there, even though Felix acts like nothing is out of place.

 “Thanks man. Feels a lot lighter too.” His hand appears from under the cloth and rubs the back of his head feeling the soft fine hairs. 

Tryce rolls his eyes at the angel but that means the whole gang is accounted for. 

“It looks like this is everyone, so I have some stuff you all need to hear.” Tryce gathers everyone around.

“So you all know about our little encounter with Project Algo yesterday.” He starts, watching them tense just at the name. He informs them about Rietveld’s plan to take on the new police chief and build a case against the man making their lives hell. 

He leaves out one detail though, that Faux was the police chief’s son and their directive to protect him.

That part was at the forefront of Tryce and Felix’s minds and they would find a way to tell the rest of them. 

Even though everyone knew about Vogelaar, Faux himself was unaware about his biggest secret being exposed. 

According to DJ Cyber, he informed the bearded writer that it would be too much of a shock to the senses at the moment. 

And perhaps there was some part of him that still cared about Faux after recognizing him as the version before everything went to shit with the three of them. Especially if he was being as meticulous about Faux’s memory as he was with Felix’s.

 So Tryce reluctantly held his tongue. Why? Because he cared about Felix .

After all, the beanie wearing brunette texted Faux about the situation yesterday anyway, furiously typing on their way back that he almost tripped over a bench.

Tryce yanked him back by the strap of his boostpack, and he almost dropped his phone into the trash can. 

With that serious business out of the way, they gather around the checkered pad for the day’s cipher. 

Bel shows off some new moves she learned from Dot Exe, Tryce and Solace cheer her on. As soon as Bel cartwheels out, Tryce does a headstand.

Faux shuffles stiffly from side to side at the edge of the circle, but he seems to be having fun. It’s been a while since he’s been in a cipher with anyone besides his best friends. 

A small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. 

He ignores the glare just out of view from a certain blue haired woman. 

Vinyl’s fist clenches just out of view, a sharp hot stab of vengeance lingering in her. 

She leans over to Felix, and whispers to him.  “As much as I’d like to see Faux pay for everything he’s done, his dad’s got to go first. “

As a freelancer, Vinyl had more connections than just BRC and Futurism. Some of which she had seen disappear off the face of the earth. She didn’t want to think about what happened to them even though she knew. Damn it, she knew. 

As soon as Tryce waves Faux in to take his turn in the spotlight, Vinyl hugs Felix goodbye. She got a text that lunch with Futurism was still on. She drops her board to the ground. While swapping in, Faux is secretly glad to see her go. 

Bel slides along the bike rail, and uses the downward momentum to make an impressive jump through the circular structure. “Smooth!”

“That was really cool, Bel!” Solace says, clicking away at his phone. She giggles. 

He sends her the video he got so it can go straight to the ‘gram.

Leaning against the nearby rail, Faux looks right while Tryce tries the same wheelie on the bike rail for about the twentieth time. Faux observes him finally making the curve, then landing it. 

A daring Felix jumps to his left when he’s not looking, sailing over Tryce and outshining his success. But it doesn’t scare either of them. They flash each other a thumbs up at their respective accomplishments.

The crew practices tricks until the sky was tangerine. 

Faux has been keeping himself sharp with the group (even though he’s not part of the gang, he came along anyway), but for some reason the muscle memory comes back to him faster than if he had been forced out of practice for a long time.

Everyone cheers him on too, praising his skills and he likes that. He is (was) part of the Big 3 after all. 

 He decides he’s caught his breath and grinds a long rail. The train whistles, catching his attention. 

He keeps watching the train. Fixated on the object chugging along the tracks. The way it looks, a crisp shadow against a blood red sunset. 

A wave of dizziness hits him, blurring half his vision like a chalkboard eraser across his field of vision. The sight stirs something deep within him-

And fills it with rocks. His chest was so full of rocks that he could barely breathe anymore so he took a hand and clenched at it until the knuckle turned white inside his glove. 

His insides simmered in every crevice. 

Faux stood on top of the car and watched. 

The grief and anger thrummed into his veins, so much that he threw that trash can earlier, catching the attention of every person in Versum Hill. 

He watched the train crisp shadow…against the blood red sunset…

It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. He got abandoned. Not just abandoned. Betrayed! It hurts so much….

He’s blinking, staring at the crimson sky until it bruises purple. The boulder in his chest cavity weighing him down, it’s like he’s remembering how to breathe. Agh… why? Footsteps, Bel and Felix. 

 He sits up, feeling hot liquid dribbling down his chin. A slight nosebleed.

He brushes away the pair of hands in his face, trying to help him up. 

They watched him lose his balance and suddenly faceplant on something so routine. 

“I’m Fine, alright?”

He says thunderously, holding his nose.  Louder than he means to, partially because the ringing consumes one ear. It gets Bel to back off, which is what he wants, anyway. 

It’s not a good time but Faux has to know, despite his buddy’s outburst Felix pushes through and with a pack of portable tissues from Bel’s purse. 

Rietveld’s name flashed on his phone.

He lets him know some troubling news.

Faux through the throbbing in his head watches Felix’s lips. 

“Tomorrow.” Rietveld’s text reads. “ The first raid will be tomorrow. “

Chapter Text

The first raid will be tomorrow.

 “Well damn, could’ve told us sooner.” Felix laughs. The way he swallows sounds like there’s chalk breaking in his throat. 

They slip soundlessly around the city under the blanket of velvety night, silhouettes against the buildings. The glow of the notes app of Faux’s phone and the sound of skates glides against the pavement. 

Faux only wants a few things on such short notice. Birthday money from relatives he has stashed away, his sketchbook, some clothes, and most importantly

The photo on his bedside table of him and his mom when they went to the beach. 

He knows it’s stupid, but he needs it. It was kind of the only picture he was able to hide from his dad when he was angrily throwing any trace of his mother into the trash. 

He can hear it, the broken glass of trashed picture frames.

The thought is sad but he crushes it easily when they arrive at the outside of the apartment building. 

Faux does a visual sweep of  his apartment for probably the last time. 

He doesn’t really care, it was never his place to begin with and his father always let him know it. It was always clinically clean like no one lived there, and he never kept anything that important in plain sight because his father always searched as if he had a warrant when he came to visit.

Sure it was a place to rest his head, but it was never really his home. 

He said goodbye to it anyway. 

At the bedside table he immediately picks up the most important item in the room. 

He’s little and he has a small shy smile on his face and a bucket full of shells. His  mom is kneeling next to him. The wave just crashed against the shore. It’s warm. She tells him to smile for Opa, a weekend with his grandparents. Away from his father. 

He fingers the edge of the photo reverently before stuffing the frame into his boostpack. 

He covers the precious item with some clothes and his sketchbook too. 

Felix is the lookout for the mission and so far it’s going smoothly. He has his foot on his skateboard idly pushing it back and forth with his shoe.

It’s the middle of the night, and there’s some rustling down the hall but nothing out of usual apartment shuffling. 

Why does a cinder block drop straight into his stomach?

The rustling turns to the heavy downpour of boots on the ground. 

Tomorrow! Well it’s like 1 am so Rietveld wasn’t lying but-

Damn it!

It’s even more terrifying now. Something about their eyes, they’re glowing red, and they looked glazed, animal. “Faux! You  better hurry up!”

Faux has everything he needs, so they’re ready to get the fuck out but his heart thrums all the way into this ears when he hears that the cops are coming. How are they gonna get out of here now?

The door slamming to keep the flood of officers snaps Faux back to reality. He has to think. How- how-

 His bearded partner is pushing against the door with all the strength he has but he’s not 10 or so men screaming they’re the police and to open up. 

A hand slips through the barrier with a baton and strikes Felix on the back of the head. 

“Felix!” Faux screams out in horror when Felix falls to his knees and slumps against the door. 

Faux is at the door before he knows it and elbows the cop in the face, feeling the hot blood from the nosebleed against his elbow, then uses the momentum to boost toward the door, locking it with a click. 

He stumbles toward Felix losing his balance, he doesn’t even have time to register the new scrapes and bruises.

He’s cursing as he’s supporting his head.

He can’t really assess the damage because their only shield is still banging. They’d probably take that thing out with explosives if there wasn’t that couple that lived next door.

Faux flicks his gaze toward the now shaking door that was beginning to splinter and the window. 

Shitshitshitshit

He makes a decision. He squeezes Felix’s weight close to his chest and revs up his boostpack jetting toward the window. It shatters the glass, propelling them straight out of the second story.

Glass digs into his skin in an explosion of sound, which he protects Felix from with his entire body.

Faux braced himself for the fall. He’s hugging the other man as close as he can, shielding him from the whistling wind around them. 

The lanky writer heard the crash of the dumpster lid before he felt the pain spider through his body. He’s too weak to hold onto Felix, who rolled along the ground. 

He looks up, making eye contact with the officers, spotlighting them with flashlights. It’s attracting the attention of the neighbors. 

The blonde has more important things to worry about. 

“Felix, Felix hey.” His gloved hand cupped Felix’s  face, gentle pats follow. 

The other man groans, a sign of life. Oh thank god. 

Faux a short distance away from him, on his side pushed himself off the ground with effort noticeably more hurt. He grabs hold of Felix again, hoisting him on his back. 

His knees are shaky and every breath comes through him like a tire losing air. 

Nonetheless, he endures. They’ve got to go. 

He has to vanish. He needs to go until he can’t hear the sirens or the shouting. That’s when he knows they’ll be safe. 

His body screams, the fire replacing his blood, begging him to stop but he presses on. Skates grinding against the pavement. 

 His lean but strong frame weaves through the streets he knows better than anyone.

The cops on his trail test that knowledge, especially when red laser dots cover his body. 

The sounds of bullets whistle in his ears, grinding against the stone buildings but the adrenaline allows him to remain nimble, to avoid the pain of a bullet grazing his upper side. 

He’ll have to look later. 

He doesn’t stop until he makes it to Brink Terminal, then does what he does best, blending into the crowd.

His pursuers aren’t dumb enough to shoot into a crowd. He knows this. 

The cops deployed in the terminal spread out like spilled ink but the blonde man with the beanie and his friend who fell asleep waiting for the bus on the bench don’t attract attention from the young lady who’s clicking away to her boyfriend to notice the new company or the mass of people catching the next bus. 

Faux waits for the wave of passengers to get off to make a run for it with Felix . He dives into an alleyway while the cops are busy searching the commuters. 

As he unloads his buddy against the wall, he thinks to himself morbidly if they’re gonna find someone who looks like him to bring to his dad like old times. Not gonna work this instance, ha ha. 

He checks the back of Felix’s head again.

When he pulls his hand away there’s no blood so it doesn’t matter. 

Well it does matter. Fuck. 

He starts to feel that familiar dizziness that he denied a million times earlier in the day when Bel and Felix asked, but he squeezes his eyes shut until it’s gone. 

Then, Felix groans and his eyes flutter more than half expecting to wake up in a jail cell. His best friend’s face comes into view, too tired to make much of an expression but he asks quietly with all the concern he has. 

“…You okay?”

“Yeah. Just peachy.” The brunette sighs, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, noticing the cold drink from the nearby vending machine in his other. 

His head hurts, but he’ll live. 

“That’s good.” Faux says curtly as always, but relief drips off every letter. 

He senses Felix looking him up and down though at the injuries he got saving both of them.

“You look like shit, bro.” Faux’s friend blurts out, gently touching the side of Faux’s face where the blood dried.

“Thanks.” The other man responds sarcastically, forcing the word through his teeth. He removes Felix’s hand just as his mouth is about to part to ask him about-

“…I’ll take care of it” The way he’s been told to do it himself forever.

He continues sipping his soda, and Felix in turn cracks open his. 

“ I lost your skateboard.” Faux admits, guilt seeps into his voice. 

“Tryce has more at the hideout I can use.” Felix smiles breezily back. “Thanks for getting me out of there.”

The blonde knows that particular skateboard is one of his favorites but it’s not as important as the fact they’re not in a holding cell. 

With a crooked smile, Felix holds out his can and the sodas clumsily clash together. “Just like old times, huh?”

A toast, to getting away again. But this time they’re real fugitives.

Felix gets up.

“Where are we going?” Faux asks. “Hideout?”

“Nah,” Felix shrugs. “ We’re going to be roommates for now.”

Chapter Text

In all of Faux’s dreams since he was brought back, it’s always been nighttime.

The overhead lamp of the subway make the details of the train car jump out at him.

He hears the rumbling low groan of tired metal, gently trying to lull him back into dreamless sleep.

The blonde sits across from a figure on the other row. Flashes of light passing behind him like shooting stars, and it takes him a minute to realize they’re the only two people on the whole train.

The figure leans forward to tell him something, revealing itself in the flashing lights to be none other than Felix.

In the empty void of the vacant subway all attention goes to Felix’s lips. He mouths something. Faux doesn’t hear it, but he feels like he’s been stabbed in the chest. 

What the real Felix said was. “Hey Faux, look at me alright. Stay awake.” At least until they get to the apartment. 

Just a couple more blocks until his first aid kit and safety. 

The lanky writer obeys, squeezing  his eyes shut and shakes a little of the fatigue out of his head. 

Felix feels the arm over his shoulder get lighter as his friend takes his weight back, the wheels of his skates dragging along the ground. The pair finally trudge through the doorway of Felix’s place. 

Felix feels a low thrum of anxiety, overwhelmed by what to do first. He starts by elbowing the light switch. Placing Faux at the dinner table, seeing him pitch forward out the corner of his eye while he continues into the bathroom.

Half lidded eyes trace movement of a shadow buzzing out with the light blue plastic box, the sound of it clattering onto the table somewhat distant. 

Before Felix can begin treatment, a black glove  reaches urgently remembering his one duty, no matter how fast he’s fading. “Your… your head.” 

“Just a little bump. You’re the one that’s always telling me how thick it is…” Felix says after popping a couple of ibuprofen. Ah, feels better already.

Besides, he’s not the one bleeding all over the kitchen floor. 

Faux makes a humored sound that’s more like a sigh. Felix’s heart hitches watching his wounded friend crane forward, going silent. 

“Hey don’t-“

But bites back the words, knowing he can’t keep telling the other to stay awake forever ,not in the shape he’s in. They’re safe now, so he’ll let him rest. 

it’s dark and. 

He’s running with tears in his eyes. 

 Can’t let anyone see. 

He feels empty, yet. 

He was my best friend. 

…I thought of him as everything. 

Emotion froths bubbles and spreads, molten then hard. Solid in his veins, stone around his heart tissue.

Running away from the truth.

I think you know what he said. 

Faux doesn’t know where he is anymore but he knows that he feels off and bad. And it’s still dark. He’s unsettled. Is he safe?

His brunette friend finishes pulling the big comforter up over his bandaged chest. 

He must’ve seen the look on Faux’s face. “Easy now, you’re okay.” 

To emphasize this, a hand  smooths the blonde hair, it’s damp with sweat.

His friend’s forehead is searing hot. The thermometer on the table has 38.3C on it.

Faux remembers when he felt weird and bad before.

“Teun, you better not get me sick you hear me?”

Yes sir. Young Teun wipes his runny nose with the back of his arm.

He asks to stay home. “You’re well enough to complain aren’t you? I’m not letting you play hooky at home.”

Why does having to ask to stay home feel like pleading a court case, against a judge that will always find him guilty of the sin of sloth? And he supposed, he’ll just take some medicine and get going. 

Felix mutters that he needs to probably get him some Tylenol for that fever…

In response, Faux rustles out of bed toward the light,pushing past Felix to get to the kitchen. But he wobbles, like he’s stuffed full of straw. World goes dark for a second. 

… hand on Faux’s shoulder.

 “Hey hey, no need to push yourself I got you, dude.” Felix says in as relaxed of a tone as he can muster and hustles his buddy back to his bed. 

He forgot he was with his best friend now from the Big 3, where Cyber and Felix had texted him places to tag when he’s feeling better, who empathized with him when he was feeling sick. 

The guy who texted him “That sucks, but we’ll go out next time.”

So it finally sinks in that Faux can relax. As much as he can at least. 

With Faux back in bed, Felix finally plops on the couch, his rattling brain will be fine in the morning. Not the worst shape he’s been in. 

It’s been a hell of a night. 

But for Faux, the journey through his own personal hell is just beginning. 

Chapter Text

Faux continues to run, alone, in vast darkness, the spotlight of empty shopping district lights on his face, troubled. 

The hot acrid scald sears his lungs. 

For just a moment, the hilt of a dagger is rough against his back. The sudden sharp sensation lances through his chest cavity but disappears as soon as it comes. 

He trips over his own feet coming to a stop, frantically grasping the spot with his fingers, but only feeling his chest. 

Stiff freezing fear forces him to look around like a prey animal, unaware the source is from within. 

Short ragged breaths send prickling icicles into his insides. 

Once he is able to calm himself down enough to form a coherent thought, he understands where he is. 

It’s his memories.

The sky here becomes a spatter of color above him, in hues of tulip reds. His legs were leading him here. 

In this place, he finds his head all the way at the bottom of Mataan, locked inside some sort of contraption.

What the fuck? That’s me.

This thing, he is drawn to it for one reason or another. A design he has in his sketchbook. 

Fascinates as it makes him sick. 

Morbidly curious, Faux reaches out to touch it in the pile of rubbish he stands in. 

The object doesn’t move, but tears leak from the corners of its closed eyes. 

Water laps at his feet, he can taste the salty spray of the ocean.

He stares up an impossibly tall ladder, and his instincts tell him to get going before the water, hungry greedy beast going to swallow him the same way a fish’s lips wrap take a worm in one gulp.

He pushes open the door that appears in front of him. Quick, before he drowns…

The door opens with a familiar click and Faux instinctively knows as his flat. 

With this knowledge, he becomes more than impatient,( panicked more like) heart racing, knowing the objective. 

He wants his spray cans, that’s the first thing on his mind. And he found a particularly good place for his writing paraphernalia in a weird nook in his closet. All things that could be used against him in the court of Officer Vogelaar. 

Having his shit ass dad going through his stuff all the time didn’t make him more honest in the slightest, just more sneaky. 

It’s not long until his long fingers scrape the comforting aluminum where he knows it’ll be. 

Out of nowhere, the Judge himself steps into the doorway. Faux has memorized those heavy commanding footfalls that always made his heart sink into his stomach like a bowling ball onto a freshly polished wooden floor.

Faux bristles inwardly, settling into his practiced outer mask. 

He dares to turn around, but the eyes aren’t on him.

Faux sees a copy of himself at the desk, head in his folded arms, his demeanor devoid of life. 

The  older Vogelaar eyes his double expectantly. There hasn’t been any trouble in the last few weeks. “Are you done with your little rebellion, Teun?”

With nothing else to look forward to, Teun has his studies. That would explain the textbooks he used to sandwich his small sketchbook, then. 

“Yes sir.” The younger Vogelaar forces out a tepid mutter. 

No bite anymore, only defeat. He can’t find the defiance anymore, the rage. Some part of him is disgusted with himself for it, but there is no energy to resist anymore. 

They met eyes.

His father had such a fucking cocksure look that made Faux seethe but it’s not like it matters to Teun over there. Finally, his stupid child came to his senses. 

The officer was pleased he was finally able to chisel his awful idiot son to fit into the box he wanted. Spring semester was right around the corner and he was going to class right on schedule. 

The downtrodden young man at the desk was looking for Anything. Anything to distract him from his organs  turning to cement inside of him. 

When he arose from his desk, deep thunder shaped cracks appeared on Teun’s arm, as if he was made of porcelain. 

These marks seem to burn into Faux’s eyes, but he gets the hell out of there and away from his father. 

Out the gate, he is met with a narrow path funneling him made up entirely of stone stairs, blocked with concrete walls on either side. He has a feeling he was forced to go down this road every day. 

 But at least there’s handrails, which he grinds onto. The boostpack propels him forward and he focuses on keeping his balance, and the way out. 

As the university forms from his peripheries ,he leaps gracefully, running sideways across a couple billboards getting a Birds Eye view of the much treaded path of lush green. 

People he recognized, but he can’t seem to remember their names. They’re looking up and waving absentmindedly to him. They must not have been that important if he doesn’t know who they are.

He lands on another rail, one that takes him into the depths of a basement where he knew he spent a few nights in the corners of house parties sipping beers by himself. 

But no matter what Teun did when he walked home, the former writer found traces of Felix in the smallest of corners and it filled him with an inexplicable sadness. 

His best friend’s name was everywhere, and these reminders were a thousand ropes into his heart, tightening, constricting upon him weighing him down. 

On the TV, clear as day in the mass of drunken flowing bodies, flashes to the blue interface of his phone. 

It’s a message from Felix. A well taken portrait from Faux’s steady hands is his contact photo.

Hey man, it’s been a while. You doing alright? 

Then zaps to black. 

Faux isn’t even sure if he’s going the right way anymore but escapes into the dead summer air, and jumps onto the empty train tracks. The scene shifts up to Versum Hill with an absence of people. 

The dream traverser spots his counterpart again on a walkway and is instantly drawn to him like he has keys to the way out of this place. His boostpack set to low to full take in his own anguished expression. Finally alone, to let it all out in front of a blood red sun. 

The real Faux, curious about his past self hops down and puts his elbows up on the railing next to him.  The two of them watch the colors of the sky run together like paint bleeding and mixing, blue to purple to orange to black. Till the colors look like shooting stars more than anything. 

The grief of a friendship lost, an identity lost swims in a vast ocean he will never cross. 

Rejection, betrayal swirls in colors of red, pink, purple, black. 

Eyes remind him of an injured animal. A wolf hit by a car with a broken leg, snarling and whimpering. 

Like flecks of dust on a canvas, he sees his doppelgängers’s skin flake off and fly away exposing bone. 

Teun has spent days like this. Just waiting to stop crumbling, but have a feeling that it’ll be like this. This always. 

He watches his past self’s limbs finally crunch, sever and fly away into the wind, looking more like that little wooden mannequin his mother bought him for Christmas when his father smashed it against the floor. 

It doesn’t matter. None of this does anymore. He’ll lose himself to his father’s wishes. 

Before Teun disappears like sand into a vast desert of frustration and rejection the low vibration of apprehension quivers on Faux’s lips before he takes the plunge. “…What did he say to you?” He asks softly. 

The face of the college student screwed up in haunting quiet fury, more cracks litter his fragile mask.

Blue glistens like clear water, hiding nothing suddenly blistering with emotion.  “Felix? He took everything from me.” 

The words boom out, before the apparition disappears completely, blowing into the wind as a fine dust. 

Below the railing, Faux knows what to draw in that empty space. He gets it. 

A telephone pole filled with blackbirds, and one white dove flying away. One of the birds looks up, earnestly wishing he’d come back. And he signs his name. 

It’s then that, the night flashes in his mind like a gunshot. 

He climbs up the ladder onto the roof, against a blood red sunset.

Their beat up abandoned garage on the outskirts of Mataan is one of the only places where you can see the stars clearly in the city.

Faux shuffles across the rusted shingles and takes his usual seat, sandwiching Felix between him and Cyber. 

A couple of beers after a day of tagging was a sort of ritual they developed at some point. This spot became something quietly holy. 

Felix was unusually solemn. In this moment, he had news that would change the trajectory of all of it. 

“I wanted to tell you two something, being my best friends.” 

Their last moment as The Big Three hovers and settles. 

“What?” Faux says gruffly, impatient. Though, there’s a part of him that doesn’t want to hear. Is it because he actually knows what’s coming?

“I thought about this for a long time but , I was thinking of going solo for All City.” Felix says, his eyes sparkling . “Just figured since I work best solo, it would be the right choice for me, you know?” 

“Yeah, I knew this was coming sooner or later. Wish you the best, Felix. Next time we meet we’ll be rivals, you got that?” Cyber claps Felix on the back. 

“Faux?” Felix leans forward to get a better view of his best friend’s visage.

“……”  

Stone faced. Got it. 

Even more quiet than expected of him. The silence is off even for him. 

It only takes a few words to have the world come crashing down. 

Felix is going to let everyone know who Faux really is(who his father is). 

This was the end of his writing career. 

He was part of the Big 3, accepted in the larger community as one of the best. And it’s going to be snatched away from him. His whole identity, everything he worked for. All City. 

But more than that, comfort, kindness, stability, understanding. 

 A house with no foundation crumbles and turns to rubble.

“Hey, no hard feelings alright?” Felix cracks a feeble smile, with bated breath. 

No. Hard. Feelings? 

Felix betrayed him. It’s all over. His life as he knows it. Over. It’s not fair. With just a couple sentences he can snatch home away from him. Just like that. 

Did he say something wrong to Felix? What did Faux even do? What’s even the point though… what happened, happened. 

Following this night, they never saw each other again. 

No, that’s not right. Is it?

Chapter Text

Eyes pulsating in the sockets, gnawing pain reaching deep into his skull,  Felix’s consciousness finally melts away just before the sunrise to the sound of canned studio laughter. 

Thoroughly exhausted from tonight’s ordeal. 

They’d made quite a racket downtown and there’s no doubt someone would be on their asses sooner rather than later, but that’s a Future Felix problem.

For now he conks out for the next however or so hours, and doesn’t hear his phone blowing up right beside him in the earlier hours of the morning.

He also doesn’t hear his roommate sneaking around the kitchen until he stumbles off the sofa bed to the pleasant surprise of a plate of scrambled eggs and toast on his side of the table. 

He eyes the fork and plate in the drying rack already. 

“Ayo, Faux! Thanks for making breakfast.” He calls approaching the bedroom door with a mouthful of toast, but dials it down at the slow moving pile of blankets.

The familiar tenor sneaks into the door, furtive, gentle. “You feeling any better?” 

He inches his body away from the noise, his face pooling with uncomfortable warmth that he tries to bury into the covers.

 Lest the malignant entity (phantoms of the past) manifest again, the specter with its cold hands putting the cinder blocks into his rib cage, sinking him into the bottom of the ocean. 

He squeezes his eyes, ridding himself of  half made tears letting the feelings pass, the waves of emotion hit the shore.

….He doesn’t really want to see Felix. 

More like, he can’t see him.  Not right now when his head and heart are all mixed up. 

He doesn’t respond.

And luckily, Felix mistakes it as fatigue, and thankfully leaves him alone for a while. 

Poor Faux, he had a hell of a night. 

That just leaves the messages blowing up his phone.

Missed FaceTimes, texts and calls from Bel, Tryce, Vinyl and even Solace. All alarms chorusing the same thing: “Are you okay? What the hell happened last night?”

He needs to put their worries to rest by just showing up at the hideout, to let them see that he’s fine. His fingers quickly glide across the keys to Tryce that he and Faux will be there soon. 

He hopes. 

It isn’t too long before Faux emerges from his blanket cocoon.  

Felix greets him with a “Ayo, Sleepyhead!” leading Faux to look at his socks, muttering a muted reply back that Felix doesn’t hear very well.

“I’m going to the hideout, c’mon let’s go!” The beanie wearing man declares cheerfully. 

He recovered well, or at least he’s faking it till he makes it.

“I’m not a dog.” Faux begins to protest, but Felix doesn’t hear him and he clenches his teeth to keep the other words in. 

He gets dressed and they’re out the door. 

Another sunny scorching morning in New Amsterdam. Not even the shade of the concrete jungle can save them. 

Humidity threatens to choke the two young men skating down the little side street as if the strange tension between them didn’t already have its palms pressing down on their throats. 

Felix once again attempts to chip at the barrier between him and Faux. 

He says something silly this time. “You have a really cute sneeze, it’s like, ‘chu!” 

The sound of tape ripping. Felix states idly while they make their way down the side street.

“I sound like that?” Faux hums. “Like, what am I supposed to say?” 

There’s a quick beat before Faux actually continues.

“I mean, yours is like,” Faux answers in his calm, quiet voice then contorts his face to imitate him just right. “EUGHUH!” He shouts. 

The noise sends Felix into a fit of chuckles.That’s why they’re friends. 

It’s also the first thing that Felix has gotten Faux to say to him since they left the house. 

Just as soon as the conversation starts however, it peters out. 

The blonde’s cold blue gaze darts toward the concrete, moving away with a tight lipped expression like everything …was fine. 

His mouth forms a tensed hurting line. He rubs his nose with the back of his hand when it twitches a bit. 

Boiling from within,and the hot water bloats on his tear ducts threatening to build over. He can’t explain himself and doesn’t want to. Not when he’s unsure what to even call these emotions, after seeing his own type of perfect existence dragged away from him in stunning color. 

Felix jokes. “I did take a shower this morning.”

Irritated, Faux’s brow furrows in exasperation. 

‘Damn, Felix hasn’t stopped talking since we left his apartment.’ He tries hard not to say. 

Felix felt it radiating off him nonetheless and shut his mouth. 

Silence. 

Felix puts his hands behind his head while they walk. They were getting along like a house on fire the day before yesterday. Messing around, never running out of things to talk about, loud boisterous laughter and a quiet reserved snicker and now he’s avoiding him like he has the plague. 

The blonde seems tired. Withdrawn. 

It’s not the normal ‘tired after a run in with the law’ since they would have been laughing about it no matter how much they felt like their muscles were going to fall off the bone like barbecue ribs. 

What was it? That led them to this?

They enter the hideout.

Through the chains of his bike, Tryce spots the shambling pair of haggard men staggering toward the hideout. Cobbled together but still vaguely disheveled, with bags under their eyes. 

“You guys look like hell. ” Tryce blurts out. 

 Felix subconsciously runs a hand under his beanie through his hair. The goose egg beneath his two fingers stops him from combing all the way through.  “Good morning to you too, Tryce!” 

Faux waves, he doesn’t even bother to smile.

Bel runs up to him and hugs him around the neck, and he nearly topples over. “OMG! Felix! You’re okay! And hi Faux” She looks past. 

“I was worried about you.” Vinyl gets up from the couch when she heard the commotion.

“Ummm… me too.” Solace gathers around as well. 

He soaks in the worried faces when Bel finally lets go and steps away. 

 “We went to Faux’s place last night to pick up a few things, then we got raided by the police and I got  hit in the back of the head with a baton.”  He explains. 

“Not the first time I’ve gotten a concussion.” Bringing back memories of being shot point blank by Escher. “But it definitely feels like I lost some brain cells with this one.”

If Faux was his usual self, he probably would have found that last bit amusing-

The brunette  got out by the skin of his teeth, explaining the way that his buddy dragged him halfway across town and thanks him again in front of the group. 

In turn, this friend anxiously pulls at the fabric of his lime green shirt, so it doesn’t hug the bandages underneath so much. He tucks his head into his neck, looking away. 

As he does so, Tryce in the outskirts of his field of vision, shaking his head at something Felix says but nonetheless perform their own handshake of sorts.

Faux continues to pretend like Felix isn’t even there and finds himself drifting away once the day’s cypher starts. 

“Where are you going?” The brunette calls after him, pivoting away from the group almost in a half start toward. 

“I’m not leaving the hideout, cool it!” He snaps at him, the anger spilling out something corrosive. 

He’s not stupid. He has to stay here for his protection, and in turn secure all their futures. Including his own.

 But again he wipes a spatter of tears with the back of his hand. 

Damn, he needs some time alone. To sort this out. To think.

The reflection of the gang having fun without him is in monochrome hues off the dark tube TV screen. 

Out of earshot, Tryce and Bel lean toward Felix and Faux’s friend shakes his head dejectedly again before being replaced by the Dreamcast logo. 

Faux boots up the game by himself, half heartedly playing Street Fighter III that  someone left in there last night.

His character, the titular Ryu, throws and misses a couple hadokens against Chun Li while he contemplates.

Why would Felix do that to me?

When he and Felix met after that initial jumpscare, Felix and his high school friend he introduced as DJ Cyber bought him that promised Peach tea. 

While they strolled around the grocery store and talked, there was something like an instant connection. Sparks.

The lights of the store like a spotlight on those guys. 

He got this good gut feeling. 

These two would be very important people in his life just hours after meeting them. 

And he was right. 

Aside from their shared interests and dream, they respected him, listened to what he had to say, truly understood him like no one else would. 

Somewhere always safe and welcoming.

He needed this all his life, more than he had ever realized. 

It was sad that he could never truly divulge everything about himself like the other two could, but there was still a level of trust. It was like standing in front of a curtain at all times, something truly horrible behind it. 

It must have been Past Felix who had snuck behind him and pulled that curtain wide open and been disgusted with everything about him. It was why he abruptly took an axe to their friendship, making him bleed straight from the heart like this. 

It’s just, that silly smile that pops into his head. 

Present Felix is acting the same as he always had. At least in the ways he knew him. 

Kind to him, caring, endlessly friendly to others. Confident, stupid, funny. 

And sincere. So sincere. That’s what he liked the most about Felix, he was warm. 

He knew his secret, but still accepted him.  

Confused, he can’t input the buttons right. He’s not frustrated when M Bison kicks his ass when he was so close to the end of classic mode. 

It is damn near impossible to put the one that could so casually abandon him and the living breathing Felix together as one person. 

Again. He’s fighting a battle and he’s losing.

He’d watched a lot of movies on those long nights when his dad wasn’t home and his stepmom didn’t bother to tell him to go to bed. 

And he was coming to the conclusion that having a friend who was your whole world dump you was as bad as having a romantic partner break up with you. 

No movie ever talked about that.

But he still felt it, the impossible weight in his chest at all times. Ruminating in his flat about all the things that he could have said or done to prevent all of this. Days spent where he couldn’t even drag himself out of bed when it was too much. 

Staying curled up in a blanket croissant most of the time, or wandering about the city aimlessly searching for answers and only finding maddening reminders of his ex best friend everywhere. 

He went All City without him. And every street held a reminder of that. 

The way a bad grade on a test was just the final straw sending him flying into such overwhelming despair he retreated to the bathroom, punching the paper towel dispenser until it broke off the wall. To his luck, no one else was around to hear it. 

There was a moment when anguish turned to anger, though. Something in him had snapped. How dare he reject me. His best friend. Liar. Traitor. 

So, why  can’t you tell just him all this? What are you so afraid of? 

He spends the rest of the day in endless rounds with himself. The game keeps going to the next fights. Sometimes he wins, sometimes he loses. 

But he plays in a lackadaisical style until the sun hangs low in the sky and his wrists barely function. 

A single tear sneaks its way past his defenses and he blinks it away. It still plinks hot and wet onto his shirt. 

Just then, shadow eclipses him, and he turns around seeing a smile like the sun. “Yo, you ready to go back.”

He clicks off the game mid fight. “Yeah.” 

The lanky writer damn near breaks the controller tossing it down. 

The sturdy knock on the door was frantic, but familiar in the way Felix knew instantly who it was. 

The DJ appears out of breath from running with the wind at his back. He had just pushed himself off his knees from being doubled over with the effort. 

“Felix! Tryce filled me in when I stopped by the hideout.” Cyber breathed, his green eyes sparkle with relief. He’s about to continue when he spots the mess of blonde hair on the sofa bed under a dark comforter.

“Faux’s living with you?” His lips sputter in surprise. “After he-“

Not this again. “Uh huh.” Felix cut him off. 

They’d already fought about this potentially happening when Prince still had Faux’s head. He didn’t want to hear about how Cyber would ‘take care of it himself’ in the case that-

“Not so loud dude, Faux’s asleep.” He lowers his own voice. “He’s the reason I only made it out with a little bump.” So the redhead drops it. 

“I’m glad you’re alright, Felix.” Cyber exhales, letting all the tension dissipate from his body.

“Hey man, Faux’s been acting weird all day. I don’t know how to explain it, he just looks all sad when he sees me now.” The brunette is trying hard not to think about how upset Faux looked when he thought Felix wasn’t looking and failing.  “He didn’t say anything, just kind of in his own little world.”

He quickly answers the next question. “And the other day we were getting along just fine. I didn’t do anything to set him off.”

He scrunches his nose. “Because if I did he'd let me know.” The DJ snickers, knowing what Felix means. But that’s what they liked about him, he was pissed off half the time but he was always honest about it. 

The DJ hums knowingly, his forehead wrinkling. There’s signs to him that are clear, Faux is treading the exact same footprints in the snow. “We should really talk about this in private.”

“The crew battle between the Franks and that the up and comers, the Sharks isn’t till later so you should stop by tomorrow morning.” 

“I’ll see you then.”

Chapter Text

Felix raps on the door with his knuckle, making a sick rhythm with it, the latest edition of the European Journal of Neuroscience tucked under his arm. He wonders how long it’ll take for DJ Cyber to answer.

He can hear the muffled beats of his next master mixtape beating against the walls, unable to be contained. Ready to be refined and released to the world.

Felix left Faux in the apartment that morning ,on the other side of the couch. They were as far away from each other as the structure would allow. 

“I’m gonna run some errands today.” He informed him. 

Felix observed the lanky man, curled into himself while he fidgeted with the TV remote, being unable to really settle on a channel. 

Tryce would be over in a little bit to keep him company today. Remember to look through the peephole to make sure it’s actually the BRC leader.

“Damn, Felix. I’m not three years old. ” The blonde scoffed, clicking the remote around again. 

They had spent this morning in a weird limbo,only exchanging skittish glances. Then back to avoiding eye contact as if playing hide and seek.

 Breakfast on their phones without a word. It was mostly Faux doing the hiding, it hurts him to look. 

Just as Felix got his text from the third member of the Big Three, he made his way toward the door. In the doorway, a pair of eyes clung to him. 

They exchanged longing glances, sensing something the other isn’t saying.

Perhaps that’s when Felix decided he really needed to talk to Cyber. 

Cyber opens the door, with a warm smile and his mask set aside. 

“Ayo, what up Cyber?” Felix greets him. 

He and Felix lean in, clasp hands and pull in for a hug. “Hello there, Felix.”

Although after that, while the brunette is following the DJ into the big open garage there is no further conversation. The rest of Futurism were dismissed for the day, as this was a private matter. 

The spider machine is parked next to Cyber’s wooden desk, his laptop hooked up to two monitors. One with a list of songs in it, the other with Final Fantasy 14.

He sits down on the spinny office chair again, and Felix takes his place on a very comfy, super fluffy, pink beanbag.

The DJ starts with Context. 

Tipping his head over to his vehicle, Cyber recaps how his dream machine works to Felix, watching it all go over his head like a three pointer from half court. 

Something about activating enzymes in the brain, to get to the memories stored in neurons.

 And that they did this to sea slugs, he points out in an article in the magazine that Felix brought from his doorstep.

The only part that he needed to understand was that extreme stress activated lost memories, like when Felix won that hard fought crew battle against Eclipse or seeing 8-ball’s lifeless body. 

“So you’re saying because of the raid he remembered something bad and that’s why he’s avoiding me?” Felix catches on.

“I’m saying that he remembers when you left the Big Three.” Cyber nods solemnly. “He’s going through the exact same motions.”

“Those feelings led him down a dark path last time, Felix.” He leans forward. 

The last time the pair went down that possibility (when Prince still had Faux’s head) they admittedly got heated. 

Felix believed in himself enough he could get Faux to change without anyone’s head rolling this time. 

The brunette’s total trust in himself was something that the DJ both envied and pitied, his buddy’s walking the fine line between confidence and hubris.

What mattered to Felix is if he could get those results he wanted. 

“The thing is, I haven’t told you what happened after you left. I felt like there was no point digging up the past again because the whole matter had been buried already“ Cyber eases back again, spinning around in the chair. 

Those days after Felix left were dyed in the washed out hues, desaturated in the winter air. 

Cyber sees these memories in muted shades of gray and light blue.

The morning after it happened, a sickly pale yellow comes in through the mucky garage window setting the stage for an awkward new normal.

The DJ sauntered in like usual and the only splash of color was Faux in his puffy light green jacket. 

Knees up to his chest on the couch like a pill bug, trying to protect itself from the world. Just clicking away at Micro Boy. He looked up with a small wave and a feeble smile.

They talked a little, Faux kept eyeing the door. Like any minute a warm tenor would dye the place in its reds and oranges.

  But no one came. 

Nonetheless, life continued and they showed up to the garage like clockwork and talked about nothing important every day after that. 

“Sure, we were never formally a crew.” 

Competition was just a core pillar of their relationship.

“ We were just Faux, Felix and DJ Cyber, but the Big Three kind of became a thing. We kind of did everything together.” He remembers never running out of things to talk about, the day trips they used to go to outside of New Amsterdam, causing trouble together, stuff like that.

 “We weren’t his crew, but we were still his best friends.” 

“The first cracks started to show about a week or two later. We went out for the first time when it wasn’t snowing too bad. He was distracted, everything he did was sloppy.” The DJ continues. 

Cyber was just getting into the groove. He sailed through a flock of pigeons, scattering the birds into the frigid air and snow powdered buildings. 

Faux follows, only without his signature charisma that permeated from his being, just skating along on one of the boards that Felix left at the garage.

There was no longer that quiet determination burning from him. 

“I don’t need to tell anyone I’m the best, they just need to watch.” The blonde told them a lifetime ago. 

He has on a mask of his past self, going through the motions. When he fumbled (more than once) he murmured he was just a little rusty and just needed to warm up. 

Cyber suddenly set the boostpack on full throttle, and caught his friend when he went toward the busy road with his skateboard in one hand, about to put it down on the ground and push off. 

 A black grove gripped the blonde’s wrist when he almost dashed straight out into the path of a speeding truck. The vehicle screeches away honking. 

The wind blew all of Faux’s hair to one side for a frightening moment. 

The two writers are frozen in the chilly air. 

 He barely even flinched at the burning rubber. '

“Holy shit! Faux! Are you even paying attention?!” The DJ yelled, scared for the other man’s life. 

He looked back straight into Cyber’s eyes expressionless, blinking away tears. 

He said nothing.

When they spent the whole day without Felix, it truly started to click he wasn’t coming back. He felt this separation as sharp as broken glass. 

After that, Faux’s attendance was spotty. Sometimes, Cyber would get a text he wasn’t showing up and sometimes the DJ would be mixing undisturbed the whole day.

“I don’t think even Faux knew how much you meant to him as a friend.” Cyber said. “You were the stability in his world, and when you left he went crashing down. He just wasn’t himself anymore.”

A home with no foundation falls apart.

Felix had no idea he had become a foundation. That was too much for any one person

Besides,  he had a wing on his face for a reason. 

When Faux had nothing to do but think, his anxieties started to dig its nails in till the skin bleeds. Bleeding made him agitated, paranoid, restless. He can’t take it anymore. 

He came in the day after New Year's fuming, screamed to anyone who would listen that Felix just dropped him, just like that. He was frothing at the mouth, rabid. 

He stormed in and interrogated Cyber if he knew why the brunette left due to them being tight since their school days. 

The DJ told him what his high school classmate said, the way Felix liked going off by himself and knew that going All City by himself was the best thing for him. 

At the time, Faux’s secret wasn’t exactly common knowledge. Genuinely, Cyber didn’t know what the hell was his problem. 

He howled in frustration and sweeped the neatly aligned spray cans off the table so he could pound his fists into it.  

Got in the redhead’s face. Too close. The lanky man’s breath smelled like minty toothpaste and black licorice. Rain picks up and thunders outside. 

“You’re just saying that!” He accused harshly, not hearing what he wanted to hear.

Cyber pushes him back by the shoulders, sending him stumbling back till his legs came out from under him. Slightly dazed. 

The blonde looked up at the figure looming over him. 

“ I told him he was out of control, and he needed to calm down and think.” Cyber looks away, grimacing. “He said he didn’t care. He was too angry to listen.”

The redhead didn’t know what to do. “I just went home for the day because it was hard being there with him, watching him. It felt like the only thing I could do was just give him some space.”

The next time they met weeks later, Faux came in with a gauze taped haphazardly over his right eye and a wrist brace on his left hand. 

Ignoring Cyber’s concern for his physical well being, he instantly apologized for losing his temper the last time he appeared here. 

He isn’t one for saying sorry, but the other man didn’t deserve that. 

Cyber had heard some disturbing rumors lately about Faux’s increasingly aggressive tendencies. The number of fights he’d been in had obviously been exaggerated, but he still didn’t look so good.

 What could he even say to Faux? 

“ This used to be our city.” Cyber’s injured friend muses  from the couch staring up. Half the ceiling fan, the other half a white blur in his vision. “ And now it’s his city.”

Cyber felt some kind of way about those words. They cast a shadow, but let him continue. 

Anyway, Faux had already come to a much more worrying conclusion. “Felix doesn’t care about me, and now he’s going to take everything from me.”

He left in an eerie calm. He’d made his mind up. 

At first Cyber figured he meant that Felix went All City without them but-

He wanted to say something, and felt a flush of guilt when words shriveled in his brain. He would think of something the next time they met up. 

The story shook Felix by the shoulders. He never thought in his life that he would find himself worrying he didn’t care enough for his blonde best friend. 

 “I thought he would have trashed the hideout the next day” Cyber continues. 

But, simply didn’t come back. The hideout was cold and vacant with just the DJ and the low rumble of beats swallowed by the lack of sound. He never got that chance to say something. 

“He didn’t answer any of my texts, or yours.” He flicks a glance with just a hint of bitterness toward a worried Felix.  “I think whenever he saw me, he was reminded that you weren’t there.” 

Not exactly fair, but Cyber sometimes wonders if he had left would the same outcome have happened?

“My point is, he has a lot of feelings about when you left,” an understatement.

“So, my guess is that he’s probably scared shitless right now, because he’s so mixed up.” Felix says, hitting the nail on the head. 

“From what you shared with me, you’re everything he’s got. He doesn’t remember that he broke the Code of the Street so no one wants to get near him, his dad is out to get him and well, he knows I killed him.” Cyber concludes matter of factly.

So it led to hesitation in every movement. If Faux comes forward with this information too aggressively, Felix might turn his back and run.

The beanie wearing man sighs. He must stand in the way of the bull, speak to it softly, and hopes that it’ll stop before he gets the horns. 

“I’m going to go talk to him.” 

Chapter Text

The mechanical buzz of the doorbell crackles off the walls of Felix’s apartment. 

The noise violently yanks Faux out of his simmering rumination and TV induced stupor. He jumps like a dog hearing his first firework, shockwaves throughout his body. He dares to get up and inches toward the door. 

The anticipation plants a shovel into the dirt before reason can toss the tool aside.

 It’s only supposed to be Tryce. Not anyone with a gun or a baton. 

And when he looks through the peephole: thankfully, it is.

His companion for the day has his arms stretched languidly behind his head just below his twin tails and paces impatiently around the hallway. It’s all because Felix asked that he babysit this guy for the day.

 And,Tryce always kept his promises.

 On the way here, he told himself it would be like looking after his little brother. 

But then he told himself that his little brother didn’t throw some poor cocky kid against a wall and almost turn him into minced meat just last week. …Or kill 3 people. 

The door creaks open, the warm air from it opening mimics a sigh of relief.

 “It’s you.”  Faux greets him, lukewarm. “Hey Tryce.” 

 Tryce immediately senses this guy’s mind is definitely somewhere else as they speak. The blonde didn’t even bother to pull up the turtleneck of his lime green shirt, so the entirety of  Felix's craftsmanship is visible.

“‘Sup, Faux.” His visitor greets him stepping into the doorway while Faux returns right back to his spot on the bright red couch. 

That old anime movie Akira is the only thing that’s caught his attention for more than ten minutes in the time he spent flipping through the channels. 

“I… didn’t want to see Felix anyway.” He says deflated. Not right now. Maybe not ever.

 Tryce knows better than to pry. After all, Felix seemed genuinely baffled as to why he started acting like this, and they were familiar with Faux’s temper. 

He jokes a little to lighten the mood. “You’re stuck with me all day, Pretty Boy.”

“Did he tell you why?” The blonde is suddenly fixed on him, words like a vice grip. The air freezes around them. 

“No.” Tryce replies, not too quick. 

He dodged that bullet when the other man’s shoulders visibly relax. Like a bristled growling animal backing down at an empty palm. He was relieved his bearded best friend had left out the right details about their encounter rescuing Rietveld. 

After a full 10 or so minutes of the flashy movie running with total silence between the two men, Tryce figures that Faux isn’t interested in pushing him further on that and rummages through his boostpack, taking out a slim sketchbook and some pens. 

He pulls his knees to his chest and starts drawing on the canvas full of other doodles and ideas. It’s not too long before Faux scooches towards him, a curious stare prodding the other man. 

“Can I see?” Faux asks, with a certain schoolyard innocence. 

“Sure.” Tryce shrugs, moving his elbow. 

The blonde pores over the drawings. He seems giddy. 

“Yo, that one right there? That kicks ass. I think I saw you throwing that one up the other day…” 

 If Tryce had still been starstruck and more naive, he would have melted at one of his idols admiring his work but it’s also… Faux. 

Nonetheless, he’s still flattered by the sentiment. It’s noticeable the way bright blues glittered with some sort of innocence, that old appreciation for art. Not as a tool for war, but just as a form of expression. 

And for that the dark haired man was actually glad. 

“…I’ll put on some music and I’ll be back with mine in a sec.” He seems to wince at movement but lumbers toward the bedroom where he’d thrown his boostpack the other day. 

The blonde returns a bit worse for wear and lays out his own smaller hideable sketchbook near the edge of the coffee table, stuffed with elaborate drawings full of detail and splendor. 

Damn, ok. 

Tryce felt like he was looking the Sistene chapel, the same way when Felix let him look through his. The way he used colors makes him want to see the world through this dude’s eyes for just a moment. 

The blonde doesn’t make a big deal out of it and lays down the little thing as if it was nothing. 

The stiff air finally moves with the scritching of pens and colored pencils on paper, and with it comes that settled comfort and sameness of doing something together. 

“So why did you start writing?” In the harmony, Tryce lets the curiosity win out and studies the focus in the other man’s expression. “You don’t really look like the criminal type to me.” 

The face of an angel, so to speak, one whose eyebrows knit to just get those little details on the folds of a girl’s shirt just right. 

The dark haired man is surprised when Faux lets out a snort. “You said the same thing at the police station. That I got an innocent face, and you called me Pretty Boy too.”

There’s a bit of a pause, before Faux answers the question in his companion’s head. 

“…I actually don’t remember why I got locked up in the first place.” The blonde man admits sheepishly. “I mean I’ve never gotten caught before.” 

The second part was a lie, the first part wasn’t. 

The earnestness in his voice when he admitted to not remembering murdering Felix. Tryce went slack jawed for a moment as if he’d been smacked in the back of the head. 

He’s holding his tongue back with the strength of a Greek hero. 

But back to why he started writing. He’s told Felix and Cyber this before but other than that no one was ever that interested.

He thinks back to when he first snuck out and bought those cans of spray paint.

 “Friend of mine once said that a lot of crews are made of people who don’t have it good at home. It’s simple, I wanted to piss off my dad.” An escape, he needed a reason to get out of that house, a kind of freedom. “I liked art, and I hated my old man. It’s not that deep.”

 “...To be honest, it didn’t feel like a genuine reason.” He says contemplative. 

Felix did it to spread art and ‘put something beautiful in their faces”, larger than life, a masked hero appears. 

“DJ Cyber had been tight with Felix for years, so of course he got into it too. He also liked seeing how far the limits could be broken, both in art and tricks and dancing and so on and made sure that the code of the street was followed once he got that influence.” 

Other people he met on his journey. 

Compared to them…

“I called myself Faux, since I wanted everyone to know a faker could do it better than them. …I wanted to be the All City King.”

It’s not all,  Tryce is painfully aware and he hates the way he said ‘All City King’. Has to remind himself that this fool doesn’t know what those words mean.

While focusing on the face of his portrait, he tells Tryce when he first started out, he was cocky and headstrong and had something to prove. A devastating solo act against crews causing a lot of scraped knees, broken noses and broken boards. He didn’t have the skills to back it up all the time, but what he had was potential.

Enough to get noticed by the current two powerhouses of the New Amsterdam writing scene. They took him in. Peach tea, kind words and the start of something incredible. 

What he didn’t tell Tryce that Faux had told himself at the beginning that he was going to aim for the top by himself, but these two made him rethink things. And now it felt like it  had been a major mistake to let them in. 

Just then, the twin tailed man notices the way the hand stops moving on the unfinished piece, and glances up to see Faux’s attention fixed intently on him. 

He has a wide curious gaze, like a dog staring up at him. “Why’d you start the Bomb Rush Crew? I mean Felix joined up with you.” And not me.

  “I was inspired by Felix himself to keep pushing the boundaries.” Tryce isn’t sure what else to say. It’s the truth. “It was just me and Bel at first. I’d noticed her tags in the area and one day we met up on the same street. Worked on a piece together and everything just fell into place after that. Can’t imagine life without her now.” The sentiment brings an affectionate smile on his lips. 

“Well, you’re  doing great work out there.” Faux excitedly grins wide, genuine. “I get why Felix would want to join your crew.” 

There’s simmering resentment, but it’s not directed at Tryce. The BRC leader will just let him come to that conclusion instead of the truth for now. 

The day passes, while they continue on talking while the TV runs. 

“Just before this?  I was dropping off my kid brother at school.” Tryce answers one of Faux’s idle questions.

“Huh… I always wondered what it was like to have siblings.” He muses. 

They keep going until the sun outside bleeds orange. 

As Tryce feels comfortable enough to continue about his own personal struggles outside of his crew, Faux wasn’t just a good listener, but he really cared about what the other had to say. 

He even sympathizes with him, offering encouragement in the same way he would Cyber or Felix. (which surprises Faux a little, why did he care so much for others as of late?)

It was in these moments that the white center of an ice cube thaws out to reveal something shivering and wet, but warm to the touch.

Now that Faux truly felt cared about, he was willing to extend that empathy to other people. 

He and that big metal thing were different people, Tryce finally concedes. His phone buzzes. It’s time to get back to school. 

He waved goodbye to Faux. “I’ll get you back in Smash Bros next time,” he promises. 

“We’ll see about that.” Faux sneers back. They both feel a new sense of camaraderie has bloomed this day. 

 Felix should be back soon.

When the door clicked again, Faux had already hid within the apartment somewhere. 

The bearded writer came home to silence. An empty house. 

Chapter Text

Tonight, the moon takes the heat with it and the lights of the city replace the natural lights of the sky. The blanket of dark is glittering with diamonds, a light show above Felix’s head that he can’t stop staring at.

His face stretches with a yawn, then back to its neutral half lidded expression. He’s tired, but the knowledge from DJ Cyber beats around in his mind like a pinball. 

Besides, another pair of eyes are looking out the window too. 

“I know you’re awake.” Felix calls playfully to the blanket croissant on the sofa bed. “I can’t sleep either.” 

“Let’s go for a walk.” He noisily comes over. And Faux sits up wordlessly, then gets out of bed.

They’re out now in the cool summer air just the two of them strolling down the little side street. 

“So, where’d you go when Tryce was over?” Faux asks while they continue side by side, thousands of miles away from each other. 

“The grocery store, the skate shop and DJ Cyber’s out in Mataan.” He says

“At our old hideout.” Faux raises a brow. 

“Yeah.” Felix says, unaffected.

That’s when the walk stops, and Felix cuts the shit. 

This can’t go on for a second longer . 

And it’s not like Faux can take it either. 

“ You’ve been avoiding me.” It was just like him to just come right out with it. “You remember it don’t you? The day I left the Big 3.” 

He takes a step closer so he’s center stage, a meteor crashing right in front of Faux,  hot and dangerous. 

He stops them both in their tracks. “Cyber told me when I went to his place to hang. You’re acting the same way.” 

As soon as the words loosed from Felix’s lips on that rooftop, Faux felt a great chasm open up below his feet. That’s the first thing he remembered about Felix leaving the Big 3. He waved goodbye with his mask on. 

The sound of his heart shattering is almost palpable.

“You’ve been avoiding me, because you’re not sure how I’d react if you told me?” Felix says, scarily voicing Faux’s inner turmoil. He’d been hanging around Cyber too much in order to  psychoanalyze him with pinpoint precision. 

 “Even if you’re mad, you don’t need to be afraid to tell me how you feel, Faux.I want to know. Because you’re my friend.” Here he is, standing in the way of the raging bull. 

Perhaps, all this time, that’s what Faux needed to hear. Felix though, has opened the floodgates. 

“You want to know huh?” He responds after a moment that lasts too long. 

He is finally unburdened, but at what cost?

“Then fine, I remembered all right.”  Faux, confirming it, grinding his teeth. “that you abandoned me and DJ Cyber.” 

Felix rushes in to defend himself against the harsh accusation.“I thought you knew me, Faux. That I work best solo,”

“That still doesn’t change the fact that you dropped me!” Faux balls up his hands. “You never wanted us to be a crew. You left and you made me feel like NOTHING !”

“There were no hard feelings.” Felix says, as if that means anything now. 

“But, it was because you found out about my dad. And you let everyone know didn’t you? You betrayed me!” Faux shoves him hard , hard enough for Felix to have to fight for his balance after losing some distance between them.

They’re opposing each other now. When Faux takes a couple steps back, the shadow of a great skyscraper envelopes him. For a moment Felix can only see the glint of his icy blue eyes, they’re like a cracked mirror. 

“I didn’t! And that’s not-” He continues to stand his ground. 

“Then what was it?” Faux fires back, loud enough to cover the new distance between them. “What did I do to deserve it? For you to just throw me away?”

“Nothing!” Felix yells into the night air. 

The bearded writer will never truly know what went through his head before he lost it. 

Only a part of it was the whole framing other writers thing, but the other piece was much more simple. And he has been thinking about it long before he found out Faux’s secret. 

His gaze meets his friend’s again, sincere as there’s ever been. Looking through a window with no curtains. “I just wanted to be known as Felix , you know? Not Felix from the Big Three.  I..I was aiming for All City, to make a name for myself.”

“Solo?” Faux cuts him off, the word drenched in poisonous suspicion. “ You..You joined another crew.”

Yeah, Felix’s hand scratches the back of his neck. There was that detail. 

“Things change…”He replies, unsure of exactly how to follow up. Like having a ladder come out from under you, falling into an industrial fan and coming back to life and losing your entire identity.

 “But when I had decided to go solo for All City the first time,” He rebounds quickly since he can sense that snarling dog shadow in the dark  is *this* close to yanking the sides of his vest before beating the shit out of him. Never aimed at him before, but he knows *that* look. 

He continues carefully but truthfully as Faux’s face continues to screw up, “ I never thought it would hurt you if I left, that’s why I didn’t keep it a damn secret.” With an exasperated knitting of his brow.“ Hell, I thought you’d be happy for me.” 

The brunette sighs and ages 50 years in a moment.

“It’s just, I heard from the DJ that you disappeared after I went solo.” Felix admits, the words fall on each other like slow dominoes. “After everything, I wonder what it would have been like if I had gone after you.”

Like on TV, he sees his best friend’s back dejectedly shuffling away and at the last moment rushes up and hugs him tight from behind. 

Instead right now, the brunette finds the courage to close the distance between them and puts his hands on his shoulders looking him in the eyes. “You’re not nothing to me, Faux. You’re one of my best friends. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I just threw you away or something.”

He doesn’t take his eyes off of Faux for a moment. 

He owes him not to look away again. 

Even though he can’t think right now, not clearly at least with the blonde’s red face pulsating in the moonlight. He’s not exactly angry anymore. But instead, breaking down in front of him. 

“ Damn, What else can I even say?” Half to Faux and half to himself.

The heat lessens from the seething figure in the dark, the fire smothered and smolders down. 

After that night in the supermarket, Faux believes him when he says he didn’t tell. 

He has such a strong gut feeling to trust him, he knows deep in him that he can. 

He just- he doesn’t know why everyone looks at him like that. He wished that it could have known the culprit.

Scorn, disgust. It can only really mean one thing to him. 

That his secret got leaked somehow.

The same Felix who would accept him no matter what is the same Felix would hurt him. Drive a dagger into his back and twist it. 

“Why do you care so much about me now ?” Faux’s eyes crease and lips quiver, shadow covering his face when he tilts back. 

“…It wouldn’t hurt me? Why didn’t you care about that back then when you…”He balks, but as he says some of it…but then trails off. The way he breathes becomes unnatural and stilted and Felix knows something when his breath hitches. 

Sharp. His body contracts toward his stomach. Pain. 

Faux suddenly stumbles back, thrust back forcefully into a sky of tulip reds. It’s all he sees, he can’t see anything anymore except for the blade protruding all the way through his chest. 

It’s been coming, this is the culmination. 

In the real world, Felix is instantly by his side, what’s the matter?

Faux gasps, suddenly choking on air doubling over like he’d been punched. “Agh-“ 

He coughs, drops to his knees.

 Gnashing teeth, clawing at his chest at something that’s not there. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

 It’s his eyes, they’re not focusing on him, not anymore and suddenly he understands. What does he see? 

Felix fumbles out his phone and calls Cyber.

The doctor isn’t exactly on call though, and a groggy groan picks up the phone. It’s the sound of Faux’s agony, thrashing about that wakes him up.

“Faux?! What’s wrong?” The DJ answers full of concern when Felix’s quaking voice takes over. “I don’t know. He’s stuck in his head, I think? Please man, you gotta help.” 

“Where are you?” The redhead asks in barely restrained panic.

“My place, like a block toward the minimart. Dude. HURRY”. Click. 

It seems like forever before the spider like machine roars before them and DJ Cyber takes in the scene. Faux thrashing about on the ground, while Felix is on his knees holding him steady by the shoulders. 

“ Cyber, is there a way for me to get in there?” Felix looks at him wide eyed. 

“Hold on, you want to-?“ Cyber quickly registers the request. 

“I have to help him!” Felix desperately tells him. 

“Sure, just sit right here and I’ll show you how I got in there to guide you…” 

Felix looks around at the empty shopping district of Mataan. The lights spotlight him, and it’s impossibly bright here. 

In the distance, there’s a shadow. Felix’s feet tremble one foot after the other, shaky and fearful at the sight before him. 

Teun, the college student, with his backpack and his navy blue turtleneck sweater. His porcelain glass skin littered with cracks, lonely eyes looking in pity. 

“Felix.” The student’s lips tighten at the sides like ziplock. 

“I didn’t really know how lost I was without you.” Admits Teun. “I missed you.” 

Acknowledges him and he has to scrub his own eyes of nascent tears. But he’s just another part of the dream, he pushes past without saying anything. 

 “I don’t have time for this!” Felix grumbles, rushing to the aid of the one on the ground. He knows he gets it but-

The real Faux’s there, the blade of the dagger seems to keep growing until it’s tearing through his chest, the hilt against his back still pushing like it’s the head of a nail being hammered in.  Get it out, GET IT OUT. 

He’s writhing in pain on the cold hard ground, kicking, pulling, trying to get the blade out but it’s stuck.

Footsteps through the sound of his own straining. 

A blue eye cracks open an eye to look up and it’s the person who caused all of this. 

Despite his dire situation, the blonde flinches away, breaking the brunette’s heart just a little more. 

Felix kneels down. Next to him. On his level. 

“I got you Faux, it’ll be just fine.” Felix’s touch is light but at the same time it burns every nerve in his body. 

His signature confidence fills in the cracks of any doubt. We’ll get through this. “I’m going to get that dagger out of your back. I won’t let go of you, ok?“

It works. Faux eases slightly and stops straining. Believing. A warm blanket of calm. 

Like an injured animal watching the hunter put down his gun and helping him out of the trap the man set. 

Felix thinks to himself that me of all people can’t make it better but… he can at least do this.

 It comes out in one motion, slow but painful. Felix doesn’t let go, he keeps calm as he always does and does his best to talk him through it. 

Faux cries out, the tears streaming down his face from the effort, struggling like a hooked fish but Felix keeps his promise. He yanks, like tearing a big tree out of the ground from the roots. 

Cold metallic metal clatters to the ground. Felix has got Faux now, the unruly mess of blonde hair buried in the crook of his shoulder. 

 He’ll talk about the whole foundation thing later. But for now, Felix takes in the real world again. It’s not so bright and blinding anymore and he’s holding his dear friend close to him. 

It’s over, Faux sobs quietly into his shirt while he rubs circles into his back. The blonde then reciprocates the hug, tight.

“Cyber, he told me everything, Faux. It sucks you went through all that. ”

 It’s not fair that I was still laughing with the DJ while you were hurting all by yourself. 

Felix flashes him a thumbs up, allowing DJ Cyber to take his leave, back to his place where he can finally get some sleep. 

It’ll be just fine this time, he knows it  for certain now. 

He holds him for a long while, feeling the shuddering in Faux’s breath even out. 

In Felix’s firm embrace, Faux’s gaze wanders. “…What’s up with your hand?”

“Oh this?” He says showing off the various shades of sky to navy blue. “Bel got in a bunch of nail polishes in the mail this morning and couldn’t decide which one she liked the best.” He laughs. “Cute right?” 

A little happiness returns to Faux’s face, he didn’t know her super well but for some reason that sounded about right. 

Felix continues. “She was asking me which one is better, but I think you would know best.”

Faux examines the hand and pipes up. “This one suits her, but I think this one suits you.”

To think, it should have been this way before they both died. Better late than never. 

And of course it hurts. But it will for a while. 

After they’ve made it back to Felix’s apartment, the brunette is the first to speak up once Faux made himself comfy on the sofa bed. 

“I noticed,” Felix says, getting this off his chest.  “that when you skate you’re always putting more weight on your right side than your left. Like that side is weaker.” He says gesturing to his left ankle.

Of course he first noticed it when he was still Red, but it’s not like he can say that. 

He hopes that’s not a sensitive topic for him, the way that Faux’s lips purse and his body bristles with a thousand shivers. 

But Faux feels like after the worst of it came out just now, he can truly tell Felix anything . And continue to. 

“It’s mostly fine unless I really put all my weight on it, it doesn’t hurt anymore when I do that I just lose my balance.” He makes a downward motion with his hand.

 “I fell on it during gym class when I was thirteen. Ankle rolled right onto the concrete divider thing between the grass and the pavement.”

Flames consumed his entire leg, he physically held in the scream with hands over his mouth. 

He remembers wiping away the hot wet tears with the scraped palms of those hands, Keeping his face as stoic as possible, settling again into that practiced look of indifferent strength. 

He’s glad no one really paid attention or they’d tell the teacher and that teacher might have to call his father. 

He staccatos a couple breaths before all his weight goes back on his right foot and walks as normally as he could back to where the black and white ball was, 

wiping the scalding skin on his shorts. 

“I never told my dad just because he would blame me for messing around or being a klutz or some bullshit and my stepmom only pretended to care when my dad was around, so it never healed right.” He rolls his eyes. 

Felix sits with that story for a second. 

“Can you promise me something, my dude?” Felix looks to the ceiling. Felix thinks hard with his years of experience. 

“Yeah?” Faux says his puffy glossy eyes observe him carefully.

“If you’re ever sad, or in pain or anything , just tell me alright?” He gives him a reassuring look with everything he has left.

“I will.” And he means it, really means it. Thank God.

Chapter Text

A phone ringtone like a gunshot in the dark. Shit. 

Under his blanket Felix tries to parse if it’s dreams, vacillating while his hand refuses to reach for the noise. But it doesn’t stop. So, he has to accept reality, and the call. 

An hour hasn’t even passed since he and Faux finally reconciled that thing which was unresolved for the better part of 6 months. He’s starting to accept he’s never going to have a good night’s sleep ever again. 

The New Amsterdam police logo he set as the contact photo. Rietveld?

“What up?” Felix darts upright, swabbing the sleep out of his eyes with his hands.

Her voice on the other side mixes with some rustling of documents around. “Felix, I’m looking into your claims and… oh boy.” She murmurs with some consternation“ It’s even worse than I thought.”

In the dark of the night, she carefully recounts looking into the numerous false confessions, gleaned over the last few years using unscrupulous tactics. These people served time in prison for crimes they never committed.

Witness testimony thrown out the window, outright ignoring rock solid alibis, clear obstructions of justice and despite this the man was praised for his great police work putting the “bad guys” away. 

It’s absolutely harrowing. And sure some of it was in service to ensure his own son seemed like he was on the straight and narrow, but others were blatantly catching someone at the wrong place at the wrong time that led to such a high “success rate.”

And even after all that she saw promotion after promotion. 

“I’m working with a friend of mine, she’s an investigative journalist.” She explains. “We’re currently building a case against him. And as far as I’m concerned, he’s not suspicious of us yet.”

Too busy trying to catch his son than notice Reitveld coming up from behind him. 

She pauses for a moment, out of consideration. Even the papers stop rustling. “How are you two holding up?”

“We barely made it out of Faux’s apartment. But we’re good.”

Good is doing a hell of a lot of heavy lifting here. 

“Were they able to track Faux back to my place yet?” He asks, chewing on his lip a little.

“Not yet, they’re still searching the surrounding area of Brink Terminal, since that was where you two were spotted going toward.” She overheard during the special forces briefing. “So you’ll want to avoid that area until it cools down.”

Not fantastic news, but still better than them knocking down the door of his apartment in the next 20 minutes. 

He’s quiet for a moment before he pitches his idea. “Hey, what if we hopped on a train across the country, or maybe out of the Netherlands all together?” 

There’s a sigh on the other side of the phone. 

It’s not like Rietveld hadn’t considered that too. 

“I mean I’ve thought about telling you two to get out of New Amsterdam as soon as possible. It might work, but realistically with the way I’ve seen Vogelaar…” 

She thinks back on his endlessly charismatic demeanor. Sweet lies and rousing speeches that touched the hearts of those around him, he was able to manipulate the situation in any way he liked to put someone else in the wrong. That meant that aside from the brainwashed remnants of Project Algo, every other officer in the station worshiped him. 

“I know if spun the right way, he could just as easily get the Korps Nationale Politie on you.”

The last sentence hangs in the air for a little bit. 

Felix wasn’t ignorant to it. Who would the National police believe? The chief of police or a couple of “armed” fugitives? He’s seen it play out similarly when he was still Red and Faux was feeding false information to the police after getting them to trust him. 

“The best I can do right now is tell you the special forces next moves.” Felix listens in carefully.

“Because Vlaggetjesdag is on Saturday, the public probably aren’t going to be phased by the increased police presence.

“On top of that, Vogelaar’s special force is probably going undercover to better blend in with the crowd. According to him, Teun will only be suspicious of the uniformed officers.”

And then it’ll be too late. 

“We’ll work as fast as we can to get everything together.” Rietveld does her very best to soften the blow. She knows they can’t keep running forever. 

Click.

Damn it.

The dark tunnel toward Pyramid island wafts the salty spray of the ocean mixed with milk chocolate. 

The pair of men leisurely pursue the light, the vibrations of plastic wheels against the concrete. The sound swallowed by the rubber ones on the road while they walk alongside each other. A really stupid inside joke that Faux references (one that fortunately, Felix actually remembers) splits his friend’s sides so much he doubles over in chuckles.

Faux’s soft voice is muffled by a mouthful of sweets. 

All is well between the worlds of Felix and Faux.

The black glove breaks off more of the bar of Tony’s Chocolonely, the bits of it liquify in the sun’s scrutiny so some of the treat becomes small dark stains.

The lanky man doesn’t even think of sharing the chocolate, not even for a second. He’s still adjusting to being inside the Cyberhead that he and Felix picked up yesterday from the Junkyard near Prince’s place when they stayed up all night poking fun at bad horror movies, and eating Nonna’s Famous sausage pizza.

Through that mechanical filter, the lanky man suddenly becomes solemn, thoughtful. 

He recounts one of his and Cyber’s midnight discussions, with the DJ’s nose pressed into a medical magazine, while Faux took over his desk sketching a very detailed wildstyle piece. 

The man in the lab coat asked Faux if he thought that fragments of individuals, bits of dreams and partial memories still existed in Cyberheads that end up in the scrap yard.

 Or does that whole library get wiped the moment the body dies? 

“That’s too… deep for me, Faux.” Felix comments.

Faux chuckles. He figured. 

Since he encased himself in the Cyberhead, he hasn’t seen anything.

Watched the little bar load up. 

Wired Cyber Professional OS. 

No AI component detected. 

They emerge into the harsh sunlight, it’s a crisp light sky, so blue and filled with cotton clouds. The ferry is still a ways ahead. They continue for a bit, in comfortable silence smiling side by side. 

Then Felix turns to Faux, shining even brighter. “Want to race?”

The invitation is accepted with the roaring jets of Faux’s boostpack.

“Hey I didn’t even say go!” Felix revs up his own boostpack, following Faux’s shrinking outline in the distance.

“Yeeeaaahhh!” Faux grins from ear to ear rocketing across the tops of several buildings. He jumps toward the next shingled roof, soaring past a billboard for new basketball shoes and scares away a flock of seagulls. The birds scatter in screams of confusion, loose feathers and protest.

He savors this moment. The wind against his body, white feathers decorating the air,nothing but the blast of the thrusters in his ears. He’s jubilant, free in every sense of the word. 

It was sweet. Life was sweet.

He touches down, just as a green beanie figure forms waving him down.

“What took you so long slowpoke?” Felix goads him affectionately. 

A flash of instinctive frustration blitzes through Faux underneath the Cyberhead, creasing his brow and his mouth pulls to the top corner exposing gum and teeth. But he changes his mind.  He doesn’t have to be mad this time. 

Felix twists his upper body away with a tight lipped smile trying not to laugh through the prolonged silence. He can imagine what’s going on in there. 

The guy’s always been a sore loser, and it’s hilarious from time to time.

Faux found it still curious that Felix used a boostpack now, but he guessed sooner or later he would want to amplify his already godly movement with one. 

The red head opts to playfully knock Felix in the shoulder and they push each other around boarding the ferry together. 

Breathing in a lungful of fresh ocean air, the pair gaze upon the shimmering waves. Shades of blue mixing and churning, makes Faux strangely recall the steady rocking of his Oma’s wrists while she toiled away at a new sweater for him. 

She reminisced about her younger days when Vlaggetjesdag was in Scheveningen. (where his mom used to live with Faux’s grandparents)

He only ever remembered it right here, though, in Pyramid Island. 

In school they said something about another festival starting here due to rising sea levels, and all the boats that it brought to the island.

Faux follows Felix off the ship toward the big metal gateway following the rousing upbeat music, decadent sweet and savory smells of food stalls until awesome sights of the ships lined up on the docks come into view. 

While they squeeze through the crowds, toward uncertainty,  a hand wearing a fingerless glove emerges among a sea of bodies. 

Tryce managed to find refuge down a flight of stairs where they almost got busted by the cops that one time, but seemed to become a meeting place for everyone. Felix squeezes through followed by-

“Red…?” Tryce’s eyes widen into saucers. He involuntarily freezes, waiting for the Cyberhead to speak. 

“Heyo, Tryce! ” Faux’s soft voice greets his gaping mouth.

Just hearing the difference,  their leader is able to compose himself enough not to invite further questions from the “Cyberhead”. “Ayo, you two.” He hides weakness, finishes swallowing a lump at the surreal sight. 

Felix had become oddly nostalgic when he stepped back to look because he saw Red, too. Bel had tons of pictures of him on her phone, so when she showed an old photo,  it was like going over baby pictures. 

Any angle you peer from, it was infinitely strange to feel longing for the time he spent in his friend’s identity. 

To Faux it was just creepy staring from both of them. “What? You two never seen a Cyberhead before?” He jokes.

“Pretty sick right? We picked it up from the trash heap in Versum Hill.” Felix ends it.

“Yeah.” The twin tailed man forces out, as if that didn’t give him massive psychic damage. He knows they had to conceal Faux’s identity given the heavy police presence, but seriously?

It was Faux’s idea. 

“Where’s everyone?” Naturally follows the next question.

“They went on ahead.” Tryce shrugs. “I said I’d wait for you two.”

He leans toward the pair while they walk. “I’ve scoped out the place for Devil Theory, and maybe even they’re taking a day off today.” He goes on to say that if he had saw the Oni themed crew, he would have told his friends not to show. 

“Because they’re the biggest rats in New Amsterdam.” Faux grits his teeth. Got it. Man, he’s always wanted to kick their asses. 

And because they have a grudge against Faux.

 Tryce and Felix look at each other knowingly. 

And because they have a grudge against Faux

Chapter Text

The backdrop of beautifully decorated old ships and strung up Netherlands flags become a festive blur of color to Bel. She completes a pair of spins, feet tamping in time to the upbeat drums while the jump ropes undulate around her. 

She’s gotten used to the rhythm, and in her next move, it’s a cartwheel toward one of the turners. 

It’s just when she centers for Solace’s camera does she come face to face something truly shocking. 

Red doesn’t say anything, while his feet dance the jump ropes in time with hers. 

He’s lively, getting a feel for the pace. She can only gawk at this development, unsure of exactly what to think. 

But as when he kicks it up with the hastening of the jump ropes, he chuckles confidently.  They can’t trip him up. And Bel knows that voice. 

It isn’t Red . It’s Faux. She lets go of a breath she was holding, and can again focus on the quickening tempo beneath her feet, now that the snakes underneath her slither faster. 

The bright yellow lights fix onto Bel. “Bel!”

She can feel his silly toothy underneath the cyberhead. “Faux!” She lights up back at him. This guy is usually reserved; but the joy sparking from his whole being is infectious. 

“Do a Flip!” Felix directs jokingly from a small crowd that had gathered. 

A mischievous glint then appears in Faux’s four “eyes”. 

In an especially audacious move, the fake cyberhead launches into an incredible backflip like a red comet into the air, drawing a hushed reverence in silent awe. 

He catches himself in a left split, and scrambles to his feet before the jump ropes catch up. Bel claps gleefully. “Hey hey!” The peanut gallery goes wild.

Yellow headlights in his head search out the only spectators that matter. 

“VET!!” Felix leans forward with his hands on the top of his head. With jump ropes involved too? That’s the boldness of the Faux he knows. 

A bit of pain shuffles into his voice along with a slowing of place, he leans in toward Bel whispering. “Didn’t mean to do that.”

“Huh?” Bel asks. 

“The split…” He hunches just a bit but he hides it well enough. 

Bel smothers the bubbling giggles. 

The pair exit the ropes to expectant kids, the youngsters call after them lauding them on their skills.

 It’s silly but Faux’s is awash with pride, his face tinting pink under the Cyberhead.  

“Hey, hey Faux.“  Felix smirks when Bel, Solace and Faux regroup with them. 

He nudges the Redhead,  bringing Tryce’s attention to him. “Our next race should be in those.” 

The really little ones clamor over each other, their feet restricted by the colorful wooden clogs.

Faux snorts into his hand, looking away. Tryce rolls his eyes with a smile. 

“So, what do you guys want to do?” Their leader addresses the group.

“The ships are coming in!” Bel barely holding in her excitement gestures toward the crowds forming toward the docks further down the big area for the newest herring catch. “How about some Hollandse nieuwe?” All that jumping worked up an appetite. 

The small group make their way toward the growing mass of people. After pushing through as much as they could, (and stopping Faux from slipping forward to blur the line between waiting and just plain old cutting), they figured that it was as close as they’d get to the tasty fish. 

In this idle time, they stare out into the ocean. 

“You know, Faux. They always told us never to wear junk Cyberheads we found.” 

Tryce says slowly and carefully, as if he’s explaining this to his kid brother after he already used his BMX without asking. “It's like takin’ someone’s skull and putting your head inside it. That’s just messed up, dude.”He crosses his arms, disapproval pulls his features stern. 

Faux regards him with a slightly hardened look at his sudden authoritative tone but doesn’t say anything. They all know he’s desperate to protect both himself and Felix and it's not the first time he’s done morally questionable things to save his own skin. Things he’s come to resent himself or others for later. Things he knows about and things he doesn’t. 

“You can overheat in there even though the fans are running and it gets hard to see depending on what angle you tilt your head.” Felix adds. 

“You sound like you know from experience.” The blonde teases him in the mechanical filter, like he always does. 

The thing is: Felix actually does know from experience. And it’s not good if the secret of Red slips, so Tryce deftly changes the subject to the ships that has Faux listening in. 

Since the nonstop excitement of racing Faux, and finding the rest of his crew (sans Vinyl who was hanging with DJ Cyber) he hadn’t had a chance to really take it all in.

Standing in line, Felix has a casual lopsided smile seeing the net knitters, clog makers and weavers spinning sheep’s wool. 

A pair of eyes gazes affectionately upon him and explains what each of these people are doing. The hand holding the little boy’s is frail but reassuring.

They’re preserving old Scheveningen crafts for the future generation to see how people in the old times lived. “Today I’ll teach you how to draw those ships you liked so much, Felix.” 

The little boy is elated at the prospect, at every new drawing lesson. 

He looks up to see [REDACTED]. Face hidden by the blinding sun. But it shouldn’t be, he should see it. See it clearly. Even with the pointed mask on. 

Someone he loves dearly…

He feels a pull for this moment to last longer. He wants to stay here with [REDACTED] more.

Give it a minute. Felix’s nose scrunches.  He’ll remember who it was…

Forgetting who this person is puts a fish hook in his heart, yanking him to find this fond memory with urgency. Usually carefree, it’s going to bother him.

 I’m supposed to know who this is and now my head is starting to hurt…everyone’s gone.  How long had he been waiting in line again? 

“Felix! I wondered when you’d be showing up! Tryce said you’d be here.” A cloud of familiar blue hair forms in front of him breaks the reverie.

 Vinyl reaches forward with broad open arms, and he manages to quickly shelve the disturbing thought behind his friend’s embrace. 

Bel and Solace are close behind. “Vinyl! OMG Hiiii!” Bel greets her and the blue haired girl turns around and hugs her too. Soon the Futurism girls appear in regular street clothes, and they all get absorbed in conversation. 

Instead of following them, Felix wanders toward his two former friends staring each other down. 

The DJ did help Faux escape the dream world, despite the fact he killed him for the reason that all he encounters looks upon him with unshakable scorn.

Reasons Faux doesn’t understand. (or never wants to.)

Despite the confusing circumstances, at this very moment Cyber must have the lanky writer’s best interests in mind.

“...Cyber I-” Faux swallows thickly. “Thank you. For the other day.”

He’s truly grateful that his friends didn’t leave him alone this time. The DJ can feel the gratitude radiating off his whole trembling being. 

What could have happened if they didn’t come?  Is it really possible to die in a dream and die in real life? 

Faux turns now that the bearded man had arrived. “And Felix, I made it to the front of the line before all of you slowpokes.” By covertly cutting of course. The blonde stretches out the tiny plastic tray with the herring. The Netherlands flag planted in it, almost buried in onions. “Extra onions. Just the way you like it.”

Felix didn’t even remember Felix liked extra onions. Damn… not again. 

In the meantime… 

They would have this, for old time’s sake. The love that used to be there, and as a matter of fact still was. 

All three pondered if it had to be this way forever awkward and severed. With three trays of raw herring , were overjoyed that they had come to the conclusion that it didn’t. 

 It would take some time and a lot of explaining with all the head chopping off business but there is a sentiment between them they’ll get there. 

The redhead with his reserved expression, but with a happiness that barely fits on his face addresses his two closest friends in the world. “Faux, Felix. Let’s dig in then.”

Faux takes off the Cyberhead for a moment.

The group each take a herring by the tail and let the salty, fatty fish go down head first. 

They each savor the treat. Faux chews with the tail still sticking out of his mouth, like a cat with a stolen fish, which Cyber comments on and Faux rolls with it as if they never missed a beat. 

Felix is happy for them. All three of them.

So, the brunette stretches his arm in the air to get a snapshot of the Big Three. Memorializing this step in relearning their friendship, all smiles are sincere. 

That’s all Felix can ask for. 

Though this fleeting moment would be spoiled by a shadow in the dark, a silhouette of a curly brunette ponytail and a face mask with oni teeth on it. “The rumors are true then, Faux did come back to life.” The Devil Theory feels his stomach and side are still unpleasantly tender from being thrown against that wall with such force. 

He watches the blonde slip the Redhead back on.

His cell phone opens with a click. “See you in hell, Project Algo.” 

Chapter Text

A horn blares its long drawn out call while the ships cruise by the shore. 

Faux and Felix stand behind the railing and wave them by, the passengers wave back. 

A chorus of older women on stage dressed in traditional costumes sing an achingly slow melody in the background. 

The whole group had played lots of old games, where Faux’s rewards were pockets filled with candy. 

The Bomb Rush Crew joined by Futurism watched the craft demonstrations and talked till they landed in front of the stage now.

The beanie wearing man and the rest of them egg Faux on to dance with them and some of the rowdier drunker people in the crowd to the uproarious chorus of men that took stage just moments before and he had surprisingly given in to Felix’s silly antics. 

They agreed to regroup after they concluded they all wanted to see different things next.

The sun’s a bit lower in the sky now, and the Redhead’s chin rests between his elbows folded on the railing as he looks over the waves again. 

“...Yo Felix.” He turns his head in his elbows so the four yellow eyes point at his best friend. 

“What up, dude?” The bearded writer offers back.

“I’m having a really great time, but it got me thinking.” Faux starts. “I thought it was weird when you asked me to come to Vlaggetjesdag with you. Even Vinyl was pretty surprised you showed up, I could tell by her face.”

“Huh?” Felix’s eyes widen a bit, not too noticeably though. “Why wouldn’t I want to spend the day with my best homies?”

The fake cyberhead continues without any resentment whatsoever, but it still hits Felix like a slap to the face. 

“You didn’t want to come when I asked you last time. You said it wouldn’t be the same without your grandfather, who had been taking you ever since you were a little kid.”

Your grandfather. 

Opaatje.

Wrapping around him like a warm blanket fresh out the wash, it returns. 

He looks up and remembers the map of wrinkles on Opaatje’s face, the deep laugh lines are evidence of the kindness he’s given so many over the years. 

His clear deep set blue eyes held the patience of a saint. 

The feeling of his bony hand guiding the movement of his pencil across the edges of the paper. They sit at Felix’s meager desk, endless hours spent creating masterpieces while he listened to the old man’s stories. 

His house smelled like fresh baked apple pie and jam.

Felix thinks to himself that he’s a damn fool for forgetting.

“You don’t remember him?” Like, a quarter serious. Faux inquires before the thought even finished running through his mind. 

The question cuts Felix deeply, a hot knife through butter. The churned cream boils. 

The Cyberhead on Faux’s body makes it so much worse. The living embodiment of his time as a blank slate is asking this.  Like a sick joke. 

Under his beanie, his hair sticks to his forehead and suddenly his clothes feel uncomfortable. The sea shanties on stage are suddenly way too loud. 

Faux doesn’t have much room to talk considering his own situation of lost memory and the way half the world around him stopped making sense ever since he himself had six months stolen from him. 

But Felix’s grandpa was his world. That fact stuck with him. 

“That’s not it.” Felix lied. That’s really obvious to Faux. 

But the ever confident masked hero wants to have an explanation for all of this. “I just wanted to make some new memories. With all of you guys.” 

It’s the truth, and blonde basks in the warm fuzzy feeling in his chest that came from that declaration. But hell, something was seriously off. 

Felix’s friend decides to keep it to himself though, feeling a slight pang of guilt toward the other’s disturbed reaction with the impromptu interrogation just now. 

For the very first time, Felix is silent. Since he’s the one to make conversation, the music continues to fill in the blanks until he feels his stomach start growling. It’d been a hot minute since they’d eaten just the herring. 

Faux feels his stomach gurgle too and decides that pulling the brunette toward the food stalls and out of his head would be a good idea. 

Soon enough they’re in line for some kapsalon, lured in by the tantalizing grease of the fries. Yet, while they were weaving through the crowds yet again, there’s something different in the air. 

The blonde stops and looks around. He isn’t sure if he’s just being paranoid, but he gets a sensation that they’re being watched . 

Felix has brushed off that recent episode of memory loss, used to putting stuff like that behind him by now. 

He didn’t come back perfect after all because this isn’t a movie. Those five times he blacked out only gave him back his core memories but not everything else. 

Cyber assured him they would come back in time. How much time he wasn’t totally sure.

The headaches were much less frequent now and every time a dizzy wave like that hits the shore it leaves nuggets of his identity back to him. He even managed to remember where his parents lived and where he went to school. 

They get to the front of the line and the cook asks for their names while Faux suspiciously scans the couple of women waiting close by for their orders to be ready. 

It’s weird, but now that he thinks of it. Felix gets that same sensation as his buddy. Someone’s looking at them. 

Faux leaned in toward Felix, telling what he already knows about Rietveld’s warning. They should give false names. 

“Kelvin.” Faux does his best to project his voice over the counter.

“Pjtor.” Felix says without much effort. 

The cook’s hand extends down with the trays of fries and toppings. “Here you are, Felix and Teun.”

And there it is. 

Forget the fucking Kapsalon, the two men take off while the two women who were waiting for their food start toward them. 

Faux is of course more adept at squeezing through the crowds of people and he’s taking Felix’s arm and leading him away. Away to somewhere. 

They’re dodging hands trying to grab them, joined by uniformed officers. An oil spill on the harbor that’s going to drown them.

Faux bumps into a twin tailed man in a red jacket. “Hey you two-” Tryce cuts himself off when he senses how stressed and breathless the pair are. 

“Undercover officers.” And some not. Felix points to the mob beelining toward them. They’re losing precious seconds conveying this fact. 

He turns to Faux. “I know a place we can hide. You keep leading, I’ll tell you where to go.” 

The blonde nods and they start taking off again.

“You better meet me back at the hideout later!” Tryce calls after them.

“You’ll see us, don't worry!” Felix promises grinning doggedly, when his board hits the pavement and the wheels of Faux’s skates start grinding the ground. 

They dodge the flying chains on the turrets, ducking under stands and skateover tables spilling food to the ground followed by angry screams.

The low rumble of angry metal creaks, a tankwalker has been deployed. Even the whirring of helicopters follows the men. People start to scatter. 

Holy shit, Faux’s dad really does want the truth to die with them.

Felix holds onto his beanie while the helicopter blades get closer stirring the wind around them. 

In a more open area, the thrusters of their boostpacks synch, and Felix sees their first ticket out, an open manhole. It’s gonna suck so much ass but-

Faux has full faith in his friend, doesn’t even question it because even if it’s from the highest sky scraper in Millenium square, Faux knows if he’s with Felix that they’ll land on their feet.  

Together they take the plunge down. 

Their saving grace is landing on ground, not water.

 Felix takes out his cell phone flashlight, and looks around. He only spotlights Faux, who has given up on trying to hold his breath.

The sewer’s smell is pungent, and absolutely repulsive. A feverish odor, that made the blonde gag a couple times but he thinks he has a hold of himself now.

He had stuffed some of the candy into his head like how plague doctors masks were full of flowers and takes a deep whiff. 

The two of them trudge forward in the dark cutting left, right, straight. They’re making good distance, until against all odds, flashlights slice through the dark.

The two women from earlier joined by 3 new uniformed officers, snipers to be exact, are hustling after them with Terminator level determination. Soullessly trudging on toward them like zombies with red eyes.

One of them, Felix realizes, is the white Cyberhead that had infiltrated the hideout and shot him. 

A fraction of a second passes before a popping sound echoes in the enclosed space and bullets bite pieces out of the Red Cyberhead rattling Faux’s head in the thing. 

Felix pulls Faux behind a wall he was already hiding behind, mentally noting the dented Cyberhead. 

They don’t have too much more to go, but it’ll be hard if those guys keep following them, especially the snipers. 

Faux thinks that too, which is why he does something none of them expect. He yanks his hand away despite Felix’s shock and charges like he always does.

He boosts toward the crowd of officers, and his shoes scuff the corner while he pushes off the wall, leaping gracefully over the putrid water.

Bullets ringing just behind him at full throttle, he runs sideways onto the wall of a narrow corridor, and pushes off the balls of his feet. A sweeping kicks takes out two of the three lined up snipers before they can point into him. One loses his balance, making a big splash below, a second loses his rifle.

The two who were chasing him earlier pull their guns, but Faux is faster at close range and punches one sending her backwards. Then knees the other’s gun into the air. 

That just leaves the white cyberhead, who fled trying to put distance between them before he shoots.

Felix appears beside Faux, and grabs his wrist before he gets shot from somewhere in the dark. Jetting forward with boostpack rockets in their ears mixed with gunshots missing them. 

Ringing coming from different directions, too slow to catch the two of them blasting forward at full speed. 

One flashlight shrinks in the distance as it fails to spotlight them further. 

At the end of the sewer, a ladder up toward a light shining from above.

Faux thinks to himself that they’re not going to get away if they start climbing the ladder and the lone sniper takes them out while climbing it. 

“You go ahead, I'll be right behind you.” Faux instructs Felix. “Trust me.” He says to the bearded man. And Felix reluctantly does, starting up the way. 

The white Cyberhead’s red eyes lock onto the bright crimson head in the dark, but it’s not what he’s aiming for. 

The shots crackle as they rip through the lime green fabric. “Gotcha.” Escher coolly announces.

But upon closer inspection, it was a soggy tall box with a shirt stretched over it. The Red head neatly balanced on top topples to the ground spilling candy into the rancid water. 

Faux holds his hands over his mouth, and watches knee deep in the murky liquid where he remained hidden right behind the bars that let the sewage in.

The Cyberhead policeman heads the other direction in search of him, making the wrong conclusion that he must have doubled back as a distraction for the other one. 

The suspect was already long gone. He’d been tricked. 

The blonde returns to the ladder and climbs, sees Felix’s outstretched hand toward sunlight and solid ground, and takes it. 

“Just a little farther now.” Felix lets his buddy know, and Faux nods. He’d follow Felix to the ends of the earth, he knows he’ll get them to safety. 

They’d managed this far and Faux sits along a wall panting. His shoes soaked with nothing he wants to think about and a bullet hole in the center of his lime green shirt that he retrieved after fooling Escher. 

Felix makes sure he’s okay as he can be, then says he has some business. 

The Oldhead looks the young man up and down. “Eh, huh? You’re Felix right? Well I’ll be! You did it.”

Referring to his name being all over Pyramid island despite the attempts of scrubbing all the graffiti away. A lot of the walls that were filled with art, were barren now as were other parts of the city as all the writers in those areas were cleaned out as well. 

The Oldhead yammers on for a little about the sad state of the writing scene, and Felix though exhausted listens leaning back on his heels. 

 “Deal is a Deal, I’ll let you through. Just promise me, do not dwell too long along these samey walls of metal. I’ve seen people just start living off of these boxes of economic waste. You should aim higher for yourself.” Felix is patted on the shoulder.

Faux drags himself over just to hear the last of it. “And whatever you find beyond here…” The old timer looks at both of them. “Don’t always assume what you’re seeing is reality.”

With that, Felix ushers Faux through the speakers. They walk into the metal backrooms of Pyramid island till they’re staring down into the abyss. 

“We’re going to jump down there.” Felix, exhausted, points to nothing but the dark void. 

Faux leans a bit over the edge and can only smell something vaguely sweet. 

The two of them climb over the railing. And drop straight into darkness.

After a while in nothing but blackness bricks materialize, creating an old building straight out of a textbook about Old Amsterdam, as it was referred to these days. 

A stumbling meandering decorative gable roof emerges first. Faux sees his own reflection in big narrow windows elongated by their descent. 

At the sight of the ground they pull the thrusters on their boostpacks, slowing them down to a smooth landing, their feet making small clouds of dirt that scatter old undisturbed earth.

 Like astronauts landing on the moon, the landscape is nothing like Faux has ever seen.

Before the lanky man can really question what an old ass building like this is doing here, a mighty woosh of air rushes at their backs beckoning Faux toward the big thing in the center, 

Then sucks the breath right out of his lungs when he realizes what it is. 

He is enveloped by it, then rattled to his very core. 

The glittering organic kaleidoscope of leaves burnished gold by the remains of the dying sun brighten the sky around him. 

Sections separated by spidering branches creating patterns like stained glass. 

The trunk is made intricately of nature’s marbling, maps coursing on its skin from hundreds of years of history from before Faux was born and long after he’ll be gone.

The sight reflects in his eyes setting them alight with all that gold while the sun warms his face. His mind grasps at this wild beautiful dizzying confusing thing as the slightly sweet smell permeates his being. Nothing like that tiny pine air freshener that dangled from the rearview mirror of the cop car. 

A real tree. This young’un has never seen one. 

The memory sears into his mind forever . When he even goes close to the word ‘Tree’, he will blink and see every detail of every leaf, every sprawling reaching branch, every constellation hidden in the bark. 

Faux forgets all his fatigue, his soaked reeking pants and skates, bruises and pains of days prior, nourished by the sight before him. Looking on with rapture. 

Felix by his side looking up at the same thing, sharing this moment of otherworldly beauty with him. 

A fragment of motion moves his hand toward his phone. Bring home a photo of the scene to show Bel and Tryce, but he decides against it. There’s a gnawing sensation that slaps his hand down.

“Don’t always assume what you’re seeing is reality.” 

 If he did take a picture…he’s not entirely sure it would show up.

And that freaks him out. 

Faux turns back, toward Felix. Specks of gold flicker on his darkened figure but he can still see the knowing smile spilling across his tired sagging cheeks. The shadow of the ancient building lengthens on the dirt. 

“...How do you know about this place?” Faux chokes out.

“I’ve been here.” Felix says plainly. That’s all he says on the matter. But the wonder twinkling in Faux makes him glad to share this place with him. 

The wind rustles the leaves. No one but the two of them share this space. 

“I think we lost them.” Felix looks around again. “So let’s go home.” 

Faux thinks to himself that despite everything. Today has been the happiest he’s been in a long time.

Chapter Text

The chill of early spring night set in. 

The two silhouettes moved around a section of wall far enough away from the sewer to avoid the repugnant smell. 

His puffy red jacket stretched and crinkled, the sheen of the flashlight reflected off her blue lipstick. 

The sound of aerosol cans hushed by the inky blackness around them as they worked in reverent silence. Moving so fluidly it’s as if there’s eight arms working instead of four.

The new moonlight flashed in Tryce’s eyes like gems, and painted Bel and his figures in a milky hue. They acknowledge this step. Almost done. 

The twin tailed man called his bubbly best friend out in the middle of the night to work on this piece undisturbed. 

Felix’s mask looks up toward the sky, a glowing blue halo outlined in black and white over his head. 

Sanctifying the opening of this drainage pipe, a tribute to New Amsterdam’s own Patron Saint of Writers known throughout the Netherlands and beyond. 

The Legendary member of the Big 3 who inspired Tryce to start this crew, wasted at the very height of his rep. 

This act was only fitting before he and Bel christened themselves the Bomb Rush Crew that night. 

Bel adds the finishing touch, inscribing these words. 

 Rest in Peace Felix 

In the low summer sun, Faux reaches out to touch the letters, tracing them delicately with his index finger. 

This is Tryce’s art and Bel’s. He knows their styles well enough from the hideout and everywhere else.

No other writers were stupid enough to paint over the memorial, and by some miracle the police didn’t happen upon it and wipe it off the face of the earth. 

Heat seeps into his glove when he truly comprehends what he’s reading. 

No, that's not right. Felix is alive and well right up there near the sidewalk. 

His beanie wearing buddy is busy complaining about how desperately he needs a shower and asking him if he’s ever seen Adam Sandler’s 8 Crazy Nights, dissolving into mirthful chuckles just thinking of it.

As soon as the blonde man looks into the blue “eyes” of the mask, nausea grasps him in its clutches. 

He stumbles backward holding his stomach, squeezing his eyes shut. 

Darkness envelops his whole being, stripping him of the world for a few terrifying seconds. Only the sound of a metal ladder clanging to the ground reverberates all around him.

“Hey Faux! You alright over there? Are you coming?” Felix calls. 

“Uh huh, just give me a sec.” The lanky writer replies back hoarsely while he strains his eyes open again, unaware his legs were doing the work and moving him toward the voice. 

Like floating on air for a minute. 

When he’s once again face to face with his bearded best friend with his lopsided smile and eyes creased from joy, He’s alive. 

Felix is Alive.

The next morning is another perfect summer day in the hideout.

 Sun gleaming, crows sound, flapping overhead. 

Nothing but the soft beat of the speakers. A plastic wrap of tension clenches tight over the atmosphere for the three writers that showed up. 

Faux is trying for the high score on Micro Boy, trying to ignore the cloud of blue hair floating around in his periphery. 

Vinyl likewise trying not to think of that lemon shaped eyesore just beyond her own phone. 

Created by just the two of them, a miasma that smothers the entire hideout. 

Felix crosses his arms, sinks into the couch next to his usual spot next to the woman to take up less space. 

Vinyl held a deep distaste for Faux before the whole killing Felix thing. And now, she couldn’t stand being around him.

Absolute scum of the earth.

What did Felix even see in this guy to want to bring him back? (To even be friends with him in the first place?)

At Millenium Mall she’d told Tryce that she knew Faux personally, but she said it with an undetected vitriol and clenched fists. 

That monster was the reason for her arriving to empty garages devoid of all life, for longtime friends disappearing behind bars and the reason she… she had to attend Felix’s funeral. 

And Felix, she flicked her gaze toward him. He did a wave back. He still wasn’t heeding her warnings to this day. Hanging onto the hope Faux of all people would change. Sometimes…

Faux wrinkles his nose in irritation. She always looked at him like that. 

She didn’t know him at all , any of his circumstances. 

His father had him down in that interrogation room and screamed at him not to soil what he had (among all the other nasty things he said to him). It was clear this was only about Officer Vogelaar. 

Faux stood outside the police station that first time and didn’t think of that poor guy who vaguely looked like him, because he didn’t know him or any of the ones who came after. 

His father was a cop, who else had that privilege?

But deep down he knew it was wrong, came to resent it. And himself. 

That’s when it crept in, the  constant fear that the community that he had been loved and respected turning on him. How Felix and Cyber would turn on him. 

 Haunting him constantly. He knew how people would treat him if they knew about Officer Vogelaar. 

 She didn’t have those burdens and she still judged him. 

Threatened him with his secret before. 

Hypocrite. Fake. Faux. 

She knew what he was. 

(Was she the one that let everyone know?)

If so, made it easy to hate her. 

They’re thinking the same thing: I need this asshole out of my sight. Now.

And with that thought they’re saved by the Bel. (and Tryce.) 

Together, the duo break the weird atmosphere that had settled over the place. 

Faux brushes past Vinyl and into the closed circle with the two other members of the crew.

“C’mon, Felix. Let’s go.” Vinyl nudges the other man on the couch eagerly, scrambling to her feet in a hurry and throwing her skateboard to the ground. She only agreed to stay here until Felix would be assured that Faux wouldn’t be alone. 

“Right behind you.” The brunette follows off the couch while he bumps fists with Tryce and Bel who see him off. 

Not too far from the hideout in the bustle of Versum Hill, an unmasked DJ Cyber was waiting for them near the big decagonal sculpture like he said he would be. He’s met with hugs from each of his longtime friends. 

The new crew start aimlessly coasting toward the big plaza just to get moving.

“So where to?” Vinyl asks the boys while they’re all baking out in the summer sun. There’s a bit of pause. 

Pyramid Island and Brink Terminal were out of the question. Felix grins rubbing the back of his neck. His friends roll their eyes, not without a sympathetic smile. 

“I know that Vinyl 3000 down in the underground bazaar is having a big anniversary sale today, so I was going to suggest there.” Cyber pulls at the neck of his big lab coat. “It’ll be nice to get out of the sun you dig?”

(He still had that gift card from the Sinterklaas Avond celebration burning a hole in his pocket too.)

“I dig it.” Felix and Vinyl answer in unison while their wheels lead them to the shopping center. The three of them look at each other for a moment, then burst into raucous noise.

 It’s not even that funny, but it comes all the way from Felix’s belly.

It lasts all the way until they are dyed in the blue hues of the tunnel leading them toward the bazaar.

“It’s been a hot minute since it’s been just the three of us.” Vinyl is glowing, basking in the presence of her two closest friends.

“Almost since we first started it feels like.” Cyber reminisces. 

Aside from DJ Cyber, who Felix had known for years, Vinyl was their first friend on the writing scene. 

Their second oldest friend besides each other.

Taught them the ropes, rules and most importantly the Code of the Street. 

Before they knew it, the blue haired writer was an irreplaceable part of their lives and the trio grew close. 

She was more of a social butterfly though, making lots of connections throughout the streets of New Amsterdam. It felt like everywhere they went, someone knew her by name.

While Vinyl was always all over the place, she always made time for these two though.

“So, what have you been up to?” Felix asks both of his friends generally. 

Vinyl talks about hanging out with the girls in Futurism of course, and shows him some of her own new graffiti. She insisted on keeping the spirit alive despite the insane police presence. 

Aside from that she was telling him about some new recipes she was trying lately. 

She looked at Cyber and Felix until they were both locking eyes with her. They needed to come over and try her homemade macarons sometime.

 It wasn’t as hard to make it as it looked and she bragged it was just like the ones she saw in the bakery window. 

DJ Cyber talks about mixing for his live set in the near future, the same one that Tryce had been losing his mind over the last couple of weeks. 

The news of it made waves on Felix’s twitter feed. Adding a couple new surprise records would blow some minds out there and he had an idea of what he wanted. 

Aside from that, Cyber showed a video of new dance moves he had been trying. A flashy double air flare has the other two in awe, the likes and retweets going up as the video replays. 

They continue skating around the bazaar taking in the stalls and displays, heading toward the Vinyl 3000 in no rush. They take it slow for Felix anyway, who had been through a shit ton during his and Faux’s Flag Day escape. 

They stop anywhere that seems interesting. Trying on new clothes, checking out new video games and continuing to catch up. 

He and Cyber try on purposefully funny angular glasses to show Vinyl and she finds a pair herself that are way too big for her face and take a silly picture. They toast the free samples of cheese offered at one of the stands before trying it.

Just for a little while, Felix can forget the troubles breathing down his back in this lowkey hangout. The fact that the future of New Amsterdam’s writing scene hinges on him and Faux, that wrinkle of memory loss yesterday. 

They ceremoniously arrive at the record stand, the boxes overflowing with new possibilities to the DJ. The redhead is way ahead of them like the other two suddenly ceased existing. 

Like a kid in a candy store Felix and Vinyl are well aware. They spread out seeing what treasures lie next their feet. 

Felix flips through admiring the art pieces on each cover. But soon enough, a sense of guilt clatters down into his chest. A feeling nearly like failure. 

Vinyl curiously gazes over the DJ’s shoulder to see what he’s so absorbed in. 

They sense Felix came back though, and there’s something wrong. 

Putting down a record he decides won’t work, Cyber can fully see that the bearded man's troubled expression. “You know guys, I almost forgot about my Opaatje yesterday.”

That wakes the DJ up a little more too, knowing how much his grandfather meant to his best friend but listened to him go on. 

“Yeah,” Vinyl says adding on. “I thought it was weird when I got that text from you to meet up at Pyramid Island…”

“I was thinking the same thing.” The DJ shakes his head.

It was worse since Faux was wearing that Cyberhead. Reminded of Red, and the time he lost himself.

Felix goes on, a cold rush of insecurity flashes in him. 

“Even now, I know I’m not totally back to the way I was.” 

Felix felt a comforting familiarity with Vinyl and Cyber, but…

It’s rare to see their best friend this bothered but it was understandably a big thing. 

“It’ll take time. And we’ll be here for you every step of the way, Felix.” The DJ assures him. The blue haired woman nods in his direction echoing the sentiment. They’ll be there to remind him of the good times and weather the bad. 

“Even if you forgot my birthday.” Vinyl teases him, she and the redhead both know that he would have forgotten even if he never lost his head and that’s pretty to funny to her. 

The DJ walks out of the record store with a 0$ balance on the gift card and a bag of shiny new records. 

Before they leave the area though, Vinyl spots a photo booth.

“Hey guys! Come on!” She ushers them in. 

Five shots of ridiculous faces, (ones that they didn’t even know that the stoic Cyber could make), and each come out with a strip of new memories. She wants to get this before she has to go. 

Always a free spirit, she leaves the bazaar. “Let’s do this more often!”

“Dig it!” The boys say and wave goodbye. 

Felix didn’t want to mention the one person that Vinyl hates most in the world during their hangout, but now him and Cyber sit at a table just underneath the two giant white snakes.

 Cyber unveils his new treasures.  

Felix observes the little strip of newly made fun memories before zipping it up in the pocket of his vest. 

“I didn’t want to talk about Faux when Vinyl was around,” Felix admits to Cyber catching his attention. “But when he reminded me of Opaatje, I think he knew something was wrong.”

Cyber listens intently, having a feeling he knows where this is going.

“Do you think he’s going to remember killing me?” Felix says point blank. 

Curiosity tinged with dread,  gazing upon the two great snakes above them. Encircling the building like that metal monstrosity that night. 

“I don’t think there’s ever going to be a good way or time to tell him.” Cyber sighs. By the way, you killed your best friend in an impulsive fit of rage. “But he will remember what happened eventually.” 

“ When it does happen,” Felix echoes, but when he regains that sparkle in his eyes when he thinks of how far he and Faux had come and how he has the best homies at his side. “You know, I think I can handle it.”

Chapter Text

The garage of the hideout is illuminated by only the low light of the TV screen. Tryce, Faux and Bel migrated here to get out of the oppressive sun just beyond the metal door.

Things have been heating up though between the two men, hearts racing and blood pumping at an intense bout of Smash Bros Melee. 

“Your energy’s depleted, you’re tired.” The dark haired man leans toward the small TV,  taunting his opponent trying to throw him off his game.

“You haven’t seen your mom in a while. You’re thinking about your rep.” He feverishly tries anything to tamper with the other man’s focus but his attempts just feel sillier.

The words dissipate into a chortle as soon as they leave his lips.

Faux doesn’t give him the time of day. 

It’s always like this now whenever they’re competing. Sabotage, swearing and messing around. He loves playing with Tryce. 

The leader of the BRC enjoys the challenge. Just as competitive as Felix, his current player two was definitely more aggressive in every game, keeps him on his toes. 

Faux would have let out more than a snort of amusement if he wasn’t so damn tired. 

Tryce’s Marth and Faux’s Fox trade blows, flying around Final Destination. 

The twin tailed man said he would get Felix’s friend back in Smash that day Felix asked him to babysit him. 

“Let’s see if you’re really going to do it.” The lanky guy smirked back as they were picking characters.

Bel is on the other couch, completely out of their realm. She leans against the squishy plush bull and clicks away at her phone. 

Sure Faux is losing focus a little, yesterday’s escape still hangs off his back, sinking its claws in. 

Fatigue, a slow aching burn dispersing through his joints. 

He loses a life, Fox cries out in an explosion of blue. 

“Where’s your W, Faux? Where is your W?” The dark haired man goads him, but he is silent, focused. 

He’s at one stock 0% damage while Tryce is at one stock 110% damage. 

Star Fox finally throws the blue haired prince off the screen. “GAME!” the announcer says.

Tryce sets the controller down. The blonde man just cooly sinks back into the couch, taking in his victory. 

“Fox is the best character in Melee.” Tryce huffs at the unfairness of it, crossing his arms. But it still doesn’t change the fact he was bested just now.

“...Only if you know what you’re doing.” The blonde sneers. “And it’s not like you can’t grab me from across the screen.”

He turns to see Tryce quickly accept his losses and pick up the controller off the table. Here they go again. 

“Guys!” Their third friend then pops right in front of the TV screen, right when they were starting, suddenly alight with joyous fervor. Her shaky hand shoves the phone screen at them.

Faux peers just past her and his Fox quickly punts Tryce’s Marth off the stage before pausing the game for Bel’s big announcement. Tryce shoots him a dirty look, Faux grins wolfishly in return. 

Making sure she has the boys’ full attention, she explains what’s got her so riled.

 “Check this out!” The Twitter post shows several clones of Polo the Scuba Mascot all filling the screen from the official Polo page. 

“The first of you to find all 17 of my clones hidden around New Amsterdam’s Five boroughs,” Tryce reads aloud, squinting at the text. “Will win 500 euros!” He goes just as bug eyed as his best friend. 

As leader of the BRC, he leads his right hand woman and sort of de facto member onward toward Versum Hill. “Aight! We rollin’ out!” 

Faux clenches his teeth when his knees alight again, but he doesn’t want to get left behind. 

The mid morning bustle of Versum Hill unfolds before them. 

”…So, did you find whatever you were searching for right before we left?” Faux ignores the sear of his hamstrings to pick up the pace till he’s alongside Bel.

The bubbly woman did a visual sweep of all the nooks and crannies of the hideout before surmising that there was nothing there. 

“I was going to ask Solace to come!” She confesses cheerfully. “Y’know, to help search and all.”

“You mean Felix’s little angel fan?” Faux raises an eyebrow.

“We should leave that degenerate behind.” Her best friend rolls his eyes. He’s had enough of that dude. 

Bel reads the thread aloud to them again as a reminder. 

3 mascots in Versum Hill,  1 in Brink Terminal, 1 in Millenium Square, 10 in Pyramid Island, and 2 in Mataan. 

Good luck! 

Skating toward the big decagonal sculpture their first mark can’t be missed.  Right off the bat, a huge Polo towers over the trio. 

“This is going to be easier than I thought.” Tryce high fives Bel and Faux.  The quiet writer gets a flick with him and Bel in it.

Faux volunteered as photographer for the day, to keep a low profile and all. The other two nod solemnly after witnessing yesterday’s events.

Tryce brings their attention to the second penguin sitting in a dank alleyway next to a cellar door, all alone on a throne of trash. A sheet of thick glass bars their way. 

The three of them peer into the doorway just beside the shuttered grocery shop. 

Tryce’s head sticks out first. As the tallest, Faux settles his chin on Tryce’s head just between his twintails much to the other’s chagrin. Before he can shuffle out Bel sneaks in underneath her best friend to get a better look. 

“Do you think they just forgot to unlock it?” The bottom of the human stack asks.

“Maybe someone didn’t get the memo to take the thing out and actually put it somewhere.” Tryce hums reasoning further, placing a hand under his chin.

Faux is silent as usual. His two companions are never completely sure what’s going on in his head. He’s looking around for any potential witnesses.

Suddenly, Tryce exclaims in surprise at being pushed down. Two hands grab him by the shoulders when Faux vaults over him taking the initiative. 

Boostback like firecrackers in the leader’s ears, set ablaze. Bel and Tryce look on as a blue greenish bullet heads straight for the window. 

The window shatters from the force of two green shoes, it powders the air like snowflakes in a crystalline shower that has the two of them guarding against with forearms across their faces. 

The sound loud enough for all of New Amsterdam to hear. 

The blonde lands on his back with a hard thud in front of the penguin after that spectacular drop kick.

Feeling like a flipped turtle sucking in the air and lower back pain, his companions form above him sharing a glance he can’t quite read. The floor shimmers around them. 

“Showoff.” Tryce scoffs with crossed arms. “He wanted to do that.”

“What else were we going to do?” Bel asks. 

“Not that.” The dark haired man extends a hand.  “Here.” At least there was no one around. 

The other man takes it and is pulled up to his feet again, knees wobbling like a baby deer. 

Their leader would tell him not to do crazy shit but Tryce knows better. He just shakes his head hiding an endeared smile while patting the rest of the debris off his crazy teammate. Him and Felix, those two…

Faux steps back and snaps the photo.  They’re not going to be the first to find all the penguins sitting on their hands. 

He winces at the way his hip cracks when he shifts it, but meets Tryce and Bel going toward the open area.

After unsuccessfully scouring the plaza and even whizzing by Prince’s court, the three shoot into the underground bazaar in search of Versum Hill’s third and final penguin. 

Faux of course, challenges Tryce to a race down the blue tunnel having Bel chase after them calling for the boys to wait up, a bubbly laugh at their eagerness. Three blazing trails of yellow in the wind. 

They don’t have time to look at the sea of bustling stands before them, filled with untold treasures. Bel and Tryce hurry in search of the next penguin, careful to keep Faux just in their line of sight. 

It’s weird that he stopped completely, snared by the sight of the two snakes winding toward the top of the bazaar. 

He observes the two white snakes merging into one being, six mechanical arms stretching toward the sky. Its new limbs reaching higher, higher. 

No one will ever look down upon me again. 

A monstrosity of envy, hate, anger, hurt . 

Come here. I can’t see its face. It’s turning away. 

He doesn’t notice Bel coming up from behind him.

She takes his wrist from his side and puts something into his hand. 

She presses the tiny trinket into his palm, and tenderly closed his fingers around it. He finally notices when she’s wrapping it nice and tight with the thumb on top. That’s when he’s pulled out of his weird daydream. 

Faux looks at the cell phone charm. It’s a chubby yellow anime cat with a very angry expression. 

“Got this at Otaku land.” She giggles at the resemblance. “He looks just like you!”

The angry little cat dangles from his cell phone when he takes the shot of Bel and Tryce.

There’s supposed to be one penguin in Brink terminal and not the members of Eclipse, who had been chased out of their territory again following their second loss against the Bomb Rush Crew. 

The tall woman with blue hair pushes Solace down and spits at him to get out of here like she’s tasted rotten fruit, with an added cruelty for being a part of the crew that just beat them not too long ago. 

The young writer stumbles flat onto his back. 

“Solace!” Bel comes rushing to his aid, beside him in an instant. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, just fine. I was in the way, that’s all. It’s my fault.” The angel watches the clouds go by a little then turns his head to Bel. 

“No it isn’t.” Tryce breathes, showing at least this much compassion toward the younger writer. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

The leader sits him up and is acutely aware of the smell of old banana, soggy paper and coffee. He turns his face to let out a dry gag, mentally noting how they threw the little angel into the trash. Then pulls him up to his feet.

“I told you, if you run into trouble you have my number and Tryce’s.” Bel says less of a scolding, but more of a reassurance. Solace isn’t used to that yet. 

Faux has gotten that lecture from Felix and Cyber many times before…

“Oh, ladies. Look at this.” Their auburn leader turns their attention to the lanky blonde man. 

“The Devils weren’t lying then.” There’s surprise hidden beneath her visor, colluding with the other two members. “The code breaker is really back.”

The three tall women approach Faux and study him wondering if it’s the real deal. 

He narrows his eyes at them, slightly pissed off. Was she going to start something like she did with the little guy? He’s taken on more than this before. 

 She pulls a thin deck from her pocket. “Cancer,” She addresses him by his star sign, the crab. “I want you to take a card.”

She fans out the cards in her hands. Faux snatches a random one and shows it back. 

“The Tower.” Their leader says with a bit of amusement.  “It seems as though your lifeline will be cut soon.”

“By you?” Tryce raises a brow after that demonstration with Solace.

“We wouldn’t break the code of the street.” She casts a glower toward the blonde man. Not like that Codebreaker over there. Faux can sense it, she knows what everyone else but him does. 

“No, by the showrunner, Ahahaha!”  

“It’s best we get going, ladies.” The three of them skate off toward the big planet sculptures. 

Thanks? I guess. 

Solace declines their offer to join them on the hunt, he found a new spot he was trying to squeeze himself into when Tryce quickly swivels around in the other direction causing the other two to follow. He wants none of the details. 

By the time they make it to the fourth penguin squeezed into a nook next to the Speel Station,  Faux can barely keep himself upright anymore, his tremendous will is a testament to the doggedly determined kind of person he was. 

But sheer spirit won’t stop his ragged breathing, sweating, knocking knees and drooping upper body feeling like a tortured roman statue in marble. 

The previous days have caught up to him, beset by aches and pains without the proper rest. 

He’s doubled over before convincing himself to limp after them. 

Bel and Tryce stop abruptly after exchanging looks. They’d both noticed the deterioration of Felix’s friend all day, but knew it would be pointless to get him to back down. 

Faux was too headstrong in the face of competition, Felix imparted that wisdom onto them. 

Tryce thinks to himself that a little bit of this is his fault, for hustling them out of the hideout like that. 

“We only found 4 of them, there’s 17.” Faux says with a breathy desperation whistling in his teeth. 

“Let’s take a break first, Faux. I’m working up a real sweat myself.”Bel laces her fingers together and inverts her hands, stretching them over her head for emphasis. While there it is a nugget of truth, she does the favor of shouldering a bit of the burden.

They retreat to the playground to get a better view of where they should get to next. 

The lanky man hugs his knees to his chest and rests his throbbing head sideways on them, squeezing himself under the shade as much as possible so the heat of the sun doesn’t continue to boil the fluids in his skull. 

It feels like hot copper wire running into the fibers of his muscles. He adjusts at a snail’s pace and hears his joints painfully click with each movement like a glowstick, lighting up the pain in every muscle. 

He’s having a hard time telling if stopping made everything worse.

Bel peers at the blonde man hidden underneath the structure, returning with iced coffee Faux requested from the Fugazi Coffee machine when she asked if he wanted anything.

 A couple ibuprofen came with it. 

It’s topped off with a snowy peak of whipped cream he tepidly sips at to avoid the brain freeze that Cyber made fun of him for, letting the cold spread and seep throughout his body and revive his soul. 

“Better?” Bel asks, cocking her head to get a view of his face. 

“Yeah.” Faux quietly admits. Begrudgingly, with a bit of guilt for his stubbornness . 

After finishing the coffee and medicine in record time he’s renewed enough to take his place next to Tryce on the other giraffe swing with Bel taking her place atop the monkey bars, and rocks himself back and forth with his foot. 

 “When I saw Cyber yesterday, he gave me these candies but I haven’t tried them yet. His American friend sent them in the mail and he said I’d like them.” 

He produces a handful of red, blue and green wrappers from his lower pocket. 

Warheads Hard Candy Extreme Sour. A cartoon character with a puckered face and a mushroom cloud above his head. 

The trio unwrap the candy and throw it back at the same time. 

“.....!!!” Faux covers his mouth to prevent himself from spitting the white powdered green tablet.  It’s so sour that it consumes all brain function for a few seconds. 

”Aw shit!“ Tryce’s forehead creases. So sour that it’s bitter under his tongue. 

“Wow!”  Bel exclaims delightedly, she shakes her head trying to spread the sensation elsewhere. Then, when the initial shell goes down, it’s just artificial sweet apple.  

A moment to ponder the experience while they surveyed each other for the damage. 

“You sure this isn’t a new type of chemical warfare that Futurism is trying out on you?” Tryce jokes between tart tasting coughs, confident they’ve all made it past that hurdle.

“...Wouldn’t doubt it.” Faux blinks a few times, swallowing. 

“Is it bad I kind of want to do that again?” Bel asks. Faux hands her a few more of the treats. 

“Me too.” Grins Faux at back her.

Before they can go round two though, Tryce turns his head toward the blonde man on the other swing. 

“You don’t need to push yourself so hard, we’re not going to leave you behind.” The leader let him know reassuringly.

“Not even for five hundred euros?” Faux jokes. 

“A thousand and I’ll consider it.” Tryce snickers back.  

Their leader sighs, shakes his head with a small smile. ”but really. We’ll wait for you.”

 “I know you and Felix had a rough time yesterday running from the fuzz.” He sympathizes.

Every day Faux’s father finds new and exciting ways to put strain on his son’s mind and body.

There’s a long beat of silence, where it feels like the conversation should continue. 

Do the pair want to know about all that commotion at Vlaggetjesdag? Then he would have to explain who he is. Who Chief Inspector Vogelaar is.

He stands at a precipice, staring down into the unknown. 

What if he was free of this burden? A tantalizing prospect. 

He can feel the weight of Tryce’s arm over his shoulder when they walk, inviting him to DJ Cyber’s set at the end of the week. He shares insider knowledge of the DJ picking up some new records that afternoon, and how crazy it’s going to be. He hands him the game cube controller, and the little purple block makes its way across the screen. 

 Of Bel next to him on the couch pointing at the screen to a pivotal point in an anime that came out in his absence. It’s hype as hell. She loves this show so much. 

She showed off her new shiny cerulean nails. She offers to do his next, and will think of a color that would look nice on him. 

A hand clutches at his chest, trying to grasp at the message in a bottle floating at the shore. A feeling he just can’t recognize. 

The urge toward…he wants to tell them. He wants them to know. to trust them?

He does something he never thought he would be doing in a million years. 

The world seems to close in on just the three of them, there’s a shift in the air. 

“Heyo, Bel and Tryce.” Faux struggles past the tangle of sudden emotion. “I need to tell you something.”

Low thunder rumbles in his gut. 

The other two appear as towering impossible gods, bearing down upon him.

To pass judgement upon him for the confession he is about to make. He looks into their dark eyes, flinching at the weight of his sins bearing upon him. 

He decides he wants to play this game of chicken, with his fear and insecurity in the car next to him. His heart races and he trembles almost outwardly. 

He’s not sure if he says this he will land safely at all. 

But like Felix, he…

Foot on the accelerator, he barrels forward onto death. “You were talking about how there was so much heat on just me and Felix yesterday.” 

“Uh hmmm.” Says Tryce, piquing his interest at the matter that had seemingly dropped. 

“They were after just me really.” Faux pales and freezes. “The new police chief Vogelaar, he’s been lying about his son being dead, because I’m right here.”

And he said it. He says his secret out loud. In all its ugliness, reared to the world. 

“ Sort of, I did actually die sometime ago, Tryce was there for that.” He skirts his gaze toward the twin tailed man. 

And it’s still a mystery how he came back, but he senses from some half eaten memory that it was Felix.

 ”Point is, I know too much about what he’s been doing since before he took over and that’s why he needs me gone.” He thought he made peace with that prospect when Felix explained their situation, but the words still carried a strange scraping kind of grief.

Clumps of words fall out of his throat while he’s continuing to dig himself into a deeper and deeper hole. He was never truly untouchable as a member of the Big 3, he had framed other writers for his shit. 

He says that part clearly but quickly, with a cupped hand over his mouth, still trying to get used to the idea. 

The truth sieves through his fingers.

And oh god it sounds even worse aloud. 

“We knew, word gets around on the streets. You know that.” Tryce says with tender eyes, not accusatory at all. 

Hints of relief worm into his features that he needn’t hide that part of it any longer. “Not everyone knows but we even knew the part where you framed other writers.” 

And… they… they still want him around. 

His face feels hot and flush, water glitters in his tear ducts rising from a geysering sort of happiness that froths and finds its way into every cell of him. 

The leader continues. “Bel and I have been with you for this whole time and I think you’re aight to us as long as you’re not thinking about going around framing anyone else.” The twin tailed man says with a bit of an awkward chuckle, scraping the words together. 

It’s enough for Faux to see the light cast through the clouds.

Bel butts in and she digs out the tissues from her purse and he wipes his blooming tears and stupid snotty nose.  “You’re our friend, and who your dad is won’t change that. Okay?” 

She’d been treating him as their friend. 

 In private with Tryce  she noticed her best friend’s gaze softened on their former enemy the day he came back from Felix’s place, they both sensed something really did change. And they were willing to accept this reformed Faux.

And they had to admit that the both of them were growing a bit of a soft spot for him.

Faux blurts out, lastly. 

“If I told Felix, do you think he would understand?” 

“I’m sure he would.” The dark haired man says in utmost almost knowing confidence. Because out of everyone, the bearded writer is the one who wanted Faux back in the first place, despite everything. 

“But, you’re our boy, not just Felix’s. Remember that.” Tryce concludes succinctly. 

“…Guys” He says steadying his voice as much as he can.

 “Thanks.” He says gripping the chains of the swings with hot hands, glossy red eyes and a wobbly smile.

The three stay like that for a while, basking in it while watching the cotton clouds go by on the bright blue sky.

After a bit, Faux pushes off his knees with a resolved grunt, then makes a break for a flock of pigeons. Making toward the birds at a blistering pace. The animals bolt with cooing and feathers before settling a short distance away. 

Bel excitedly and follows in suit. 

From the short distance, Tryce watches fondly seeing Faux and Bel veer around the plaza giggling wildly as the flying rats clear out. It tires him out just watching them. 

If they have so much energy, it was time to find the rest of those penguins!

Chapter Text

“Do you think they meant to spread these out and actually hide them, but sent out the tweet too early?” Tryce crosses his arms,  standing before the heap of 4 Polos beside some fallen shopping carts.  

It’s just in a weird nook on Pyramid Island. Bel and Faux round the corner together to see what he means, they’d found their fifth mark in Millenium Square and crossed the ocean to get here. 

The three of them look at each other and soak in the absurdity of it, but Faux takes the picture anyway. It’s not the BRC’s fault if the scuba company couldn’t get their shit together. 

Amused, the trio continued to speculate about it all the way to the entrance of the maze which Bel deduces to the boys with a hand under her chin would be the best place to hide something.

With the knowledge of yesterday’s commotion fresh on their minds, the friends are on high alert to see if anyone was “particularly interested” in them. While there is still some police presence that they’re able to easily avoid, they take the calm for now. 

Hopefully not falsely concluding that perhaps since the mission had failed the officers sent after them had to regroup and put their focus elsewhere.

In the hollow liminal entrance, a phantom breeze that smells of sea salt wafts in the air.

Tryce is quick to spot the penguin behind the glass though, and they do a rock paper scissors to decide which entrance they think will hold their next target. Faux wins, and he points right according to his gut.

After scaling containers to get across the room, Bel holds up the 11th little guy behind a trash can over her head like a trophy.

Penguin twelve is hidden away in the room to the left behind the glass. Thirteen, atop a tower. Fourteen causes Faux to jump, sitting at a singular desk dark and foreboding in the middle of a room.

The other two poke fun at him for it and he argues that they should’ve been startled too until the giant fifteenth one bears down on them again like the one in Versum Hill. 

 Every step brings them closer.

For their own safety, they’ve been holding hands and chaining down the corridor and continue to navigate the maze.

Both the founding members of the BRC are aware that Faux stopped really moving his legs a while ago, and is letting the other two pull him along.

They don’t mind too much though, since they get it. And Faux is grateful. 

The exit is a clear view of the ocean, with calm rolling waves. 

Bel, something stirring in her that this mundane sight seems especially beautiful today, takes a photo. 

Tryce and Faux though, have noticed the huge graff above it. 

Felix’s six eyed mask stares straight across the ocean, wings on either side of it. In a bold yellow font with a black outline it reads: Rest in Peace Felix. Signed some writers they didn’t know. 

But Felix isn’t dead. And the image sears itself into Faux’s brain making him shudder. A flash of tulip red sky, just like the other memorial piece he saw. 

 Tryce notices the other man’s sudden rigidity and isn’t quite sure what to say, except that he takes his wrist and forces his voice above a whisper that they’re off to Mataan next. 

Compared to Pyramid Island, the last two penguins in Mataan are practically hidden in plain sight next to another dumpster and one next to a well lit restaurant. 

The three scavenger hunters send in the last picture and hope for the best before arriving at Mataan station. 

The train chugs along toward Versum hill from across the city. 

Faux and Bel lean in on Tryce’s phone, its solemn glow illuminating their features while the sun begins to peek behind the buildings of Versum hill.

They’re the first to see the announcement.

Bel and Tryce are Photo Generic! Details will be DM’ed to the winners, thank you for participating in this riveting scavenger hunt!

Framed with bite-sized screen shots of Tryce and Bel’s photos, the guy in the Polo mascot suit is showered with shimmering confetti. 

Bel and Tryce erupt into cheers to the detriment of everyone in the packed quiet car. Faux grins wide.

They quickly empty out as soon as the train stops, eager to get to the main office and cash in. 

Pushing into the brightly lit building with the big initial Polo the Penguin, stands the mascot himself who with a little dance, presents the envelope to Tryce. 

While their leader receives it, Faux looks up into the face of the penguin. 

“I can see your face through your eyes.” 

The tallest of them observes. 

There’s a pause before they’re slinking out the door with the money. 

“So, what you two doing with your share of the cash?” Tryce merrily hums, pocketing his share into his wallet while they continue into the plaza again, aimlessly in any direction. 

“I’m heading to the skate shop after this.” Faux says determinedly.

“There’s a really yummy hibachi place my friend told me about,” Bel says. “And you guys are coming with me! My treat!” 

A real cherry on top to their victory and celebration of a new stronger bond between them. 

A couple of hours later, Faux’s brunette roommate skates home scrolling through a few texts that Bel sent him. 

“Five hundred euros, I’m jealous.” Felix texts back.

She sends him a picture of Tryce, then Faux catching the flying shrimp with their mouths, then grinning at each other with a competitive glint in their eyes. Then as they’re clapping each other on the back and laughing.

“They made it into a contest” The caption reads, and a smile plays on his lips when he opens the door to the apartment. 

Instinct tells him that he shouldn’t turn on the light just yet as his ears pick up on the slowed breaths of his blonde best friend and moves around with his phone light till he gets to the bedroom. 

On his bed is an unexpected surprise. A new skateboard, a piece of notebook paper with Faux’s miniscule handwriting on it was hastily taped to the top. He feels the weight in his hands and observes every groove, pleased at every aspect of it. Like someone had read his mind and handed him his dream board. 

It was during one of their rooftop discussions.

Cyber lazily ponders. “So, if money weren’t an object, what kind of gear would you have?” 

Felix was eager to answer and rattled off the specs of stuff he knew was out of his reach but would ride like a dream. Faux listened in keenly, and it seems that he never forgot that one time discussion since. 

Man, that Faux was a really good listener. 

He knew that Faux had to have taken one of his boards to the shop and spent every euro he just got from the prize money just to have it done like this. He would be eternally grateful for this act. He reads the paper taped to the wonderful gift.

Felix,

I want to thank you for being my friend, and for everything you do for me.

Faux

Concise and proper. But a symbol of the past that Felix had rebuilt with his one act of compassion. 

Chapter Text

That night after drifting off on the sofa bed, Faux dreams about sunbeams like reaching fingers and the tree. 

Of course its majesty wouldn’t leave his memory so quickly. 

He’s brave enough to reach out and feel the bark. The atlas of worlds past unfolds beneath his palm.  

The uneven roots arch and bend beneath his feet.

Instead of that slight sweet smell wafting in the air, the ground reeks. The odor is emanating from the roots.

The roots. 

They’re metallic and they smell like blood .

In the pleasantly cool midmorning sun, Faux perches on the steps of Felix’s apartment leaning forward, beckoning the cat toward him.

“Poes, poes, poes…”He watches its tail stand up and it meows at him in recognition. The cat that belongs to the young girl next door. ”Hi there,Nora.” 

The orange cat moseys toward Faux with an upright tail.  She arrives, sniffing his outstretched hand before purring and rubbing against him. He runs a hand down her back all the way to the tail and she headbutts him gently. 

He’s still not sure how long it’s been, but he’s glad Nora didn’t forget him.

In the time Bel takes to walk over, he scooped the cat up cradling the little animal.

“Hi Faux.” She giggles a little, endeared by the way he’s continuing to softly talk to it.

“Hey Bel.” He says with a small smile, without looking up.

“Who’s this?” Bel asks, scratching the kitty’s chin.

“Felix’s neighbor, and she’s getting wiggly” He responds as the little animal jumps free and scampers off. 

Bel and Faux go down the side street together cruising along on their skates.

The lanky man bends toward her as she shows her the blue nail polish on her hand that Felix told her was her shade. She was taken aback when the brunette revealed the man beside her was the one who actually gave his opinion. 

Well, she couldn’t say she was totally surprised. It was the subject of several online forums. Many an inspired writer went on how Faux’s pieces utilized colors to create something unique and memorable in the scene and was even more stunning when mixed with the styles of DJ Cyber and Felix. 

“Why don’t we look at some red ones today?” She says excitedly thinking of the bold choices he’ll pick out, hoping to learn a thing or two herself. 

She’s on the phone as she prattles on about things that don’t really matter, but she’s surprised when he comments here and there about her internet drama or her college troubles. 

And occasional “Umm hmm” or  “That makes sense” come  from him while they make their way through the mall doors.

The music in the beauty store is a little too loud.

While he looks at her and then back at the different shades of nail polish they came to get, she regales him with a recent internet argument that she won, and ratioed the hell out of the other person. 

Usually Faux didn’t really care about this stuff. When he thinks back, the posts on his twitter were just his art with an emoji.  (Where his reputation came for being highly skilled but quiet was further cemented) but coming from a very animated Bel-

“That is a really bad take.” Faux rolls his eyes, handing her a few shades of red.  

 Bel giggles at that. “Right?”

Both of them look at each other. Bel bursts out in a cloud of giggles and Faux finds himself quietly snickering along.

She looks at the little bottles he handed her. Oh woah, she observed them next to each other. She was right to bring him along. 

He only really came because he wanted new headphones.

 At the used electronics place, he finds a  pair that look just like the ones he had before he got his head chopped off,  even if Bel insists on a greenish blue pair with cat ears. He tries them on anyway, and she snaps a photo before he has time to react.

That one’s going to the group chat. 

Faux puts his new headphones snugly around his neck the way he always had them so he could pull them around his ears and block out the world when needed. Especially those times when his dad was on his ass.

The next stop is the arcade where she watches him get the high score on the whack a mole machine in “Hey! Don’t break the thing!” She reminds him half serious. 

He is really whacking those moles but he’s more focused on the big flashing number before him. He smugly pockets a buttload of tickets, when Bel motions toward the Dance Dance Revolution machine. 

A coordinated effort of a lot of laughing and jumping nets them a high score.

Bel gets so excited she  turns to Faux and high fives him so hard that his hand hurts. 

Bel cheers as the tickets flow from the machine, seeing the more reserved Faux who still has a big smile on his face. 

They finish with a rocking duet in Guitar Hero, and take their hefty armful of tickets each to the counter. 

Bel uses it to buy some new charms for her phone, and shouts over the counter for Faux when his voice doesn’t go over the colossal crashes of and ringing of the game machines. He puts the sets of copic markers in his boostpack.

They skate around the mall carefree basking in their victory, zipping around people cursing them out. 

Bel thinks about how fun of a day she’s having a fun day with Faux.

Sure he hardly said a word, but he’s mischievous and passionate about writing and had a certain charisma about him.  

As the days passed, Faux found himself naturally at ease around Bel. And today, she even got him to start telling a story while they waited for ice cream. 

“Okay really but this guy from my class said he and his roommate were going to the bar that night and invited me along.” Faux says now that he can actually recall his college days. “And my dad stopped by after school on one of his unannounced visits. I said, "I have plans with some friends tonight.”

“He says, what kind of plans?” More accusatory than anything. Faux had stopped writing months ago at that point.

“Nothing. We’re going to Stump’s in Brink Terminal for a couple drinks.” 

“He says Stump’s? My coworker Reuben and the gang are always there, I’ll join you.” 

Faux rolls his eyes thinking of his old man inviting himself and imagines those crusty old chumps that idolized his dad. 

“He went to the bar with me. And we saw Reuben, but instead of hanging out with them-“

“Oh no don’t tell me-“ Bel leaned in.

“He sat with me, and my friends the whole night.” He facepalms. 

Then they’re at the front of the line. 

Hard to believe the Faux they defeated a couple months ago and the one who hummed as he downed the chocolate ice cream across the table from her amidst the metal palm trees were the same person.

From behind the diminishing sweet treat, Faux spots someone approaching. 

The Cue ball Dot Exe member skates toward Bel, and she gets up from her seat and pulls him into a hug with an excited squeal. With an outstretched arm, she and Cue take a selfie together before she flips through some videos on her phone. “I’ve been practicing those moves you taught me!”

“Alright Alright let’s go!!” He says pumping his fist at the display. The pair continue to catch up.

“Now that 8-Ball bit the BULLET… things haven’t been the same,” He says unaffected by it.  “And those two started their own sliding gang. I might be looking for a new crew soon…” 

Of course it wasn’t long before he felt the gaze on them. 

“Wait, no way.  you’re Faux aren’t you?” The billiard ball says in disbelief peering past Bel. “No way…the rumors are true LOL, it’s not just some biter doing his art.  You’re really back, after everything you did.”

Everything you did?

“What do you mean, everything you did?” The blonde man raises a brow.

“You’re going to play dumb-” Cue asks.

Faux gets up, gnashing the remnants of the ice cream cone. He pushes past Bel and grabs the front of the B-boy’s tracksuit. “Tell me what you mean, before I get angry.” 

“Are you going to kill me too, like you killed 8-Ball XD?” Cue asks airily.

A heavy fucking accusation. 

Faux wants to retort that he can’t be serious, and that’s crazy to say something like that but suddenly feels sick as some kind of emotion wells up in him. 

He feels like he can’t deny it for some reason, finally recognizing that biting gnawing sensation in his chest.

For just a moment, there’s a cracked black screen before him, the eye stares back wide, surprised at the sudden moment of death. It stares into his soul. 

Cue says feeling the grip weaken around his neck. “See you around, …”

Project Algo

Faux didn’t know what Project Algo was. 

Whatever he said, it sends nausea ripping through the blonde man.  He attempts to storm off and Bel follows. 

There's a pulsing in the back of his head like a big muddy wave crashing onto him from behind. He remembers Felix’s reminder. 

“I hate to tell you this but because of Cyber’s machine you’re probably going to start having like blackouts from your memory returning.” The brunette tries his best to explain.

“So, you’re really going to have to tell someone if you feel it coming on.”

“...Bel. I’m-” He chokes out, his hands going to his head.

“Faux?” Her skates screech to a halt.

It wasn’t long though before black spots cloud his vision. Waves hit the shore. He’s drowning. His knees clatter to the ground and he collapses at her feet, wide blue eyes looking at nothing.

The air is chilly but he can’t see his own breath in front of him. Nighttime again. He has a shovel and continues pouring dirt over a hole in the ground. He’s not sure why he’s doing it but he looks down and sees three shallow graves. 

The first is Chief Inspector Berlage. He remembers the old man in his childhood as his father’s boss, a stern but caring character. 

He always gave him the benefit of the doubt when he got busted doing graffiti. 

Yet, he  can’t help but feel a steaming resentment toward him. 

”I hope one day you’ll be a fine officer just like your father, Algo .”  The old man said to him across the table of the interrogation room.

…Not just for telling him he should be like his father. 

Wait. What did he just call him? 

The second is Dot Exe’s leader, who he had been accused of killing at the mall. 

He never felt any particular way about this guy. He thought the Cyberhead B-boys were mesmerizing to watch in practice, and had an odd way of speaking but other than that… nothing. Nothing to attract his ire. 

But the blue eye stares at him through a cracked screen,. Something Project Algo had accomplished. 

The last is… Felix. The writing on the wall. He screams. 

He was scared because he didn’t know where he was, and he couldn’t move. A head in an apparatus of glowing red lights, a hunk of metal. 

“What did you see?” A woman’s voice said as his eyes adjust to the dark. 

They shoved him in this closet and left him to rot. Surrounded by the maddening buzz of white noise, computers humming in the background. It drones on. It won’t stop. Some kind of mechanical purgatory. It’s suddenly hard to concentrate.

The current him doesn’t know what’s going on, but the electricity flowing through him thrums the beat of frenzy inside of him and he forces shallow breaths he doesn’t need to take. Scared shitless because his friends aren’t here and... Can’t move.

 He doesn’t feel like himself, there’s too many people in his head and none of them he knows. He can only try and focus on the redhead lady in front of him. A name comes to mind among so many others. 

He name is Rietveld. Felix said she was working against his father. Now she was working against…

The future, he hears, of crime prevention. Police force, she seems concerned but not for him. About him. 

And what about Felix? And Bel? And Tryce? He’s going to be sick. It’s all wires and battery acid now. 

The end of all writers in New Amsterdam.

I’m the only one left.

All City King. 

Are the only words that seem to come to mind. He says them before he really thinks, because he’s said them before. They seem to hang in the air as he looks into the woman’s face. 

Please don’t leave. You Can’t!

The Chief Inspector did this to him, the man who affectionately put a hand on his head and ruffled his hair when he was little. The mustached man with the two blank mechanical eyes crouches down, face to face with the little boy hiding behind his father’s pant leg and tells him that when he grows up, he’ll be keeping this city safe just like Officer Vogelaar.

He leans in again years later and calls him.

Project Algo.

The police chief looks over him personally. Personally subjecting him to this hell. 

Can’t move. he’s scared. He’s scared…

His memories? These are his memories? He can tell by the swirling crimson sky above him. Dyed in those tulip reds. 

He calls for his friends, Felix, Bel, Tryce. But no one came. 

This body, it’s better, smarter, powerful. 

So he needn’t be afraid anymore. Not now, not ever. He’s closer to perfection than anyone has ever been. 

The current him’s primal dread overwrites that and seeps deep into the wires he’s attached to. 

Even the name dad sits at the roof of his mouth. 

But more than ever,  He’s terrified out of his wits… because

No one is coming. Alone. They left him all alone. The silence drowns him. He’s just a head. 

He’s being left to rot. Retribution. A worse fate than any horror movie he watched with Felix and Cyber. 

Not alive, not dead. 

He needs his body back. He’s using them for his own personal gain, the way they’re using him. 

I’ll use them to get out of here! He finally gets a break. 

He grabs ahold of some random chump and it looks like a third person shooter, but it’s his only way out. 

Piloting this man, he maneuvers around the police station to where he thinks his boostpack is, and he finds it. Digging through it, he finds spray cans. 

A hand that’s too big to be his own stumbles backward to face the wall, his legs knock together and he slides down into a sitting position. An arm that isn’t his own shakes the thing and sketches out something.

The large blue eye stares at him. Felix’s eye? Dot exe’s eye?

No, wait, it’s not staring at anything. He made sure of that. 

Faux’s consciousness bobs the surface. Finally, sunlight. 

“....call Cyber?” Felix’s hand on his cell phone clicking through his contacts.

“...last…hour. You were never out cold for this long.” Bel’s lips become a thin hurting line. 

Luckily, a groan comes from the couch trashing all their emergency procedures. 

He doesn’t want anyone to see him crying but it was too late. He was trembling fiercely, staring into the pink sky, then at Felix and Bel’s faces as they come into view. 

He doesn’t know if he has arms to heft the blanket off him, so he just freezes and his eyes dart around taking in his surroundings. 

They look so concerned and it makes the blonde feel worse after seeing their harrowing expressions burned into his mind. But he’s learned now that these people care for him.

But it doesn’t stop him from a slick icy guilt from running into his veins.

“Hey, easy. Easy you’re ok.” The words stumble out of Felix’s mouth. 

“Fe…Bel” The blonde man feels the weight beneath him. Then sits up and looks at his hands, and his body. Hey, what the fuck was that?

“….How long was I out?” Faux breathes a deep racked breath. His lungs are still there. 

“About an hour or so.” Felix answers. Bel nods. 

“.Felix.” He swallows past the heavy lump clotting in his throat. “What’s Project Algo?” 

Felix moves away to compose himself, disguising this movement by grabbing the water from the table. He knew this would come sooner or later. 

“Project Algo was the police’s attempt to prevent crime on the streets. They tried to cover up the thing after it had gotten out of hand. “ Felix knows that Faux looked up that much, but the consequences of telling his blonde best friend he was the crux of it…

You’re Project Algo, and you killed me. It’s true, but. Even Felix has that much sense. And on top of that, he’s not quite sure how much to reveal without his redhead best friend here. 

“I want to know the truth,” Faux tries not to hesitate. “No matter how bad it is.” 

Chapter Text

Even with the moon gleaming outside, Faux knows he isn’t getting any sleep. 

What he had seen earlier in the day after blacking out in the mall lodged itself into his mind harshly and unpleasantly like a rusty nail going straight through someone’s unsuspecting shoe.

Desperate for some kind of distraction, the TV flickers again with some show while cold finger nails drum against his heart tissue. 

They pluck upon the taut strings of his nerves, sending vibrations throughout his body. 

He keeps his terror as muted as possible, but Felix still traces the faint glow of the television under the bedroom door.

At some point, the blonde’s body overwhelms him and forces him to stop fighting for just a  second, sinking him into an exhausted stupor. 

It’s then that the scene shifts, a new figure materializes from the void in that room again, somewhere in the bowels of the police station. 

Familiar red filtering in from above dying the room in an eerie twilight.

That hunk of metal a million mechanical eyes lit up, locked onto the only other thing here. 

The question is: Who was waiting for who?

 His head in that contraption staring back at him. “I know you. You lied to them. You don’t want to know the truth, it’ll drown you. You’re going to run from reality like you always do, and you’ll do anything to get away.”

Faux doesn’t respond. 

“What are you going to do when you find me?” The thing cocks its head, staying right where it is. It can’t move. Chills move up his spine, he knew it can’t move.

Faux says nothing, his breathing feeling trapped in his chest barely squeezing out of his lungs. 

Then the terrors dissipate, leaving him alone.

Real dreamless sleep finally overtakes Faux when the skyline is lightly brushed with a dusky purple. Even then it’s a less than nourishing rest more like a force shut down on a laptop. His eyelids closed but they pulsed and ached till the night stole his troubles away.

For as long as he can remember, Faux was never a heavy sleeper. 

There were only ever two choices before the blonde man: waking up before an alarm whose sound he forgot or storming furious footfalls up the stairs that pump adrenaline through him with every step. 

That’s why it's almost unnatural to Felix not to hear his roommate padding around the kitchen while he rubs the sleep out of his eyes. 

He exits his bedroom half awake, thoughtfully toes around the sofa bed to the kitchen, then skids to a stop when he feels something soft between his feet. 

Then, glances down before completely dragging the fallen blanket across the ground.

His gaze cruising along the fabric’s trail, the brunette sees his friend collecting as much as himself as he can. Faux’s in his normal fetal position but coils further in against the thing that’s not there anymore.

With an affectionate smile, Felix tenderly pulls the blanket over the other man again watching him subconsciously relax without the need to fight against the cold. 

With that done, something else catches the brunette’s eye as he passes the small side table. 

That photo. 

The one that Faux had saved from his apartment before the door broke down and all hell broke loose. 

Faux tiredly murmured it was of his mom and didn’t meet his eyes when Felix pointed out the similarity.

(She’s really pretty my dude, that must be where you get it from? Haha..)

Looking at it together stings the blonde with that familiar heartache. 

It’d been over ten years. 

The slender tall woman with gentle eyes and the same shiny blonde hair as Faux points toward the camera where her little son is supposed to be looking. 

His gaze torn away from the sandcastle far longer than he wants, longing to continue adorning the project with the rocks he gathered as soon as possible. 

She gently instructs him to smile for the camera, and he does.

Four year old Teun has that funny strained rectangular smile that little kids that aren’t exactly sure how to smile have, baring both his teeth and gums. His mother looks serene and graceful as always, with a hand on his shoulder. 

There’s an unfocused blur of a city behind them. 

Just as distant as this little happy memory that Faux has of his mother and grandparents. 

It’s then that an idea clicks in his head as does the camera on his phone of the bedside photo, then off goes the snap to Bel.

Bel in turn lays on top of her blanket, slouched on a pillow. She’s not sure if turning off the lights made it feel any cooler in addition to opening the windows, but she thinks it does. 

As the morning got later, the sun became more cruel, turning the outside world into an oven. 

Lazily, she lets the next video roll, the black text in a white box across the middle of the screen.

Guess: Where am I? Part 5! 

The man pulls the camera to his face in selfie mode and asks the audience to ask where this pitstop is on his honeymoon. With a violent tap, the whole screen rattles to the photo view, then slowly pans over the buildings. 

Bel studies the landmarks in the background, then does a little reverse image search of a few screenshots, and a little googling fingers flying around the keyboard. 

Just from that, she keys in Sardinia, Italy and gets a thumbs up. 

“Another one! Yay! Check this out Tryce!” She texts the screenshot.  

She opens up her bestie’s message. 

Damn Bel, another one?

Their leader texts her back after standing over the sink splashing cold water in his face.  

You’re too good at that, you know?

 It’s kind of unsettling, maybe even scary.

She’s busy typing back when her phone buzzes again with a new name.

It’s Felix. 

Yo Bel! You still into those ‘Where am I?’ tiktoks? I got something kind of like it.  Can you find this person for me?

She curiously eyes the photo. That little kid looked oddly familiar. 

Who’s this?

Someone she doesn’t expect.

Faux’s mom. 

Not too long after Felix clicks send there’s rustling coming from the couch. 

Faux sits up, hair sticking up in every direction. 

Blinking a few times, the man stares at his roommate with a curious detachment. 

Mildly surprised to see Felix at the breakfast table before him, guessing he got to sleep later than he thought. 

There’s already two plates of bread on the table as well as two glasses of milk.

Felix notices the bags under Faux’s eyes while he’s taking his usual seat across from him.

Even now, Felix’s roommate is spreading the butter forcefully with more concentration than usual. He snatches the box of hagelslag and pours an expected ungodly amount of sprinkles onto it, focusing hard on the simple activity. 

Felix is perceptive enough to know whatever the other man had seen had haunted him. 

He had been the same way, sleepless nights wondering who that man was in his dream, not recognizing himself or agonizing over the fear of falling. 

It must’ve been something uniquely terrifying, knowing even the cursory details of what Faux went through.

Felix clicks on his phone to a few texts. The morning is shaping up to be a true scorcher, the hot air seeping into his apartment. 

One of those rare days when the hideout was empty. A short message from Tryce to the BRC group chat that they weren’t meeting up today met with unanimous relief. 

It’s hot enough to fry an egg on the sidewalk, and no one is stupid enough to risk it. 

The pair move into the bathroom to brush their teeth side by side like they’d gotten in the habit of doing. His mouth foamy with toothpaste, Felix mentions that the hardwood floor is pretty cool beneath his socks, so they move to the bedroom next.

With the whirring fan on high, it blessedly graces them with the sweet relief from the smothering heat outside making this place into a cool safe haven.

Faux stretches his body out against the floor, absorbing as much cool as he can from it.

Felix sits cross legged with the project from yesterday across his knees, the marvelous skateboard that Faux took to the shop.

 He finished all the prep work yesterday, sanding the bottom, and repairing any scuffs he might’ve made , primer and all that and now came the fun part. Breaking out the paint and markers. He put a mixtape Tryce finished the other day to help get into the groove.

Among the intricate designs Felix was known for, he adds a little doodle of an onion with Faux’s face on it from the time the two went shopping not too long ago. A silly little reminder of who gave him this wonderful gift in the first place. 

“Can you peel this orange for me?” Is Faux’s request from the floor. 

“Sure.” Felix makes sure that none of the paint from his hands rubs off on the fruit.

As much as Faux liked the high octane lifestyle of the streets, he also treasured the slow intimate moments just like this. 

Felix clumsily fumbles with the orange peel coming off in weird shapes. A bit of juice gets loose into the bearded man’s face. 

Faux snorts at his misfortune, eyes crinkling as he smiles. 

“Here you go.” Felix passes it back grandly. 

“Thanks, man.” Faux accepts the gift and digs in. 

They’re just trying to conserve energy while the sun was at its brightest. 

Felix’s mind drifts back to one of the first time Faux stepped foot inside his flat. Before the blonde knew the neighbor’s cat so well and stopped by from time to time with Cyber.

Way before they became roommates and settled into what felt like peaceful daily sleepovers, spent between Simpsons reruns, drawing together on the couch with a new mixtape or working together through New Super Mario Bros. 

They’d been trying to outdo each other in tricks all the way into the direction of Felix’s neighborhood, sabotaging and bumping into each other down the little side street. 

“My place is just a few houses down, did you want to chill there for a bit?” The brunette cocks his head.  Sweat off his brow plunks to the pavement.

There’s a bit of hesitation before the shy yes came. 

Soaked through with sweat and reeking of the sun, Felix invited him inside his home. They’re just in the lemony light of his old place now. 

“Why did you want to hang out with just me today?” Faux asks the burning question in his mind after they’d set off from Mataan by themselves. “Is it because I’m quiet?”

More quiet than Felix’s other booming acquaintances. 

“Hm?” The brunette looks up from his comically large mug with the black and white cartoon cat on it. 

Felix never tried to be this close to Faux before, sure they had texted each other inspiration and tagged together before but it’s not like Faux could ever really let anyone in when his father was a dirty cop. 

“It’s weird.” Faux admits with pursed lips. He’s searching for the right words, not sure he found them even then. It’s frustrating because he always knew what to say-

“That you… wanted me here.” Over the years he’d had lots of friends at school, but none who were close enough with him to ever want to see him after hours. This was the first time. 

“ What’d you mean? I like hanging out with you. ” Felix replies breezily, without thinking about it at all. “You’re easy to talk to because you’re a good listener. And you really have a passion for writing. I’m sure you’re always pushing the boundaries, tricking or art. It inspires me to work harder, that's for sure.” 

Faux grins, but looks away. “Oh…” that’s all he said, but Felix could tell that this was a brand new emotion for his guest. 

“You just gotta, lighten up a little.” Felix motions with his hands, upon feeling the other tense.

Felix is beaming with accomplishment, putting the finishing touches on the sketch of his creation.

In the course of all that happened between them, 

he realizes that like that time he needs  to remind Faux that he cares so much for him, because sometimes his dear blonde best friend forgot. 

Felix gets up to put the skateboard back on his desk for now, and can’t ignore the leaning tower of dirty laundry in a bag. 

He’s then reminded of how he put on the very last pair of clean boxers this morning from the drawer after taking a shower last night. 

The bearded man should’ve been at the laundromat a few days ago, but the whirlwind of events blowing him around in every direction led to him coming down to his situation. 

The  brunette says in the direction of the overflowing bag.  “Hey, I haven’t really had time to do laundry and it’s hot out there… so what do you think?  Should I just turn my underwear inside out?”

“…No.” Faux answers idly, still following the fan blades and their hypnotic rhythm above him.

Felix tries instead, tilting his head toward Faux with a lopsided smirk till they’re locking eyes. “Yo, would you still be friends with me if I just turned my underwear inside out?” 

“Hahaha, no!!” A wonderful thunderclap peal of laughter escapes Faux louder than he expects, an embarrassed hand cups the noise over his mouth. 

The other hand playfully pushes him. Felix uses the momentum to roll onto his stomach getting himself off the ground. 

Felix pulls the drawstring tight on the laundry bag trapping whatever foul smell inside and hefts the strings on his shoulders like an intrepid worldwide backpacker. 

His steadfast companion by his side ready for perilous adventures of trying to avoid heat stroke. 

The sidestreet where the laundromat lies is only shuttered shops.  People with common sense stayed  inside. The emptiness of it all makes the details of their surroundings jump out at them. 

Devoid of the soul of the street, the bare walls were actually quietly menacing, stripped bare of all street art.  The brightness had a certain unearthliness to it. Faux tears his eyes away from what he sees as an obvious  bloodstain. Perhaps they didn’t do such a good job cleaning after all. 

Soon. Soon this could all be over when Rietveld gets her shit together. Please . 

Thankfully due to the blistering sun, the laundromat itself is pretty much empty and they start loading the dirty clothes into the washing machine.

Felix clears his throat while he empties the bag, half because all the liquid in his throat evaporated and the other because he had something to say. “I hope you’re not mad at me for this, but I asked Bel to find your mom.”

“You what?” Faux raises his voice over the slam of the plastic door of the washing machine after cramming the clothes in. 

“I took a picture of your photo on the coffee table and asked her to find your mom. She’s really good at those Where am I? tiktoks.” Felix flinches slightly after the confession while the clothes begin spinning in the wash. 

“…She’s been sending me those too, yeah.” Faux avoids stammering but a hand moves to the back of his neck.

It’s just a little weird and invasive. And he’s somewhat overwhelmed, maybe even a little flustered. Strangely excited? It’s hard putting words onto all these feelings right now. 

Maybe gratitude. “Thanks for trying to find her though.” Faux says tepidly after regaining his composure.

“You should thank Bel when she does, she’s really good at those things.” Felix laughs. They take a seat in the few chairs in the little place, waiting for the clothes to go. 

In the meantime.  Bel continues her hunt. 

This one’s a little harder this time, but she likes the challenge after all. Faux’s mom isn’t big on the whole social media thing, so it was a bit difficult finding her from that angle.

The next thing she thinks of is the funeral a couple months back when Faux was actually still dead. 

A decidedly public affair because of the police chief. There had been a segment about it on the news following the Chief Inspector’s lofty speech about stopping all crime for his Teun.

The cameraman pans over the crowd and she spots the woman from the picture holding a bouquet of delicately arranged flowers. 

Bel zooms in on the tag. 

Vroege Ochtend Flower Shop in Utrecht.

She then takes a gander at the gallery of photos. 

The slender  woman at the counter in a green apron a perfect match for the person Felix wanted her to find. 

 She works there. Bel found it! That’s it!

Somewhere in Utrecht, the woman with shiny blonde hair and clear blue eyes sits on her couch with shaking hands. The red leather bound photo album open to pictures of her beloved child. When she got the terrible news, she had shut the shop down early. 

She only knew him for those scant number of years but his impact would leave a gaping hole since she lost custody of him all those years ago. 

He’s dead now and  she was in anguish. There were  few things in life that compare to the pain of losing her only child. The one she held in her arms, and watched his hand wrap around her thumb. 

As he grew up he was shy and painfully quiet, but he always made a point to express how much he loved her back as best he could. And every gesture meant the world to her. 

“The train to New Amsterdam is in 20 minutes.” Her own mother tells her gently, touching her on the shoulder. Her father waits patiently by the door. 

 The fingers lightly brush as if anything harder and her daughter will shatter further. 

The blonde woman’s jaw quivers, and she nods her head.

She never imagined she would be attending her little boy’s funeral. 

It was kinda stupid but while the clothes were drying, Faux and Felix debated the risk and rewards of racing home before leaving the nice cold laundromat.

 Expend less energy soldiering on back but be outside longer, or just race back with the chance of passing out? 

They both knew the answer and it was the dumb one. 

Felix jokes he thought Faux was smarter than him before they start blazing on home feet beating against the sidewalk. They’re in the corner of each other’s vision, keeping an eye on the other in case one of them goes down. 

They fight for their lives cheering each other on, with dog-like  grins while the sun steals all their energy, and Faux can’t even think about the barren walls or the bloodstain or the clothes. 

Against all odds, they make it to the apartment. Felix knew they would. 

“For real this time,” Felix reassures Faux and himself while they burst into the apartment panting. “We’re not going outside anymore.”

Faux nods, and is handed the cup of water. Then they return to their cool safe haven of the bedroom, and lay down on the blissfully frigid floor shoulder to shoulder. 

“You know, if Bel can’t find it and we don’t actually meet your mom…” Felix ponders. “You’re always welcome to stay here.”

With him. With the Bomb Rush Crew.

There will always be a seat at the table for him.

Faux doesn’t say anything, blush spilling into his cheeks. It blends with the flush of the heat while he recovers. 

Felix idly traces the dust particles dancing in the sunbeam like tiny floating feathers, and the way it reflects off Faux’s eyelashes making the lashes nearly translucent white. 

His eyes shine like glinting sapphire, infiltrated by light gilding it with its very own sun. 

At this moment, the clearest he’s ever seen them.

“...Hey Felix, hey.” Faux turns toward him. “The time I’ve spent with you, it’s been gezellig.” 

“Gezellig?” Felix is a bit shocked, cocking his head to get a better view of the other’s face. 

“Mmm hmm.” Faux answers whole heartedly. It was the only word that came to mind really. Gezellig.

That fluttering like soft wings in his chest, truly comfortable for the first time. It felt like a piece of the world’s puzzle  had been tenderly pressed into place.

Hearing Faux voice the gezelligheid he felt with Felix made him feel like he’d won the lottery. 

It’s a word that’s foreign to Faux, since he hadn’t found himself in a truly open situation with Felix like this ever before. 

Times that were supposed to be gezellig always had Officer Vogelaar’s  lingering presence like a rough hand on his shoulder. Without his father, he could say it wholeheartedly now. 

If only this moment between them could last forever. 

Faux returns to the sofa bed eventually, looking out at the big open window behind him. 

With the setting sun erased from the sky completely comes the pitter patter of much needed rain and grumbling thunder. 

But with the coming darkness there’s a sudden shift in the vibe. 

Something like a dark cloud, omen on the horizon.

Chapter Text

“ Your lifeline will be cut soon. “

Head on the plush pillow staring at the white ceiling, Faux almost wishes that the Eclipse girl had meant the statement as some kind of vague challenge to the Bomb Rush Crew’s authority, that way they would at least have a sure fire counter to it.  

For now, he was left pondering those words and the heavy lump of lead pressing upon his chest and lungs that had kept him up.

What could it mean? 

She said it with no particular emotion toward them. Just reading another fortune.

The tower on the card crumbles, like all their careful efforts and dumb luck getting away from the cops every time. 

Every letter spelling out their imminent demise.

The milky white light of mid morning floats like the foam on top of a cold root beer. 

The walls seem to narrow in Felix’s tiny apartment around the TV, only electrifying silence of concentration fits into the claustrophobic walls of this space.

Felix and Faux are huddled together on the sinking couch cushion in front of the Wii sensor while Mario and Luigi scurry toward their goal fraught with danger, Bowser’s legion pouring out the woodwork. 

Teamwork is the name of the game here, and they’re trying to work together to conquer World 7. Key word here is trying.

“You can’t just jump on me every time there’s a big gap or else you’ll kill me. Again.” 

The brunette extends an exasperated outstretched palm toward the screen.

He’s talking about the way that Luigi jumps on Mario who only grunts before being sent down into oblivion for the umpteenth time. The green plumber sails over the straight and onto the flagpole.

 He runs across the grass into the castle alone. 

“Well, we always make it to the end don’t we?” Replies the other man coldly, unaffected. 

The bearded man opens his mouth to say something, then just sighs, shaking his head.

The ends justify the means in his heartless friend’s mind. 

Felix rolls his eyes, exhaling through his nose, but a few snickers escape him. 

That’s just classic Faux. Over the last month a lot has changed about his lemonhead best friend, mostly in his generally more positive attitude toward others, but some things stay the same. 

The crew was meeting up tonight for DJ Cyber’s set.

Faux’s phone buzzes. Bel must’ve sent him another meme. They’d been sending them back and forth lately. 

He’s blindsided by a forbidden glimpse of heaven before the tears begin blurring his vision. A hand cups his mouth covering his quivering lips.

Hey Faux! I found your mom!

Vroge Ochtend Flower shop in Utrecht. 

The screenshot of the woman wreathed in radiant flowers, it was her .

Real and tangible and he had an address to meet her.

A visit to the one person who truly loved him in his childhood within his grasp. 

Right next to him, Felix looks up from his phone too, a knowing look spread across his features.

“After all this is over, we’ll go out to Utrecht.” The brunette reassures him.

“Bel,” Shaky hands blot on the keys, he mostly relies on autocorrect to text her back a quick thanks. Then turns to his friend who had done him the biggest favor in the whole world, his wobbly voice raspy almost a whisper.  “Felix… thank you.”

 “Come on, man.You better start thinking of a gift when you see her.” Felix pats him on the back. 

His blonde best friend wipes his eyes with the back of his arm. 

Faux nods. It’s a renewed fire. They’re going to make it through this walk into the doors of that flower shop. 

Then they unpause the Wii and get back into it.

When the sun is finally out of sight, Felix and Faux enter the club to the familiar world of green and yellow lights streaking across the floor, highlighting gyrating bodies before leaving the masses in the silvery blue neons coming from the ceiling.

It’s the parties Faux is used to when DJ Cyber took him and Felix along to help set up for his earliest gigs as just a supporting act. 

The trio bumped through the backstreets of Rotterdam, wheeling equipment along cracks in the sidewalk to some club that Felix already forgot the name of, until they reached a place with flashing neon lights gliding across the floor. 

The air shrouded in a nauseating cloud of smoke around them: an acrid mix of vape smog and weed smell, Felix leans over with the box of records in his arms saying to Faux half-serious that if he dropped the DJ’s precious meager vinyl collection the redhead would skin his ass alive.

Only, DJ Cyber is the headliner now, his bleak white silhouette as the centerpiece, the mask’s glowing eyes beckoning the audience. 

The fact that Felix and Faux gaze upon the poster advertising their longtime friend fills the both of them with a deep second hand pride. 

The DJ slipped to Felix, the one person he trusted the most, that he had been in contact with a secret pirate radio station out in Tokyo-to known as Jet Set Radio. 

Tonight’s tracks will have an out of this world sound, like you’ve never seen before. 

He promised to keep it a secret, but was even more motivated by the fact he’ll get to see Tryce’s face when his mind gets blown to bits. 

Speaking of, the twin tailed man greets them in several shades of restrained excitement with an imitation of his usual chill. 

Giddiness being held down with a straight jacket, but even those bounds were ripping. 

Bel in contrast, bubbly as always tells them that Tryce hasn’t stopped talking about it all day to her, Vinyl and Solace. 

The cool blue haired lady chiming in to their leader’s embarrassment that while they were at Jake’s, Bel wanted a milkshake and while in line he anxiously groaned that “You guys are going to make me late for the set.” 

They were already missing the supporting acts. 

Felix snickers knowingly. 

That sounded like the twin tailed man, the guy couldn’t help mentioning the DJ’s new mixtape even when they were trying to get Faux’s head back. 

Cyber himself comes out and addresses the crowd ending with his signature. “CAN YOU DIG IT?” 

Tryce is like a man that wandered into heaven, the music here changing his entire brain chemistry and the rest of the Bomb Rush Crew quickly meld into the ecstatic flowing energy of the other dancers. 

Felix notices his best friend’s moves are a bit more subtle and reserved (not cutting loose like the rest of them) , but he’s enjoying himself as always.

After a few songs, Faux takes a breather on one of the couches when he feels the cushions sink next to him. Tryce sits coolly, cross legged next to him puts an arm up on his shoulder.

“C’mon, you and me Faux. Let’s see what you got.” The Bomb Rush Crew’s leader nods toward the open area not too far from the DJ. 

Faux grins the glint in his eye matching his friendly rival, he’d never back down from a fight. 

Bel giggles excitedly at the impending battle. Tryce said he’d ask and just clicked her back to get to the DJ booth pronto.

Telling her bearded friend the news, she takes his wrist while they weave and push to the front of the open circle forming around their respective best friends right in front of the DJ stand. 

They quickly find Vinyl crossing her arms, wanting to see Faux get his ass beat. Solace nervously peers ahead, anxious to see who wins.

Cyber senses the change in the air, in tune with the fight brewing and abruptly cuts “State of Mind” brings out the box of records he received from Tokyo. 

Part of the whole point of  breakdancing is getting a feel for the beat, which Tryce does, his eyes widening at the new track gracing his ears . 

This night just became unbelievable. Is he really hearing this shit right now?

There’s traces of lighting and thunder forming in the flashing lights.

Funky Dealer plays out. 

In the first round, the DJ it’s a little hard to tell who’s winning. 

Tryce has great control and footwork, the calm and steady moves of a leader with a sense of dominance over the situation.

Faux is more showy, parading the fact he was highly skilled. That’s the way it always was. His footwork, noticeably weaker than Tryce’s but he made up for it with handstands and even a headspin. 

In the next round, the track switches to The Concept of Love. 

Tryce starts round 2 by popping off a 10 step, his footwork is controlled but pulsing with energy drawing the attention of the crowd. 

While holding his left foot, the dark haired man jumps his leg over his calf to the cheering and whooping of the crowd. He spins on his knees toward Faux and they lock eyes. 

“Top that, Pretty boy.” Tryce crosses his arms with a nod toward him. 

“What is love? What is free love?” Starts when Faux does. 

He gets a feel for the shifting tide of the song,  meeting  his eyes with a smirk and confident swagger in his gait. He never has to say a word, just make his opponent regret being born no matter what the challenge was. 

His top rock is a bit stiff, as were most of his movements, but he’s exact and it’s what he goes for. 

The blonde starts off with an 8-step. A little shaky on the left side and a fraction of a trip due to his stupid bad ankle, but it’s only a setup.

He hits a turtle freeze,tucking his elbows as if cocking a gun.

Then as the “ ready to kick some ass!” hits,  

He then explodes into a one handed air flare, continuing the momentum, spinning like a tornado before winding down into an elbow spin. 

Then rolling back onto his palm, kicking his feet in the air to the beat then tightening his legs and spinning like a figure skater upside down. 

Faux’s style was particular, pinpoint precision in every thought out movement. Every strike, devastating and meaningful. 

On his feet again, he throws a punch with the other hand toward Tryce, then launches into a spectacular spinning flip nto the air landing on his back. 

A few centimeters between that and a broken neck. 

Felix is bug eyed, his hands on his head leaning forward, mouth agape in awe. “Wajo!”

 Bel says nothing, but got that all on video. 

It’s then that Tryce realized that he never paid attention to how toned Faux’s arms were. 

He suddenly understands why Felix was complaining about not being able to open water bottles as easily anymore once they switched back bodies. 

Faux gets back to his feet, shaking out his arms. There’s no third round. 

The spectators are ecstatic at that wild dance battle, louder than ever.

DJ Cyber smiles from under his mask at the display that just happened, it’s something that’ll probably be talked about at this club for the next forever. 

Their leader shakes his head with a smile when Faux approaches him extending his hand. 

Tryce takes it and yanks Faux in for a tight hug into a couple hard pats on the back. Job well done. 

He deserves it, that crazy ass. Bel and Felix rush into the scene, gushing over what they just witnessed. Surrounded by his friends.  Their crazy ass. 

Even Vinyl and Solace were impressed. Those guys were quite the spectacle. 

After that exhilarating  firefight between Faux and Tryce, DJ Cyber announces the final track of the night.

Tatsuro Yamashita’s Fragile.

To the mellow track, the 7 of them bask in the glow of this unforgettable night. 

Backstage, Futurism helped their leader pack up his stuff as well as Felix and Faux for old times sake. Once packed up, one of the girls said they’d take it from there. Cyber thanks them and waves them off. 

There’s a couple comfy black leather couches lined up in the hallway which are quickly taken up.

On one couch, Tryce and Bel sit squished together on one couch with Bel doing most of the squishing, with her legs extended and back against her best friend pushing him into the armrest. Vinyl sits on the armrest, legs crossed, while Solace of course had managed to squeeze himself underneath. 

The other couch had the Big Three all lined up together, Cyber in the middle of his two oldest friends talking about something he had read about in one of his medical magazines. 

Something about a new amoeba found in the increasingly polluted water somewhere in Old Amsterdam. 

“If Felix had that brain eating amoeba, that thing would starve.” Faux shoots instantly. 

Cyber’s eyes widen and he snorts. 

Even Bel and Tryce can’t help but burst out laughing, and Felix can’t even be mad, it was a really good one. 

“So I heard you found Faux’s mom?” DJ Cyber leans toward her intrigued, putting his beer on the round table to the side of them. 

“After all this is over, we’ll all go see her! It’ll be a fun road trip!” She looks away from her phone to answer.  “I haven’t been out of New Amsterdam in a while, especially with all this mess.”

Cyber narrows his eyes. “Alright, dig it. But I’ll tell you why you should never let Faux drive. “

Felix looks to his redhead best friend amused, Faux not so much. The DJ starts before Faux has a chance to speak up and stop him. 

“We’re on the way to a show in Den Haag, we’re driving because all my stuff is in the back and I don’t know why we let this man behind the wheel. He’s running over every pothole and there’s this grindy bump under us that sounds like ‘ggrrrruggg’ and I don’t even know what he ran over.”

 The DJ imitates the possible metal plate the man plowed over going beyond the speed limit.

“We’re on the highway now, he’s cutting people off in traffic left and right then at one point passed some guy and kinda looks out the back window when he passes goes ‘fucking asshole! I’ll teach YOU how to drive.’ Me and Felix looked at each other like ‘Oh shit we’re going to die in here aren’t we?””

“Come on, we got there like 20 minutes faster than the GPS said we would.” Faux pulls his headphones over his searing hot ears defensively. “And you didn’t die did you?”

“I didn’t die this time, Faux. This time.” Felix chuckles innocently. 

The rest of them have a laugh at Faux’s expense for the first time, with even Solace joining in albeit apprehensively, and that turns Faux a bright tomato red heat boiling in his face. 

The blonde man turns away from all of them, folding into himself on the couch. 

Cyber peers over at Faux curled up beside him, never as good of a sport as Felix. 

Okay maybe that was a little cruel, but the other members of the Big 3 know the blonde well enough that he’ll get over it in a little while.

The blonde man isn’t listening to them anymore, which allows him to try and parse that noise from outside that’s steadily cutting through the chatter. 

Bel’s phone had Let Mom Sleep playing. There’s sirens in the beginning, but placing them through the song wherever felt excessive. Besides, these were too close and too real. 

“Those sirens,” Faux interrupts whatever conversation was happening. “ Is that your phone, Bel?” 

“No, why?” She proves it by muting it. And the sirens continue. While everyone’s instinct is to get away from the noise, Faux could swear he could hear someone yelling out there and it sounded like-

Rietveld pants, shouldering the boostpack and backpack. She really doesn’t want to use her gun against her long time comrades, friends she’s known for years but she may have to. Boostpack’s running out of fuel, she can't keep this up for much longer.

A backdoor opens, catching the red eyed beasts attention revealing the man from the mugshot himself: Teun Vogelaar. 

His icy glare causes the officers to pause their assault upon Rietvield and freeze.

Felix and Tryce appear next to their friend when Felix was the first to notice that Faux hadn’t taken off running with them. 

 A dozen or so red eyes lock onto him, but not to attack. To take his command.  

Then comes the sensation from the dream, like a video game he selects this swath of people. 

Lots of voices in his head again, and it’s bad, dizzying. But he manages to silence them. 

“Retreat! Go back!” He yells forcefully, without full faith this would actually work. 

“Yes sir!” Thankfully, the officers answer in unison, marching right back the way they came to everyone’s disbelief. 

Faux turns towards the two that stayed behind, wondering if everyone else got out alright still clutching his head. Dizzily, he asks. “…Everyone ok?”

No one says a word except for Tryce. “Yo, what the hell was that?” 

Backstage in the club, the policewoman takes a hearty swig of water after running halfway across the city, Felix, Tryce and Faux gathered around her.

Tryce is busy texting the group chat a status update when Rietveld begins. 

It was getting late. The sun sets over the New Amsterdam Police station.  Rietveld swipes the mugshot of Teun Vogelaar off her desk into the manila folder, the last of the evidence needed to bury his father’s reputation finally at hand. 

Aside from her regular police duties, she’d spent a lot of time in archives and working on the case against her current boss. 

During these long hours, sometimes Escher would drop by her desk and shoot the shit with her, making the grueling task less lonely.

He mentioned that they haven’t gotten lunch together in a while since she spent all her time in the archives, and he got out her planner to pencil in a date when they could really catch up. 

Today when she was about to leave, she saw the familiar white Cyberhead in the doorway of her office. 

She tells him that he just missed her and she’s headed home for the day, when she’s met with the barrel of a pistol shovel in her face. Just beyond him in the doorway there, there’s Visser, Classen, Bakker, Eggers, more faces behind them. Their eyes glassy, with that familiar reddish glow.

Like a snake weaving through the grass emerges a man with Faux’s clear blue eyes.

Vogelaar.

He’d taken notice of the long hours and missing files, and had looked into it personally when he wasn’t so busy trying to find that thorn in his side.

After all, he couldn’t risk anyone asking what the documents were about, or why they were so important. 

Even now, he can see his son’s mugshot poking out from her folder, a picture that fills him with the utmost rage, shame and disgust. He coldly tells her she’s fired.

He’ll think of a way to explain away her disappearance while she dives out the window with her boostpack and backpack, bullets ringing out though her office. 

It was extremely difficult even hiding it as long as she did. She was only able to because so much effort had been put on finding Teun that suspicion’s nose was far from turning in her direction.

 But, it was damn near impossible to hide it forever. 

The determination in her demeanor tells them that she still intends to fight the good fight though. Like her predecessor, she loved this city, and would do what she needed to protect it.

“That means that I can’t give you two more inside info regarding the operations of the task force, I’m sorry.” Rietveld shakes her head.

Then it clicks. This is the lifeline that was cut. 

They won’t be so lucky next encounter. 

“I think I spent too much time here. I was on my way to go check on my friend and make sure she’s alright.” She expresses urgency in the way the journalist didn’t answer her concerned texts. 

 She’ll only say this once. “I need you to film Teun’s confession for me, it’ll be the last part in our case against Vogelaar. Since I have a target on my back, it looks like I’ll be doing some running too. It’s going to be harder to meet up from here on out.”

 She says, strapping on her boostpack again. 

“Don’t worry. We’ll make it happen.” Felix reassures her. This guy has always made miracles happen, or at least had weirdly good luck.

Felix and Faux stare at the backpack thrown onto the checked vinyl floor without a word. They already know what the other is thinking. 

The end is finally near.  

Chapter Text

Why does it feel like… the world is closing in? The light beige walls of the shared living space feel smaller than ever.

Faux pulls at the neck of his shirt and scooches around the ratty red couch in discomfort, he eyes the wii remotes on the far side of the coffee table with a desperate longing.

Everything will come to light now, if the man across the coffee table can get the borrowed camera working.

Felix fidgets around with the chunky thing.

 Rietveld really just expected him to know how to use it. He’s carefully following the youtube tutorial on his phone at 0.5x speed, drawing out the anticipation. 

Slow, inching, painful.

Beyond the lens, Faux’s expression is unreadable. 

“I’m going to start rolling.” Felix murmurs, tearing his gaze away from his phone. Just one more step and…

The blonde flinches at the click of the tape rolling as if the big police spotlight is illuminating him. Blinding white against pitch black darkness. 

Nothing to hide now. 

“It’s going.” Felix informs him matter of factly.

He’s Teun Vogelaar again, the supposedly dead son of the police chief. He goes into who he is bridging into who his father really is. 

The train finally barrels forward, he reveals the existence of the secret police squad, the damning fact that his father wanted him dead for trying to expose the truth.

The brakes screech a little when he recounts what that  was. The thing both family members wanted buried.

Other writers were framed for his crimes.  

Looking beyond the camera, he studies the brunette’s face.

Steadfast, unchanging, focused. Urging him to continue. So Faux does, reassured.

He doesn’t go into the Project Algo stuff, not knowing enough about it. (And not wanting to touch that with a 10 foot pole, shuddering at the memory of it)

He’s sure that it would probably come out sooner or later (and would he be linked to it? A passing worry)but this would be enough. 

Enough to end Chief Inspector Vogelaar’s reign of terror. 

Once the camera clicks off, he sighs, the tension uncoiling from every nerve. It’s finally done. 

The proof he didn’t run contained in a black tape. 

Faux is more… fixated on something else though.

The lack of reaction from Felix when he had told his most disturbing truth. 

The kind of thing that would make his brunette best friend spurn him forever. Faux’s very worst fear. 

That can only mean one thing.

“I want to ask you something Felix.” Faux asks, the fabric of his black jeans constricting around his legs when they scrunch into his fingers. 

“The way you didn’t even flinch when I said I framed other writers… How did you know?” 

“It was a little while back.” Felix begins, setting aside the camera on the table. “That I found out.”

Felix found out about Officer Vogelaar by accident in the back of the police car, after being pushed down onto the crunchy autumn leaves and handcuffed on the pavement.

He’d been unlucky this one time, kind of in the worst way possible. Tripping over his own spray cans. He’s an idiot.

The bearded man breathes in the crisp fall air, cooking up a slapdash plan. He would improvise like he always did, figuring out a way out in a minute like every time before this.

But the sniveling blonde young man next to him couldn’t. He wept, complaining miserably he didn’t do anything wrong, that he wasn’t whoever they were trying to catch. 

“Looks like he went and did it again. And does that ungrateful brat expect his father to dig him out of it?”

Their driver, Officer Vogelaar, peers back at Felix and the other kid. 

Now that he thinks of it, the officer in the driver’s seat looked a lot like-

“He looks enough like my stupid son.” 

Enough like the report of the suspect, male, late teens, blonde hair, blue eyes, thin build. 

“And Faux. Is that what he calls himself? How many times has it been now?”  The man mumbles, frustrated. His partner, the newbie who had been ordered to cuff Felix, just sits and listens. The older man growls further about-

Faux. That angry police officer right there was his dad.

Faux framed other writers. And he had done it before. 

Without a shred of decency or respect for the code of the street?

Never been caught my ass. And because it had happened so many times, this revelation would be pretty much inevitable. 

Felix was usually quite slow at putting the pieces together but it was spelled out for him in flashing neon lights. His heart racing.

Felix had managed to get one hand out of the cuffs, and covertly unlocks the door of the police car while the officer was busy ranting less to his colleague and more to himself.

The beanie wearing man makes eye contact with the guy in the car, putting a finger to his own lips for quiet. 

Then soundlessly opens the car door at that one obnoxiously long stoplight he knows near the skate shop. The two escapees vanish into the alleyway.

 By the time the car door closes and Vogelaar looks back to see the seats empty, Felix and the hapless young man were already long gone. 

Finally safe, Felix put a foot against the wall with a bent knee, his back flat against the concrete behind him. He urged the stranger to go on. 

While he listened to the distressed young man tell him clumsily about how he was just going home from university and this was the route he always took (that just happened to have a flashy new tag in that alleyway), Felix studies the victim of circumstance.

He’s someone he could’ve mistakenly waved at if he had been searching for Faux a distance away. The ‘suspect’ was lanky with bright blonde hair.

 A shade a tad lighter than the real deal and shiny blue eyes. 

He wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “And that police officer, he said I did the graffiti, kept trying to convince me I was this “Faux” guy. He didn’t believe me no matter what I told him.”

“You should go home before that police officer comes back.” Felix tells him bluntly. Anger scalding him inwardly. 

False Faux runs home, hoping to never see any of these people ever again.

A dizzying swirl of feeling before Faux while he soaks in all this information.

Should I even be mad? It’s confusing. 

The blonde man puts both palms over it just to feel that tightness in his chest. Pushing down anger like putting both hands over a geyser.

He tries putting names to these emotions. 

Hot and bubbling frustration, anguish for what it led to, 

Shame over the shit he stirred up. His instinct to avoid unpleasant truths. 

A different gnawing shame for the fact that it was over and he should be over it. 

“...Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Faux, I was pissed. But when I had my phone out to text you so I could confront you about it, I froze.“

The dim alleyway where the darkness swallowed the rest of the sound once the stranger vanished like he never even existed.

The ring of light from his phone strains his eyeballs in the contrast. The smell of dead leaves caught in his chest. 

Smothered by the sudden indecision. Uncertain fingers hovering over his blonde best friend’s number, the message “Faux, we need to talk.”

  Stays Forever in draft.

Felix doesn’t look away, he won’t. He promised not to lie to Faux, and this was what they both needed.

Face to face now, they’re focused on each other as if they’re the only two people in the world. 

“I couldn’t believe that you could do something like that. More than once too, by the way your dad made it sound. I felt betrayed. Someone I looked at as a fellow writer, shit. As a fellow friend.” 

As he says this, he tries to reinforce his facade with concrete to recount the harrowing experience. 

He wants to get through this without breaking, but the cracks show in trembling lips. 

His voice walks a tightrope to keep balanced and calm but it wobbles with a frothing great emotion.

“I…I should’ve told you. I just didn’t know how so I didn’t.”

He breaks eye contact for a second, slapped by the wave of sudden grief again before looking back to the other man’s attentive but emotionless expression. . 

“I just didn’t know what to do.”

Always so direct, but couldn’t say it this one time. 

A once in a lifetime contradiction.

The consequences of not having that hard conversation can be felt in every ripple right up until that moment.  It cost them both their lives.

He was confronting him about it now though. Did it even matter at this point? 

A tense moment of silence pulled from both sides. 

Felix finally drops his gaze, turning away and runs a hand through his hair. 

Faux is still blankly inscrutable, contemplating his next move. Overwhelmed by it all. 

A million justifications dive together in a flock through the blonde’s head on instinct, but none of them make it through his mouth. 

For once he doesn’t want to justify himself in the face of Felix’s obvious distress. 

The lanky man’s eyebrows finally collapse toward each other, and sighs in resignation. Remorse heavy like someone sitting on his chest, and won’t move until he says what he’s supposed to. 

 “Felix,” the other man looks up, being addressed, two clear oceans meeting. An understanding that they both crave this closure. 

 “I’m really sorry for hurting you like that.” Faux says earnestly, because he means it with his whole chest. 

A tired wry smile hangs pulls at the sides of Felix’s face and he exhales. “I forgive you, Faux. I just want you to know that I’ll continue to accept you even if I know about your secret, alright?” 

Those words are familiar, again like a warm hug. 

The brunette reaches for the wii motes on the table and tosses Faux one. “Let’s finish this.”

The two men crane their necks toward the TV, watching with hawk-like intensity at their characters fighting for their lives. 

Fireballs obliterate the walls which Mario and Luigi take the opportunity to pass  through before another round of heat incinerates them. 

Players 1 and 2 are completely in sync now, using teamwork to get over dire straits, avoiding hard places, blow torches and lava. Faux’s Luigi still jumps on the red plumber to get to the high ground, as expected but Felix’s Mario is able to prosper despite the setback. 

Finally, they reach the end with Mario slamming the button that finally sends Bowser to his doom. 

The duo watch the final cutscene where Princess Peach emerges from her confinement in reverent silence. 

Then they turn to each other. 

“We did it.” Faux  announces, dumbfounded. 

“We did it!” Felix hollers in joy. The two of them high five with enough force to break each other’s wrists. 

“Yeeeeeaaahhh!!!” Felix belts, pumping a fist into the air. Faux basks in the victory with a stupid silly wide grin, stretching from ear to ear. 

After putting the bandaid on that open wound in their relationship, the two turn in for the night.