Drop of a Bag // [Paperhat]

Part Four: Nerdy Secrets

Flug was exhausted. It'd been a few hours since his "training," and yet he still tasted blood in his mouth. Working on the new ray wasn't helping, surprisingly. He couldn't get the mental image of the poor, terrified creature in his hands.

Only when big, blue arms wrapped around him did he realize he was crying.

He didn't even resist as he curled up in 5.0.5's arms, letting himself start to sob as he was held close to a mound of soft fur. The big bear grumbled some incoherent words, and even though he couldn't quite make them out, he still appreciated a comforting voice. He found solace in the bear's warm embrace, and felt like he could actually get it all out of his system.

After about fifteen minutes of him crying on the lab floor, wrapped in a big, living, two-in-one blanket/pillow of blue fur, he recomposed himself.

Lifting his goggles up slightly to let the built up tears spill out, he lifted his shirt to wipe out the fogged up lenses. He put them back down, smiling gently up at his loving creation.

"Thank you," he sniffled, giving the bear one last squeeze. 5.0.5 was delighted; Flug usually never reciprocated his hugs. The scientist opened his mouth to speak again, before he was interrupted by the swoosh of the lab door.

"Nerd? You in here?" a rough, female voice growled out, and Flug let out a soft groan into 5.0.5's fur. Demencia spotted the duo on the floor, and her eyes widened as a big smile crept onto her face.

"Found you!" she cheered, charging them. Flug flinched into himself, expecting to be torn to pieces, but was instead surprised when he was drowned in a more coarse fur, now laying on the floor.

Demencia was hugging him.

Flug could barely speak through his confusion, letting out little squeaks of protest as he lay limp in her arms. She squeezed him a little too tight, clearly not very experienced with hugs but still trying her best.

"You lying bastard," she laughed, sitting up to stare at him with an excited gaze. "You always go on about how I'm savage and shit, but then you turn around and become an awesome murder beast!"

"Demencia," Flug snapped, finally gathering words. "No swearing in front of 5.0.5!"

Demencia turned her head to the bear, who was now squeaking in fear at being under her gaze. Narrowing her eyes, the lizard pursed her lips and leaned towards him while still sitting on top of Flug.

"Fffffuck off, bear," she sneered, and then erupted in laughter as he charged out the door in terror. Flug crossed his arms, glaring up at her. She paid no mind as she turned back to him, leaning in a bit to study him.

"So why'd you hide this cool new side of you, hm?" she asked, pulling on his arms and his clothes as if checking for any secret clues. He pulled away from her, grimacing.

"Number one, it's not new," he corrected, rubbing his wrist anxiously. "Two, I can't really control it. And, three, it's not cool. It kills innocent creatures and feels nothing. It'd be fine if it attacked just heroes, but it'll follow any instinct I have. If I were mad at you and my bag fell off, for instance," he exemplified, partially warning her, "my instinct in its form would be to kill you. It's too dangerous. Now, can you please get off of me? I have work to do."

As Flug began to try to squirm his way out from under her, she grabbed his arms and slammed them down above his head. He winced as her grip tightened, and she leaned in close to his bag.

"I want to see it, nerd."

"Excuse me?"

"I want to meet this guy—"

"The thing, you mean."

"—Yeah sure. You don't want to kill me right now, right? So I wanna meet it and see what it's like when it's not hunting shit."

Flug blinked.

In all his years of dealing with this horrible side of him, he'd never thought to just let it out when he was neutral, mostly because he was terrified of what would happen. Now, though, in a controlled environment? It might just be worth a shot.

"Wow, Demencia, you actually suggested something smart," he half-teased. She scoffed at him, rolling her eyes.

"Don't insult me," she shot back, though she seemed to be smiling a bit.

She rolled off of him, sitting in a crouch with her hands pressed to the floor between her legs. She almost resembled a frog. If she had a tail, Flug would've bet money it'd be wagging.

He huffed, sitting himself up and readjusting his coat. He crossed his arms, thinking deeply for a moment.

Demencia's foot began to tap against the metal flooring after a minute of eager patience, and a low growl escaped her.

"Why aren't you doing it, nerd?" she hissed, switching her position so she was sitting criss-crossed with her arms folded together.

He looked up at her nervously. "W-well, previously, if I woke it up within a day after its previous conscious run, then it gets really cranky," he explained. "I'm not sure if this is different, because it would simply be idle, but I don't know if I want to risk it—"

"Take the damn bag off before I rip it off myself," she threatened, smile fading as her impatience broke free. Flug squeaked, leaning back nervously and bringing his trembling hands up to the corners of his bag. The thing inside of him frightened him more than Demencia or even his boss ever could, but he wasn't stupid enough to put himself in danger with her when he knew the thing wouldn't hurt itself. Honestly, at this point, he was more worried about the reptilian assassin, though he'd never admit it.

"F-fine," he sighed out, closing his eyes. Demencia was strong. She could escape if necessary, or even pin it down. It would be okay. It had to be.

With his final words of reassurance to himself, he slipped the bag off.