Never As It Seems

Epilogue

The "Revision" Division of AY5 was an interesting place. Of course, no one actually called it the Revision Division, as that seemed too nice a term for such a department. It was the place certain enemies received psychological torture of various degrees, depending on how horrendous they had been.  

It was a clean place - shining surfaces, mirrors, uncomfortable plastic chairs, thick grey carpets, and so on. There were also doors along the walls, barely marked expect for plates in the center with numbers for each door. At the center of the room there was a long desk, and this was the place where Flames walked to.  

He cleared his throat as he approached a lady sitting in the center with brunette hair tied in a neat ponytail. She glanced up at him. 

"Yes?" 

"I scheduled a visit to see the Fuzzy Guy at 2:00?" 

She looked at him for a brief moment and then turned her head to her computer and began typing. "Yes, I believe you do. Amanda?" 

A girl with long black hair and a great deal of eyeliner popped her head around a corner. "Yeah?" 

"Come escort Mr. Pond to Room 4C, please."  

She nodded and found her way to him.  

"That's just down this hall," she said to him. He nodded.  

"You know, you're like my hero."  

His eyes widened and he stared at her. "What? Really?" 

"Yeah, I mean, you had to go through all that with people thinking you killed that girl, and you went on that mission anyway. And the part at the end, when you were all alone with that guy and all the guards, it's just - wow." 

Flames smiled. "Well, thanks." 

"No problem. Anyway, your room's right here. Bye." She gave him a little wave and walked off.  

Flames stared at the door gloomily. Inside was the Fuzzy Guy, and he wasn't looking forward to seeing him again. He had been approved to undergo the weeks- long process that would help him become more civil - or more of a decent guy, as Breanne had said earlier. He wasn't sure exactly what that entailed; Breanne had told him it probably wouldn't get too physical, but it still had to be bad enough to inflict damage. He almost felt sorry for him.  

He took a deep breath and opened the door, preparing for the worst.  

"Hey, Fuzzy Guy," he said as he entered the room. The Fuzzy Guy himself was lying down on a couch and staring at the ceiling. Flames took a chair from the side of the room and pulled it closer to him.  

"Flames," the Fuzzy Guy muttered.  

Flames sighed and began a little speech that he had thought up on the way there. "I've just come to say goodbye, I guess. I probably won't be seeing you for a long time, and when I do, well, you'll hopefully be different. But I really want to say thank you." 

"Oh?" 

"Yes. Look, as much as we're arch enemies and everything, you did give me a pretty fun childhood. All the times when you would send minions to beat me up and I would have to run away from them, or when you would lock me up in interrogation-alist rooms and ask me stupid questions that I never really gave answers to - I enjoyed that. So yeah. And I'm sorry you were gone for the rest of my teenage years." 

There was silence for a few moments; Flames had never known the Fuzzy Guy to be this quiet. Just as he was about to open his mouth to say he was going to leave, the Fuzzy Guy spoke.  

"Thank you too, Flames," he said. "You gave me purpose." 

Flames didn't really know what to say to that. He stared at the wall behind the Fuzzy Guy; it was blank, with a small, almost invisible crack in the middle.