TW: HOUSE FIRE, IMPLIED DEATH.

———

There is no good, and there is no bad.

The only things that are evil, are what thou perceives evil to be.

Hearts swallowed by hate to another will be convinced their beliefs are blight to thy world.

Though what they believe to be is. And what thou believe to be, is also.

There is no wrong, nor is there right.

There is purpose.

There is perception.

And there is perspective.

Nothing more and nothing less.

Everything is what, is and should be.

Do not limit yourself to be simple minded as those who judge someone knowing not of their experiences.

Despite their actions, something has influenced and shaped their being.

Whether it is mind.

experience.

Or simple thought.

They are for a reason and you are for the same,

A reason.

Do not judge for what thy others perceive to be necessary. Fight for what your heart says is right.

Fight on, young one.

———

As blood poured onto the grass below the two objects still able to stand attempted to get Knife back to Mepad. The sounds of screams and helicopters rang out overhead as the forest began to spark and catch ablaze from the fire the detonation of the reactor had caused.

Taco was barely conscious nor was she able to speak. Even if she could, she had no idea what she would say. The words that would be needed to express her gratitude's for Microphone saving her. As well for Knife and Pickle helping... Even after everything she'd done. Regardless if they had ulterior motives. She was free... Thanks to them. And they deserved her gratitude.

The crunch of the leaves beneath their feet, and the slit sound of blood dripping from Knife's several gunshot wounds filled their ears.

The four of them get to Mepad. Thank god they were able to find it. Pickle's shaky legs give out on him and he collapsed. Microphone slumped down next to a tree and let out a few sobs. And Knife groaned in a bloody mess upon the grass.

Taco resting against Microphone's chest in her arms. She looked out at the three of them in horrible condition.

"We need a place... t-to go... to...g-get supplies... A-and rest..." Microphone muttered, out of breath from the entire ordeal. "Th—There's no way I...W-we... will be able to tread through another forest with Knife... L-like... this..." She added tiredly.

Taco glanced at Microphone for a moment before weakly reaching for Mepad. Her arm shaky and slow due to the pain. Microphone grabbed her arm.

"Taco... We can't go back to your camp either... The f-forest is swarming with soldiers..." Microphone informed, she had so much more to say to Taco, but now wasn't the time.

"N—n—no... n-o... T-trus-t..." She croaked softly. Her trembling breaths made Microphone ease up in defeat.

There was a silence fire a moment, a pause that lasted a moment or two. Microphone then let go of her arm. "A-alright... I trust you..." Microphone mumbled down to her with kind eyes.

Taco grabbed Mepad and looked over at Pickle, who held onto Knife and held on as well. He didn't trust Taco, but he trusted Microphone. And if she was choosing to trust Taco, he'd make an exception.

Taco thought hard of the place she wanted to be. A place they needed to be, then teleported. And just like that, they appeared in a house. The house was dusty and abandoned, cob webs littered the living room ceiling and walls. The dressers and couches only used for collecting dust now. The windows beginning to crack from wear and tear.

The carpet now beneath Microphone was dirty and stiff. The mirrors and things that once decorated the house now covered in a thick layer of filth.

Outside was a forest, but not a dense one. They were on a hill overlooking a city in the distance.
"A—Are we in someone's h—house...?!" Microphone gasped in panic, holding Taco closer.

Pickle sat up weakly and quickly spoke. "We'll get blood e-everywhere! And they're gonna see us!"

"N-nobo-dy's h—h-home..." Taco muttered quietly. And then looked towards the hallway. She weakly pointed towards the door on the left. "Th-the-re... m-medic-al su-supplies..." She muttered, not wanting to speak much due to her weakness and pain.

Microphone was confused on how she could know that, but nodded and set her down on the dusty couch to go look for the medical supplies promised in the room down the hall.

"S—so we're stealing now?!" Pickle crossed his arms resentfully.

"I-I don't want anyone to die..." Microphone rubbed the side of her arm sadly, as she turned back to look at the boy.

Pickle was about to protest. To argue that she was always at Taco's beck and call. But... He'd be a hypocrite. And... He didn't want Knife to die either so he shut up, and sat back.

Microphone then turned and wakes into the bathroom.

Pickle, sick of the silence, and not being able to bear looking down at Knife in his state spoke up, "So... Why here? W-what did these people who live— or... used... To live here do to invoke stealing?" He pushed to the injured girl on the couch.

Taco looked down at the ground, avoiding any and all sights of the pictures on the dresser across from her. Even if they were too dusty to see what was within the frame. She remained silent. Staring at things that were get her mind off the past. But it was almost the exact same as years ago...

"Well...? Now that Mic is gone you don't have a windpipe or something...?" Pickle asked bitterly.

Taco sighed with a gaze that was dripping with remorse and sorrow.

"What did these people do to you? W—Why did we come here...? Another person who worked with you on a game show?! We just save you and—...!"

"Th-they're d-ead..." Taco said with a stern and shaky voice. She then glared back at Pickle, watching his face shift to disturbance and horror.

"We're stealing from d-dead people?!" Pickle flinched in horror at the thought of disrespecting someone dead. He was about to yell at Taco again.

"Y—you think that j-just because I be—tr-trayed you that's all there was to it? T—t-to me...? You... Y—You think I-I'm only a person of bitter lies and d—deceit?! That I had no life b-before your sorrow? L—Look, I-I'm... I'm sorry I upset you... I—I tried to make that clear, b-bu-t you chose to ignore me..." she turned her head away.

Pickle stared at her for a few moments before leaning on a table with a lamp to stand. He glared down at her. "Why?" He asked with narrow and eyes full of hurt and confusion.

Thick silence filled the house, except for Microphone in the other room digging around in cupboards and shelves.

"J-just look a-around. It do-doesn't t-ta-ke a genius to fig—... figure it o-out..." Taco said shakily. She strained to keep her voice steady enough to speak with clear and defined sentences, but she pushed through her immense pain so she'd be left alone.

Pickle scoffed quietly and walked about the house. Looking at dust covered shelves and pictures. His eyes landed on one with a wooden frame that was brighter and newer then the rest. Still very old, but newer. He wiped off the glass and held out the picture in front of him. The first person that came to view was Lettuce. He didn't recognize him... Pickled continued, the next was a chip of some kind. The next in view was shorter next to Lettuce. Tomato. Lettuce and chip seemed to be married, and Tomato must be a brother or something. The next was... the portion of the picture was ripped out. There was a faint colour of green and hands placed behind their back. And the last person that came into view once the layer of dust was wiped away, in the very centre. A little girl. One nearly identical to the one sitting behind here.

He felt a tinge of guilt tug at him. And he looked back at Taco. He then spoke softer than before. "Y-you- You lived here... didn't you..." he muttered.

Taco turned her gaze back to the floor.

"What— what happened...?" Pickle asked, lowering his arm along with the framed photo to his side. This didn't make any sense... How did this lead her to trick him on the show? He just didn't understand...

"S-some t-ales are better le-left buried..." Taco sighed with sorrow and grief.

Pickle looked hurt he spoke up again, "B—but—!"

"I found it!" Microphone cut in. She rushed out and kneeled next to Knife. She began to pack the wound with gauze and wrapped a bandage tightly around it.

Knife winced and cried out in pain as the wound was packed and then pressed down on by the bandages. He could feel the gauze in his flesh. Blood soaked into the gauze, hopefully it would last...

Pickle stumbled over and propped Knife up to be leaning on him, and rubbed his shoulder comfortingly. "I'm s-so sorry..." Pickle frowned.

Microphone took a step back and turned to Taco. And sat down next to her. And began to disinfect Taco's wounds and burns. She was trying her best to not further harm Taco. Microphone grimaced every time Taco winced or teared up.

"S-so... uh..." Microphone tried to start conversation, her face dimly lit by the light from the windows. "Why did you take us here...?" Microphone asked with a soft voice.

"..." Taco didn't want to talk anymore.

"It's...I-it's her house..." Pickle answered weakly from behind, the photo he viewed earlier now extended along with his free arm in an attempt to show Microphone.

Mic reached over and took it, and then looked down at the memories that were plastered onto this lowly piece of paper. Yet... The child and people around her seemed so lively at the same time.

What happened here?

"You live— or... Used to live here...?" Microphone asked as she grabbed more gauze and placed it against Taco's wounds with care.

"Y—yes..." She said trying to hide it beneath a shaky breath.

Microphone looked around at the small but comfy house. It would've been more inviting if it wasn't lined with dust and the decay of time. "Where is everyone...?" She asked solemnly as she wrapped bandages around the girl's wounds.

"A-a be-better place than th-this... Disgusting world..." Taco said with a pained bitterness in her voice. Angry at the unfairness that this place had brought to her life.

Microphone went silent in thought. Her gaze turned to pity and sadness as she realized what her words meant. "O-oh..." she muttered in a low voice of sympathy. She placed a pin to hold the bandages in place, then placed her hands in her lap.

"Wouldn't this house have been... I don't know... Sold off by now?" Pickle asked, speaking up through the house of silence.

"M-my dad built it... a-and o-owned the property. I-it goes to m—me in his wil—will... I-I j-just wasn't old e-enough..." Taco explained, her back sinking into the dusty couch. "I-it wou-would've bee-n mine wh-when I turn eight-teen..."

" 'Would've' ?" Pickle raised an eyebrow.

Taco fluttered the withered and injured wings with a face of annoyance and disappointment in the boy's ignorance.

"Ah... Right..." Pickle sighed, looking away from her eyes.

Microphone was tapping her foot on the ground trying to keep herself occupied from the elephant in the room. But she just couldn't take it any longer. She burst into tears and hugged Taco, scooping up the smaller girl into her arms.

Taco flinched by the sudden movement and felt pain shoot through her body. But soon realized what had happened. She was shocked Microphone was even doing this, all of this was her fault... She caused more harm than good. "M-Micropho-ne...?"

"I-I was so worried...! I thought you were going to DIE!!! I—...I thought I'd never see you again...!" She cried holding Taco close to her chest.

Taco flinched at the worry and clear distress in Microphone's voice. All that empathy directed towards her well being... She lifted her arms up and wrapped them around the other girl.

Microphone cried softly, tears fell and hit her hands shielding the tears from hitting Taco.

The house was quiet.

———

Silver was standing in the hall, leaning against the wall. asleep after staying awake all night. After all, he would never intentionally.

Candle was staring idly at the wall in front of her. Her expression was her usual calm one, but she was just completely zoned out.

Down the hallway came Earring. He stepped across squeaky floorboards and then caught eyes with Candle, who suddenly turned to look at him. He flinched slightly. "O-oh... Uh... Hi...?" Earring gave a small nervous wave accompanied by a smile of the same manner.

"What are you doing out of bed at this time?" Candle asked in a calm and soft voice. "Usually children of your age would sleep in, would you not?"

"Oh u-uh... I couldn't sleep very well." Earring chuckled. He folded his arms in front of him.

"Hm..." Candle observed his face with a blank stare. "Your eye bags show for it too. Don't they?" Candle then looked directly at his eyes again.

"They probably do... A-ahah...!"

"May I ask why your sleep has been so awful?" She tilted her head to the side.

"My brother Nickel has been dealing with his uh... F-friend...? And... He's really hurt by this— Cobs guy and... He cries a lot. I know it's not his fault...! I just have trouble sleeping... Let alone without nightmares." Earring explained with a worried frown.

Candle's face didn't change, she instead sighed. "I see... How unfortunate." She muttered, glaring off to the side in thought.

"I'm just going to go find something to eat now I guess." He explained, twiddling his thumbs awkwardly.

"Is that so? Why don't we go together? Me and Silver Spoon are keeping watch on the children. And you count as one. Yes?" Candle gave a friendly smile.

Earring was silent in thought for a moment before giving a slight nod. "I don't see why not...! Alright." He began to walk down the hallway again, Candle by his side.

———

Lightbulb glanced over at Paintbrush, who was leaning on the head of the bed, and the pillows beneath their lower back. She stared at them for a moment, and new she saw distress in their eyes... Just...

She wasn't sure how to address it.

Social cues weren't really her thing...

She sighed and looked away, unsure how to deal with the awkward situation.

"Are you alright?" Paintbrush asked, turning their head towards Lightbulb.

"Oh! Yes...! Hah! I was just— deep in thought..." Lightbulb gave a smile, trying to hide her thoughts away.

"You? Deep in thought? Must be something important." Paintbrush joked, trying to lighten up a bit. They felt bad for scaring Lightbulb.

"Not really. Just uh— Worried about-ya." She shrugged sheepishly and and then placed her hands in her lap. "I know you're okay now I just— You look upset...?"

Paintbrush flinched slightly. They chuckled half heartedly. "...You can tell...?" They ask with an eyebrow raised.

"I dunno... I guess...? You looked like this often, y'know? I never see you get that face around anyone else." She grabbed the sides of her arms.

Paintbrush was surprised, she could really tell, huh? "It's that obvious, eh?" Paintbrush shakes their head with another nervous laugh. "I am... Upset about something." Paintbrush admitted. "But, it's not Because of something you did. If that makes you feel any better." They added, shifting their body to face Lightbulb.

She stared at them for a minute before releasing her breath she'd been holding in relief. "Thank my giddy aunt..." She laughed. "So— what are you upset about...?" She tilted her head in confusion and curiosity.

"That's not important." Paintbrush responded immediately.

"No— it is! You're upset, and you need to get stuff off your chest!" Lightbulb scooted closer.

Paintbrush remained silent.

"I promise I won't judge. U-unless you like— need me to or something!" She gave a friendly smile.

"It's just—I'm getting these memories of... Back in school...??? The accident. I don't know if it's selfish or... something to worry or feel bad about something that didn't happen to me— but I guess I just feel... Responsible somehow... I don't know..." They admit with a frown, not sharing the entire story.

"You mean— back in little school...?"

"It's elementary school, Lightbulb..." Paintbrush corrected with an annoyed tone.

"Yeah, yeah... Potato tomato." She huffed, crossing her arms.

Paintbrush narrowed their eyes in frustration. "It's— its, tomato toma'h'to..." They correct with a more frustrated tone.

"Whatever! The fire! the whole house shebang?" She questioned. "It's not your fault in the slightest...! It was so sooo long ago too. And you had a pretty good alibi of being eight and sleeping in bed ACROSS the city!" She chuckled before looking away sadly. "My mom and dad just—... Left the oven on or somethin..." she shrugged.

"I don't know... I think maybe... there's more to it...? Something more intentional..." Paintbrush said with a concerned voice.

Lightbulb shook her head. "No, no... It...Wasn't. I mean, nobody had beef with my parents! Why would they be on someone's hit list? Y'know what I mean...?"

"That's what I'm wondering..." Paintbrush sighed.

Lightbulb let her eyes narrow. "You're saying that like I dunno somethin..."

"..."

"I know what I saw Painty! It couldn't have been anything more than a freak accident..." She said with a small voice trying to reassure herself and Paintbrush.

Because there's no way it wasn't.

She was there.

"Sweet dreams little star..."

"May they be bright and happy."

The sweet hums of the two objects above her were melodic, and calming to the young child who had drifted asleep on their bed. Thick blankets resting atop her small body.

Her dreams were calm and sound. Just as they should be. Just as every night before.

That's when she woke up...

Something was wrong... Very wrong. Every part of her was SCREAMING danger. Her senses felt heightened and her body was saying she was about to die. Things were in slow motion, but her body still felt like a rock. Glued to the bed. She sat up as if her entire body was underwater.

The bright orange lights dancing on the walls along with the strong scent of smoke was enough to spiral anyone into panic.

Sirens outside as firetrucks and firemen began to pull over and try to put the fire. She stumbled out of bed and to the window, fire in the room, and smoke filling the top portion of the ceiling.

She coughed, her body rejecting the smoke that had filled her lungs. She looked out the window. Her heart racing and she couldn't find a scream within her.

She threw the window open and looked out at the sea of worried people and firefighters on the lawn and moonlit street.

The fire grew close to the propane tank next to the house, and there was no time to raise a ladder.

I few firemen grabbed a life net and called for the small girl to jump.

Lightbulb froze, it felt like she was on the fiftieth floor rather than the second. She knew if she fell wrong, or someone let go she'd shatter and die. But... If she didn't jump... She'd also die.

"Kid! You have to jump! It'll be okay! We'll catch you!" They call out, confidence and worry in their tone.

"I-I—...I Can't...!" She cried in fear, clutching the  windowsill tighter with fear, her bottom lip quivering along with the rest of her small frame.

"You HAVE to jump, kid!" They scream, making her flinch.

A piece of the curtains catch ablaze and roar with a large ominous flame that reflected in her terrified eyes. Lightbulb slipped in her moment of fear and tumbled from the window.

Air rushed past her, and she screamed.

But was soon caught by the safety net the firemen had put up. She then breathed heavily as she looked down at her hands, and then touched her face nervously checking for harm. There wasn't anything of note. She breathed a sigh of relief and began to cry a bit. Firemen set her down, and direct her towards the sidewalk.

"What's your name kid?" One of the Firefighter ask.

"Lightbulb..."

"Yeah... I'm... I'm sure it was an accident. There was nobody else there, and... There was nobody who could've done it. Nobody who would've wanted my mom and dad dead." Lightbulb muttered.

Paintbrush looked off to the side with a frown.

"—Unless... You wanted them dead! Ahahah..." She shrugged, trying to lighten the mood.

It of course, didn't work.

"Do you wanna just—... Go and find the others...? I don't think this conversation is going to go anywhere pleasant... N-no offence." Y Paintbrush sighed, and rubbed their arms.

Lightbulb's smile faded, and she'd gave a small nod. "I guess so..."

———

The house was filled by a thick silence. Microphone had long finished crying by this point. And set Taco down, who had a fallen asleep in her arms fifteen minutes prior, down on the couch. Pickle was leaning Knife against himself, trying to make sure he doesn't bleed out.

After a few moments Microphone stood up, and walked over to the kitchen. She was pretty hungry, maybe there was food...? She looked around and reached for the fridge.

"Microphone... Anything you find in there, considering the look of how long it's probably been since objects lived here, it will probably be so moldy we'll die upon looking at it..." Pickle groaned, and he wasn't wrong. Sort of.

Microphone breathed in and could practically taste the smell of mold. She turned her head away in disgust. "Y-you're right... uh..." She looked through canned foods. She saw nothing that could really be eaten, mostly just cranberry sauce, and things similar. She then glanced back towards the windows. "Maybe I'll head out to the city.., get some food?" She suggested, walking back out into the living room.

"In the open? A-are you joking...? And even if you managed to actually get to a store, what money do you have to buy food with?!" Pickle questioned with hostility.

"I'll look around...! O-okay...?" She walked around the house looking through dirty drawers and dusty dressers. She eventually found Taco's parent's room. She walked in and looked about.

Bookshelves filled with many hard covered books, and trinkets from many places. The tops of the bedside tables were littered with photos, and had lamps with dead lightbulbs.

She opened one of the bedside table's drawers, and found a coin purse. She bit her lip out of nervousness. She then looked around guiltily before picking it up, feeling horrible about stealing money from a dead woman. She then looked towards the closet. She was in need of some sort of concealment.

She threw the door open, and looked through scarves and jackets. She settled on a colourful patchy jacket with purples, pinks, and yellows. She threw it on and lifted the hood over her head.

Microphone then exited the room and the door clicked shut behind her. Once she exited out into the living room, quietly of course as to not wake up Taco or feature Knife, her eyes fell in Pickle.

"I'm gonna go to the uh... Store, alright?" She said, not acting what his answer was. She was going, he wasn't going to stop her.

Pickle looked at her, and didn't even protest now that she at least took precaution. "Be careful..." He warned with a serious tone.

Microphone nodded and walked towards the door.

———