The Two Kings

Smartie Kid

The Monkey Kids found themselves in the middle of a scorching desert. Barely a day had passed since their escape from the Dragon Palace of the East Sea, and now they were trekking westward in the TEA. Sandy, calm as ever, was at the wheel, while the rest of the crew—besides Parker and Wukong—were sprawled in the back, sweating up a storm.

"Are we sure we're going in the right direction?" Sandy asked, squinting at the horizon and moving the visor to block out the glaring sun.

"Not a clue," Tang replied, his voice laced with exasperation. "All Monkey King said was 'head west,' so—"

Tang's words were cut short as Mei, now back in her original outfit, darted forward and snatched the map.

"How did anyone ever get anywhere using these?!" she exclaimed, shaking it with frustration.

While the chaos unfolded, Parker made his way to the driver's area, looking as relaxed as ever.

"Yo, blue guy," Wukong called from the back, his body glowing faintly gold as he levitated a foot off the ground in a meditative pose. "Think you could crank up the AC, brother?"

"I don't know what you guys are complaining about." Parker stretched, clearly unbothered by the heat. With a grin, he shrugged off his jacket and tossed it onto the red bunk bed nearby. "This is perfect weather."

He turned on his heel, already heading toward the back door. "I'm gonna go tan. Bye~"

Without waiting for a response, Parker opened the door and leaped onto the roof of the TEA, slamming it shut behind him.

"That guy's perfect vacation spot is probably the surface of the sun," Pigsy grumbled.

"Oh yeah! Nice and warm!" Parker's voice rang out, muffled but cheery from above the vehicle.

"Somehow, I don't doubt that," Tang muttered, shaking his head.

Meanwhile, Parker sprawled out on the roof, his hands tucked under his head as he gazed up at the blazing sun. He let out a content sigh, peeling off his sleeveless turtleneck and folding it into a makeshift pillow.

As the van rumbled beneath him, Parker's gaze drifted downward, his eyes tracing the jagged scars, burn marks, and old wounds crisscrossing his skin. His fingers brushed over a particularly large scar on his belly. He pressed his hand against it, his expression unreadable.

After a tense moment of silence, he finally spoke, his voice quiet but firm. "Hey, guy. I know you can hear me."

The reply came instantly, sharp and unimpressed. "What do you want?"

Parker smirked faintly. "Since we're probably gonna be spending a lot more time together, I figured I should at least know your name. Seems fair, right?"

"Absolutely not," the warrior's voice snapped, clearly irritated.

"What?! Why not?"

"Because," the voice replied, dripping with disdain, "I don't want you getting attached to me, little sun."

Parker rolled his eyes and flopped back down onto his makeshift pillow. He sighed heavily, turning onto his stomach and propping himself up on his elbows.

"Believe me, that is not gonna happen," he muttered. "Name?"

The voice hesitated for a beat, then finally gave in. "Fine. You can call me... Perfection."