FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Rain fell on a damp park, in a dreary day as the clouds hung over everything, refusing to leave as they hung in the sky and continued to bluster. The park was quiet in these late hours of the day, with little in the way of people coming out to walk its paths. Which was fortunate at the moment in time.

Reality shifted and bent, as a void ripped itself into existence. From out of the calamity, a figure stepped out, one foot solid and true, followed by a stumble. The tear in reality could sustain itself no longer, as it winked out, snagging the outsiders foot as it closed. The outsider looked down to his feet, clad in dark shoes, trim and proper. No fuss.

To any that could see the outsider, for the most part, the man clad in a matching black suit and clothes appeared normal, save for a skull that adorned them. Rather, a head, that stared out through sockets of bone as eyes scanned the world. The outsider slid one arm up, checking on a watch on his wrist, before holding a hand up as he realized that it was raining.

What a minute. He wasn't supposed to be here. The horned skull turned as he fully realized now the extent of the problem. And then something else. Through the damp rainfall of the park, where silence should normally be, there was a cry. Something foreign. Something human.

The outsider looked for the source of the sound, realizing that he had warped in next to a bench. An empty bench, save for a small bundle sitting in one corner. And there it was. A child. The outsider leaned down slowly, looking over the child.

"Hmm. Baby. Shouldn't be a baby."

The little bundle looked up, eyes wide in terror as the suited being before him leered down at him through a horned skull of bone. The cries of the infant rose in pitch as the outsider slunk away in the rain, scratching his skull.

"Baby can see. Hmm. Baby can see!"

The outsider looked over the child, snapping his fingers as he checked a watch on his wrist compulsively.

"Hang on baby. Will be back."

The outsider stood tall, raising a hand up as he snapped a finger. Reality bent and warped around him, as he was pulled into the void and vanished. Silence filled the park once more as the steady patter of rain fell, and the cries of the baby went unheard. In another flash, as reality bent and twisted once more, the outsider stepped through, brushing his suit off of dust.

He turned on the spot, making sure he was where he was supposed to be, and turned as the baby's cries rose in his presence once more. In one hand a small yellow balloon floated, tied to a hand of pale skin, the balloon boasting a simple smile drawn onto it.

The baby only yelled in higher tones as the outsider sat down on the bench next to the baby. One hand extended as an umbrella unfolded, holding it up over the child, while he held out the bright balloon to the baby, watching as the child's features changed. Cries and closed eyes of fear opened as the bright object floated by, something new and interesting.

The skulled outsider had no mouth of which to smile, just old cracked teeth of the skull that belonged to him. But there was simple satisfaction as the baby watched the balloon float by and bounce, up and down as the rain pattered continually. A simple peace returned to the park, as the outsider sat on the bench with the child. Rain continued to patter down, running off the umbrella in little rivers, matching the very same rivers that ran off the skull of the stranger.

The child watched as water ran down the once frightening thing before him, watching as simple eyes watched him back like fireflies. Laughter replaced fear as a small arm reached out. The outsider leaned forwards, letting one of the horns that adorned his skull come within grasping distance.

The simple silence was shattered as voices could be heard, standing out suddenly. The outsider looked on, to see two figures coming down the path in the trees. He nodded silently, standing up, as he set the umbrella down gently over the child. Untying the balloon from around his hand, he left it tied to the bench near the child to see, as he pulled away from the bench.

The cries of the child resumed, and as two men walked down the path, old and battered, wearing a rag tag pile of clothes to keep warm. They stopped briefly, making sure that they each heard what they thought they did. Approaching the bench as they drew closer, the outsider watched as one moved forward to investigate the umbrella and balloon.

"Oh jesus it's a kid! What the fuck!"

The first man to investigate turned back to the other.

"Come on man, get over here!"

The outsider watched as the two older men loomed over the child, chattering away in their language as they puzzled over what to do. Eventually, one of them took the child, who was crying all the more once again. The man grabbed the umbrella with him, keeping the child under it. As he turned, the child caught a glimpse of the outsider, and ceased his crying, to the surprise of the man that held him.

The outsider watched as the pair turned around, and began to head off to where they had come from. Raising a hand to the child, the outsider spoke.

"Goodbye baby."

With the snap of a finger, reality warped and twisted once more, and the outsider disappeared into the void, leaving the sullen park behind, with none the wiser to his presence, save for the young eyes of one who could see.

He was lost. He didn't want to be. Never intended to be. But curiosity always had a way of stepping in for him. The sun had gone down, and long since shaded the park, his home, in shades of twilight. High above the tree lines, glittering skyscrapers could be seen, but their light wasn't enough in strength to light his way.

He wasn't going to them anyway. His home was in the park, with all the other forsaken of the city. Homeless, lost, and with nothing else to lose but to make a home out of what they had. He wasn't scared of the darkness, as he wandered aimlessly. The park was his home, day and night. But he was getting tired. And cold.

He shivered, clutching the bark of a tree as he leaned against it, shoving his hands into his pockets. He didn't know where to go. And it was now that the weight of things finally started to show on him. He slid down against the bark of the tree, weeping silently. He wished Uncle was here. The thought of the old man who he had long since come to know gave him comfort. The old man was kind. If he were here now, he'd know what to do.

As he remained where he was, clutching himself in the cold, something snapped him away from his tears as light bloomed not a few feet away from him. A bright light that burned the darkness away, twisting and wrapping around itself. In the center of the light, was a void. He stared into it, in shock, in fear, unable to move. A void so black that the darkness around it seemed like it was light.

In the brief rupture of light before him, he caught something step out from the void, vanishing as the light closed, leaving him in darkness once more. Something stepped onto the grass nearby, stumbled more like. A voice sounded out in the dark that he could not see.

"Hmm. Not supposed to be here."

As young as he was, as afraid as he was, he spoke, still huddled up against the bark of the tree in the cold, frozen in place for more than one reason at this point.

"Who are you?"

He heard footsteps in the grass, turning, and suddenly felt a presence on him. Staring.

"Can see me? Not supposed to!"

The stranger seemed funny to him. Oddly, fear seemed to leave him.

"What do you mean?"

"Nope. No no no! Not supposed to see. Goodbye funny person."

There was a snap in the air, and light bloomed once more, the outline of the stranger merging into the void. He didn't see much. All he caught was the glimpse of a black suit, elegant and fine, like those beyond the park often wore. And then, the stranger was gone. Darkness appeared once more, leaving him trapped in the sinking feeling of being stranded out here, cold and alone.

The crushing, suffocating feeling of darkness was only able to do so much this time, as once more, reality bent and warped, and the stranger stepped out of the void.

"Silly! You're baby in the rain! You've grown!"

He hardly had time to say anything when he felt something against his jacket, nudging his shoulder.

"Take hand. Come on! Up we go."

The stranger confused him. Frightened him. But at the same time, made him feel safe. He reached out, clasping a hand that held his with both a firm grip but gentle manner. He was pulled up to his feet, and slowly, started taking small footsteps alongside the stranger.

He couldn't see anything in the darkness. No matter how hard he tried, the stranger leading him along couldn't be seen in the shadows of the park. All he could do, was what any child could.

"Who are you?"

Something grated on the air, the sound of something rubbing, like bones.

"Me? I'm me."

"You're funny."

"Not funny! You're funny. Shouldn't be able to see me."

"Why?"

"Because. Not supposed to."

"Why?"

"Too many questions! Should ask you questions instead. Where is your home?"

"I don't know. I'm lost. Uncle would know what to do."

"Who is Uncle?"

"He's my friend."

"Friend. Hmm. Let's go find your friend."

In the dark he was led along slowly by the stranger in what felt like a maze of zig zags. But eventually, light began to emerge from the dark. The small shanty town he called home was close. Smoke was visible in the night air from the many fires that burned to keep those that called this place home warm.

Small footsteps from the child began to speed up, as the stranger at his side was led rather than leading now. More speech from the darkness.

"Home. Strange home."

He was too excited now, speaking as his steps grew into a slow but steady run.

"Come on! I've got to show you to Uncle! He'll like you!"

The stranger stopped in his tracks, as the light grew stronger now, and he stopped as well, turning back on the stranger who followed. In the visible light, he could see more now. A black suit, well taken care of, form fitting for the figure underneath. But up above, something made his skin crawl as he stared up to a pale head, a skull of bone and horns, with eyes that watched him back.

He stepped away in fear, realizing that the stranger's hand still held his. If the stranger was here to hurt him, he would have done it by now. The stranger simply watched him, chattering his teeth with bony jaws.

"What?"

It looked like a mask. But at the same time, the glow in the sockets of the skull, of eyes that felt like they watched right through him, told him it was real. He was afraid. But at that same time, the stranger's simple manner calmed him.

"Who are you?"

The skull of the stranger tilted.

"I'm me!"

"No. You're creepy."

The suited stranger bent down onto his knees, bringing his skulled face closer to his.

"Don't see you running."

It was true. He was afraid. But yet, not. Any number of questions traveled through his head at the moment. The stranger was something out of a dream. Or a nightmare. He couldn't tell. Only one question stood out now though. Life here was hard. And Uncle had taught him to be wary of people. This stranger broke all the rules.

"Are you a friend?"

There were no eyebrows of which the stranger could use to express much. But the lights of his eyes in the skull of his wavered and flickered as they moved, as if he had raised his eyes.

"Friend? Not sure. Are you my friend?"

"I guess..."

"Good! Then I'm your friend too."

"Uncle says all friends tell you who they are."

"Hmm. I am me."

"Not like that! You need to tell me your name!"

"Oh!"

The suited figure stood up, letting go of his hand. He stood on the edge of twilight, barely visible. He raised a hand up to his head, and in the darkness, something sparked. A small light, bright and steady, that shaped itself like fireworks in the night sky, forming the image of a crown that quickly faded like a dying candle.

"King! Call me King."

"King?"

"Yes. King is good."

"Are you a real King?"

"I don't know. Do I look like a real king?"

"No. You look funny!"

"Ha! Funny King."

King raised an arm to check a watch strapped to his wrist as he slid his sleeve up.

"Oh no! Time to go. Goodbye funny rain baby."

King raised a hand, snapping his finger, and in that instant, he disappeared, phasing back into the dark void that he walked from. He was left standing there in the dark. Still awestruck. He wasn't sure what to do now. But the stranger with the skull, King, was real.

He didn't even get to tell King his name.

A return to the camp, back to the light, the only light in the park, filled with the bustling of people in a small camp. He made his way past crowds, awake or sleeping, gathered around barrels or piles of trash that had been set alight in some vain attempt to bring heat. Through ramshackle setups and tents, he found the lonely old tent Uncle called home, small and simple. He pushed past the flaps to find the old man, waiting.

"Where were you?"

Uncle was a rough man. Simple and plain, with a bark in his voice that made him stand at attention whenever he heard it. But he knew, that was Uncle's way of caring.

"I got lost. I was just looking ar-"

"You shouldn't go so far. We have rules about that. You know it's not safe out there!"

Uncle held his temper at bay, holding out a plate with some bits of bread.

"Here."

He reached out slowly, taking the plate as he sat down next to the old man.

"I met a friend. He brought me back here."

"Oh really? What's your friend's name?"

"King."

"What's he look like?"

"He's funny. But he wears a suit. Like the men in the city."

Uncle's features creased as he looked down at him.

"Stay away from him."

"He's nice."

"I told you. Stay away from him. You hear me? You stay away from men like that."

"Bu-"

"No. If you see him, I want you to bring him to me. Show him to me."

He stayed silent, as he toyed with the bread on his plate, remembering what King had said.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"King says I shouldn't be able to see him."

Uncle sighed, letting out a slow chuckle. He put a hand over his shoulder, ruffling through his hair.

"Okay. If you trust King, I trust King too."

"Really?"

"You bet kiddo. Come on. It's late. Finish up and then go to sleep. You got lucky tonight."

No more words needed to be said tonight. He finished up his bread in silence as Uncle shifted, stretching out near the back of the tent in his corner of space. King was kind of scary. But not scary like the men Uncle warned about. He hoped he could see King again.

He sat in the back of the wagon as it bounced and jostled. He was alone in the back of the large hold, wearing cuffs around his wrists. Today wasn't a good day. He'd done well earlier on in the morning. But then he slipped up. One of the men he tried to steal from spotted him and caught him. And now he was here. As he sat in the back of the police wagon, light and shadow bent and twisted suddenly, by now, something he'd become used to over the years. King stepped through, clattering onto the metal gently as the gash in reality closed behind him.

The skulled friend of his paid him no mind, turning round and round as he surveyed his surroundings, coming to a complete stop once he faced him again. King chattered his teeth together.

"Hmm. Box. Shouldn't be here."

The bouncing of the wagon seemed to hold no effect on King as he simply looked about the simple dark box he was now confined in. King absent mindedly checked a watch on his wrist.

"Box. What're you doing in here?"

He stared up to King, holding out his cuffed hands. The two simple glowing eyes in the sockets of the animalistic skull wavered as King tilted his head.

"Cuffs! Why cuffs?"

He looked up with eyes fighting back tears.

"I tried to steal from people."

King stepped back slightly.

"Steal? Don't need to steal! Just be you!"

He continued to hold up his hands in their cuffs.

"It's for Uncle! He needs help!"

A heavy knock on the wall of the box was heard as the grumbling of an officer rung out, asking for things to quiet down. He lowered his voice as King looked over to the commotion.

"I'm trying to help Uncle."

King looked back over to him, now moving about as he sat down next to him on the bench.

"What's wrong with Uncle?"

"He's sick. He needs a doctor. I'm trying to get money for him."

King's eyes traveled about the box once more.

"Box for adults. Not you. Being too old. Need to have fun."

"I need help King. Please. Uncle needs help."

King looked down to the cuffs.

"Help you. Because Uncle needs help. Promise to have fun."

King reached into a pocket on the elegant suit he always favored, pulling out a key. Pale hands slid the key into the locks of the cuffs, snapping them open. King held the key up to his mouth of bony teeth, blowing on the key like a candle, watching as it whispered out of existence.

By now, King was a friend. Somebody otherworldly, but always around. King was strange, but always managed to make sense. He couldn't help but reach over and hug the strange suited entity. King's horned skull looked down at the embrace with mildly puzzled eyes. King simply patted him on the back.

"No hugs yet. Work to get out of box."

He looked up to King, and realized that he was right.

"It's a police wagon King. They're taking me to the police station."

"Hmm. Police station has doors. All doors come with keys!"

"I don't want to go in there King."

King looked around the box, realizing that there was a way out of here as well. King stood up, still unaffected by the jostling of the wagon, paying bumps no mind as he walked over to the door at the back of the mobile cell, placing a hand on it. He saw it too and stood up.

"King wait!"

Everything seemed to happen at once as King placed a hand on the door, and it simply opened. Noise entered the box, and outside, the bustling world of a city loomed in, as motor vehicles traveled at frightening speeds behind the wagon. The trapdoor to the cell opened as an officer began shouting. But in all the commotion as the wagon bounced and jostled through traffic, and an officer bellowed out, all he could do was watch King.

King stood, unaffected by it all, arms spread wide, and he watched, as the back of King's suit tore open, as two small limbs forced themselves out. Small, white, and feathered, they extended in full, and gave a few simple flaps, before King turned, holding out a pale hand.

The skulled entity watched, and stood tall, waiting. King broke all the rules. King, made no sense in this world. And at the same time, King was the only thing that made pure and simple sense.

He had to take his hand. Reaching out, he took hold of the pale stranger's hand that held him firm and strong, but never imposed too much grip. He felt his feet leave the wagon, and before his eyes, he was speeding towards an oncoming vehicle. He closed his eyes as the sounds of the city forced themselves on his ears in a crash of honking horns and shouts, and he felt the wind rip through his hair.

The moment, the calamity, the fun and rush, whatever it was, died down in only a few moments. But he remembered every harrowing second of it as the flash of a bright crimson automobile hurled towards him. The wind and sounds dulled, grew distant, and he opened his eyes. King had pulled him tight to him, and was now in the process of gently floating down, onto the rooftop of one of the immense skyscrapers that towered so tall in this city. He looked up to his skulled friend, as they set down on the roof gently. King couldn't exactly smile. But he was good at making one feel like he was.

"Can hug now."

The day from that point on was interesting. Nothing compared to earlier. But it was an adventure all in its own. He had done it, this time. Picking pockets in the crowds. Nobody caught him. And he counted up dollar bills in his hands eagerly as he realized that he was getting closer to his goal. King had long since left, checking his watch erratically and then making a fuss, disappearing back into the void that he stepped from.

But that was okay. Things were okay now. He hadn't been caught afterwards and now, on the edge of the park, he was on the verge of the shanty town he called home. Men in suits in the city beyond called the place Hooverville. He never knew what it meant. But it was his home.

And on returning to his home, through the crowds of people that lived here, making his way back to the little tent that was always his to come back to, he stepped into the flaps, to find Uncle. The man was always waiting for him. Always waiting on him, in patience. No matter how much of a temper Uncle had, he never let it blow up on him.

Uncle was waiting, in a hushed silence, having gone still and pale.

Rainfall was always common here. But tonight the dark clouds seemed to blow over the city to match the wake of Uncle's passing. Dark and consuming, they hung over everything and let loose with a volley of cold rain that splashed down on everything. He was out here, in the twilight, on his own now. The images of the day replaying over in his mind, fractured and broken into two halves.

But here and now, he was alone. Uncle, was gone. His world, the only person he ever knew, was gone. He didn't know what to do. He did the only thing that he could do, out here. He pulled himself up against one of the great old trees, clinging to himself in the cold and dark. And then the world broke once more, and King stepped through. King caught his foot on the portal, as he commonly did, stumbling on the wet grass, before brushing his suit off and straightening himself. King loomed over him in the twilight, looking down at him.

"Not supposed to be here! Wait. Sad. Why sad?"

King stood in the rainfall, watching him. He put his head down into his lap.

"Go away King."

King chattered the teeth of his skull.

"Am away! Away and here."

"Leave me along King!"

King stopped in his motions, setting himself down on his haunches. His skull tilted as he continued to watch.

"Hurt. Why hurt? Didn't hurt you did I?"

"No! It's Uncle!"

"What's Uncle?"

"He's....."

King had a way of making him feel safe. But even around King, the words couldn't be said. He couldn't do it. He couldn't put the word past him without seeing pictures of the friend he knew. But King understood. A still crept across the park, as he sat at the base of a great tree, and King, even King, paused. King's eyes moved in the twilight, as he simply stayed there watching, eventually breaking the silence.

"Sorry."

He looked up from his lap, as images of the day, and all the other images over his life of King appeared. He wiped his eyes.

"Can you fix it King?"

King stood like a statue on his haunches in the rain, oddly immobile, as if frozen in place. His skulled head shook itself.

"Doesn't. Cant. Doesn't work like that."

"What doesn't?"

King shook his head.

"Rules. You have rules. Magic has rules too."

"But you can break them!"

He stood up now, his voice raising.

"You can break all the rules King!"

King shook his head.

"Not those ones. Unbreakable."

Silence filled the park as the last word was uttered. Concrete, unbreakable, undeniable. And suddenly, his young mind realized it. King, suddenly changed. Suddenly, King was normal. Suddenly, he was angry.

"You were supposed to help King! Why didn't you help!"

King shook his head, standing up as he held his hands up.

"Can't. I'm sorry. Wish I could. Have limits."

"But you can fly!"

King lowered his skulled head, keeping his hands at his sides. King's sudden normal actions set something loose in him. Something ugly broke free and he spoke.

"I hate you!"

King looked up, in the rainfall, standing there. A crushing silence filled everything around them, the only sound being the patter of rainfall on King's suit. King nodded.

"I'm sorry. Goodbye."

King raised a hand, and snapped a finger. Something ignited, the void around him, but it faltered and wavered, before blinking out weakly. King stood in the rainfall, watching in the awkward silence of it all at what he'd just done. He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around the younger boy.

"Sorry. Would fix if could. Uncle is gone. I stay here though."

Everything snapped and broke like a wire, washing away anger in place of sadness. Uncle was a rough man. Never backed down for anybody, and was a voice in the small community when it came to standing up to the gangs that tried to abuse it. Uncle never cried. But he couldn't do it. He cried for Uncle and King stayed.

20 Years Later

The years came and went as age began to show on his face. He grew tall, and strong, able bodied and willing to move. The world around him changed. Hooverville had moved. His home, the end of the line, the last stop, had worn itself out. It was still out there. But the people and faces he once knew, had moved on. Uncle's passing was always there, when he looked back.

But despite it all, he moved forward. And in time, things weren't so painful. King never faltered. He was always around. But, over the years, King's appearances had started to slow. And when questioned, King never gave an answer. Regardless of it, King was a part of his life. Distant and far, alien and strange. Yet close, comforting. King was there for every bad day. And, today was one of those days.

In the late hours of the day, he sat, leaning up against the cold stone wall of his cell, with nothing to do. Beyond the iron bars of the other cells, there was only one man a few cells down beside him, in a drunken stupor. He sighed, leaning his head against the wall as he waited. He had fast hands. He was skilled in his trade. And through his skill, he had earned respect. The men he had long since fallen into friendship with respected him.

He tapped his foot on the concrete, waiting. Where was King? He was always late these days. He had fast hands. But just a little bit of an ace up his sleeve. King was there to help him, when he couldn't do it alone. And, at last, reality bent and warped, and King stepped through the fissure into the jail cell. He stood up from the bench with a smile.

"King! I thought you weren't going to show up!"

King stood tall, almost imposing, as he brushed off his suit, simply watching him. King had no real facial features save for the glow of his eyes in the sockets of bone that where his face. But by now, he was familiar with King.

"Hey. What's wrong King?"

King tilted his head.

"Shouldn't be here."

He chuckled.

"You always say that."

"No. Time. Timing is off. But shouldn't be here."

King stepped past him, running a pale hand along the cell bars as he went. Stopping as he went, he brought his head close to the bars, grating his teeth on the bars as he chewed on the metal, absent minded.

"King, what are you doing?"

King turned back to him, chattering his teeth.

"Shouldn't be here. Nope."

King pushed past him again, and, once more, did something unexpected. Placing a foot on the cell wall, King casually walked up the wall, and then jumped onto the ceiling, hanging upside down. King watched him, upside down from the roof. He raised his voice now.

"King, come on now. I need to get out of here!"

The drunken man a few cells down stirred. King crossed his suited arms.

"Nope."

"What? Why?"

King paced around on the ceiling, back and forth. He crossed his arms now too.

"King. What's wrong?"

"Nothing wrong. Not wrong. Me? Happy."

"You don't seem happy King."

King shook his head.

"I am me. But you, aren't being you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

King paced back and forth, still upside down. Rather than get in the way, he sat down on the bench of his cell, watching King pace. Eventually, King stopped, walking over to the wall and walking down it back onto the floor. King sat down on the bench next to him.

"You're a friend. I'm a friend. Remember? King is your friend."

King waved a hand above the horns of his skull, making a simple crown out of light, which quickly faded and grew dim. He stopped, waiting.

"Well, yeah. You're my friend King. My best friend."

King nodded.

"Friends help friends."

He nodded.

"Okay. So help me out of here King. I need to get out of here or they'll lock me up."

Something seemed solemn in King as he stood up to his feet. He stepped forward to the jail cell door, but then stopped and turned. In his pale hand, King pulled a key out of his pocket. He stood up to go to the door, but King raised a hand.

"Stop."

He was confused. But by now, he listened to King. He had long since learned to let King speak.

"You don't see. But I do."

He crossed his arms as he leaned against the wall.

"I see King. I see you. I'm the only one that can."

King shook his head.

"Not the point. I see. You don't."

He sighed.

"Okay King. Tell me what you see that I don't."

"See future. See time. Past. Present."

He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped as King pointed to the watch around his wrist that held up the key to the cell door.

"Always late. Me. Run run run. But always late."

"What are you saying King?"

"Can see future. Tell, future."

It had been a long time. But suddenly, a new wound was ripped open. The realization of who King was. What King was doing. What King already did. His voice strained.

"King. You could have saved Uncle. All those years ago."

King nodded.

"Uncle. Uncle good man. But one path. Can't beat fate."

Anger began to bristle in him as he pushed himself farther up the wall.

"Then what are you doing King? Tell me!"

King lowered his head.

"See time. See you. Know where you go from here."

"Tell me then King."

"Can't."

"Break the rules King. Just like the cell door."

King shook his head.

"No. Your choice."

"What?"

King stood tall, and held the key up in one hand, while raising his other up in the air, poised to snap his fingers.

"Your choice. Not thinking. Don't see! Uncle warned you."

Anger couldn't hold itself back anymore and he pushed himself off the wall and stepped forwards.

"Don't bring Uncle into this King! This is just me and you!"

By now, the drunk in the cell a few rows down had woken up, and was watching a spectacle that he would only ever remember as a drunken hallucination of a man arguing with thin air. King nodded.

"Your choice."

King raised his hand up in the air, while balancing the key in the other hand equally.

"Can't choose for you. But can try to help."

He stopped briefly, as he reached his hand out. He looked into the eyes of King. Eyes that always watched him. Eyes that were always there, when he needed someone. Something stopped him, held his hand at bay. King's words sunk into him like knives, weighing him down. He had to stop and think. And yet.... This was his life.

King was a friend. Always there. But a bystander. An outsider. Close, yet always so far away. And his life, was always here. Just like Hooverville. Like it or not. This was his. He looked into King's eyes, and reached out, grasping the key. King's eyes lowered, so too did his head.

"You make choice. I make mine."

King nodded, one last time.

"Friends help friends."

King snapped his fingers, and the void claimed him, as he disappeared from reality. The key King held dropped into his hands with a finality that suddenly crushed him, as he realized what he'd just done. He grasped the key tightly in his hand, standing there, as grief overwhelmed him.

King was gone.

Many Years Later

The years that followed, were indeed his life. The life that he chose, for himself. It wasn't an easy life. And it was a life without King. Eventually, King began to fade. An afterthought. An old memory, that seemed to flicker and fade, unreal, like a fairy tale, or imaginary friend.

But King's words, and act, haunted him. And as he grew older, wiser, more experienced, he fully understood the weight of what King had done. King was a friend. And he had tried to help. In his own, funny way. A way that made sense, to the entity that he was. And it was him, and not King, that had made a mistake. His life took him down hard roads.

Roads that the only man he ever would have called father, Uncle, had done his best to steer him away from. Roads that even King, an outsider, knew where wrong for him. But his life, was his. And so he took it, for good or bad, and fought his fight. He became notorious in the underworld. First, as a small fish. Swift hands, hands that were almost inhumanly fast. And eventually, those swift hands were given a weapon.

And he had shown that he was a crack shot. Fast on the draw like no other. It was the life he fell into. And it haunted him. It broke him. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't leave it. He could no longer break free of it. Worst of all, over the years, what haunted him the most, was King's unwavering kindness.

The key King had given him to his cell never disappeared. And he held onto it. For his whole life. In the moments that he couldn't do it alone, that key was all he had left. And it was more. For King was kind. The key opened any door. No matter the cell. And his reputation as a man of the gun with hands that could draw faster than any other, was overshadowed by his ability to escape.

Some days, it seemed like an insult. He could escape any cell. He could unlock any door. But he couldn't escape the path he walked now. No matter how hard he tried to change. He just fell deeper. And now, after decades of the life that he chose, it lead to this.

The docks swayed on the waves in the night. A quiet pier, on the quiet avenues of the city he called home. He stood, in shoes of concrete, facing his end. It was the end he chose. The end Uncle had never wanted for him. Becoming wrapped up in the mobs and gangsters in the night, the corrupt and blackmailed. Before him, stood the shining example of just that. Officers of the law, under the payroll of some other rival gang.

Machine guns leveled at him, and shoes of concrete, to make sure, that the famed escape artist, never escaped again. His hands were bound. And he faced his end. But it wasn't an end he could bear to look at. All he could look at was the key wrapped around his neck. Some part of King's power kept his key hidden. For he was the only one who could ever see.

One of the men, the one calling the shots, barked out to him in the night, bringing him back.

"Last words slick. We'll give them to the world. A promise, just like this here deal."

He looked up, in a haze, to the officers facing him. None of them mattered. Not even the face of the one who was giving him this. And he realized it. He was alone. For the first time in years, he allowed what he always tried to hide come free. One of the officers muttered.

"Ha! Look at that. He's sobbing!"

He looked down to the key on his neck.

"I'm sorry, Uncle. I never listened. Forgive me. King. Wherever you are. I'm sorry I failed you. You never failed me. But I failed you."

He sighed, putting on his face to the world as he looked up to the guns that faced him. The man calling the shots nodded.

"AIM!"

He watched them, with a simple smile.

"I'm sorry King."

The man lowered his arm.

"FI-"

Light and dark ripped and swirled into each other, as reality bent in on itself, and through the hole in space, stepped a black suited man, boasting a horned skull with eyes that shone out in the dark like fireflies. He did not stumble from the portal, but stepped out, checking his watch. He chattered, looking over to the man on the edge of the docks in bindings and concrete shoes.

"Hmm. Time. Got it right this time."

Time moved forwards, as the man's hand lowered, and an expression of shock filled his face as his eyes bore witness, just like all the others on the dock, to something inhuman. Something alien, and foreign. Something, somebody, that he had known all his life. King. A friend. King walked in front of him, as he struggled in his bindings in shock, as the officers paused. King brushed his suit off, clacking his teeth.

"Hello! I am me! And this here is my friend!"

King gestured behind himself.

"Friends help friends! Goodbye officers!"

King turned back, and placed a hand on his shoulders, pale as always, firm yet gentle like it always was, un-aged or affected by time. He raised a hand up, and snapped his fingers. Light and dark swirled around him as he phased into the void, and then it sputtered and died.

A gunshot rang out on the docks, as a bullet traced the air, traveling along in a clean arc as it pierced through the black fabric of King's suit, passing through flesh and bone. The impact staggered King, and he shook his skulled head. He looked back over his shoulder, his eyes wavering, as he spoke.

"Out of power! Not good. Hang on friend. Will be back!"

King shoved him out of the way and into the water below, before snarling as he turned his attention on the gunfire that erupted his way from the dumbstruck officers. King's hold over time broke fully now, and everything traveled normal speed. He fell into the dark waters below, and sunk beneath the waves as the concrete fillings dragged him like lead. He struggled as best he could, still able to hear the thump of gunshots on the waves above him.

Darkness grew stronger around him as he sunk further along. He closed his eyes, and held his breath for as long as possible, counting down, counting the ticks to slow his heart and lungs. King had come back. He was always there. He had never left. King was always there. King would find him. He believed. In the dark that consumed him, a firm hand placed itself on his shoulder, and pulled.

He was dragged up through the darkness by a pale hand belonging to a stranger in a black suit, with a skull of horns and wavering eyes that always watched. His friend. King. He broke through the water and the waves with a gasp, dragged along by King, as he was forcefully hauled up onto the docks, choking up water. On King's touch bindings snapped and broke, and he was free to move. He reached out a hand to King, who clung to the docks, simply floating in the water.

"King come here!"

King looked up to him, with a skull, now shattered on one side, missing a horn.

"Like the water. Water is nice."

He laughed. Something he hadn't done in years. Or maybe it was cry. He didn't know anymore. He grabbed King and pulled him out of the water and onto the docks with him. King clung to him weakly, staggering up onto the docks. King sat down, in his sopping wet suit, keeping an arm clinging to his stomach, as he looked out at the docks beyond.

"Nasty people. Physical world strange."

He looked out to the docks, to see the officers all dead, laying where they fell, or where they were thrown, bits and pieces of them. He looked down to King. King simply sat on the docks, clicking his teeth, as he clutched himself.

"What's wrong King?"

King looked up to him.

"Physical world! Hurts a bit. No power left. Tired!"

King's hand fell free and he spotted crimson on pale skin.

"King you've been shot."

"Shot. Funny word."

King slumped on his side, alarming him into action. He rolled King over, picking him up in his arms. On picking him up, King's usual suit which remained buttoned and closed like always, opened up to reveal pale flesh that was riddled with holes. The sight broke something in him. Like all those years ago when King had revealed that not even he could fix death.

"Oh jesus fuck King!"

The site only spurred him on, as he stood, surveying the scene. He held King in his arms and moved. His life had been hard. These things were common. But the being in his arms now. Not this. Anything but this.... He bent down and picked up a machine gun from one of the fallen officers, and ran off the docks towards the mainland.

Sirens blared as he hammered his foot down on the pedal, caring not for attention that was paid to him. Cars swerved out of the way to avoid him, for all they knew, he was an officer headed towards a crime in progress. King remained slumped in the passenger seat next to him, simply watching as things passed him by in the windows.

"Funny. Stuck in box now. In good way though."

King looked over to him as he remained focused on the road, going as fast as he could, passing through traffic in a blur.

"Know you want to help. Can't."

He turned his eyes over to King.

"Why!?"

"Only path."

"Stop it King."

"Only outcome."

"No. I'm going to take you somewhere safe."

His eyes went back to the road. King watched him, slumped up against the window.

"Only outcome where you survive."

"Why!? Why me King!"

"Friend. Friends help."

"No King! Friends help. Friends care. I got you killed! I am not your friend!"

"Mistakes. They happen some days. I forgive you."

King sighed visibly, only spurring him to try and put his foot down farther on the gas peddle. Streets passed by in a blur, as he traveled down roads and streets that he had long since come to know like the back of his hand. The trip was short. But as he drove, every second counted. He pulled the car to a screeching stop down some seemingly random dark back alley, and stepped out.

He ran around to the other side, opening up the door as he quickly pulled King out into the alley. The sirens turned off but left flashing, the car left running, he didn't care. He carried King with him to a safehouse he had often called home, crashing through the door in a mad fury. Lights were lit as he hurried King over to an old couch by now even he was familiar with when removing the results of a shootout.

He set King down on the couch, standing up in a hurry to fetch something, anything, trying to make himself useful. King chattered his teeth together.

"No use. What's done is done."

He stopped in his tracks, turning on King.

"I won't let you King. You're not supposed to! You can't!"

"Rules to follow. Can't beat them."

"Yes you can!"

_ _

King sighed. He stopped. Closed the distance on King, wrapping his arms around the suit which was now visibly stained with blood and holes. All his life was a brave face. But tonight, was something he couldn't hide from, nor fight.

"King. Oh god I'm sorry King!"

King reached up, patting him on the back.

"Messy. These things happen. Not your fault."

"It was! I should have listened!"

"Choice is special! Choose where to go. Choose adventure!"

"I chose wrong King. I chose wrong!"

King nodded his skulled head, watching him.

"I chose to come back. Maybe wrong. But feels right."

"King. There has to be a way. You need power. Where do you get it!?"

"Power is me. I am me. No battery to plug me into."

He stood up, angry.

"God dammit King! Don't do this to me now!"

King set his head down on the couch, sighing.

"Goodbye friend. Out of time. Was adventure. Loved every minute. Have to go now."

King drew something final, a breath across bony teeth that only traveled out and did not return. Eyes dimmed and vanished, and then he stopped. He could only stand there. He did not move. But he watched, unbelieving of what lay before him. King. The outsider. The stranger. His friend. Always watching. Always there. Always caring.

The world bent to his will, or rather, his amusement. And yet, here he was. He couldn't say it. Couldn't place the word on his lips, or his mind. And yet, here was the suited stranger, dressed for an occasion he had never known. Splayed out on the couch, riddled with holes. He stood, immobile.

"King."

No response.

"King. Come on."

Nothing moved. Nothing casually moved carefree like it wasn't part of this world or its laws. Memories came back to him, over parts of his life where King was there. He was always there. With an absent mind he thumbed the key around his neck. No. There had to be a way. Thinking back through all the times King was there. King could do anything. He stared at the still form of the being he had known since he was just a little kid, before all of this. And then he realized. The key around his neck. The key.

King had given him the key. Given him the key, and then left. Because the key was what he wanted. His choice. But King, always came back. King had always come. Because he wanted someone. Every time he was alone, every time he was lost in his life, with no glimmer of hope, there was King. He did that. King didn't come by choice. But he stayed by choice.

And tonight, he wanted King. He wanted King more than anything else in the world. More than a key that would free him from his cell. More than a key that could open any door and give him an edge to impress. He nodded, looking down at the key in his hand. With a shaking hand, he ripped off the key from his neck. He understood now. He could fix it. He could fix everything. Because he could see.

King, vaguely reffered to what he did as magic. He wasn't a superstious man. Or even religious. But what he had done and seen with King was proof enough to him. And if he could see King. Then that meant something. It had to. He looked down at the key in his hand, tossing it onto the floor. He looked over to King.

"Come on King. I need you."

He stepped forward.

"Come on King! I'm not letting you go!"

He stepped over to King, parting aside the elegant suit, clenching a fist as he raised it up. He raised his hand just like King. Just like he did when he was going to leave. He brought it down with all his strength.

"Come on King!"

He raised it up again.

"Come on King! COME ON!"

He wasn't giving up. Never. He raised his arm once more, and brought it down against pale flesh where a heart should be. He tried again. And again.

"Come on King. You never gave up on me. Like fucking hell I'll give up on you!"

He brought his fist down, remembering the first time he ever saw King. But something stuck out in his mind. He didn't know why. It was so simple. It just popped in there. A simple face. Two scribbled eyes and an upturned mouth in a smile. It stuck to him. He laughed, thinking of how silly it was. He raised his fist once more and couldn't keep the strength of his arm up to hit with any force as he laughed, and it landed dead center with no force.

King let something out, an exhale and then inhale as his chest rose. A light returned to his eyes and he looked up, chattering his teeth together.

"Definitely not supposed to be here!"

All he could do was laugh, a mixture of joy and tears as King gasped for air again. He pulled King close, laughing. King reached up, slowly, returning the hug.

"Hmm. Hug. Thank you!"

King coughed, a strange sound for him, and something bounced and rolled onto the floorboards of the old building. He broke the simple embrace with King, reaching down to the floor, as he pulled up a bullet in his hand. King tilted his head.

"Hmm. Not supposed to have those."

He turned back with a smile.

"King. Please."

King shrugged. He pushed himself upright, pulling his legs over the couch, trying to stand. He stood for only a few seconds, before falling back down to the couch.

"Not good! No power yet. Still full of holes!"

King chattered his teeth together, back and forth as the lights of his eyes flickered.

"Hate to ask. May I have some help?"

He smiled, standing up with relief.

"You can have as much damn help as you want King! Stay there. I'll be back."

Removing bullets was easy business by now. But King presented a challenge. Because he had so many. King was otherworldly. But seemed hard pressed to part with his suit. Eventually, he was convinced. King watched with curiosity as he worked. Even he had to admit. This was odd. He'd known King all his life. And sitting here now, with King in such a normal state, wasn't normal. In fact it was alien.

Worlds collided in full, someone who was far beyond the laws of this place and time, confined to sitting still and having small metal objects removed from him, while a mere man, one who could see, worked to remove them, after having brought King back, even through death. King chattered throughout, happily poking or prodding at holes with a mild interest.

Without his suit on, King seemed different. A look he'd never seen before. King was just as pale across his body as his own two hands. Simple flesh and bone that seemed soft. Almost gentle. He couldn't place his fingers on it. But, it didn't matter so much now. King was alive. And that was what was important to him. Through the course of the night, he worked, bullet wound by bullet wound, pulling bits and pieces out.

King was injured. But recovering now. Like he had received a boost or jumpstart. And it was becoming clear that King was getting stronger once more, as more life and animation returned to him. And yet still, his body remained riddled with bullets. He worked, from front to back, and eventually, he removed every last piece. King had taken to fiddling with bloodied bullets in his hands casually, and continued to roll some around as the last one was removed.

He set his tweezers down on a chair he had since pulled over.

"Okay King. Top half done. You got hit in the bottom too. I've got to get those out."

King looked over.

"Don't like naked. Like suit. Suit is comfy."

"Well. We'll swap. You put the coat back on. But take your suit pants off. I don't think you want to walk around with bullets in your legs."

King shivered, and he watched as a pair of small feathered wings broke out from the skin of his pale backside.

"Will fly. Never liked walking anyway."

"You don't walk much as it is King."

"Hmm. Guess I need to be lazier."

He crossed his arms, wiping his hands on a towel before scratching his chin.

"Okay King. Your game. You want to fly around, be my guest."

King nodded, pushing himself up stubbornly, but even through the flexing of his small wings, he wasn't able to manage. He sat back down in the couch, crossing his arms.

"Fine. Steal pants."

He chuckled, standing up as King stretched out his legs.

"You're not used to this are you? You're vulnerable."

King kept his arms crossed, the two small lights of his eyes doing summersaults as he rolled them.

"Nope! Want to walk on walls. Fly. Do me stuff!"

Taking off the shoes that matched suit, he pulled on the fabric of King's suit, as King helped, sliding things down below his waist. King leaned forward the further his pants slid down, revealing the same pale skin and soft features on legs that revealed that even there, he was hit.

"It's okay King. Just business. Friends right? Nothing to be worried about."

He chuckled.

"Didn't think you'd follow those rules anyway."

King leaned his skull down into has hands as he leaned across his lap.

"Some rules, can't break."

He chuckled once more.

"I beg to differ. Here you are. Twice in one night even. I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

"Lot of things you didn't think about. Happen anyway."

He grabbed a pair of tweezers and wiped them off, going to work on the lowest wound in one of King's legs.

"Hey, don't be like that now. Things worked out."

"You cheated."

"I can say the same to you. You don't follow our rules."

He looked up as he pulled the first bullet fragment out.

"Guess I don't follow yours."

King was determined to keep his head in his hands as he simply watched things play out.

"Thank you! One time. Cheating good."

"What was with that key you gave me? That wasn't cheating?"

"Help. Friends help. Key saved your life many times."

He sighed as he moved along.

"Okay King. Give me some help here. I've got to pull out the rest."

King remained in place.

"King. Don't tell me you got shot in the dick."

"Nope."

"Then I need you to move so I can pull the rest out of your thighs."

"Fine. No laughing."

He sighed even as King eventually shifted position, revealing the remainder of the bullets caught in his leg. And something else. Or lack of. He looked up to the skulled entity before him.

"I'm not laughing King. Just didn't expect that is all."

"Hmm. Not supposed to be there."

"There's a lot of things that shouldn't be in you right now King."

"Not King."

"What do you mean?"

"Smiggles. Two names!"

"Oh. I see. Bit of both then?"

"Just me."

King raised an arm, with more strength than before, waving a finger that scattered light in its wake, in a loose patter of squiggles that faded quickly. King tilted his head, seemingly smiling down at him.

"Hey, looks like you're coming back!"

"Back. Hmm. Forwards!"

With that revelation, the final bullet was pulled free, leaving King free of what had transpired. King looked down at the small object in the tweezers he held in his hand. He dropped the small broken chunk into the small pile he had since been building up, wiping his hands clean of the mess.

"There. Come on. Let's get you cleaned up."

"Clean?"

"You've got blood all over the place. It goes bad after a while. Come on. Put your suit back on. We'll clean everything up."

King's strength was starting to become evident again, as previously, bullet holes that were open were slowly disappearing, piece by piece, as new flesh filled the void. And, as ever, King was oblivious to the workings of the Human world. The shower was something curious. Hot and cold water, a curiosity as it came through pipes and a showerhead.

King sat in the bathtub, holding a hand out to catch the water as it fell. King was out of place like this, so he had eventually stepped in to give a hand. And, he realized that he wasn't so well off either. The blows from officers had left their marks on his face and body. His own blood, and King's, had found its way onto his own clothes. So it was now that he sat down in the tub with King, simply letting the water wash troubles away.

Blood washed away from clothing and drained into the tub from the both of them, cementing an end to everything. He didn't know about King. But something calm washed over him as he sat down in the tub. Years of his life vanished, strain, and fighting, ugly things, disappeared in the wake of King. He pulled King close, who was curious at first, but eventually resigned to the gesture, going slack in his arms.

This was something new for him. King always had something new for him. And he realized it, in the calm as water fell across his face, and washed down King's skull all the same. He raised a hand up to the shattered part of King's skull, rubbing his hand across the broken bone.

"King."

"Yar."

"What am I?"

King shifted, leaning his skulled head back.

"Friend."

"I don't think I can live without you."

King chattered away.

"Couldn't have lived without you."

He nodded.

"King. Where are you from?"

"Don't know."

"What do you mean?"

"Don't know. Just like travelling."

"How'd you find me?"

"Don't know! Just, popped in one day."

He pulled King closer, wrapping his arms tight around him.

"I brought you back King. I brought you back because I needed you."

King tilted his head.

"What if I came back because I wanted to?"

He chuckled.

"Don't leave me again. I want you to stay. Stay here. Just like this."

"Hmm."

"King. You're a friend. More than that. You've been there my entire life. I pulled you in. I pulled you in from the start because I needed you. I love you."

King sighed, and he felt it rise in his chest, having long since absent mindedly kept his hands tight across bare pale skin exposed in a suit. The breath of air was a new strength, and he watched as more holes began to close up in its wake. He smiled. He understood now.

King was drawn to him. He was drawn to King. They were fractured parts. Across worlds and times. And his hurt and pain called out to King. And King always came. And King's own pain, as alien as it was to him, called out to him. They fed off one another. He nodded slowly.

"King. I love you."

He kept his hands pressed against bare skin, soft and smooth, containing a wiry strength that was evident but hidden at the same time, under pale smooth skin that reflected who he was. He felt a heartbeat raise in strength, and watched the effect as more bullet holes closed. He chuckled.

"Can you feel that King?"

King brought his own arms to bare, wrapping them over his.

"Can feel. See it now."

King brought a hand up and scrawled a heart out into the air, in little bits and pieces of light that faded, like dying fireworks.

"Love you too."

He felt it. All those years. All that pain. It was gone. A piece of it vanished, leaving him free. He pulled King close.

"Don't leave me again."

King chattered.

"Never."

Beyond this small moment of peace, outside, forces gathered at the door to the old forgotten hideout, police, having come to investigate, jumped at the opportunity of having pinned down just who was in the building. A slippery man. A killer. A man of fast hands and a notorious name in the underworld.

They broke through the door to the old hideout on the outskirts of the abandoned parts of town, shattering the silence that had claimed this place. But, for once in his life, he did not fight or stir. He had made mistakes. He was not a pure man. But he had tried his best. Done what he thought was right. And a friend, alongside him, was guilty of the same.

Apart, they were broken. Shattered fragments from different worlds that didn't function alone. But together, they were something more. And both understood now. And never again, would they part. Footsteps could be heard as officers stormed the building, searching for a target. By now they had heard running water. They were coming.

He held King close, finding the bare patch of skin that met bone on the back of his neck, kissing it. King's grip tightened, and he watched as shattered bone and skull wove themselves back into existence. Even his suit, filled itself out, rejecting the bullet holes that had pieced it. Water crashed over them both, like the rainfall of the first time they had ever watched each other.

King clasped a hand over his, as he in turn held King back, feeling the heartbeat of something alien and yet all the same, comforting, across pale smooth skin. King raised a hand up into the air, high and proud. He held on tight, asking one last question.

"Where are we going King?"

King looked back to him through the glow of the lights in his skull.

"Don't know! New adventure."

"You sure?"

King nodded.

"Leap of faith."

He smiled.

"Like flying."

King tilted his head.

"Like that! We fly together now! Love you!"

He nodded, the age on his face disappearing behind a youth in eyes that returned, sparking something new. Likewise, King seemed different now too. They were whole.

The bathroom door was bashed open, and King snapped his fingers, light and shadow enveloping them both, pulling them into the void together.

As officers filled into the room, the last traces of a simple spectacle showed itself before their eyes.

A simple crown, bright and strong, shimmered in the air on trails of golden light.

It burned strong and true, like a small star, fueled by its creator and given a life of its own.

A life now whole and bright, across time and space.

Fractured no longer.