Chapter 13: the Show is about to begin.

The gramophone lets out a proud wah-wah-wah as if a curtain has just lifted on the strangest stage in existence.

Cat throws his paws wide.

“Awww!”

A laugh track erupts.

“Oooo!”

Another laugh track follows.

It sounds like a studio audience made entirely of ghosts who were promised snacks.

White Rabbit has completely stopped paying attention.

Her tendrils have slithered up Wicked’s arm and are gently—very gently—coaxing the parasite tendril that coils around him. The two strange appendages twist together like curious snakes learning each other’s shape.

Wicked immediately covers his face with both hands.

From somewhere beneath the mask of his palms—

A quiet “mwah.”

White Rabbit giggles.

Not a cute giggle.

A giggle that clearly means someone might die later.

Cat clears his throat loudly.

“Now now! There is only so much kissing allowed during the broadcast!”

He flicks his cane toward them.

“But for those interested in the after-dark special—”

He winks dramatically.

“—premium seating is available!”

The laugh track howls.

It goes on far too long.

Wicked groans.

“I really don’t like voyeurs…”

From inside his body, the parasite voice chirps brightly in a much higher pitch.

“You better negotiate a larger cut.”

Angelica bursts into delighted laughter.

Envy remains perfectly composed.

He pours himself a cup of tea.

His smile never changes.

Not even slightly.

Cat, meanwhile, fluffs the thick catlike ruff around his neck, smoothing the blue fur dramatically as he prepares the next introduction.

He spins the cane and slams it once on the table.

“And how about a round of applause—”

He throws both paws toward the tall blue door.

“—for PRIDE!”

The room waits.

Cat continues speaking anyway.

“Now Pride is a man of—ACTION!”

BOOM!

An explosion sound effect blasts through the room.

“—PLANS!”

BOOM!

Another explosion.

“—and—”

BOOM!

Cat pauses.

Then another explosion goes off.

BOOM!

And another.

BOOM!

Cat slowly looks down.

White Rabbit is sitting beside the table pressing a large red button over and over again with pure gremlin delight.

“Stop.”

BOOM

“Stop.”

BOOM

“Stop you rodent!”

Cat raises the cane like he is about to swat her into next Tuesday.

White Rabbit immediately shrinks into her seat with delighted giggles.

Mission accomplished.

But before Cat can swing—

Someone clears their throat.

Everyone slowly turns.

Standing on the wrong side of the table is Pride.

No entrance.

No door.

No theatrics.

Just a towering 6'10" soldier in a dark uniform, tie perfectly straight, hands folded behind his back.

He looks exhausted.

Completely unimpressed.

Cat blinks.

“…Pride.”

Pride stares at him.

“…ah.”

Cat lowers the cane slowly.

“You… what ever.”

He sighs dramatically and gestures toward the giant soldier like a host who has lost control of his own show.

“Pride.”

He straightens his coat again and gives the proper explanation.

“Master of Arms.”

The room quiets slightly.

“General of the Ancient War.”

Even White Rabbit stops pressing buttons.

“And one of the only men in the Divide who understands how to build living machines.”

Pride says nothing.

He simply walks to his chair with quiet, heavy steps.

The table creaks slightly under the weight of his presence.

He sits.

Adjusts his cuffs.

And stares at the tea cup in front of him like it personally insulted him sometime in 1913.

Cat claps his paws again quickly.

“Wonderful!”

The gramophone plays a cheerful trumpet flourish.

“And now that the cast has arrived…”

He leans forward.

Eyes gleaming.

“…the show may finally begin.”
----

Silence.

Then—

Pride clears his throat.

Not loudly.

Just enough.

But when Pride clears his throat, it lands in the room like a dropped shell casing.

Cat freezes.

Slowly, Pride speaks.

“You are failing your job.”

The words are simple.

Sharp.

Cruel in the way only Pride knows how to make them.

Failure.

Cat’s enormous grin stays exactly where it is.

But one eye twitches.

Just once.

He slowly turns his head toward Pride.

Still smiling.

Still sparkling.

“…oh.”

He mutters quietly under his breath.

“I hate my job.”

He straightens up again and taps his cane once, forcing the host’s energy back into his voice.

“Ah-ha!”

He leans forward theatrically.

“How could I forget!”

His grin stretches wider.

“The last—”

He points his cane toward the door.

“—and most important!”

Envy’s smile tightens.

“Auntie’s favorite!”

Envy’s teacup cracks slightly in his grip.

“And of course—”

Cat spreads both paws wide.

“Lu'dunum!”

A few heads turn.

“The Master of Dreams!”

Angelica claps her hands happily.

“And—much like Angelica here—”

Cat winks dramatically.

“—the distributor of extremely powerful drugs.”

Before Cat even finishes the sentence, Schizo has already moved.

He scampers quietly to the tall blue door and pulls it open.

Lu stands there.

Delicate.

Thin.

And visibly exhausted.

His work clothes are gone—shredded to useless ribbons somewhere earlier in the day.

In their place he wears something… strange.

A modern ballet outfit.

Fitted.

Flowing.

Elegant in a slightly ridiculous way.

The shoes have steel heels that click softly every time he steps.

His hands wear white dress gloves.

The fabric stained faint pink in places where something had soaked through.

He holds himself gently.

Like a person who has been through a long day but refuses to let it show.

His smile is soft.

A little weak.

But still kind.

He waves.

White Rabbit immediately begins shouting.

“CHAIR! GET HIM A CHAIR!”

Wicked raises a hand weakly.

Angelica slowly sips from her glass with very strange interest.

Envy stares at Lu like he is a stain on the tablecloth.

Pride does not even look up.

Lu quietly takes a seat near one end of the table.

At the opposite end sits Cat.

Perfect symmetry.

Lu lowers himself carefully into the chair.

Then pauses.

He glances down.

Hard wood.

No cushion.

A quiet little whimper escapes him.

His pillow… is gone.

Schizo notices immediately.

He leans closer and whispers.

“Did you lose your pillow?”

Lu nods sadly.

He gives a small guilty smile.

Schizo pulls out a crayon and a scrap of paper and scribbles quickly.

replace lu pillow

He tucks the note carefully into his pocket.

White Rabbit suddenly barks loudly from across the table.

“LU!”

He looks up.

“You can sit on my lap!”

The room pauses.

Because Lu is six feet tall.

White Rabbit is three feet tall.

This is a terrible structural plan.

Before anyone can respond—

Wicked quietly raises a hand.

“…um.”

He gestures downward.

“I’m already on her lap.”

White Rabbit pauses.

“Huh.”

She thinks about this for a moment.

Then slams both tiny fists on the table with triumphant enthusiasm.

“I CAN TAKE TWO!”

The room erupts.

Angelica laughs wildly.

Cat claps his paws.

Even Schizo snorts quietly.

The jokes bounce back and forth across the table as the party slowly settles into its chaotic rhythm.
---------

The room settles.

Not quietly.

Never quietly.

But into that strange rhythm only this particular table understands.

Tea cups clink.

Pink bubbles drift lazily overhead.

The gramophone hums along in the background like it enjoys the gossip.

Angelica leans across the table immediately.

“Before we start,” she sighs dramatically, placing a hand across her chest, “does anyone notice how radiant I look tonight?”

Envy glances up.

Deadpan.

“You look exactly the same as the last eight thousand years.”

Angelica beams.

“Thank you!”

Envy blinks.

“…that was not a compliment.”

“Oh hush,” Angelica giggles, brushing imaginary dust from her wings. “Beauty is eternal.”

White Rabbit suddenly pipes up.

“I saw a man today whose spine came out when he sneezed!”

The table goes quiet.

“Was that… bad?” Wicked asks carefully.

White Rabbit shrugs happily.

“I put it back!”

Angelica tilts her head.

“Did you put it back correctly?”

White Rabbit thinks.

“…probably.”

Wicked pats her shoulder.

“I’m proud of you.”

Rabbit beams with murderous pride.

Across the table, Envy stirs his tea slowly.

“I saw something amusing today as well.”

Angelica leans closer.

“Was it me?”

“No.”

She pouts.

“A worker slipped into a vat and dissolved.”

Angelica perks up again.

“Oh! Was it dramatic?”

“Very.”

Lu looks quietly horrified.

Envy smirks.

Angelica leans forward toward Lu.

“You know, dear, if you fall into any vats again I would be very happy to personally nurse you back to health.”

Lu nearly chokes on his tea.

Cat coughs loudly.

Wicked mutters quietly to Rabbit.

“She means something else.”

“I know,” Rabbit says cheerfully.

Then she raises a tiny finger.

“Oh! Speaking of today!”

Everyone groans softly.

“I tried juggling three heads!”

“Please stop talking,” Envy says immediately.

“But it worked!” Rabbit insists.

“Did you drop them?” Wicked asks.

“Only once.”

Wicked nods thoughtfully.

“Practice makes perfect.”

“I brought one with me if anyone wants to see—”

“No,” Pride says flatly without looking up.

Rabbit sulks.

“Fine.”

Across the table, Pride has leaned slightly toward Schizo.

They have been talking this entire time without acknowledging the rest of the table.

“You see,” Pride explains with unusual enthusiasm, sketching shapes on a napkin, “if the tread angle increases by eight degrees, the weight distribution improves dramatically on uneven ground.”

Schizo nods deeply.

“Tracks instead of wheels?”

“Yes.”

Pride taps the napkin firmly.

“Tracks win wars.”

Schizo listens like a student hearing poetry.

Angelica waves a hand.

“You boys and your machines.”

Pride ignores her completely.

Schizo asks another question.

“Do the living engines feel pain?”

Pride considers this.

“Some.”

Schizo nods thoughtfully.

“That’s fascinating.”

Meanwhile, Wicked is still trying to hide his face as Rabbit chatters happily.

“I killed a man who tried to mug me today!”

“Technically you dissolved him,” Wicked corrects.

“That still counts!”

“You’re improving.”

“Do you think people are proud of me?”

Wicked pats her head.

“I am.”

Rabbit smiles so hard it almost looks sweet.

Lu sits quietly for a moment.

Then murmurs softly—

“I saw a frog today.”

The table pauses.

“What kind of frog?” Wicked asks politely.

“Green.”

Angelica sighs dreamily.

“That’s adorable.”

Envy rolls his eyes.

“Your standards for excitement are painfully low.”

Lu smiles faintly.

“I liked him.”

White Rabbit suddenly leans forward.

“Did you kill him?”

“No.”

“…missed opportunity.”

The gramophone pops loudly as another pink bubble bursts overhead.

Cat leans back in his chair watching the entire chaos unfold with quiet satisfaction.

For a moment—

Just a moment—

They really do look like a strange family sharing stories around a table.