TTT: Standoff - part 4

It wasn't until they made their way to the other side of the fountain that Jasmaby spoke again. "Kit, I would like if you could..." He stopped here, a curiously anxious hesitation. "I would like it if we could reach, ah... an understanding."

Neon's ears perked up. Now this was intriguing. She hadn't been expecting anything like this, but it could only be a good thing. If Jasmaby wanted to negotiate, that meant there was  something he wanted. Whatever it was, Neon could leverage it.

She wouldn't underestimate him. It was tempting to assume he'd be an easy mark, too obsessed with clothing and loaded with wealth to be used to the kind of cutthroat deals of funding and staffing her projects. In every aspect of life, it seemed like he got his way simply by asking for whatever he wanted sweetly enough; or, when that failed, threatening anyone in his way into subservience.

The conclusion Neon had initially drawn about him, when he first barged into Dewclaw, was that this was all there was to him: a cloying show put on by an arrogant bully. But her observations had revealed this wasn't the full picture. He could be blunt, but just as often, he didn't have to be. The situation would simply work out perfectly in his favor. This wasn't mere luck; this was the subtle work of a master manipulator. His pretty face obscured elements of guile beneath. 

And she had realized something about his anger — his true anger, not the dramatic flare-ups that Neon now understood to merely be part of his fashionista persona. He got annoyed easily, complained readily and was quick with a sniping remark. He had a hostile bent that couldn't be denied. But his anger, she realized, was only ever directed towards those who, Neon had to admit, deserved it. She had to work hard not to admire this. 

So. She'd take him seriously. She was ready for him. He'd never just say what he wanted, no. Whatever concession he was about to request for this "understanding" of his would be a ruse, but it would inevitably reveal the shape of what he needed from her. 

And oh, how she would make him pay for it.

"What kind of understanding?" A nice, innocent opening. Let him make the first move.

Jasmaby took a deep breath in. This was it! The moment he'd have to expose himself. She could hardly keep the grin off her face. This was it! 

He exhaled. "In general," he responded.

Neon blinked. "...what?" she asked. Jasmaby's face was blank, totally at ease. "What are you talking about?"

"Where did I speak unconclearly?" Jasmaby snapped.

"I don't understand what you're saying!" Neon fought to keep her hands by her sides, stifling their trembling.

"Indoubtlessly." Neon opened her mouth to complain, but Jasmaby waved her into silence and marched on, increasing the length of his strides again. 

Neon trailed after him helplessly. It was impossible to care about the War anymore. Neon just wanted to go home, go to bed, go to sleep. She could feel the misery building up inside, leaking into her bones where it could linger.

It will be over soon, she told herself again. And... it's not like she had to keep participating. She could quit, just like that. You can end it whenever you want to. That was a comforting, familiar thought. 

And wouldn't Jasmaby deserve it? Being alone?

"Kit, I asked you a question," Jasmaby suddenly cut in, still a few paces away. 

"What?" Neon startled. Had she been that lost in her thoughts? "What question?"

Jasmaby sighed, twisted back at her, and rolled his eyes. "I asked you what you wanted. Weren't you listening?" 

Neon blinked. Her mind raced backwards. The memory hit her, and she screamed, "That was fifteen minutes ago!"

Jasmaby snarled back, "And you still haven't answered!" Then, composing himself, he went on, "But I'll forgive your rudeness if you can resplond now."

She knew she was baring her teeth, but she couldn't help it. She couldn't deal with him, not at the moment, so her brain seized upon the question and attacked it. 

What did she want? What did she actually want? It was a question she was habitually terrible at answering. She had desires, and she would see them fulfilled, but this wasn't a true answer. Days went by, entire days, where she did nothing more than what she felt like; and by the end, still felt like she hadn't done a thing she wanted to do.

So what did she want? 

"I want," she said to herself, "to be..." 

An answer came. She whispered the words under her breath.

"...left alone."

That was it. 

Carefully, she whispered, "Chip." Then she cleared her throat, and found her voice again. "Chip," she said, unexpected ragged. "I need, uh, I need you to start exploring the alleys around here. See if you can't flush Charthur out of hiding. It's our only chance."

"BZZT," Chip buzzed. "WITHOUT MY SCANNERS..."

"That's a command, Chip," Neon said sternly.

Chip hummed for a moment, processing this. Then it responded, "BEEP! COMMAND ACKNOWLEDGED. BEGINNING SEARCH OF NEARBY ALLEYS. BING!"

"Depth-first, Chip. Ping me if you come up with anything."

Neon turned to find Jasmaby regarding her curiously. There was an inquisitive look in his eyes. Neon gave him a tiny nod, trying to figure out how to communicate her revelation.

But Jasmaby simply gave her a tiny nod back, and turned away again. Had he understood her? That seemed tremendously unlikely. But the only other possibility was that... he trusted her? Neon's brain flopped, as she tried to decide which of these was the more impossible.

Jasmaby got her attention again with an insistent "hem." "Well? Have you come up with an answer?"

"Uh, yeah," Neon said, playing along. "What I want is..."

Jasmaby interrupted: "You want Charthur."

"Excuse?!" Neon clutched her chest, her entire face on the verge of bursting into flames.

Jasmaby nodded. "Oh, believe me, I know," Neon threw her head back, possibly looking for a mercifully meteor to crush her immediately. Jasmaby wasn't done, though: "And yes, it IS wonderful."

Now Neon's head flopped forward, quickly calculating the odds of an earthquake opening the ground beneath her feet so she could just fall into a pit forever. 

Jasmaby released a long, satisfied sigh. "I'm sure you can imagine..." Neon wondered if it was possible to die from a fall of exactly your own height; she was certainly ready to try. 

And then Jasmaby said, "....landing that knockout blow... seeing her most passionate attack fall at your feet... there's a thrill in bringing such a perfect foe to heel, one that words cannot express." Neon started to breathe again. She hadn't meant to hold her breath, but now it seemed there might still be a point to it. "I know you understand, dear tinker tiger."

Neon guiltily slapped her palm over the electrodes on her other knuckles, stifling the potent flare that otherwise would have lit up the entire street. She hissed and shook out her hand once the spark had passed. The smell of burnt fur rising from her palm stung her nostrils and bit at her gut. 

"Y-yeah," she said. "That's, uh, well-put."

Jasmaby suddenly put his arm around Neon's shoulder, and she fought the impulse to panic and wiggle free. "I sympathize, Kit," Jasmaby said. "But you must know she's out of your league."

Neon had nothing to say to this. She had nothing left to feel about it, either. She had dug that trench of misery deeply enough on her own. There was nothing left but to try and keep it to a dull ache. 

Jasmaby didn't seem to notice her lack of reaction. He just gave her an entirely uncomforting pat instead, before removing his arm and gaining a few paces on her. "So, I'm sorry, I can't give you a knockout. Maybe I can try to help you land an assist against her someday. Would that be nice?"

Making it all the way back to her bed had become an overly optimistic plan. At this point, Neon was ready to just lie down in the street.

Jasmaby called back over his shoulder. "Kit? Are you listening? Are you paying attention, Kit?"
Neon jammed the heels of her palms into her eye sockets. She needed one thing. Just one tiny concession. Something, anything, anything, to keep her from exploding.  

"Kit? Kit? Kit?"

Neon whirled on him. "Could you try," she screeched at him from behind, "...try to maybe call me by my real name?"

Jasmaby seemed genuinely taken aback. He stopped, and turned smoothly, hand on his mouth. When he spoke, it was softly, his eyes turned away. "Ah. I thought Kit was an acceptable ekename." He turned back around, seeming unable to face her. "Of course. I wish you had said sooner. Whatever name you like." 

Neon realized her breathing was deep, but not satisfying. Her breath forced its way in and out through her nose. Right when she wanted resistance from him, he gave in. It left her feeling foolish, and she forced herself to use this to tamp down on her anger. 

"Well... good." Deep breath in through the nose. Long breath out through the mouth. "Thanks."

Jasmaby gave her a smile over his shoulder. "I'll use your real name from now on, Eon."

"Never mind. Go back to Kit." Neon stormed past, shoving him aside as she did so.
"There is just no satisfying certain individuals," she heard Jasmaby say from behind.

Don't. Don't. Don't, She warned herself. Don't. Don't. Don't, she warned him.

"I'm referring to you, if that wasn't clear," that guy called out.

Neon whirled, furious, her hate pouring into her voice. "Are you always like this?!" she demanded.

The thistle tiger took this in. Then he drew himself up to his full height. His response was cold, and sharp. "Yes. I am." It was a proclamation, but his voice was strained. "And you?" he asked.
"What?!" The confusion mixed in with the anger was forming a maelstrom in her head. "Like you?!"

"If only!" The lanky model threw his hands in the air, and there was a wave of heat that came off of him so suddenly that it staggered Neon. "I am trying. Are you?"

She couldn't handle another instant of his nonsense. "Am I trying??" she shouted. 

He sneered at her. "Yes, exceedingly."

"What?! What are you trying to say?!" Her hoof was stomping as if on its own, and she couldn't begin to figure out how to quell it.

And that's when they were interrupted.

There was a sudden, piercing "ding!" from her pocket. Neon knew that alert tone. Chip. Urgent. Her hand went for her compact, happy to abandon the useless argument and get back to the War.

But Jasmaby was faster. Before she knew it, he was in front of her, his hand seizing her wrist before she could reach her compact. She looked at him, utterly bewildered.

The awkward beat. And then, "I will speak plainly," he said, perfectly calm.

Panicked, Neon wrenched her hand free and recovered her compact. Her fingers wrapped around its familiar shape, and started to lift it from her pocket. But Jasmaby’s hand was at her wrist again, pinning it in place.

The terrible beat. "If I were to invite you to dinner tomorrow, would you attend?"

There was no time for this. She needed to see the screen! She needed to see the message!! She forced her arm up, but just as she managed to glimpse the words Chip had sent her, Jasmaby forced her arm back down.

"Would you attend?" he demanded, bringing his face directly in front of hers.

She fought with all her strength to tilt the compact to face up, but at the final instant, Jasmaby twisted it back down at the final moment. "No!!" she screamed at this, still struggling.

She looked up.

Jasmaby’s face was blank, just for an instant.

His hand released her wrist. 

Then his hand drew back, lining up the knockout blow. His other hand took her by the collar, holding her place.

Fine.

This was fine. Let him grab her collar. She hadn't been planning to dodge anyway. 

This was as good an ending as any.

He snarled.

"Down," he commanded.

He yanked as he threw his punch, bending Neon over double and causing her to stagger forward. She felt the heat of his punch rocket just over her head. There was an explosion, embers and tiny shards of ice piercing the back of her neck and running down her back. There was a grunt, and a stifled curse from Charthur. 

The explosion forced her down onto her knees, and she just barely managed to catch herself before hitting the ground face-first. The impact was fierce enough to send a nasty shudder up her arms and scrape the skin off her palms, but she forced herself to endure rather than collapse. There was another series of impacts above her, cinder and snow raining down all around her. Jasmaby's feet were at her side now, Charthur falling back after her failed assault.

Her knuckles burned. Charthur would be off-guard, entirely focused on Jasmaby. Neon could stand, turn, and with one punch...

She bent her elbows, ready to push herself up off the ground. She saw the moment of victory in her mind, a ley line of fate leading her to it. There were no obstacles left; her destiny was before her, and all she had to do was follow it. She put all her strength into her arms, and pressed upwards—

And at that moment, Jasmaby's foot landed in the center of her back. He pressed off her like a springboard, sending her collapsing into the dirt. As she slammed into the ground, there was a flare, and a roar, and a sensation like the sky being lit on fire, and then one penultimate impact which rang in Neon's ears. 

The final impact would be Charthur hitting the ground behind her a moment later, with Jasmaby landing neatly beside. 

"Finished," Jasmaby declared. Neon twisted around, first to observe Charthur, lying on the ground with her hands clutching the top of her head, eyes shut tight with pain. Then she looked at Jasmaby. 

He threw his hair out with one hand, perhaps just on the off-chance someone was around to snap a photo. "So much for distractible, hm? I hope you understand now, Kit. War is always personal." He took to examining his nails, seeing if the meteor blow had damaged anything. "You may amend my profile at your personal convenience."

"That was like, totes amazing!" Shizu called out, emerging from a nearby alley, Spy-spy Spider clinging to her back. She was wearing her usual medical mask, but this did nothing to hide the smile on her face. "I can't believe how hella cool that knockout was!!" She turned to where Charthur was still rolling around on the ground. "Oh yeah, and like, I totally give up. That cool with you, Char-Char?"

Charthur removed one hand from her head long enough to thrust a thumbs-up into the air, then went back to cradling her skull.

"Yeah, like, know when you're beaten, amiright? Especially since burnt dolls are, like, so totally the worst to fix." She clapped her hands together, her double-length sleeves entangling around each other. "I can't believe that just happened, that move was so wicked."

"I couldn't have done it without Kit here," Jasmaby said, gesturing magnanimously at the earth where she lay.

"Perfect," Neon sputtered. "Amazing."

Jasmaby turned back to Shizu. "I hope you're okay with this outcome, sweetie."

"Yeah, like," Shizu twisted her head in thought, "I guess you can just be like, super amazing and hot and whatever, and junk."

While Shizu nodded with satisfaction, Neon picked up on a familiar, rapid beeping, growing closer. A second later, Chip burst out from the alley behind Shizu, covered in flecks of ice and strands of webbing. It rushed over to Neon — but just as it was about to arrive, Jasmaby hand lanced out once more, plucking it out of the air and pulling it up to his face. 

"Ah. The final detail." He prodded the robotic microcat at the center of its body. "Chip. I'm inviting you for dinner tomorrow. We'd be delighted to host. Is this understood?"

Chip threw its tiny paws up. "BEEP. CALENDAR UPDATED. BING!" it chirped happily.

"Lovely. You may bring a plus one, if it suits you." He leaned down, smiling pleasantly at Neon. "I'm referring to you, if that wasn't clear, dear teammate."

"I'll, uh..." She looked over to Charthur for guidance. She was sitting up now, her hat (with a neat, circular hole burnt through the top) sitting in her lap. Shizu and Mr. Boo-boo Bye had made their way over to her at some point, and were huddled together over the wound on top of her head, regarding it with undisguised fascination. The plague doctor facsimile's bat wings fluttered eagerly as the puppet gently applied a thick salve to their patient. 

Aside from the occasional wince as Mr. Boo-boo Bye massaged the healing ointment in, Charthur was grinning with her all teeth. As she turned from Jasmaby to Neon, she shot the still-prone scrapgoat a thumbs-up.

It had been a long night. It had been a long, frustrating, maddening night.

But she was looking at Charthur's face; at how happy she was at this idea.

Sometimes, just sometimes, Neon knew what she wanted. 

"I'll be there," she confirmed.

Chip gave a harsh, warning buzz.

"...if Chip invites me," she said, rolling her eyes. 

"Delumptious," Jasmaby said. He released Chip, giving it a final flick with his finger, sending the microcat into a tiny spin before it could correct itself.