Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

At the very least, you didn't free-fall from the sky.

Or get run over by a truck, or fall into a hole on the sidewalk, or anything that would break every single bone in your body and leave you feeling it.

It's dark and it's cold, the street lights are barely visible through the pouring rain, nothing more than a blur. The sudden change in settings is jarring. You can't process the switch from daylight to night, from the comfort of your couch to the middle of the street, confused cries drowned in thunder as you stumble for shelter in a dark, dirty alleyway, sliding down the wall and shielding your eyes from the punishing downpour.

Your head is absolutely killing you, an acute pinching at the front of your skull, a deep sense of wrongness planting nausea in your stomach. There's something off about your body, about how the world looks, but you're too dizzy to pinpoint what exactly. The disastrous amount of water makes your sight unreliable, and your ears are ringing.

It hurts.

 After what seems like hours, it stops raining as the morning light hits. It's a drowsy sunrise, a merciless cold nipping at your body. You're soaking wet from head to toe, passed out somewhere unsafe and nasty. The prime definition of a shit night, you think you might've thrown up at some point during the night, an odd taste is left in your mouth, and half-convinced you're still asleep.

You fearfully take stock of yourself.

Everything is clearer to see. It is blinding to the eyes, so bright that even when clouds stubbornly glide across the sky it barely mutes it. It's gloomy and unreal. Impossible.

Your hands are meat claws, like some sort of skin-flesh-zombie-body horror genre. Your eyes widen as you wiggle them testily, still feeling your fingers as though they were individual digits, but the entire palm is deformed, fused, and your thumbs seem to be enlarged across the heel of your palm. A quick look down confirms the rest of you is…sharp, angled, blocky, wrong. Broken.

You're a fucking LEGO.

“What the fuck!”

Standing is a pain, walking even more so, but you manage to stumble in front of a storefront window dark enough to reflect. The you staring back at you in shock has enough details of you to identify yourself, but not nearly enough. It is uncanny, at best. Despite your disheveled appearance, the miserable night spent on the street, and the gross oversimplification this style reduced your real human features to, it is you.

The black and white of these eyes, the square-ish shapes, the black lines accentuating your body, it's all too much for your brain to process. It's not you, never.

“No, no, no, this is not happening.” At the very least, your voice still sounded like your own. Panicked and on the verge. “I just had a mental breakdown from work stress, and I'm at the hospital, high on meds!”

Hey, that rhymed!

You grab your head in your weird hands, groaning as the migraine (concussion?) worsens, smacking your skull twice, trying to wrack your memory for anything that might've had a hand in landing you in here, of all things!

No, seriously, what gives? Getting isekai'd and world-napped is a loser trope! Only people with unfulfilled lives end up in this kind of mess! Which is saying a lot about your person right now! But you thought you were getting somewhere, starting to get your life together, but noooo!

The sound of jingling keys shakes you out of spiraling thoughts, head snapping up to spot the figure of a man (a weird lego man). He's opening the door to a shop across the street, ignorant of you gawking, with a curtain of white hair loosely tied over his shoulder, a matching long beard on his face. You can't read the sign over the building, but as he gets in and turns on the lights, it's clearly some sort of plant nursery store with all the greenery.

Brain reeling, you neglect to look where you're going in your desperation to get in contact with someone, crossing the empty road in a symphony of squeaking shoes and squelching wet socks that would have you tearing your hair out on any other day. 

You rush into the building, and it's so blissfully, suddenly quiet in here that it springs tears of relief to your eyes, paying no mind to the little ring announcing your arrival. It's warmer here, humid in a good, familiar way that helps with the cold.

The sound draws attention effectively, and you lock eyes with the man. He gives you a bewildered look that turns to annoyance, then to pointed politeness. “I'm sorry, we don't open until-”

“Excuse me,” you interrupt, out of breath from panic, your hands on the counter. You’re dripping water on the floor. “I'm sorry - yeah, uh, what is this place?” No, no, that's a question someone from this world wouldn't ask, right? And it doesn't help you pinpoint where in the timeline you are, or if it's even the canon universe.

Typically, these things put people at the very start, but there are exceptions!

“Actually, I need to know where I am. As in, the city.” You fix, pinching the space between your eyes, fighting the headache that's making itself remembered. “Something happened to me, and I’m lost right now. I just need to know because I don't think I'm supposed to be here, and I'm freaked out.”

Now he's just looking at you with a contemplative expression, probably realizing he let a crazy person into his property, and your whole ‘tragic breakup under the rain’ look/vibe is not helping. His hesitation is not appreciated, but understandably guarded.

Finally, he opens his mouth, tone gentler, more tactful, “Alright, how about we sit down?” He suggests calmly, rounding the register and ushering you away from it (to prevent you from stealing??) and towards a chair by the door. He respectfully doesn't touch you, though he doesn't have to herd you into sitting. 

You're exhausted. You slept on the street. You're sitting down.

“Stay.” He orders, turning around and walking towards the back, disappearing into the many plants growing around. You take the moment to calm down, rubbing your face.

This is definitely some transmigration-type pe of shit. If it were reincarnation, you'd be a baby or a toddler by the time you regain a sense of self. Honestly, you're grateful for that. The mere idea of having to go through those phases of life again is draining, not to mention humiliating. Your brain is already full of information to go through elementary school again and deal with unregulated peers. No, no thank you.

In the case of being transported, let it be through invading the body of an alternate or your body being kidnapped, it's better. Not ideal, but you have better control over what you get yourself involved with. You don't think that's it either because, well, if you shifted into the body of another you, you'd have possessions, right?

You most likely got directly plucked from the real world.

 You probably don't have an identity in this reality, which will make it hard to move around as you please regarding stuff like licenses and leases and -

Shit, is this going to be like those plots where your mere presence shifts the entire storyline and ends up making everything worse? Or maybe like the ones where no matter how hard you try, everything stays the same? You already had a hard time with a regular bad world. Dealing with a bad magical world is a whole other league!

How are you supposed to survive through several magical apocalypses if you can't find a way back? You love the main cast, but shit goes down harder than what a normal person can handle! And you! You're a regular person as far as you know and hope!

As you feel your stomach begin to grumble and turn in protest at the anxious thoughts, the old man returns. You can't get over how odd he looks, how unreal everything looks. A towel and steaming mug in hand are offered to you, and he drags another chair to sit in front of you. You mutter a grateful ‘thank you’ and pat your face dry.

“You mentioned being lost.” He states, not taking his beady eyes away from you, “This is the city of Megapolis. You're clearly not from around here. What's your name?”

You tell him your name, messing with the mug, warming your palms.

“Do you have anyone you can call and collect you? Family nearby?”

You know you don't. While you don't want to discard the possibility of being a version of yourself here, it's extremely unlikely that there's someone you know, and even if there were, you would not know them. So you don't have to lie, hoping the shakiness of your voice comes off as unsure and not dishonest.

“I don't. There is nobody. I don't even know how I got here. I'm supposed to be somewhere else, but I landed in this city last night.”

Your head hurts. You wrap the towel around your shoulders and take a sip from the hot mug, a gentle floral scent wafting from it. You're shivering, and you hope you don't get sick. That would be a sorry look.

The elder gives a hum, eyes slightly narrowed but not unkind, “I can tell by the way you speak, you're foreign. And you look like you're about to pass out. You're soaked to the bone, poor thing. We'll call emergency services, go to a hospital, and find out where you're from.”

How are you supposed to explain anything to anyone? Never mind this person in particular. You can't, absolutely can not talk about the whole isekai nonsense unless you want to be institutionalized and locked up until the moment she comes along. Not to the police or government. 

…Especially not the government. Not if that freak of nature is in command right now.

The silence stretches on before he carefully continues, making you look up from your drink, taking your lack of response as a hesitant disagreement. “You don't have to call anyone if it's a bad situation you're getting away from. I have a spare apartment that I've been wanting to rent upstairs, if you're sure there's nobody to contact.”

By the gods of plot convenience! Talk about putting you in the right place at the worst time. You really shouldn't jump into moving somewhere with a guy you met fifteen minutes ago, but your options are rather thin.

You have to figure out what to do. You can't waltz up to the main cast without a plan, much less get directly involved with Mk and tell him about his future. You like that loveable, goofy protagonist as much as the next person, but the kid's a magnet for danger. Being too close and unprepared is just begging for a horrible death or worse.

You take another sip from the mug, its warmth soothing the shuddering. “That's very generous of you, but I don't have any money. I don't want to mooch off a stranger. I'm not…sure why you'd even trust me enough to offer your space to me, I might not even get anywhere any time soon.”

The man smiles, then, “Jianyi, that's my name. I've been the owner of this establishment for many years.” Well, now you feel bad for making him explain himself. “My family is one of immigrants, so I sympathize with you trying to find your place in this world. You could work here as well if you're worried about repayment. I'm too old for some tasks.”

“As for why I would trust you,” he muses briefly, “call it a hunch.”

“And if you don't trust me, that's completely understandable. There are a few shelters in the city where you can get settled in -”

“I'll take it.” You say over him, sending an apologetic smile because you do not need that much convincing in the first place. Free room and a job offer? Thank you, gods of plot convenience.

—

With that arranged, you are left to your own devices in the apartment and part ways with Mr. Jianyi, not without a helpful comment about how ‘unfortunate it is you arrived during the attack on the Weather Station’, explaining the storm you were thrust into.

And confirming in what universe you are in.

Not that it wasn't obvious already.

You clean up, borrow a change of clothes, and tentatively check yourself out in the bathroom mirror, wiping away the steam.

Yup, still the same creepy visage with the eyes and inhuman shapes. If you close them, you can almost feel normal. If you pretend your hands have mittens and your feet are in boots, you don't feel as sick. If you act like this whole world is nothing but a hyper-realistic VR experience, you could spare your sanity.

The clothes you were wearing are hanging to dry. You discovered you had your phone with you this entire time, but that hope to contact real people sputtered out quickly. It doesn't have any power, and none of the chargers around fit it.

For now, that's okay. You've got some factors of normality, of familiarity, minus the whole ‘getting transported into a different dimension’ thing.

You won't even try to claim you understand how the hell that happened, a concept your brain is not meant to think about. All you know is that you were doing something in the real world, and now you are disfigured and disoriented and inside the LEGO Monkie Kid show.

A life that was taken from you is fresh in your mind, and people you know are clear in your memory. The fact that you can still picture everything in the third-dimensional space calms you. But the recollection of the moments before chaos erupted is all but null.

“Stars…” You groan, flopping down to the bed on your back and trying to get comfortable.

You have to expand your options. Clearly, you ended up here for a reason. Let it be by some gods’ will or that your life truly was that pathetic, something or someone wanted you to be here. But you don't jump the gun and think up some delirium of destiny.

Destiny.

The Celestial Host would be your best bet for help. They have a massive outreach to their deities, and you're willing to bet they have an excellent stock of their personnel. Finding the culprit shouldn't be hard. Unless it was a demon. Or someone of power outside their jurisdiction. Imagine asking for help from them to find out a high-ranking deity, or, stars forbid, Buddha was involved.

If nothing led back to anyone, would you be put to blame for breaking some sacred interdimensional law? Be punished for unnatural traveling or be the embodiment of concepts beyond an animated show's comprehension? Heaven can act unreasonably too. It is from a kid's series and plot's gotta plot.

And to get to them, you would have to contact someone accessible, someone who can go back and forth to the mortal realm. Monkey King is the first choice that comes to mind, then Red Son or Princess Iron Fan. All of which are involved in literally every season and would plunge you directly into the fray.

There's always that option…to stay out of the way, try getting as far away from the city as possible. You know you're in season one, at the very start of events, you're given a generous amount of time to flee to the other side of the world if you so wish. In the show, there are plenty of secluded, safe places she didn't reach on time, nowhere close to the cities she targets for weeks.

That would be the smart thing to do for survival, knowing it gets resolved without major issues until the following season. It would be the right thing for the powerless, unadapted little you to do, avoid the eye of the hurricane until you find out who or what put you here. It's the realistic approach. The sane approach.

But…

 Can you do that? Morally, could you run away without attempting to spare everyone some pain, the unnecessary trials that don't promote growth? Could it be worth meddling with the story a little bit if it means Mk and his family will be in better shape at the end than in the original script? Save Mei from the trauma? Save Pigsy, Tang, and Sandy from the stress?

You are attached to them. As characters, of course, but characters that bring you comfort, that got you through some moments in your life. But you have to think of yourself first, and your safety is not guaranteed around them.

It's not big gestures of heroism that could prevent several end-of-the-world events, but the details. Details you are privy to. Details that dance mockingly in the back of your mind. You can help, you can be useful in another way.

Should you? Hell no.

Is there a part of you that secretly is exalted and thrilled to have creative shots at your disposal? To know for sure? Absolutely, yes.

You get to drawing, using a random notebook Mr. Jainyi has around to list the episodes and a small summary of a rough plan to start. In code that only you and others of your world can understand, sprinkled with random language changes as a preventative measure.

You make sure everything is tucked under the mattress, hidden from view until you can act on it.

Feeling resolute, you lie down, kill the lights, and stare at the ceiling, heart pounding in your chest.

You've got this. You can help, you will help. From the sidelines.

You're going to die.

Chapter Text

 A week goes by after you've been kicked into this world before the next episode takes place.

By now, you have learned how to walk around two-dimensional spaces. Having a bit of trouble recalibrating your depth perception when running into walls has become a problem. It's all based on perspective in this dimension. You don't trust that something will be at the distance you think it is, but you're getting there

Getting used to your new body is a whole other issue. Putting aside how unnatural it is and how it makes you feel like a skinwalker, simple movements become a hassle, especially with your hands. The lack of opposable thumbs and individual fingers makes grabbing things with finesse impossible. Once or twice, your shirt becomes a victim of drinks splashing on it, leaving you to feel like a dual excavator.

Then there's the situation with your face. Unlike the rest of your very ignorable, very average body that can be covered, you have to see your face the most.

Your beady, black eyes are your natural eye color if you look really closely, and your mouth appears to be a black hole past the flat teeth and tongue. You also technically have a nose? That is, if you inhale hard, then you can see cartoonish nostrils flaring.

For the sake of your sanity, you pretend you're wearing a costume.

Lego suit! Those are kind of cute and funny. Like the Batman ones.

And! You consider it a blessing that you are fully articulated. Imagine moving like those guys in the LEGO Movie franchise, all stiff and having detachable body parts. Horrid

Anyways

You have also officially started working for Mr. Jianyi. It's only a part-time job, as you’re not the sole employee at the herb shop. After getting over the initial new-job awkwardness, finding yourself working six hours, when Mr. Jianyi needs you the most to move stuff or clean, and you can afford necessities and treats, is another blessing. 

It's not a fair comparison with this being a fictional world, but damn it feels good to live on minimum wage. Live, not survive.

(You won't be getting that privilege for long.)

It gives you a lot of time to be alone, explore the city, and familiarize yourself with the layout. After your shift and lunch, you take to the streets on foot, hoping that eventually you'll get acclimated. Or get better stamina, whatever comes first.

Megapolis is a big city in the deserted part of this country, meeting with the ocean, surrounded by many mountains, and crowned by the one that not so long ago kept The Demon Bull King captive. Technology is very advanced as the show represents, sporting a dizzying amount of different modes of transportation. It kind of reminds you of utopian steampunk vibes in the most mundane way possible. You get startled one too many times by teenagers flying past on their hoverboards and holographic advertisements in the sky, not to mention the number of food trucks, stands, and kiosks. 

There's always something to do in this big city. You could get lost so easily. And you do, because you still can't read the signs. A work in progress until you can get a new phone and use the GPS.

There is a point to all of this wandering, not just a way to kill time.

You find where Pigsy's, the Anti-Gravity Arcade, and the docks are simply by asking around, finding all three major locations. Pigsy's is a smaller business than you imagined, and in contrast, the Arcade is too big. You don't go inside the buildings in fear of accidentally bumping into your protagonists, but rather stick around the pier until you spot Sandy's boat.

It's easy to spot, not just because it's the only one docked right now, but also because it is painted in an array of colors. It sticks out with a huge mural of several figures you can't make out from the ground. Geez, talk about indecisiveness.

You bite your weird knuckle.

These places aren't close to each other at all, and they don't make convenient spots for your plans to work. It's a long way from Pigsy's and Sandy's, both a good hour and a half walk from your job. Your visits and check-ins will have to be sparse.

The Anti-Gravity Arcade is as good as it'll get. It's not far from the docks, but funnily enough further from Pigsy's than your place. Unless you bike…

It will work. Everything that can, will.

 You can't mess around just because it's the first season. This is the time when you have to establish the bases and pick the flower where the butterfly will bat its wings. The Lady Bone Demon gets introduced pretty much right away through little hints, so it's time to start plotting and working against the clock and destiny.

If The Lady Bone Demon is Murphy's Law, then you are Yhprum's Law. You can't afford to slack off, put in the work, and you're sure you will succeed.

Yay! Positivity!

On the walk back to the apartment, tired and ready to pass out for the night, you take a detour to the convenience store on the road, greeting the clerk with a polite wave, grab a basket, and go straight to the aisle for a quick pantry restock.

Snacks are first, a mistake, as you're feeling peckish and willing to take them all from the shelves.

“They are milking the whole Monkey King brand dry.” You mumble to yourself, grabbing a bag of salted peach chips that have the image of the Great Sage striking a heroic pose. “I never know which kind to take.”

“Need help?” A familiar voice asks from behind you, causing you to jolt in place. At the same time, your entire being chills, turning around on your heels, stiff as a statue. Red bandana, spiky brown hair, white work clothes... 

That's Mk. The Monkie Kid. Standing in front of you, looking like someone wanting to help, idly fiddling with his hands. Casually. The guy you've been set on avoiding for months is looking at your face directly.

“Uhhhhh.” You don't know why, but you were kind of hoping you’d be able to sense him, like something in you could detect the main character vibes and have you running the other way just in time.

You could use some of those overpowered MC abilities right now.

His eyebrows rise at your hesitation, and you're starting to sweat. “'Cause you said you dunno which ones to pick?” He prompts.

“Right.” You nod, slapping on your best smile, “Help. I’d love that.”

His eyes brighten with an overeager sparkle, and he starts babbling about the different types of chips he likes and which ones are popular right now.

You don't hear half of what he's saying over the panic and awe of actually having him in front of you. His hair really is that spiky in real-but-not-real life, yet it has that satisfying bounce animated people have while moving, and he is very bright. Unnaturally so. Just like the rest of this world. It was pretty cool seeing him on TV and watching him grow his brand in real time, but in person?

A good kid.

You hope he's not looking too hard. He's trying to help, that's all, so you breathe.

“I'll take those too! Never tried them.” You manage a genuine smile, accepting his suggestion without looking at what he's offering and subtly walking around him. “Thank you for your help!”

The boy's grin stretches, following you down the aisle and killing your attempt to cut the interaction short. He's…he's getting up in your space now, walking in tandem with your steps, effortlessly keeping up. Your heart is going to pound out of your chest! “You're welcome! I like this brand of soda that tastes like a weird baby of peaches and bananas that's also popular. If you don't like that, there's cola-flavored gummies, too.”

He is not stopping. For talking to someone he doesn't know, he is chatty, though that doesn't come as a shock. Mk is an open book to every new person he meets in the show, very forward in what he thinks, but you're starting to get scared he might sense something is off about you.

You hurry up to the register at the front, smile tight and uncomfortable. “Those sound good, but I really need to get going. I just came for a quick snack run, maybe next time. Thank you again.”

“You sure? You looked like you couldn't tell them apart. You probably need help getting around outside, too.” He says with a laugh, walking ahead of you and forcing your pace to slow.

Okay? Rude. You resist the urge to glare at his lack of awareness, the weird feeling settling in your stomach bubbling louder. There's a foreboding shadow cast over his eyes, accentuating the whites in them. His smile is uncharacteristically wide, the type that reminds you of the Not-Mayor. You clutch your basket, bracing for the Gold Vision thing to flash or the weight of the staff pinning you down.

Clack!

A clattering sound that abruptly ends the awkward, one-sided escalating conversation, drawing your attention to the store clerk bending to pick up a broom from the floor.

Right in front of them is Mk, with a visible, cartoony sheepish sweat drop sliding down his head as he taps his hands together nervously.

Pause.

You look between the pair, eyes wide, mouth hanging open. Back and forth back and forth back and forth.

“What are you doing?!” The worker yells, standing to threaten the second Monkie Kid with the brush end of the broom, like they're shooing a cat. “I told you to scram, I don't need help cleaning my own dang shop!”

 Oh.

You look at the Mk that's been harassing you, his friendly smile now a whole lot less friendly and more ominously threatening, then back at the second Mk trying to wrangle the broom from the poor person screeching about being helpful to them.

OH. 

It's that episode. The freaky clone episode.

Well, at least you can get the weight of accidentally revealing your identity to the real Mk off your shoulders. 

You breathe a sigh of relief.

A hand pulls the handle of your basket off your arm, making you gasp at the audacity, attention pinned back to the clone. He doesn't look half as ashamed as his counterpart. “Let me help you with that! An unsatisfied customer is a walking, bad advertisement!”

“And an unhappy boss is an unhappy employee!” The second one adds.

“Wh- You don't even work here!” You don't try snatching the goods back, leveling him with a glare. Was letting him help you enough to get him attached? That's really, kind of, pretty pathetic.

 Keenly remembering that going against whatever the clones are set to do makes them hostile, you keep the urge to tell them where they can shove their helpfulness to yourself. They're going to turn against the OG soon, anyway. You'd rather not face them all red-eyed and eager for violence.

The clerk doesn't share your views, engaging in a tug o ‘war with the clone that's been trying to do their job while yelling at him to get out of their store. Your clone takes to expanding your grocery list with more junk food than you need with his gods-given freedom, overpiling the basket.

The thought of ditching the clerk as a sacrifice for the overbearing clones crosses your mind.

“If you two- both? Don't get out, I'm calling the cops!” They sneer, one foot braced on the counter for leverage, and the clone digs his heels in. “Vandals!”

 Huh. Are there police in Megapolis? Actual law enforcement?

That's funny.

Thankfully, the moment the poor store owner threatens to call for help (like that would help) both clones stop on the tracks, unfortunately making one drop your shit on the ground and the other making the owner eat it by letting go of the broom abruptly.

Their eyes flash red and automatically exit the small store like activated sleeper agents, leaving their mess for their master to (hopefully) clean up later. They don't say another word, most likely on their way to Porty Mk, and where Mei is being held hostage at this very moment.

“What the hell? I swear, ever since that kid popped outta nowhere, this city gets weirder by the day!” The clerk complains, groaning from the floor. You rush to help them up, dusting off their back and shoulders.

You watch them leave, woefully pick up the stuff that interests you, and bring it to the register to get checked out. The person is still grumbling when packing it up, and you want to tell them to run while they can. It's about to get much worse.

-------------

You shove every note you've made about the show to the floor, reorganizing the events appropriately. To try and solve every single episode to be as least traumatizing for everyone as possible is going to drive you insane, so you don't. It makes your stomach hurt a bit with guilt, now that this is your reality and these characters are real, that you'll have to let them suffer.

The fact is, the story is progressing with or without your intervention, and it's a bit of a wake-up call.

You need to keep your priorities straight. You can't play god and expect it not to blow up in your face. You can't pull a Sun Wukong and deal with the consequences.

So! There are at least three major moments you'd need to get directly involved with.

First, Revenge of the Spider Queen. You need to find a way to protect the Trigram Furnace before The Lady Bone Demon can get her hands on it. You don't need to face her. Just find a way to hide/protect it until it can be returned to the Celestial Realm safely. Time up there is wacky. Who knows how many years it'll spend on Earth before they realize it's gone?

Second, Mk's staff. Although, with the legendary weapon being the last ingredient The Lady Boner gets her hands on, it can be of concern later. If luck is on your side, removing the “cauldron” part from the equation will fuck her plans over enough that her mech won't be completed. In the mental state Mk will be in, you'll also have to stop him from fighting her and giving her most of his powers.

Most of them, because you need him to learn how to regenerate, since he sucks at the whole meditation thing Wukong does.

You shuffle through some of the drawings you made to complement the scribbles, brows furrowed.

Then there's Macaque's Lantern.

You pause.

There's no way you'll let her snatch it up, not when it's perfectly accessible for you to prevent it. Other items like the Demon-Revealing Mirror, the Crimson Jimson weed, and damn, even the Spider Queen are ingredients you can not interfere with. Not because of a lack of wanting to, but simply because you can't. You can't stop her from getting most of her puzzle pieces. You alone can't stop her.

You don't have that much power.

Teeth find themselves worrying at your lip.

Even if by some miracle you manage to lessen her impact, many others are seeking the end of this world prematurely. Forces beyond your comprehension.

Gods, this is terrifying. A seed of doubt burrows into your scheming.

These are mythological magic beings here, planetary-level threats! Avengers kind of anger! You're only one of you, and you don't want to be in the direct line of fire without any support. How much can moving in the shadows realistically help? Acting alone?

Ha. Shadows.

Wait, no, bad.

He won't help you. Nobody can.

The ball needs to start rolling regardless. Without any powers or abilities beyond your fourth-wall knowledge, you're reduced to being a support character. Nothing will change if you don't do anything, and you can't afford to freeze now. The world will be alright in the end. The world. You have no idea how the future will fare for you, no matter how unlikely you think your death could be. 

If you genuinely want to spare the characters that have made a place in your heart, some of the trauma…

Back to planning.

First, you need the help of two certain clown brothers.

Chapter Text

Finding Jin and Yin? It's not an easy task.

Your memory of the episodes is near-perfect. Considering how long the fixation lasted, it is no surprise. However, there are many neighborhoods in Megapolis that the show never expanded upon. All your respect goes to the animators, all of it! But reusing the buildings and street layouts is messing with your head, and the maps of the city don't exactly have all the villains' lairs marked down for convenience.

So, you have reached a new low! Congratulations! You have resorted to literal stalking to get to your destination. Maybe following Mk around during his deliveries for the past week and a half is completely unnecessary and super creepy, though your options are few. 

You don't want to be caught off guard again without being prepared, even if it's just a minor episode.

Just thinking about skipping the entire Calabash episode and possibly missing out on meeting the gold and silver demons gives you enough anxiety to spring into action. After the clone incident that left you paranoid that another casual meeting with Mk might suck you into the plot without a set plan, you're ready to move.

Seeing the next episode of the season is The Great Wall race, and that's weeks, if not months, away, assuming Mei isn't training for it currently. You shouldn't risk waiting that long, there is no guarantee of seeing them again on time after MK breaks out of their prison. It has to be The Calabash.

Aside from those idiots, your chances with Monkey King, the gang, or even an allegiance with other villains are slim. Knowing Wukong, he would probably try to get ahead of everything and act impulsively. On a good day, he'd surprise you with an actual plan, if given the time to think about it. 

Are you making excuses to keep out of the main cast's way? Er…

The brothers are perfect, isolated, and unrelated to the main plot aside from being the comedy relief. Not to mention their huge arsenal of mundane and frankly concerningly powerful magical objects at their disposal.

You still have to be careful, though. Even if their impact on the story is insignificant, they're perception leaves something to be desired, they can see and hear, their mouths are not secure. On the occurrence they get captured, which they will, and they know too much, they'll babble to save their own skin. Respectable. 

You won't go as far as to trust them with too many details when their propensity to fail should be its own Olympic sport, even a simple mention of someone lurking around could tip everything off.

That's how you find yourself walking through the market early in the morning, looking for new clothes and a disguise that'll allow you to snoop and follow people around unnoticed. Nothing out of the norm.

Really, the one that really should scare you is Mei, with her whole ‘putting trackers on (in?) the people she cares about without their consent’ thing. With Mk, he's suited for tracking bad vibes only.

You can't resist looking over other stuff on sale, even though your pockets have been claimed by other priorities. This is similar to a farmer's market, so you're guarded, your haggling skills needing to be honed. Conversations and luring offers bounce off the walls, creating an active atmosphere.

“Looking for fancy new wares?”

“All hats are buy two, get one free!”

“Ready to upgrade your whole look for this fall? Come over here and see how these scarves keep you-”

“Hey! Hey, you! Yes, you! Do you know how to grow your vegetables? This special volcanic soil works miracles-”

“I can give you completely accurate lottery numbers for just nine-”

“You don't belong here.”

The voice, feminine and with a tone of alluring predator, comes from the cooler side of the market, the sun casting it in shade, adding to the energy from within. Purple ragged tent, various items in many states of decay, shining bottles of sparkling liquids and body parts, and many plants of dubious origins. A huge shiny spider emblem hangs on top, and in the dark, two glowing green eyes shine.

“I'm talkin’ to you, sugar.” Spider Queen, in her civilian disguise, winks, casually leaning on her stall counter. “First time on the fast market, hm?”

Your breath catches in your throat.

She's talking about you looking around aimlessly. She doesn't know. She doesn't know. Breathe.

You find bravery in yourself, taking her in.

You understand how Mr. Tang and Pigsy (more Pigsy than Tang, if you're honest) fall into her trap. She is gorgeous in a mysterious yet confident way, otherworldly in her demonic nature. Although you would love to see her style translated into the real world to better admire her, she's gorgeous in LEGO-world standards. Deadly.

Prime Spider Queen is better, though. With her mech and crown? Scary shit. Hot.

“Ah, is it that obvious?” You reply, cautiously stepping closer, the fear giving way to a sense of shyness. “There's so much to look at that I keep forgetting what I'm here for.”

Strangely, you don't get the same dread that crashed down on you when spotted by Mk's clones. In fact, you find yourself happy to see the former queen. Despite knowing there are victims to this very scheme she's pulling, cocooned underground, she's not terrifying in this form. Intimidating? Absolutely.

You are happy because there wasn't any guarantee you'd get to see her at all, much less speak to her. Ever.

This got depressing fast.

“Mhm, that's city life. What exactly are ya lookin’ for? Didn't stick around for the farmers' stalls, but ya did hover around the scarves across the street, didn't you?”

Your face gets warm. Why is your face getting warm? She's been watching you. Why? Do you look like easy prey, with all the ‘hovering’ you've been doing?

Your hand rises to rub your other arm, distracting yourself by eyeing some of her products. You succeed at not making a face at them. “Got me. I'm looking for a change of look, something to keep it fresh.”

“Well, I don't have much of that goin’ on here.” She replies honestly, drumming her hand on the counter. “I got some pigmented herbs that would complement that lovely skin of yours, and a couple of ‘em potions to heighten beauty.”

“Oh, no, you misunderstood.” You quickly wave your free hand. “I'm not interested in beauty supplies. On the contrary, I was specifically looking for a mask to conceal my face.”

Spider Queen raises an eyebrow.

“For the upcoming New Lunar Year celebration.” You clarify. Small talk with one of the villainesses of the show is not your strong suit. “I want to dress up and celebrate.”

“New Lunar Year? That's a good three months and some away.” She chuckles, eyeing you up and down. She seems to come to a similar conclusion as Mr. Jianyi about your supposed foreign status, and aside from an amused quirk of her lips, she doesn't mention it. “A bit ahead of yourself, aren't you?”

There's got to be a better way for you to come up with lies, or else you won't survive. You laugh, squeezing your arm, knowing the smile on your face looks stupid. “I like to plan ahead of time. I'll gladly take something else for your troubles.”

Her eyes visibly sparkle with opportunistic interest, and you know you just won yourself a few minutes to flee. You mentally pat yourself on the back as you receive her approval in the form of a dismissive wave.

Eyes racking through the display, you find that not much in particular catches your attention. Most of Spider Queen's stuff is either common or downright macabre (looking at the suspiciously authentic beheaded head hanging from the wall), so you settle.

You pick a plant you haven't seen at the shop before, a funny-looking vial of green stuff, and a small palette of green and purple eyeshadow. Would it be too hopeful to think the vial contains acid? You hope it's acid.

When you turn back to pay up, you find Spider Queen already engaged in conversation with another customer. He looks starstruck with her, literal floaty hearts popping drunkenly over his head as she does her spiel of having better goods in the back.

Paying and parting ways with her is…hard.

You know that interfering with her death directly is out of the question. She is too stubborn to part ways with her vision of reign, of power, to abandon her dreams of ruling. Not even MK could convince her, and he has the main character's powers of persuasion!

And that will be her and her people's downfall. Her biggest character flaw? Pride, nostalgia, thirst for control. She truly never had a chance of redemption until it was too late. That's the tragedy of her character in the real world.

She could've been great. She could've been a fantastic ally, bigger than just her sacrifice.

And then she was completely forgotten by everyone.

You blink, heart aching, stomach twisting.

She's staring at you.

You feel sick. You feel stupid.

As you hand over the necessary cash, hands meet briefly, and you dart to hold hers together gently in a burst of reckless whim. The queen looks furious that a human, fodder, dares to touch her so freely, so you rush to speak before she decides you're meal-worthy.

“When you meet a little girl,” You start, “Ask her what your destiny is. Don't trust her.”

She looks confused, obviously, you just spewed advice that doesn't apply to her right now. Like any sane person, she yanks her Lego hand away from yours, and you hurry up to put the money down and promptly make your escape, ducking your head and finding security merging into the sea of people.

Your heart hammers in your chest.

There you go, making it harder for yourself.

In the end, you settle for a Monkey King mask from the previous year's celebration. A red, mouthless thing with two openings for your eyes and many pretty worn patterns. It reminds you of a Sun Wukong variant, but you can't pinpoint which. Maybe a theater mask?

Cliché and cringe? Yes. It was hard getting your hands on something affordable and fashionable, so sue you! It’s also made of soft plastic, so it's disposable and molds to your facial needs quite nicely. Not to mention, you can customize it however you like! Bonus points.

Besides, in the possible occurrence of getting spotted by whoever, you want them to know you're not the enemy! And nothing brings more comfort to that gang of lovable scamps than the presence of the old Monkey King. Right? Right.

You are so smart.

You waste no time! Racing down the stairs after freshening up, you meet with Mr. Jianyi at the bottom just as he sees a customer out with pleasantries.

“Out again?” He asks, tone not judgmental, but you explain regardless.

“Yeah, I'm meeting up with some friends at the Anti-Gravity Arcade.” You say, adjusting the strap of your bag, stepping closer to the man. “I'll be back in a couple of hours before dark.”

“You are going out and about so late. I'm glad you're meeting new people, but it makes this old man worry.” He clicks his tongue, eyes closed pensively, taking a seat behind the register again. You can't help feeling touched by his concern, a bit surprised too.

“You shouldn't. I can take care of myself, Mr. Jianyi. I'll try getting a new phone ASAP in case I need to check up on the shop.”

The white-bearded man scoffs. “Bah! You don't need to ‘check up’ on anything after your shift is over. I've been managing this shop since before you were in diapers.” It's funny how he switches up once you turn your concerns to him. He is like an old grandpa. “You're better off getting a GPS and learning more Mandarin.

“And that?” He points at something on your side, “What is it, a costume party?”

Glancing down, you notice the monkey mask hanging off the strap of the bag, looking anything but inconspicuous. Yes, you still need to dull the colors with some diluted paint black wash, and combined with dark clothes, it works.

You don't want it to look suspicious to anyone else, so you proudly lift it to show its charismatic face to him. “Something like that. I want to use it for New Year's too, to get into the spirit of…newness.”

“It simply looks like you are a fan of Sun Wukong.” He muses, an entertained, somewhat annoyed quirk in his mouth. You frown, but don't deny it. “Remind me to properly introduce you to customary clothing for the celebrations, so you have something nice to wear, at least.”

Oh, sweet and sour old Jianyi, he has no idea that fashion will be the least of your worries that day.

Mr. Jianyi observes the mask with a clearly unimpressed expression, almost in disappointment with your explanation. He then reaches out with a hand to cutely boop its black nose firmly, as if already chastising it for the trouble you'll get into, before directing a warning glance at you.

“If you get into anything illegal, I'm not busting you out.”

You grin, rolling your eyes once you're sure he can't see, opening the front door, and throwing a wave behind you. “I'm not, promise. See ya tomorrow, ‘kaybye!”

Maybe you should scrap the idea of getting a phone and invest in buying that bike instead. You'd probably need to get a driver's license or something, which you have as good a chance of acquiring as learning how to ride a hoverboard without killing yourself.

By the time you reach the Arcade, you're in dire need of refreshments.

Buying a drink, avoiding the area with most people, you inch towards the front desk. The ambiance is of a constant party, even with the dance floor closed for repairs. If you were in the right mindset and not freaked out by your situation, and with the right people, you might've joined in.

Loser.

Anyways.

Your new mask is on. Only your eyes are visible, and you've made sure your hair is covered and unidentifiable, jacket hood pulled over your head.

Smoothly, you approach and slide the teenager in front and in charge of giving tokens a letter. Your entire being feels like a singular nerve, maybe because you are setting things into motion. You are taking risks you wouldn't dream of or ever do in real life.

The girl looks at the envelope, visibly unsettled by you, keeping her hands to herself.

“Please see the Monkie Kid gets this.” You raise your voice over the music, trying to make your smile reach your eyes, “Oh! And whatever this amount reaches for game tokens. Keep the rest as a tip.”

It's not much, but you know that giving Mei and Mk extra time to hang out and play can make your message more well-received. The girl opens her mouth, then closes it, takes the pay, converts it into coins, and puts them in a little goodie bag. You don't know if she labels it, but she takes the note and puts it in the bag.

Tipping always sweetens the deal!

“Thank you.” You repeat, parting with your hard-earned money for victory.

Out of curiosity, you stick around for an hour to poke and play some games. You did walk all the way here, after all. It's good fun, but not having someone to compete with or lose against kind of puts a damper on the fun. 

You promise yourself that once these several end-of-the-world events end, you'll muster up the courage to ask someone to hang out.

That's a nice thought.

A week later, you start to see a pattern.

Seven to eight days after each official episode passes before the next comes. It makes sense, considering Mk's comment about defeating their weekly bad guy on season…uhhh, four? Yeah, yeah, season four, when the scroll is introduced by Jin and Yin's collection of garbage.

It varies with each episode, sometimes one can last a couple of days, some a few hours. Season two is gonna suck.

As you officially start your stalker career, and though answering your earlier prayers, you find the city offers scooters for rental, and that's been your mode of transportation for all week.

You always make sure the mask is on you and that you're not following too closely behind Pigsy's tuk-tuk. Mk probably isn't paying attention anyway, not until Impossible Delivery, but you can never be too careful!

You’re about to call it quits and form plan B for meeting the demons, salty that they didn't show up before their debut episode as background characters or somewhere convenient. After that, they're all over the place. Surely you can't wait until then?

But now, slowing down to a stop behind Mk's parked delivery cart, you cheer in triumph. This is the place! This is Jin and Yin's hideout before outed by a faulty plan.

You don't feel fear parking the scooter against the wall (on the opposite side where the twins will bust up the building) and knock on the door, hoping that they haven't gotten too far into Mk's ‘Perfect Friends to Lovers’ storyline.

“Pizza delivery.” You call out.

“Ey?? Who's knockin’ now? Did you order something else, Yin?” A thickly accented voice asks from behind the door, followed by an indignated squawk. It gets closer to answering the door, so you wait.

“With how expensive the delivery fee was for them noodles?” He sounds offended, distracted enough to neglect paying attention when he answers the door. “Thanks a lot for covering that, by the way. That was gonna be lu-”

Cerulean blue skin, large horns connected to his forehead, bright red eyes, silver hair, pointed ears (why do demons get to have the normal features? This is so unfair), Yin looks canon. Unsurprisingly, the rest of him looks average, the same height as you, same hands. Jin and Yin look exactly alike, discounting the clear color scheme mismatch. 

He screams. A pitched, girlish scream as he jumps five feet into the air and away from you, his entire frame bristling like a startled cat. Your eyebrows rise, wincing from getting yelled at on your face, while the brothers freak out, hugging each other.

“Mate, that's the Monkey King!”

“What's he doing here!! I thought you said he's a shut-in in his fancy schmancy mountain!”

“I-I don't know! Maybe he smelled the noodles?”

“Bro.”

“Bruh.”

Unofficially invited in, you step inside the abandoned building and shut the door behind you with a foot, ignoring them to look around. This place is a dump- a well-hidden one, a far cry from a respectable hideout. City villains need to up their evil lair layouts.

Come to think of it, do any of the villains/antagonists have proper homes? Aside from DBK and Princess Iron Fan, everyone is either in decaying establishments or in the literal sewers.

Damn girl, you live like this?

“Sorry to interrupt.” You not-so apologetically interrupt, halting their conversation. “I'm not the Monkey King.”

The Gold and Silver demons stop their escalating bickering about whose fault their secret hideout was discovered to look at you with matching skepticism. You're watched by two judgmental cats that ping-pong a singular brain cell between them.

“Well, duh!” Jin separates first, leaving Yin to catch his footing. “We knew that!”

“Yeah! The real Monkey King could never find us out here!” Yin continues defensively, dramatically pointing at you. “His little student didn't even see it comin’, creepy mask-wearing person!”

“What are you even doing here, anywho? Who are you? Are you a spy? Or one of the Monkie Kid's friends?” In sync, the brothers go back to back, striking a Snake and Crane sort of pose. It's not very intimidating, but cool. “‘Cause we ain't afraid to fight!”

Holding back a smile, relieved these two are that goofy and not real threats to the world, you completely deflect their questions. Their combined forms block the view of the infamous Calabash currently holding Mk captive, and you take it as a good sign.

“You planned this hit thoroughly.” You comment, stepping around them to observe the messy plan pinned on the wall. It's crude, at best. Unimpressive, perfect. “It must've taken a lot of time to plan the exact moment the Monkie Kid would come and keep him trapped inside your relic.”

You don't see it, but hear the sound of a sweat drop from their direction, and they scramble, with Jin flying to uselessly cover the many pictures of the gang, and Yin poorly hiding the Calabash behind his back.

“How do ya know ‘bout that?” The blue demon asked accusingly, “You some sort of professional stalker?”

“Don't take it personally,” Jin adds, unhelpfully.

You tap the side of your mask, peering at them with consideration.

“I'm just someone who thinks the strong have a right to rise to power fully.” The lie slips out easily, a little hesitant, unavoidable. “And that this city deserves the terror of being ruled by the Gold and Silver demons.”

I am merely someone who thinks the Great Spider Queen has been absent from her throne for too long.

No, stop that, you aren't like that, your plans are the opposite of that. They're not the same methods, searching for different results.

Your palms get sweaty.

…

“Are you a fan of ours?”

They're easily starting to become your new favorite unproblematic antagonists. “Sure.”

“Sweet! A bit earlier than I thought the word would spread, but sweet.”

“Here's the deal, guys.” You wave them off, leaning back against their table with scattered papers and discarded plans. “I propose an alliance. We want similar things.”

Your words are just that, and as the twins squint at you, they inch closer to each other, sparing you a warning glance before falling into a loud, hushed conversation. You're not sure you sold yourself as hard as you need to, but when they turn around with tentative expressions, you hope.

“Right, right, we want the same.” Yin nods slowly, Jin narrows his eyes at you. “But, uh, just so we're on the same page, what are you getting out of this?”

“Yeah! Hope you're not looking to get paid!”

You reflexively bite back a snort, crossing your arms and nodding toward the gourd-shaped relic in their hands. Got ‘em. “The fall of the Monkie Kid, of course.”

Chapter Text

In Journey to the West, the Calabash isn't as nice to its prisoners. While it lures and traps the victims relatively the same, the consequences are much more dire. It was like a stomach, trapping and digesting them from their clothes to their bones, until there was nothing left but soup.

Here, well, it's not kinder, but certainly less fatal.

All one has to do is speak into the mouth, and there's a tiny glowing screen on the side to view what's happening. A modernized version, a fortune to those who don't work well under a time limit.

The demons allow you to watch their plan unfold, and you just wait for Mk to finish up his perfect day off with the perfect city and perfect world, knowing it won't be long before the uncanniness of it all gets to him. It would be a good horror movie premise to awaken in a flawless life and be made to believe your real life was just a dream.

…Hah, maybe that is what's happening to you. Maybe you're in a fake reality or asleep.

Man, if you go through all this effort just to wake up to ‘it was all a dream’ bullshit you're rioting.

 Jin and Yin argue over the impossibility of romance between Mk and Mei and how badly received the plot is by said young hero. You would have warned them, cringing to yourself, but it's not crucial to stop them from embarrassing themselves. Plus, it's funny.

It's funny, somewhat traumatizing.

It's character development.

Speaking of development.

“Mk, there's something I've wanted to tell you,” Jin starts, pitching his voice girlishly, exaggerated eyelashes batting flirtatiously at the air, “Since the first day we met. Mk, I-I…I…love you.”

You can practically hear the gagging sounds from the poor boy, cringing underneath the mask as Yin throws a fit at his brother over it. He suddenly lunges for the Calabash, clashing and kicking at each other for control. It's giving ‘mom said it's my turn on the remote’ vibes.

“No, it's my turn!”

“You're just gonna tell ‘im everything is perfect again!”

“Oi! You forfeited your turn when you told me they should be in love!”

“Ah?! That was your idea!” Yin shouts in offense, pointing aggressively at the thread connecting the two protagonists with a major romantic plot.

Jin sputters, quickly shredding and scrapping that idea like that would erase the mistake already made. “But they're just friends! You should know that!”

“I don't know why that was even a thing. If those two liked each other like that, they'd be together right now.” You speak over them, bored out of your mind. It's taking forever for them to finish up with the artifact, and their creative liberties are extending it. Liberties…loverties? “Go over the plan again.”

“I was gonna!” Yin glares, pulling a massive book from nowhere, some parts of it bookmarked, slamming it onto the table before trailing a finger to a specific part.

“Okay, let's see…step one: imprison Monkie Kid in the Calabash.” “Right.” “Done!”

“Step two: convince Monkie Kid he's not in the Calabash.” “Okay, we'll call that one ‘work in progress’. Next!”

“That's- that's it, just the two steps.” Yin sweats.

“Aww, we really need to put more time into the development stage,” Jin complains, resting his two arms behind his head.

Jin and Yin could be such good sidekicks to the right demon if their pride allowed them to step down from the antagonist's delusion. They're not good at making plans, but they're good at following them step by step as long as they think they had the idea first. If this show didn't spiral into dreadful existentialism, they'd be perfect to keep it PG and lighthearted.

This is an example of a good idea, but poor execution.

A perfect world can't exist because it is unrealistic, a fantasy, driven by naive idealism. To cater to one person (in this case, Mk) is to trample over the personalities of the people they love, making the illusion pointless. It's the entire point of defeating the Lady Bone Demon, because she is a crazy demon scrabbling for an unreachable goal. 

If you had a hand in this plan, the thing you'd change would be how perfect the world is. That and remove the part Monkey King sweeps in to ‘reassure’ the kid, because Jin and Yin seem under the impression that the Great Sage hovers over his successor all the time.

Now that's an idea.

“It's salvageable,” You lie, and man, aren't you getting pretty good at that? “Just play it off as an awkward friend hangout, and let him leave. If you try to make him stay, it'll freak him out more.”

Yin narrows his eyes at you, a distrustful expression that's starting to get old. He seems to have a problem with your meddling the most out of the two of them, even though you're ‘helping’ them. You're just glad he's still just silly enough not to boot you out right now.

“Listen, the fact is that if you keep pushing,  the Monkie Kid will get suspicious and start asking questions.” You click your tongue, uncrossing your arms to grab what you hope is a smoke bomb, tossing it between your hands. “Take the L and let him cool off, then let me take over for a minute.”

“Who died and made you boss?” Yin huffs, pouting.

You raise an eyebrow to yourself. “You two when the Monkie Kid manages to escape. You think he won't be craving a fight once he realizes he's been bamboozled?”

 Right, that part. You might've gotten ahead of yourself and let it slip that Mk will break out of the Calabash on his own to gain their trust. Jin and Yin don't believe you, you haven't exactly proved how you can be an asset, and don't plan to tell a couple of loose mouths know the whole “knowing the daunting future” thing. You need this specific artifact to be intact, so you're getting your hands dirty by meddling with the episode.

It's not in the plans, it's not one of the magical objects you sought to save, so you weighed the options and concluded it's not a big deal if they know a couple of sweet deets.

“Right, and you haven't told us how you know all of that.” Jin presses, leaning over you just to snatch plan B to ‘smoke and dip’ from your hands. 

You sigh, “And I'm not going to.”

“And why do you sound like that?” Yin challenges, raising a brow. You can hear the sound of a gun cocking.

“Like what?”

“Weird.”

“You look weird.”

“Wha-? You're the creepy one with your mask and black clothing! Creepy!”

Jin taps his chin, already phasing out of frame and reappearing to grab the relic, smiling cheekily while you and Yin are distracted hashing it out verbally. “Alright, alright, I can fix this."

“Ha ha, did I say ‘in love’?” He starts, again, in that pitched voice that makes your face shrink into your cranium. “I meant to say, I love being your friend!” Followed by more giggling. He looks over to his brother, who approves with a thumbs-up. “I think I nailed it.”

“Let's make sure.”

After the extremely awkward parting (fleeing) Mk does, Jin grins victoriously, thinking it a crisis averted. Only then does he give you a turn, telling you to just picture Monkey King being his awesome self (he didn't describe him that way) speak into the metal mouthpiece, and act natural.

You are a bit nervous. Is this technically the first time you've spoken to Mk? Well, no, it's you talking through Monkey King's image, so you're fine, safe. Conjuring the scene of said simian descending from the sky on his cloud, just as Mk runs into a secluded alleyway, you summon your best imitation of his voice, a lazy drawl characteristic of season one.

“How you doin’ down there?” You grimace, but it's not like anyone can see. “How’s it goin’?”

Mk squeaks, jumping in place and whirling around and striking a vague martial arts pose. “Monkey King?! Wait a minute, what are you doing here?”

“Oh, you know, hangin’, chilling, Monkey King’ing around. Anyway, enough about me, what's with you? You seem agitated.” You get another dirty look for that; this time. Those are the exact words the two of them would use to impersonate the Great Sage. It's a bit dirty to use that knowledge to help the illusion that you know what you’re doing, a little cheat slip. Surely nothing can go wrong with that.

“Um, yeah! I mean, everyone's got a dumb brain! DBK is somehow trapped under the mountain but I can't remember that, Pigsy gave me the day off, Mei said she-” An audible gag, “Loves me. I don't know what's going on. I think I'm going crazy!”

“Slow down.” You can't help but snicker, imagining Fake Monkey King lowering to the ground. You stray from the original script a little, unable to resist rearranging the plan a bit more. “It sounds like you're suffering from success, dude. A day off, free stuff, enemies defeated? Why are we complaining again?”

“I'm not complaining!” he pouts, “I'm just saying it's weird! Didn't you hear me just say my best friend confessed to me? That's so gross!”

Fair enough. Time to up the annoying teacher act.

“Ahh, it's all very normal! I mean, aside from the love thing, everything looks good!” You exercise that #gaslight ability, ignoring the twins progressively inch closer, acting like they're not invested. “Perfect, even!”

Mk's face is betrayed, so you make Fake Monkey King ruffle his head, making the young man squeak indignantly and bat away the offending Lego claw. “Buuuut I get what you're saying, about feeling off, ‘specially as a young hero. I guess I can impart some of my sage knowledge upon your mortal brain. Remember the whole confidence bit?”

“Yeah, it's kinda hard to forget when it's the third statement you say when I don't get a move right.” Mk rolls his eyes.

“Yeah. Branch out a little bit. Confidence has a lot of perks, it's not just there to make you feel good. Most and foremost, you have to trust yourself, your intuition, and then trust those around you when you can't.” Honestly, you should be teaching Mk the technical stuff, even if you'd drone out a bit more than Monkey King would. Mk could benefit from having things laid out instead of getting vague directions and phrases.

Not everyone has a poet's brain, Wukong.

“Uh-huh, uh-huh, so what you're saying is…”

“I'm saying to trust your gut.”

“And not my friends that are acting weird?”

“In some cases.”

“Including you?”

Oh, you can hear Jin and Yin bristling behind you in a fiery aura. You're walking a fine line between convincing them to cooperate and laying down hints and they could catch on soon. Time to wrap it up with the good old cheating code. Plagiarism. 

“N-Never mind, bud. The point is, that you have awesome powers, awesome instincts, and an even more awesome mentor. So! Don't worry about it.”

Mk rubs his chin, narrowing his eyes. “That… sounds like pretty solid advice! Minus the last part… Not the part where you're awesome! It's not like you to give me a straight answer.”

Okay so maybe you are going a bit overboard time to wrap it up.  “Haha yeah, well, don't worry about it. This is very normal.”

Awkward silence. Mk nods slowly, and you hope that's a sign of understanding. “Riiiiight, so, I'm gonna go…Kay bye!”

Before you can say another word, the Calabash is rudely ripped out of your hands, Jin peering into the small screen with squinting eyes. “That…surprisingly went well.”

“You completely butchered Monkey King's character, by the way” Yin flails his arms at you, a small distraction from the pounding inside your chest.. “Everyone knows he's the punch-punch-kick action guy, not Mr. Wise Guy!”

You blink, “He is also Mk's teacher so, uh, he's gonna teach. Even if badly. Trust me, this is the better outcome than just telling Mk; “Don't worry bud, it's all very normal! My power's just so great!” He's a bit clueless, but his instincts are unmatched."

Jin lifts his gaze from the Calabash, sharing another look with Yin that's blank, a novelty. You can't decipher what it means, and after saying so many consecutive lies, you actually don't care to. Let them think what they want, you're the one keeping the plan afloat.

“Aight.” Yin finally says, shrugging easily, that the mental conversation has reached its conclusion. “You know your stuff, what's step three?”

“Wha-? Wait, really?” If you weren't so caught off guard by the cede, you would snort. “You're surrendering the plan?”

With a scoff, Jin approaches, pulling the Calabash from behind his back, clearly intending to pass it on to you. A part of you is smug about it, to be acknowledged as the one with the better idea, while the other gives your stomach a twist at the thought of being in charge.

“We're not surrendering it, we're collaborating. There's a difference.” He rolls his eyes, thrusting his hand toward you, a begrudging energy about him. “Besides, the Monkie Kid believed ya, and he's still trapped. So, we'll believe you want to, uh, what was it again?”

“Have an alliance.” You remind them, eyeing the relic like it would explode. And you don't want that.

“Right.” The blue demon nods. “Also, our steps worked fine capturing the Monkie Kid, so we call it even!”

“A twenty-five to seventy-five let's say!” Yin interjects, comically serious as he stands back to back with his brother again.

A weight lifts from your shoulders. Now that they've agreed to help, or collab, you can check off another thing off the list. After this episode, the real deal begins, and having the support of these two untouchable characters very much eases the path.

“It's a deal then.” Extending a hand, pleased with yourself, you pause, a telling glow emanating from the ancient prison at Jin's hand, followed by a crack. Then two.

Time's up. Mk must've taken the staff back by now and that's your sign to make your graceful exit.

You wipe your hands on your pants. “Alright boys, I've gotta go. Meet me at the Anti-Gravity Arcade next Thursday around sunset. We'll discuss everything in detail.”

The twins get astounded looks on their faces, watching as you quite hurriedly make your way to the door after reaching the compromise. Not suspicious at all. “You're leaving???”

“What, you think I can afford these low-profile fits on hopes and dreams? I have to work, and you have a young hero to free.” The glow intensifies, and the Calabash starts to shake, drawing their attention and igniting what you can describe as headless chicken panic.

“He's breaking out!”

“Quickly, grab the tape!”

“That's not gonna help, he's literally destroying it from the inside!”

“W-Well, let him go! At this rate, we'll have to fight him while he's mad!”

You don't stay around to see the rest of it, slipping through the door and speed-walking your way back to the rental scooter. Just in time, too, because just as you start it and hop on, Jin and Yin perform their smoke bomb (aka, plan B) bit and scuttle out like possums. They gloat, and it's glorious cowardice in action.

You only catch a glimpse of an orange jacket and the golden glare of the hooped staff, but you're already speeding off at velocities that would worry someone's mother.

Victory!

Mk,

Next time, practice stranger danger more effectively, do not give your name easily. and do not lower your guard, focus on your surroundings.

Go to pier ten next week for future messages. There will be no one waiting. There will be no more notes left at the arcade. Do not tell anyone about the notes.

Sincerely, 

Mentor Three.