Risks and Rewards (Of a Life so Simple)

Snatched

Once upon a time, Deco was a heavy sleeper. It was long ago, when he was young, and he had so many worries that he felt it better to ignore his reality for as long as possible. He didn't want to be awake to hear the adults argue about what they thought was wrong with him.

In the early years of his exile, he didn't sleep nearly as much. He was wracked with paranoia, convinced that the other Salmonid there would break into his house and steal his egg in the night. His house was broken into on most Glowfly nights anyway, so he didn't feel particularly unreasonable in this fear.

Then Benny arrived, and his distrust made his sleep even more sporadic. A stranger, in his house, indefinitely! How was he meant to sleep well under such conditions?

By the time they left the village, though, his sleeping schedule had gotten better, proportionate to his trust of Benny. He didn't sleep too well on the mountain; a predictable relapse in an unfamiliar location.

His nights were restless the first few months at the mansion he currently resided in, as well. But over time, he realized just how safe and quiet the nights here were. He was deep, deep in the building, no fog, no Glowflies, no nothing. He could rest with very few worries. He slept heavily again for the first time in a long while.

And now, his guppy was here, at long last. Curled up into his stomach, snoring softly. He slept a bit lighter, if only so he could wake when she needed something, but he was calm. He felt safe. Nothing in the building could hurt either of them.

That night, he heard a sound. It didn't sound like a noise his Treasure would make, so he wasn't completely roused from slumber by it.

His door creaked open.

He had gotten out of his habit of locking it. Sometimes, Benny would gently push his door open, and they'd talk in the dark about the things that had happened to them in the exile town, and soon after he'd depart, feeling reassured. So he kept his door unlocked, in case the other ever needed a pick-me-up, late hour be darned.

But now that he had his guppy, it was less than convenient to be awoken so late, because she'd likely wake up as well. He let out a soft groan as he heard soft footsteps creep across the floor, pausing at his noise.

"Nnnnnn, friend Benny...now is bad time." He said, barely a whisper in the darkness. He hadn't opened his eyes. He had decent night vision, but he didn't feel like he needed it. "Not want wake guppy...talk in morning..."

There was no response. The footsteps creeped towards him again, softer this time, like they were trying not to be heard.

Deco groaned again. "Deco said tomorrow...!" He hissed. He opened one eye to glare.

It wasn't Benny.

He had no idea who that was.

He opened his mouth to scream, but the intruder lunged forward, their fins clasped over his snout to keep it shut.

He thrashed, body filled with panic and fear and anger. Something was slipped over his muzzle, keeping his mouth shut even as he was hurled off the bed, tumbling to the floor.

His guppy let out a high-pitched, clipped chime.

Deco hurled himself back onto the bed, and launched himself at the intruder. He collided with their body, flailing, fins yanking and slapping and tail hurling his body weight around. His mouth couldn't open and he couldn't bite or scream or clamp down, and he had gotten out of habit of keeping his pan on the nightstand months ago. He only had his body, and whatever he could do with it that didn't involve teeth.

The intruder grabbed him by the neck, pulled him away from their body, and squeezed. Deco flailed and thrashed, held above the ground and barely able to breath out his nose.

The intruder hurled him to the ground, and hit him in the stomach with some kind of blunt object. Hard.

The wind was knocked out of him, and whatever was keeping his mouth shut prevented any noise from escaping it. It all came out muffled.

He was pathetically unequipped to fight back against whoever this was, he understood, and as he looked up from the ground with pained tears in his eyes, he saw an awful, heart-stopping sight.

A stranger, form unclear and vague in the darkness, with fins clamped tight around his Treasure. Treasure, letting out chime after chime, choppy, like Morse code.

Her whiskers lighting up, trying to shock the stranger over and over again, but stopped by the whisker tippers. She was harmless, helpless, and defenseless.

A metal rod was held in the stranger's other fin. It reared back to strike Deco again.

The breath knocked out of him from the last strike, he was unable to raise his fins very far to block the next one. The rod collided with one fin, and pain shot through it. Like a fractured bone. He desperately tried to cry out, but his mouth was immovable.

He tried desperately to right himself, but the moment he tried to brace himself on the struck fin he collapsed back on the ground.

The stranger, masked, dressed in black, seemed satisfied with having incapacitated him, and turned to leave. Treasure continued to chime in distress, whiskers permanently aglow with harmless light.

Deco's body filled with rage and adrenaline. He forced himself up, whole body protesting, and dashed at the intruder, head-butting them as hard as he could.

They stumbled, and twirled around, striking him upside the head with the rod. He collided with the wall. Muffled cries contained in his maw, barely audible in the darkness.

The stranger dashed down the hall, faster than Deco could move in his weakened state. He stumbled after them, cradling his injured arm, and threw himself at the intruder one more time.

He barely even made contact, but it was enough that they stopped again. A faint frustrated sound bubbled up in their throat. One more swing of the rod.

It collided with his nose, and in a swift, visceral moment, he felt his nose ring rip through his skin, flying off, stained with blood, impacting the wall and then the floor.

He felt blood, warm, leak down his face.

He couldn't scream.

He hobbled after the intruder, but they were too fast, and Deco too bruised and beaten. He heard his guppy chime, heard the sound of a window opening. By the time he reached it, the intruder was gone. His guppy was gone.

He couldn't scream. He was too weak to pursue. He worried if he'd even survive the single-story fall.

He couldn't pursue. His guppy was gone. He was bleeding, and he couldn't scream.

He couldn't do anything. His guppy was gone, and he had been powerless to save her.

He limped, weakly but as fast as he could through the hall. He navigated, blearily through the dark, to Meep's door. He banged on it with his uninjured fin. Tears streamed down his face. He was powerless. His guppy was gone. His guppy was gone. He could barely breathe. His guppy was gone.

The door opened, and Meep screamed at the sight of him. Deco could hear the sounds of movement through the rest of the house as others were woken by the sound. He wished he'd been able to scream. He couldn't scream. He could barely breathe.

The Octoling was rapidly saying things to him, backing away, back into her room. He could barely find the strength to follow. He lost sight of her in the dark. She returned with scissors.

He heard rapid footsteps approaching from the hall, heard Benny scream as well. Meep cut the thing off his muzzle, and it fell to the ground.

A choked noise escaped him. He could barely breathe, but he could finally scream.

He screamed, wailed, cried out in anguish and pain. Blood from his nose mixed with tears and snot and spit. His guppy was gone. His Treasure was gone.

It was like some sick footnote to Murphy's Law. If there was a Great Zapfish, someone was going to steal it.

Deco passed out.