Chapter Text
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10% chance of survival.
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The insatiable magma bubbled and boiled beneath the hastily crafted cage dangling precariously over Mount Mathna. It churned and burned this mesmerizing shade of red that reminded Professor Percentage of candied apple liquefied into a sticky, sweet mess. But it didn't matter if what lay beneath him was molten rock or sugar as his fate would be the same: if these kids couldn't solve at least 3 of The Divider's equations, the man would be sent tumbling into the greedy maw of the volcano below. Game Over.
They were just kids: Johnny C, Marty R, Abby N, and his niece Penny P. Fourth graders. 11 years old at most. And somehow, someway, the weight of whether the professor perished here or not was on their shoulders. Why? Where were their parents? Why couldn't some ADULT handle fighting the ancient evil god of division? Better yet, why couldn't the PROFESSOR answer these questions himself? They were fourth grade level problems; surely a man in his 40's had at least an 84% chance of success. And, in this situation, you could bump those numbers up to a handsome 95%, considering the professor's entire life revolved around math and, as one could easily deduce, percentages.
Percentage had previously praised the children and encouraged them that they could easily conquer this entity and solve its riddles. But if he were to be honest, he wasn't quite sure himself. Sure, Penny had a good head on her shoulders, but the other three? Johnny was the class clown, Marty an air-headed jock, and Abby a prissy pretty-girl. Why did Penny even bother with these ignoramuses? Just because all their first names ended in the same letter and they could call themselves Team Y??
Just...kids...just kids with a goofy name and absent parental figures. And, on top of that-
-The Divider had unexpected help.
A peculiar spacecraft would hover not a hundred feet above the volcano. The owner of said ship, a young woman- cat? Cat woman? Stood upon the shoulders of the towering, malicious captor hovering next to Percentage's cage. The professor would have mistaken her as a villain as well, but even through the smoke and the smog, he could see it in her eyes, hear it in her voice: a twinkle of desperate determination. Something was different about her, something unlike the Divider. A goddess? A heroine? But then why would she advocate for his death?
"No way! Are you crazy?? That's my uncle up there! If you think for a moment that I'd give up on family when the going gets tough, your calculations are way off!" Penny stood just barely on the volcano's edge upon a metal platform, glaring up to this fervent feline with all the determination of a kid who spotted their favorite character plush in a claw machine.
"Listen," the furred stranger would begin, fist clamped to her chest. "I know this doesn't make much sense right now, and I seriously wish we could save your uncle, but you have to trust me! If you take down the Divider, you're going to regret it every day for the rest of your life, so please! Please just listen to me!"
"And just let her uncle die?! That would be a total cat-astrophe!"
"Johnny..." the other Y's would groan in unison. Even the professor found himself more overcome with annoyance than fear of burning alive in that moment.
"You can't reason with 'em, Kit! They're literally elementary schoolers! Practically toddlers! Unless you got some subway surfers and jingling keys on hand, I'd figure you couldn't keep their attention any longer than you could say 'Skibidi Toilet'!"
"They're heroes, Kaboodle. It doesn't matter what their age is; they'll always do what they think is right." Kit's voice would grow softer as she regarded her tiny metal companion standing to her side. "All we have to do is-"
"SORRY TO SPLIT UP YOUR LITTLE TALK, BUT I'D CEASE GOSSIPING IF YOU WANT YOUR UNCLE TO WALK free." The Divider finally decided to butt in, insulting everyone's intelligence by not ending his sentence on a proper rhyme.
Claws raised by either side, the timeworn tyrant would summon a glowing stone tablet from Mount Mathna, the equation upon it etched in glowing crimson lava.
"NOW SOLVE MY FIRST RIDDLE, TEAM Y, OR YOUR UNCLE HERE WILL SURELY DIE in approximately 5-10 minutes."
"Ew. He's not MY uncle. My family wouldn't be caught dead with a hair level under 8," Abby would sneer as she checked her perfectly pink nails.
"Abby, come on! We need to focus here! Hm...let's see...." Penny would squint at the tablet ahead, taking several seconds to pause and read. "Elizabeth is holding her 12th birthday party and invited 11 kids as party guests. Her parents bought 504 cookies for the event-"
"Woah! 504?? I think if I ate more than 3, I'd be the one who'd be cooked!"
"J o h n n y ," a second groan would follow, Team Y clearly wondering 'y' they had brought him along to begin with.
Penny would clear her throat and continue. "So with 504 cookies and 11 party guests, how many cookies could each child present at the party get? Hm....no that's not right....11 doesn't go into 504 evenly. Would the Divider give us a problem where the answer has so large of a remainder?"
"It's 42," Marty, the backwards ball cap wearing jock of the group, would respond plainly, blinking up to the tablet. "The word problem asked how many cookies each child could get, and Elizabeth is a child, too, right?"
Momentarily stunned that the dullest of the group effortlessly solved the problem, the professor would narrow his gaze down to Marty alongside the remainder of Team Y. Sure, it was a tricky question and easy enough to catch on to if given some thought, but this kid had a GPA embarrassingly short of 2 and had already been held back a year. How...?
The professor would watch on as a flying key fit itself perfectly into the first lock on his cage door, twisting and popping the first device as it popped free and landed into the lava with a satisfying sizzle.
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33% chance of survival.
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"BLAST! YOU SOLVED MY FIRST RIDDLE, BUT SURELY THIS NEXT ONE WILL GIVE YOUR BRAIN A TICKLE a moderate to generous amount."
"That one didn't even have an exact rhyme in it," the professor would mutter under his breath, sassing this diabolical entity as casually as a child would their mother. Do they not have proper schools here in the Juxta Jungle??
"HERE IS THE NEXT QUESTION FOR YOU: ARE YOU KIDS READY FOR ROUND TWO now? " Another tablet would rise before the professor could get another correction in, but one could practically hear the sound of his very soul screaming.
"This isn't looking too hot, Kaboodle," Kit would wince, only able to look on helplessly as the mass of the stone blocked Team Y completely from view.
"Eh, I dunno, I'd say it looks a balmy 900°C down there- think it's a good time to work on my tan?"
"I'm serious! That kid on the far end was able to solve that problem in less than 6 seconds! All I know is how to fight; how- how are we supposed to beat something we can't even, well, beat??"
"Lucky guess on the dimwit's part: these kids look a few sandwiches short of a teddy bear picnic, if you know what I mean," Kaboodle would retort with a nudge to Kit's leg.
"Hey, that's my niece you're talking about down there," the professor would bark, clearly offended at anyone questioning his family's intelligence.
"And I'm saying that your niece is a fucking moron, you four eyed freak!"
"KABOODLE!!" Kit would snap at her tiny companion as if he'd set 504 cookies on fire at a 12 year old's birthday party.
"2,027," could be heard from behind the stone tablet, the same voice from before: Marty.
"Ah shit," Kaboodle would deadpan, his voice suddenly sounding a decent deal less confident than before.
The sound of a second click and sizzle announced the defeat of yet another padlock on the professor's cage.
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66% chance of survival.
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Marty, the dunce, the absolute simpleton...how is he managing this??
"AGH, YOU'VE BESTED ME AGAIN, BUT WITH THIS FINAL RIDDLE, SURELY I WON'T BE KILLED by you all because you're literally just a bunch of kids and that would be incredibly embarrassing on my part."
"Slain," the professor would groan, resting his face in his hands out of exasperation. "Just say slain and end on slain."
"Okay look:," The Divider would whip about towards their captive, voice lower, hands thrown up in pained exasperation as the final tablet rose from the flames. "YOU try being the villain and rhyming every sentence, Smart Guy! I'm doing my best here; it's not as easy as it looks!"
"Oh? Is it not? I would wager there is at least a 78% chance that I could EASILY fulfill the role of a villain better than a neanderthal like you could possibly dream."
"OH I'M SO AFRAaAaAaAiD. Here comes BIG BRAIN BEN with his BIG BAD PERCENTAGES coming for my JOB and my generous 401(K) EVIL RETIREMENT PLAN!"
The professor's hands would shoot out to both sides of his body with equal exasperation. "My name isn't even Ben! Where did you get Ben from? Do I LOOK like a Ben to you??"
"THE PAPER!!"
The professor's attention would be averted instantly, overhearing both Kit and Kaboodle exclaim as they interrupted the current quarrel going on between captive and villain.
As the Divider slid their shoulder at just the right angle, the duo could now see perfectly what laid in Marty's left hand. As he followed the pair's gaze, the professor could indeed see the object loosely hanging in Marty's left hand: a small sheet of off-white paper. It seemed to be....moving? No, writhing was a better term for it. Like it was in some form of pain. How nice must it be to be a sheet of paper, no ears to hear a certain maniacal menace's mediocre attempts at rhyming.
"WAIT WAIT: DON'T READ THAT LAST ANSWER!! PLEASE!!" Kit would yelp out, launching herself off the shoulder and onto the tip of the professor's cage whilst dragging Kaboodle behind. The professor would wince as he gripped onto the iron bars to steady himself, now noticing how widely apart they were. Huh. Could he really have slipped out at any time?? Maybe he wasn't as intelligent as he thought. Maybe he needs to sit down after this and have a good, long look at himself introspectively.
"Aye aye aye EASY, WHISKERS, EASY-!!!" Kaboodle's pleas would be cut short as his metal body clanked harshly against the edge of the tablet's corner with a sickening thwunk. "OOOOOHHHH GOD!! DAMN IT!! THAT'S GONNA LEAVE A DENT!!"
It was as if the world had slowed down to the pace of molasses in that moment, Kit's outstretched paws reaching towards Marty as gravity plummeted her closer to the young boy.
Closer.
Closer.
Almost-
"YOU CAN'T DO THIS...PLEASE...IF YOU DO-"
"67."
Silence.
Stillness.
Even Mount Mathna's bubbling brew thinned out to a soundless sheet of molten rock as the universe about them held its breath.
Click.
Sizzle.
The sound of the third and final lock clicking open and dissolving broke the uncanny hush that settled over the mountain top like a weighted blanket.
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99% chance of survival.
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.....
"...Haha, he said six-seeeve-!"
Johnny's brilliant, currently culture-relevant joke would be cut short by the resounding crash of a nearby explosion as the forest encasing the volcano burst into chaotic crimson. What was once a peaceful jungle filled with breathtaking flora and fauna was now a hell on earth. Pillars of pure, cataclysmic energy glitched into existence and tore into its surroundings like a ravenous beast set to devour and destroy everything in its path.
Kit's body would collide uselessly onto Team Y's platform with a heavy bang, a groan and a grimace to follow as she fell just short of Marty's frozen form. His eyes were blown wide with disbelief and dread.
"THE HELL DID YOU DO, BONEHEAD??" Kaboodle's voice would ring out just barely above the sound of the very earth beneath them crumbling in on itself as he too landed.
"I...I didn't mean-" Marty would meekly slide a step back away from Kaboodle, from Kit, from his friends; it was as if he was attempting to distance himself from this terrible, unfolding truth. Hot tears prickled from the corners of his eyes as everyone's gaze settled upon him, perplexed and petrified. "I only wanted to do something right for once! I just didn't want to be the team screw up anymore!"
"Well you screwed up, beautifully, Farty!" The paper in Marty's fist would wriggle free, unfolding itself like perverse origami. The form shifted from a simple sheet to what could loosely be described as a man. The one eyed devil would give the whimpering child several sarcastic pat to the back, before slapping it just harsh enough to hurt. "Syntax thanks you for your service, Team Y! Now you get to become Team Die!"
"HEY: THAT'S MY BIT. I'M THE ONE WHO RH- WAIT-!!" The Divider's protest would be cut short as the paper pest wrapped one arm tightly about their middle like medical gauze. His other would morph into a helicopter's propeller as he began to fly the two of them up and away from the Armageddon being birthed below.
"WHERE ARE YOU TAKING ME?! THE DIVIDER DEMANDS THAT YOU SET THEM FREE!!"
Go figure THAT one rhymed- The professor would grit his teeth as the cage swung violently and precariously over the volcano below. The door was now open, but no means of true escape was available to him without dropping into the lava and frying to a crisp.
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3% chance of survival.
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"What's going on??" Abby would shriek as her head whipped about to every corner of the forest, but all that could be seen was those glitching, gargantuan pillars rocketing high into the atmosphere further than the sky itself. "Marty answered all the questions right, didn't he?? So why is the world totally going super ballistic on us??"
"It's going super ballistic because super brawn over here tossed your world into super trouble!! Out of the frying pan and into the fricckin' volcano!!" Kaboodle rubbed the side of his head (which was consequently his entire body) with his hand as his other energetically waved across their surroundings.
For once, Johnny had no clever quip on hand, knees buckled together, eyes clenched shut as if to will this nightmarish reality away.
"I'm so sorry, kids! I really tried to help, I really did, but nothing can be done now! We have to get back to the ship, fast!"
"But what about my mom and dad??" Penny would cry out pathetically, tears gushing down her cheeks like a broken damn. Even if a heroine, she was also just a little girl at the end of the day: a little girl who just wanted her parents to hold her and tell her everything was going to be okay.
It wasn't going to be okay.
The look on Kit's face was one of conflicted grief as she turned her head away from the children, rocketing a grappling hook up towards the open hatch of the ship and securing it before reaching for her partner. "Kaboodle, grab the professor and latch onto one of the kid's legs when it passes by! I'm going to try and get us all onto the Nimble!"
Kaboodle would silently obey, launching himself over towards the cage and gripping onto the bars just above the swinging door. "Alright, Sheldon: take my hand and hang on tight with those toothpick arms of yours, kay? Kit'll kill me if I let another one die."
"What on God's green earth do you mean by another??" The professor would yelp out with impassioned disbelief.
"Ain't nothing too 'green' about your earth anymore, Freckles," Kaboodle would quip as he attached himself to the frazzled man. "Just shut your yap, pick a god, and pray!"
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15% chance of survival.
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Meanwhile, Kit would take a knee in front of Penny, placing a tender paw on her shoulder with a sad, sympathetic grin. "Penny, you're a very brave girl. You came all this way with your friends to save your uncle, and I know what's going on is scary, but you still have that chance to save him and your friends. Can you stay brave for me just a little bit longer? Just until this is over?"
Penny's face was completely drenched with salty tears and a sorrow no child should ever have to feel. But, assured by Kit's soothing tone, she'd nod and reach out to the woman.
Kit, in turn, would clutch on to her, motioning for Penny to hug her around the waist. "All of you, form a chain and hang on as tight as you can! I promise I'll get you all out of here! Just don't let go!" Kit would instruct the group, watching on as Abby held on to Penny. Johnny to Abby.
Marty...hesitated, face contorted tight and ridden with the guilt of a soldier after a war horribly lost. But with Johnny's urgent expression and urging, he would eventually relent, hugging his friend close and bracing for lift off.
Pressing a button on her gauntlet, the grappling hook's rope would grow taut and begin to reel the heroes up towards the hovering spacecraft. Kaboodle would await his chance when Marty hovered just close enough, then wrap his metallic arm around the kid's ankle as both him and the professor were now airborne.
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20% chance of survival.
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Kit's teeth would grit together as the pull of the grappling hook grew slower and slower. Not enough power to lift a total of 2 adults, 4 kids, and Kaboodle in tow. Damn it-!!
"KABOODLE!"
"Way ahead of you, Kit!" Without needing instruction, Kaboodle would motion for the professor to reach up and hang onto Marty instead, clambering up the human rope towards the Nimble. It only took him moments to secure himself inside. Beginning to tug on Kit, he would guide her aboard the ship as well. Then Penny. Then Abby. Then Johnny. Then-
"I did this, didn't I?"
"....Pardon?" The professor would cock his head to the side, barely able to hear Marty above him over the sounds of a dying world and whirring engines.
"I killed everyone. None of this would have happened if I didn't read that paper, say those answers, win the Divider's challenge- this was my fault," Marty would respond in a far too somber, far too serious tone to belong to an eleven year old. "I just can't do anything, can I? My parents knew it all along. I should have listened to them and just stayed home!"
The professor would white knuckle grip the side of the ship's panel opening as he gained equal footing with Marty, his other arm still clinging tight to the boy as he listened.
In a way, Marty was right. None of this would have happened if he didn't choose to cheat and use that paper to secure a flawless victory. The planet would be fine. Perhaps the professor would be very VERY dead, but what was his death in trade for many others? An entire planet, an entire population, everyone and everything he had ever known.
But on the other hand, Marty never would have done this without the assistance of that damn papered man. HE was to blame for this, for manipulating a child's insecurities of being lesser. For weaponizing them to ensure Marty would do anything, anything, to prove he was worth something.
And how was he supposed to know?
How was he supposed to know his one chance to be something other than a failure would result in complete omnicide? Why was this something a child should even have to consider?
It was always the professor's weakness: think first, act later.
He parted his lips to speak, but ultimately, his voice would not follow. It remained choked inside, stored away for when he could use it proper with the perfect answer. An answer that was 100% correct, but also 100% sympathetic.
For a second. Just for a second. Just one, he hesitated.
But that's all it took.
Marty didn't even appear sad anymore, this look of eerie, quiet acceptance on his face. One that belonged to a man, not a boy:
To a man who drank himself into poverty and shoved all his loved ones out of his life.
To a man who valued a paycheck over his family only to lose them to someone who could be there.
To a man who fucked up so irreversibly that there was utterly, completely, absolutely no way to redeem himself.
Bitter resignation.
A column of violent, glitching red would explode from the volcano, breaking the oppressive calm in an explosion of mayhem. While it did not make a direct hit upon the Nimble, it was just enough to cause it to hitch. Just enough to cause the duo's footing to weaken. Just enough for Martin, already unsure and unsteady, to be sent plumeting into the chaotic destruction below.
"MARTIN!! MARTIN, NO!!" Percentage would screech out with all the air in his smoke-ridden lungs and desperation in his soul. He frantically clawed for the boy's hand, his shirt, his ANYTHING, only to receive to grasp Martin's silver cross necklace as the chain broke free. As he began to feel his own footing slip, as he began to feel himself tumble towards assured death below, he knew the effort would be fruitless. They were both going to die here.
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1% chance of surviva-
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"GOTCHA!!"
Cold metal would slink about Percentage's middle as the man felt himself jerked up to safety, into the Nimble, into the company of the ship's crew. To the terrified children who were perceptive enough to notice they were now one person short. All eyes were on the professor, silently demanding, or perhaps pleading, for an answer. And his eyes rested, in turn, on them. Then down to the necklace in his palm. Then back to them. A horrible hush overtook the deck as the glass door sealed shut behind him, sealing Marty's fate alongside it. That alone was answer enough.
The only sounds left were the distant booms from the vaporized world and the professor's cape whipping in the pressurized wind resulting from the door shutting. Percentage's face would melt into mournful, regretful weariness as he focus turned instead towards the glowing sphere that was once called home. His brother and sister-in-law, Penny's parents, gone now. All of these children's parents. And alongside them, Marty, who's death would be Percentage's eternal burden due to his momentary negligence.
The glowing glitchy embers of this world would reflect in the professor's glasses as the sound of open weeping finally began to whisper into existence behind him. From Johnny, Abby, and his beloved Penny. The sound of Kit's soothing, mournful tone would soon follow as she comforted the orphaned remnants from a liquidated planet. The beeps and clicks from the panel under Kaboodle's rapidly moving hands would be the final chore mingled into this melancholy symphony.
But that all faded to background noise as he saw it: a strange form in the distance, rapidly accelerating towards a ship far larger than the one the party of survivors had just barely crammed into. Massive and foreboding, it oozed an aura of such unadulterated evil that Percentage had never felt before. Made his blood run cold and temper hot.
A river of pixelated red would be sucked up and into this craft much like dirt into a vacuum. Just as effortless. Just as emotionless as well. His head would cock to the side with a scrutinizing gaze, observing the procedure like one would a car wreck. Of course you feel sympathy for the victims, but in the same morbid breath, misery was far too intriguing to turn a blind eye to.
He should have turned away.
Should have focused his attention on comforting the children.
Comforting his niece.
But his second mistake would be made that day:
He hesitated.