I'VE RUN OUT OF INSPIRATION :,(

IT LASTED ME SO WELL AND NOW I HAVE NO IDEAS

AAAAAAAAAA

Ok, I have an idea.

But no motivation :(

It's a normal day.

I cross the town, tired from staying up all of last night being stupid with Mumbo. Ren's Crastle looms in the distance. I glare at it for a second, continuing along.

Until I see something.

A cat appears at my feet, meowing as they weave around my legs, staring up at me with pitiful green eyes. Another meow. I crouch to their level.

'Hello?'

They walk off. I follow as I cross around to another street, sitting down next to where their human lies. Their brown hair is a mess, eyes closed, and clothes burnt. Scars cross their face, smudged with soot and ash. Blood dribbles from a cut on their forehead, one cheek blossoming with a nasty bruise. For a terrified moment I think they're dead, until I see their chest rising and falling. I crouch at their side.

'Hello?'

Eyes open, they scramble away from me blinking, and then wince with fear, stopping, staring down at their leg.

'Your... cat... led me to you? Are you ok? You're hurt.'

The cat meows again, jumping into her human's arms. They hug her. I see more scars across their hands, and a metal box in their lap.

'Who are you?'

'I'm Grian. I'm not working for Ren. Or the resistance.' I hold out a hand. A moment later he take it, and I help him to his feet. A stumble, and I end up holding him up. The box clatters to the ground.

'I'm sorry I... I think my leg's sprained. Or... broken. He steps back, leaning on the wall. 'I'm Scar.'

'Would you like me to help you?'

He shakes his head.

'No, no... I'm fine.' Scar picks up the box again. I catch another wince of pain.

'Seriously, there's space in my flat. My friend won't mind at all. Or do you have somewhere else to go? Can I help you get there?'

He looks away, hugging the box close.

'I... used to.' 

'Come on. It'll be ok. I'd rather you come to my home than stay here... The streets can get deadly at night.'

'Oh... I know...'  I note his bruise and hurt leg again.

'Hey... Scar.' I remember his name 'It's ok. I insist.' I hold out my hand for him to take again and he does, giving a grateful smile.

'You don't have to do this.' He limps towards me. One arm around his shoulder, I keep him up, the cat just behind. She meows again.

'Jellie.'

'What?'

'My cat. Jellie.'

'That's adorable.'

'Thanks.'

Scar screams.

I wake up, fighting out of the blankets to see him sitting up in bed. Unhurt, but just sitting there, staring into the distance, trying to calm down his breathing.

'What happened?'

'Nightmare.' He explains. 'Nothing.'

His expression tells me otherwise. I crawl up, and hug him. He hugs back.

'Grian, it's nothing.'

'I know it's not... what happened?'

'Hotguy. Pearl... the prison... The execution... Mumbo...'

I hug him more, though I know he's missing something out. I don't question, bring back the memories again. If it's even harder to talk about than Hotguy...'

'What time is it?' He asks. I shrug. 

'I don't know. I don't hear any noises outside.' It's nearly pitch dark in the room with just a sliver of light from the hallway. Scar sits there, not talking, before climbing out of bed, turning on the light, and grabbing the box of stuff. 

'Are you sure? With... me here?'

A pause, then he nods.

'You know a lot of it now.'

He unlocks the box. A mix of curiosity and knowledge of how private this is confuses me, so I don't look immediately.

'The first shop me and Cub opened.' I realise after a second he's showing me something and look up to see a photo him and Cub smiling, arms around each other. There's a parrot on Cub's shoulder that I recognise as Captain Jack.

'Wow...'

'Can't remember how long this really was...'

Then underneath it is the cake recipe, though slightly crumpled. He lays it out next to the picture on his bed. I spot a bloody arrow, the feather out the back half blue, half orange. I realise with a jolt what it is.

'Hotguy.'

'Hotguy.' With as much care as the other objects, he takes it out, holding it to the light. The point is still sharp, dark in colour. He places it down, and quickly moves on to a small, simple transceiver. No explanation is given. I catch sight of the screen.

5 new messages

He doesn't notice, or if he does he doesn't play them, just placing it down. Another picture follows, and for once I have memories of it.

Mumbo smiles as he stands in the frame next to me and Scar. Jellie rests on Scar's shoulder. It's from the old flat. All of us are happy, worry free and from the bright light through the window I realise it's summer, only a month or so after when we 'adopted' Scar from the streets.

I blink, and suddenly realise I'm crying. How much has happened since them? How much has changed? Did we have any idea that just 5 months later only two would be left, scared, scarred and sombre, working for the resistance? Of course we didn't. We didn't even realise the extent of what Scar had been through, the ordeal he'd had to face. 

Scar hugs me as I sob. I hug back, staring over at the gathering collection over Scar's shoulder. The words of the recipe catch my eye again.

Vex magic

The government is a con, and I feel vexed

And then I spot it.

I didn't mean to. Out of the corner of my eye, a flash of blue at the bottom of the box, half covered by a much-edited cookie recipe torn from some cook book, a single red feather from Captain Jack and an old orange cat collar I assume used to be Jellie's.

Recognition. Memories of a news report of an anonymous conniving duo creating an illegal podcast show of political horror stories from anyone who wrote in and getting revenge for these same people with 'pranks' on the city. Vandalism. Graffiti. Fires. And the masks they wore of creepy smiling blue faces.

The government is a CON.

I feel VEXed.

'Convex.'