Chapter Text
In that late hour between ass o'clock and daybreak, most everyone on the Skeld is asleep, save for your local nightguard. Purple indulges in a yawn, and decides they're in the clear to leave nightwatch to check up on Heracles considering that the cameras show no interesting activity whatsoever. They blindly stumble out into the hall, humming a song for Heracles.
The swath of darkness feels comforting and safe, like being wrapped in a lullaby. Purple thinks that drifting off to sleep must feel something like this—until abruptly bumping into something around the corner that absolutely ruins that lovely vision of a proper pillow and a blanket, pulling them into some semblance of consciousness in a snap. Purple startles, then stiffens once they regain their balance—whatever is here, shouldn't be there. They brace themself for a fight.
"—who is this?!"
"Stay back!! I-have-a-badge!" the voice yelps at the same time. Purple instinctively relaxes. It's just Red.
…Wait. RED?!
"Red, what the hell are you doing here?!" Purple hisses, fumbling their hand around in the dark to get a feel for where Red is at, and (owww, Red whines quietly) incidentally smacking them in the face, "…and how exactly is a badge supposed to help you here?"
"Me?! What are you doing here? Killing our crewmates in cold blood??" scolds Red.
"No!!"
"Well, me either—! And, I'll have you know: the badge represents my authority—which, I very much swear on, would not kill anyone."
"Oh, that is exactly what a suspicious crewmate would say," Purple grits.
"I'll have you know that I'm here because I'm getting a midnight snack, because I'm hungry," Red remarks snidely; Purple wonders if they could get any more annoying right now.
"I, I—well I happened to be doing that too."
"Oh, come on. No you weren't. You would not be humming for that."
"You don't know that."
"Except I do," Red arches their brow. "What, were you going off to practice calling your cool cousin Joshie? Again??"
Purple bristles, balling their fists, then unclenching them. "Whatever."
Their best course of action is to just go along with Red to the cafeteria: with White and Blue dead, it's just too suspicious for either of them to go off alone. Red knows Purple is lying, but Purple isn't about to reveal Heracles is on board… so they're just stuck together, flicking the dim, yellowy lights on and moseying over to raid the kitchen. It's an interesting feeling, with most everyone asleep, and the ship being so isolated in space.
"Pizza crusts," Purple observes impassively as Red roots through the fridge. The line of countertop against their back is cool and solid. "Sure don't miss that."
Red pops their head out from behind the fridge door, looking genuinely surprised at Purple dismissal of what is prime intern cuisine. "Don't you?"
"No, why would I? They were stale," Purple scoffs.
"…Right," says Red. "I didn't think they were that bad."
"Well, they were," Purple states with sharp finality, cutting off that thread of conversation.
For all the scavenging they did, Red comes out of it with a block of cheese. Red hauls themself up onto the counter, cutely dangling their leg stubs across from Purple, who's leaning against the opposite counter.
"So this is how our captain dines," Purple remarks snidely, spitting out the C word with a particular distaste. "Nibbling on cheese like a mousemate."
Red clutches their cheese protectively. "You're just jealous."
"Sue me, I'm hungry." Purple hadn't planned on actually eating anything, but when they hold their hand out, Red is already breaking their cheese in half and tossing Purple a piece. Purple catches it, and eyes the food warily—checking to see if Red swallows before tasting the cheese themself. "You're quite the lactose-lover for capitalist pig."
"Sorry, am I not the one nonsuspiciously abandoning their shift to nonsuspiciously sing in the corridors?"
"I wasn't singing—"
"Humming," corrects Red with an air of snippy, sardonic amusement that really annoys Purple. "I know what your singing sounds like."
"Shut," says Purple. "Up."
Red raises their hands in surrender—briefly lowering one hand to take a bite of cheese before putting it back up. "Alright, you caught me! I don't actually think you're the killer, and I have genuine faith in your job performance!"
"Like hell you do," snaps Purple. "I know you didn't give me this job expecting us to be all buddy-buddy, but if you did, I'd honestly be even more pissed."
Red gawks. "Is it so hard to believe that I trust you?!"
"I don't—I don't care, it doesn't matter whether or not—it's not about that."
"Oh, then what is it about?" snarks Red. "What's really got you acting so irritable? Because you're only just making things hard for yourself, by giving me shit! Me!! I'm just doing my job! Part of is to make sure that you're doing your job!"
"Excuse me—?! You can't seriously think that—that my position is—is—!" Purple cuts themself off, barking out a bitter, disbelieving laugh that makes Red squint at them weirdly. "Augh! I'm—I'm way too tired to do this right now, can we just—not?"
"Fine," says Red.
"Fine," says Purple.
"This isn't a truce," says Red.
"I know," says Purple. They glare at them, but the effect is undercut by the bite of cheese they take, then chew. "—This actually isn't half bad."
"Oh, totally," Red agrees eagerly. "I—I mean, I know I denied it before, but like—hey, if this is what mousemates are dining on twenty-four seven, then I'm sure being stowaway vermin can't be that bad."
Purple chortles. "Of course you'd say that."
"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?"
"It means that my captain just admitted to being a little rat," Purple sneers.
"Really," says Red. "Really."
"Uhhhh huh," Purple confirms. "A rat."
"Guess that makes you something else," muses Red. "Stalking the corridors and whatnot, keeping watch over us all. An owl, perhaps?"
"You can stop trying to act smart, o' great and powerful Captain Dumbass. It's just me."
"Owls eat rats," Red supplies helpfully, but seems to catch themself. "Nevermind."
"Don't see what that has to do with anything," Purple replies before registering Red's add-on.
"Haha. Yeah," Red says anyway. "How—how was your shift."
"Normal," says Purple. "No crazy killers spotted. Yet. And you?"
"Oh, the usual super important Captain stuff," replies Red, then starts to list on their fingers: "Monitoring tasks, charting the course, checking comms, being your alibi…"
"It's more like I'm your alibi," scoffs Purple. "But sure, let's go with that.
Red shrugs. "There could be worse alibi."
"I guess."
There's a sudden thud—something hit the North part of the ship. Red and Purple jump when the kitchen lights flicker; Red reflexively stuffs down the rest of the cheese and goes "It wasn't me!"
"I hate to be redundant, but what is going on." It takes Purple a stride and a half to reach Red and steady them before they completely fall over. The lights are completely out now.
"Did you touch anything?!"
"No, there is nothing in the kitchen I touched to disturb the ship and make the lights go out," Purple replies sarcastically.
"Okay, good! Ahem. LIME,"
"Lime. Your prime suspect, Lime."
"—uh, aha, yes," Red chuckles, sheepishly wringing their hands. "I was just saying, Lime—probably did this."
"Uh huh."
"Yeeeeeeeeah." Red tries to sneak a look at the Captain's manual, but wilts upon realizing that they cannot read in the dark. "Look, how about we go and check it out right now? No biggie."
"Ugh, fine." Red gets up to lead the way, but (embarrassingly) stumbles. "Up and at 'em, Cap," says Purple, planting them on Red feet and giving them a forceful smack between their shoulders. Purple tries not to be too smug about how Red chokes in response.
"Hey, hey—the captain should lead the way," sputters Red, scrambling to open the doors first.
"Red, I'd hardly call whatever you're doing leading the way—"
In the flurry of motion, the doors fling open to reveal the cafeteria illuminated only by stars—and then the ship slides. Purple and Red scream, and then a wall of immediate darkness knocks them to the floor.
They wake up on the cafeteria floor, groaning, and the world's bleariness gives in to the fluorescent ceiling lights. As Purple regains consciousness, their mind recollects itself to narrow on what just happened. "The Skeld—is it—?"
"H-huh? Whuh?" Red stirs awake. "I-I'm here."
"Yeah, but what about—" Purple freezes. A weight hangs on their hand when they reach up to adjust their cap. A weight. That was not there before. "Ahhhhhhhhhhh," they start to drawl in shock, then as the realization settles in—"Aaaaaaaa. AAAAAAAAAAAAAA."
"What, what is it—?" Red asks, annoyed at the volume and looking where Purple is looking, just to scream louder. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH. AHHHHHHHH."
"Red, WHAT DID YOU DO??"
"WHY DO YOU IMMEDIATELY ASSUME I DID THIS?? I DIDN'T DO THIS!!!"
"BECAUSE WE'RE THE ONLY ONE HERE!!"
"I—"
Someone clears their throat.
"…oh," says Purple.
At the entrance are a flustered Green and an unbothered Black.
Black just gives them a once-over. "Kinky."
"A-are y'all okay?" Green asks hesitantly, making their way over.
"Do we look okay—?!"
Red smacks their hand over Purple's face. "Fine, we're fine! Perfectly fine! In fact, we were just on our way!" And then: Green and Black just watch as Red is herding them out of the room at the speed of lighting. Purple is hissing and thrashing, but Red is quick to push them through the hallway and the weapons room and another hallway, only relenting once they're in Navigation.
There are handcuffs on their wrists, and they don't even have wrists, or know what arms are, so they really just have floating metal rings binding their hands. Please use your human empathy to understand how confusing this is for the crewmates.
Purple is about to speak, but Red interrupts with a raised finger, seemingly listening for anyone outside the door; Purple lets out a quiet yet unmistakably frustrated groan.
"Explain," they demand pointedly.
"Floating magic handcuffs are chaining us together," replies Red. "I don't know what you want me to say here."
"Explain to me why you wanna act like it's not a problem," says Purple. "Because if it wasn't me and it wasn't you, then this is definitely a problem. Not to mention, I think it's more science than magic..."
"Well—the crew will worry."
"Oho, you mean the crew will think you're a bad captain—"
"I mean—" insists Red. "I—come on, some—mysterious culprit knocks us out and chains us together. Everyone's gonna wanna know why, and everyone's gonna be scared and panicky, and I can't have that on my ship. Not to mention, one of them could be responsible for this."
"I guess that's true," Purple admits reluctantly. "But just look at this thing." Purple raises their hand; the short chain clinks as it moves. "This kind of technology isn't something we can undo on our own."
"Maybe Lime can help—"
"Ah, yes. Your AWOL killer and newfound tech wizard."
"Okay, I get it. Um. Just—we can't let Orange find out about this… mishap."
"Because they're gonna write you up," summarizes an unimpressed Purple.
"Yes, because they're gonna report this back to MIRA!!" Red squawks indignantly.
"So what, just wanna pretend that we're chained together for fun, while the real culprit is out there damn well knowing the truth?"
"Just for now!!" pleads Red. "Because what if they're the murderer? What if another workplace accident happens?"
Purple lets out a troubled hum. "You think this is a warning?"
"I can't think of any other motive," admits Red.
"I—well." Purple sucks in an unsure breath. "They—they could be trying to disrupt the crew, render us dysfunctional."
"Because they know we can't get our jobs done like this…" Red trails off.
"And a chain is only as strong as its weakest link," Purple adds.
They both look down at the floating cuffs chaining their hands together.
"So…"
"Ah."
They both let out a deep, weary sigh upon reaching the same conclusion.
"…We're gonna have to work together," they resign in unison.
"Team building," Red and Purple answer in the same, tired monotone. It's lunch break, also known as showtime.
"What a perfectly reasonable explanation that requires no follow-up questions whatsoever!" exclaims Orange.
"Uh, right, yes, of course—" Green nods, then intensely scribbles down some notes.
Black scratches their head. "Is that what they're calling it now?"
"Well, I for one, am ab-so-lutely delighted to see some good ol' fashioned workplace bonding, especially to our crewmates who so desperately need it!!" Orange coos, chipper as usual. "MIRA will surely be hearing about our captain being such a good role model!"
"Oo-of course!" Red chuckles as Orange gives them a cheery pat on the back.
"Oh, hehe, this is making me nostalgic for icebreakers—icebreakers! We should totally do icebreakers! Gosh!!"
"Icebreakers," Green murmurs under their breath, and copies down accordingly
"Icebreakers," Black shudders, genuinely disturbed.
"Icebreakers sound fun!" pipes up Cyan. "I love ice crystals."
There's a crash in the kitchen. Yellow pokes their head out of the kitchen window with a horrified expression. "Did you say icebreakers?"
"Union does not permit unnecessary workplace-based activities," says Brown, popping up beside them.
"We will NOT be participating," snaps Yellow.
The shutter to the kitchen window is promptly shut.
"…I'm sure they're fun at parties," Orange sniffs. It's petty, and they know it.
"Face it," hisses Purple. "We're stuck like this, and we can't get anything done this way—! And pretending to get along isn't the same as actually working together!"
"I-I know, I'm—working on it—" Red is pacing around the Navigation room, which forces Purple to follow them as they pace around in circles. It looks as stupid as it sounds.
"Are you working on it?! Because I'm forced to shadow you all day, because you're the captain, which is taking me away from security, A.K.A. MY JOB OF WATCHING OUT FOR EVERYONE'S SAFETY! Which means I'm doing nothing if someone fucking dies!"
"…at least we know we're both innocent?" Red offers meekly.
"That bar is incredibly low," says Purple. "What work do you do anyway?"
"Work. Normal work. You don't have to—"
Purple walks over to the main monitor and presses a button the console, loading up the window Red was using to play mediocre dating sims.
"—do that," Red finishes lamely.
"You're doing Scarlet-chan's route? Seriously? Talk about self-obsessed."
"I'm not that cute."
"Yeah, keep telling yourself that," scoffs Purple. Then they briefly realize what they said, though it's still too late: "Wait."
"Oh?" perks up Red. "Is that a compliment?"
"No," Purple responds coldly, but Red is already giggling.
It's the absolute worse time for the screen to turn red with a call from MIRA HQ.
"Shit," Red scrambles to sit in the captain's chair. "Shit, I have to take this—"
"Yeah, you take that, and—what the hell am I supposed to do?!"
Red glances around in a panic. "You can—uh—um, you can, uh—"
"I am NOT sitting in your lap."
"Yeah, yeah, I know—just—stand around here I guess?? Heh, it's almost like you're my second-in-command—"
"I am no one's assistant," hisses Purple, making a fist—the raising of their hand pulls Red over, so they just barely stop themselves from toppling in time for Purple to glare at them closely. "Whatever you're doing with Green won't slide with me."
"Okay, okay—!" squeaks Red. Purple lets them go, and Red adjusts in their chair, clearing their throat as they prepare to accept the MIRA call.
Red presses a button, and salutes immediately. Formalities are said, and Purple admittedly zones out because they're tired, okay.
"—and why exactly do you have your head of security joining this call?" Pink—the CEO of MIRA—asks coldly. "I understand that this is your first mission as a Captain, but MIRA protocol is to be strictly followed."
"—irk, um! They were just—here to, you know."
"T-to report. On—some crewmates who got stuck in Electrical. We were just, ah, talking about how to help them," pipes up Purple.
"B-but everything's fine!" sweats Red. "Totally fine."
Pink squints. "Are you… handcuffed together?"
"EVERYTHING IS OKAY!" Red exclaims forcefully, then the screen goes blank.
"…Did you just end the call?!"
"I panicked, okay?!" Red replies in a shrill, defensive tone.
"You panicked on MIRA HQ!! I'm just glad they didn't recognize me as a previously blacklisted crewmate and ask any questions about it—not that you gave them the chance to."
"I'm sure everything is fine," says Red. "There was nothing else to say, probably."
"Probably. Right. Very reassuring. All the more reason to figure this out!"
"Agreed," huffs Red, and that's that.
"But I'm tired, and I wanna sleep, and I'm tired," whines Red.
"Nope. Not happening. No way. I did your thing all day, and now it's your turn to do mine. I need to be in Security," reprimands Purple.
"It wouldn't hurt if you just took a break," pleads Red. "Just a little break. A teensy little nap!"
"You're literally the one who was getting on my case about doing my job earlier," argues Purple. "You're just saying this because you wanna sleep on a bed."
"Purple. Purps. You look horrible, as in you look like you need sleep. No one's gonna die just because you're taking a break… poor choice of words, but still."
"You can't annoy me into spending the night in your room."
"Way to underestimate me, I totally can."
"Can't."
"Can."
"Can't."
"Can."
"Can't."
"Can."
Purple squints at Red. Red looks back at them in a very annoying way. It's annoying, but not annoying enough.
Two seconds later, Purple is dragging Red across the hallway floor to Security.
"Ow—ow—ow—ow—ow—ow—oh, hi, Cyan—ow—ow—ow—"
"Hello!"
Purple watches the screen, intently switching between cameras. They frown when they sees Heracles' tank on the screen, their gaze lingering there as they yearn to go check on their fishmate friend. It's ironic—Purple brought Heracles along to feel less lonely. Now Red is plastered by their side constantly—and honestly, even before the cuffs, Red was still eagerly being a precense in Purple's life, trying to act like nothing's changed. But things did change, and Purple—Purple refuses to play that game.
"Have you ever heard of Five Nights at Freddy's?" asks Red, and Purple sighs—right, they're here too, pulled up to the screen in a spare rolling chair. Red tries to spin in it, but they can't manage to do a 360 just because of the cuffs. This seems to sadden Red.
"Obviously," Purple replies gruffly.
"Okay, just making sure." A pause. "Exciting job, huh? A day in the life of Purple, the head of security… you know, it's almost kinda fun, watching the cams—it's like reality TV. If only this thing had sound, you know? We could add a speaker here, there, maybe throw in some subwoofers, a recliner—"
"—Are you always this talkative?"
"Only with you."
Another sigh from Purple. "Yeah, I know."
"This setup is just so lame."
"You know, if this is what it takes for you to realize how barren the equipment here is, then maybe everything isn't so bad," Purple jokes.
"Ugh, yeah, I totally see it now. Maybe I will have a talk with budgeting."
"Ah, it's—well. I know they like to stretch the budget as thin as possible, so—it's no big deal."
"I'm sure MIRA has plenty of beans lying around, it wouldn't hurt to splurge on basic, proper equipment."
"Hah."
Then, a lull in the conversation. Red swings around, messing with the singular vintage binocular that Purple gave them to play with. They press it to their visor, looking around the room and eventually landing on Purple. "I feel like a real sea captain with this."
"Wrong vast landless expanse there, buddy."
"Space captain, sure," says Red. "Ouh, it's not the same."
"Well," Purple clicks. "That's what you get."
To Purple's surprise, Red actually lets Purple do their job after that. As in, they're quiet as Purple works, watching over their shoulder with interest and asking bare, minimal questions of no substance. Red is acting—god forbid, polite. Purple is genuinely impressed, until after a while they turn around to see Red has just fallen asleep. And Purple doesn't want to feel guilty for that, because Red is an awful traitor that works to please the machine, so they are decidedly not feeling guilty—but Red was one of them, once upon a time. So Purple casts one more long look at the monitor, and caves, carrying Red to their captain's quarters. They let Red roll onto the bed, setting down their hat and plucking off their stupid sandals. Red snores, and Purple sits down with their knees curled up, their hand resting by Red's body as to not strain the chain.
"We really have no idea how to fix this, huh?" mutters Purple. "But we gotta. There's no practical way we can keep working like this."
Red snores, and must be having a dream about being hungry, because they're murmuring about cheese and pizza crusts in between snores.
"Sure. Whatever you say, buddy."