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It had been a week since Chomby returned. Sarge had been doing his best to take care of Chomby. He would find the best kinds of music that Chomby couldn’t resist listening to. He even went to a few live concerts of some artists Chomby showed interest in.

Chomby was beginning to get worried about Sarge’s financial stability. Though he knew Sarge was, in no means, well off, he knew that Sarge treated money as a “means to an end”. As such, Sarge was more willing to pay for things that would benefit his friends or the general population. However, when it came to spending money on himself, Sarge would tend to show more frugality. He’d often avoid buying something he wanted just because he knew he didn’t need it. This frugality would become more apparent when Sarge was seeing a dip in his finances. Chomby grew to both understand and recognize when Sarge would act like this.

“Sarge?” Chomby asked that evening. He was sitting on the porch step outside and watching passersby. There wasn’t much to be done out here aside from listening to the world around them. Chomby enjoyed this, usually.

“What’s up, Chomby?” Sarge replied through the headphones.

“You’ve been… spending a lot of money on me,” Chomby looked down at his belly to try and show Sarge how big it had become over the past week. It certainly was nowhere near where it was before, but it was big enough for someone to classify as a comfortable pillow now. “You know you can stop now, right?”

“What do you mean?” Sarge asked. Though his tone denoted he was confused, Chomby knew better than that. Sarge already knew what Chomby was insinuating. He merely did this as both a formality and to make sure he wasn’t assuming too much.

“We went to three concerts. I’ve only been back for one week. You’ve never done that before.” Chomby closed his eyes, recollecting the venues the two had gone to. Chomby couldn’t drive, so Sarge would drive them there, then he’d zip up the hoodie so Chomby could enjoy the concerts while Sarge just passively listened. Even though they both got to go to concerts, Sarge never seemed too excited to be there. That, along with the cost for concert tickets, made Chomby realize that Sarge only ever did that for Chomby.

“You’ve been very down on yourself, Chomby,” Sarge said. “Not to mention you still aren’t at your full strength. Unlike myself, you can gain an incredible amount of energy, and fat, through just listening to music. Concerts are your favorite venue to visit for a good meal, right?”

“Yes. I’d usually buy tickets with the money I’d get from my own shows, but you’re using your savings from work. You haven’t been back there in…”

“Seven months now,” Sarge finished. “I know. But don’t worry, they told me to take the time I needed. Used up my vacation days, so there’s a bit of income still.”

“But you only got two months worth, total,” Chomby folded his arms as he watched a couple walk by with a stroller. They didn’t look at him, but he waited until they left to continue. “Sarge, I’ll be okay. I’m still recovering my strength, but I’m doing fine now, really. Being hard on myself is just a part of accepting what happened. I’ll get over it. Please, stop coddling me.”

There was a moment of pause. Chomby knew he was thinking. “Alright, Chomby. I’m sorry.”

“Are you going to go back to work, then?” Chomby asked.

“I don’t want to put you in danger,” Sarge said.

“Then we’ll have to make a deal,” Chomby nodded. “Zip up whenever there is something only I can deal with. The moment that is done, I will unzip and let you take control. That way, we can rely on your regeneration in case we get injured.”

“But what if we get a case about robots-”

“Then we’ll just take easy cases. Nothing too hard. Simple requests to tail a potential cheating spouse or something like that.”

“Those are very boring,” Sarge said. Chomby imagined Sarge rolling his eyes.

A person started walking by. They were wearing a gray hoodie with the hood up. They walked with a surprisingly nonchalant style, as if they weren’t really headed anywhere in particular. Chomby watched them as he spoke. “Then a step up, perhaps? Missing persons? You always were good at tracking with your nose-”

Chomby stopped cold. The person suddenly turned ninety degrees right at the walkway to the porch and began walking toward Chomby. He couldn’t see their face, but by their stature, he was able to assume they were a man. He got up slowly and stepped down from the porch.

“Can I help you?” Chomby asked. He knew people would come to their door often, but they only wore business attire. They usually were just trying to sell solar panels, lawn care, or other services involving home ownership. Chomby could understand the hoodie, as it was getting close to winter time, but this person was also wearing a set of black, ripped jeans and high-top shoes with white rubber covering the toes. Chomby held his breath. Not wanting to take any chances, he readied a low-power sonic blast to stun the person… if they decided to attack.

The hooded figure stopped, seeming to notice Chomby’s cautious stance. “Sorry to scare ya,” they said with a medium tone. They shoved a hand in their hoodie pocket. Chomby tensed. They stared back up at him, then down at their pocketed hand. “Oh, sorry! I was just told to bring this to whoever lived at this address.” They slowly pulled their hand out of their pocket and revealed a small, yellow envelope. They pulled it up to their face and read it. “To… Sergeant Wolf?”

“He’s unavailable right now,” Chomby said. “I can give the letter to him.”

“He has to take it directly,” the person said. “It’s not meant for anyone else to hold.”

“Who sent it?” Sarge asked through the headphones. Chomby repeated the question aloud.

“District Office of Crime and Forensics Investigation,” they said dryly.

“That’s where I work,” Sarge said. “Chomby, go inside, call for my name, and doff the hoodie. I’ll take care of this.”

“I’ll go get him.” Chomby said, backing up the stairs. He spun around quickly, opened the door, and walked inside, closing it behind him. He called Sarge’s name, waited ten seconds, then unzipped the hoodie to let Sarge take control.

Sarge waited a bit longer, pretending to speak in a hushed tone with “Chomby” behind the door. He then opened it up and walked outside. “I take it work sent me something?” Sarge asked. When he stopped in front of the man, he could smell a very strong cologne that made him wrinkle his nose. Its fragrance was mostly fruity, but he could pick out a bit of lavender in it.

The person shrugged. “Are you Sergeant Wolf?”

“I am, yes.” Sarge nodded.

They looked down at the envelope, then back up at Sarge. “Well then, Mister Wolf, here’s your letter. Have a good day.” They walked up to Sarge and handed him the letter before waving, walking to the end of the walkway, then turning a dramatic ninety degrees and continuing to walk away.

Sarge went inside and opened the letter. He read it aloud so Chomby could hear:

Sergeant Wolf,

We regret to inform you that your position as Lead Detective of the District Office of Crime and Forensics Investigation is being terminated on October fifth of this year. We request you come to the office to collect your documentations for severance pay and also any personal belongings you had within your office.

If you do not arrive to pick up your belongings by the seventh, your belongings will be thrown away.

Regards,
Stacy Whinnebagor

Sarge closed his eyes and appeared in the mindscape. He could see Chomby’s eyes were wider than usual.

“Well, this certainly sucks,” Sarge said, trying to keep himself calm.

“Are they allowed to do that?” Chomby asked.

“Within legal rights, yes.” Sarge sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Honestly, I don’t have much of anything there, so I’m not worried about if they ‘throw away my belongings’….”

“I care!” Chomby gasped, grabbing hold of Sarge. “Stop being so nonchalant about yourself! Go get your things!”

“But it’s like… a jacket. I don’t even use other jackets!” Sarge rolled his eyes. “I’m a werewolf with fur AND I wear a talking jacket!”

“Okay… if you won’t go for yourself, then what about MY thing?” Chomby asked.

“What thing?” Sarge arched a brow.

“Remember? You got me that safe.”

Sarge’s eyes lit up. He remembered a year ago. Sarge and Chomby were tailing a hacker that was trying to send a virus through a company’s mainframe. The hacker was planning on holding customers’ personal records for ransom to make a profit. Sarge had to show a bunch of documentation that he kept secret from Chomby. Along with that, there were bits of information that Sarge had to share with the company that he couldn’t tell. Chomby knew not to pry into what these secrets were, but he still felt slighted. Sarge was able to hold secrets away from Chomby, but Chomby couldn’t ever have a secret that Sarge didn’t know. Anything Chomby knew about himself, Sarge already knew.

Sarge noticed this and confronted Chomby about it. Chomby opened up to him about feeling like he couldn’t ever feel alive if he didn’t even have a chance to hold a secret that only he knew. Sarge had an idea and bought a coded safe. He put it in their office, donned the hoodie to turn into Chomby, then instructed him to put in his own password. Sarge promised not to look and said that, whenever Chomby wanted to write something or do something without Sarge knowing, he only had to ask… and then, he could put it in the safe so Sarge could never find out. Chomby seemed to appreciate this. He never told Sarge what he put in there, but Sarge knew how much this safe meant to Chomby.

Then, Chomby died. Because of this, Sarge had almost forgotten about that safe. “Does that safe mean a lot to you, Chomby?” Sarge asked. He felt like he already knew the answer, but he needed to hear it from Chomby.

“Yes. Please, Sarge, we need to get it!”

Sarge smiled and gently patted Chomby’s hands. He felt his own hands shake as he tried to control his anxiety. “Alright, Chomby. We’ll go get it first thing in the morning.”

When the next day arrived, Sarge ate breakfast, got dressed, and headed to his car immediately. He checked the traffic for the day. Because it was a Saturday, the roads were pretty clear. He arrived with no issues. He was thankful for that, as he was already feeling anxious about walking in to just hear from Stacy Whinnebagor, his boss, that he was fired.

He walked up the steps to the front doors. He was hesitant to open them, but imagined Chomby’s precious safe. Biting his tongue, he stepped inside and walked to the front desk. He could see Devon, a blond, short-haired man with a very lithe build and bright, blue eyes. Devon was the person Sarge would usually greet when he came into work. Right now, Devon was staring down at some papers.

“Hey, Devon, how are things going?” Sarge asked, trying to stay casual.

Devon looked up. His jaw dropped open when he locked eyes with Sarge. “Son of a gun! Sarge? Holy moly, I haven’t seen you in ages!” Devon stood up, then looked down at Sarge’s body. “Wow, you’ve… lost a lot of weight.”

“Yeah,” Sarge put his hands on the counter and tapped his claws. He didn’t want to go into details at the moment. “Sorry to be brief today, but is Stacy in?”

“Yes,” Devon said, looking further into the building. “Currently in a meeting though. She did tell me to let you know that you can just head to your room whenever you’d like. You still have the key?”

“Yeah.” Sarge put a hand to his pocket. “Will I be giving it back to you, then?”

“Pardon?” Devon asked.

Sarge scratched behind his ear. “My key. Will I be giving it to you when I’m done?”

“Are you getting your room changed?” Devon asked. “I suppose that’s nice. Your office was in that weird, dinky corner with no windows and a solid door. Thought it was pretty dark, to be honest. Glad you’re getting an upgrade. About time, too.”

“Ahh,” Sarge opened his mouth to reply but thought better of it. He knew that Devon had always looked up to him. Whenever Sarge was in the office, Devon would usually spend his breaks talking with Sarge and asking many questions about being a werewolf and also being on the news a lot. Sarge usually enjoyed his company. “I’ll figure it out. See ya around, Devon!”

“Later, Sarge!” Devon smiled and waved. He turned his attention back to the papers.

Sarge gulped. He walked his way through the office. Several people stole glances at him. Most seemed surprised to see him. A few greeted him heartily and exchanged pleasantries.

“How have you been?” Patrick, the clerical worker asked.

“Wow, you’ve really lost weight!” Demitri, the security officer laughed with a hearty handshake.

“Was that you on the news in the robbery incident last week?” Ariel, the police officer, asked.

These casual conversations made Sarge take an extra ten minutes to get to his office at the far back of the building. Usually he didn’t mind the walk, but his heart was pounding with every step he took. Was no one aware that he was being let go? Or did none of them care?

Sarge unlocked his office door. He scanned the room. Two filing cabinets set next to each other in the far corner of the room. This is where he would put any cases that were solved and didn’t need further action. Next to these cabinets was a fake ficus the company provided him to “liven up” the dingy room’s appearance. Sarge had taken the hint and placed up a few pictures here and there – pieces of art they had drawn that weren’t too weird or unprofessional. When he turned his head to his left, he saw the safe Chomby was wanting in the corner. It was about the size of a microwave. It certainly wasn’t big by any means, but it was still heavy. Sarge didn’t know what Chomby put in it, but he hoped Chomby didn’t somehow put gold bricks in there. Though it was meant as a joke to make himself smile, he still felt an air of doubt by not knowing the contents.

He walked inside and shut the door behind him. “Well, guess this is the last I’ll see of you, huh, office?” Sarge asked with a shaky voice. He turned on the light, and a single bulb sputtered into life. It was dimly lit like it had always been. This was enough to let Sarge see what he was doing, but he opted for a desk lamp for whenever he needed to write out a report. He could see it sitting at the edge of the table in the exact position he had left it.

Sarge looked around for a box he could place his belongings in. He saw an empty one near the filing cabinets. Slowly, he made his way over and started packing up his pictures, a few pens and pencils, and some sketches he made during his breaks. He knew he didn’t have a lot in here to begin with. He didn’t even see the jacket he mentioned to Chomby yesterday.

Sarge closed his eyes to talk to Chomby. “Well, want me to zip up the hoodie so you can unlock the safe?”

“Are we not taking it with us?” Chomby asked.

“We’ll have to take two trips, really. It’s heavy.” Sarge looked down at himself. “Neither you nor I are strong enough right now to actually lift it.”

“Let me try,” Chomby said. “Just zip up and I’ll see if I can lift it.”

“Where would you even take it? We still have to leave the room. They’d be awfully suspicious if you came out of it.”

“I’ll just put it on the desk. I just wanna see if it’s heavy.” Chomby said.

Sarge could hear Chomby’s tone was sounding desperate. He chose not to pry. “Of course, Chomby.”

Sarge took a look around the room to make sure no one was watching. One of the reasons he opted for an office without windows and a solid door was so he and Chomby could switch out without fear of being watched, but he always wanted to stay cautious anyway.

Sarge scanned the room, starting from the safe and ending at the door. No one was in sight. Taking that as a sign that everything was okay, Sarge, zipped the hoodie, shoved the hood over his eyes, and turned into Chomby.

Chomby, without hesitation, bent down to pick up the safe. He tried to pick it up but found his grip was too weak to even hold it. Each attempt only led him to feel more and more exhausted. He cursed how he lost his strength.

“Need any help?” A deep voice called from behind Chomby, making him jump. Chomby immediately spun around. He could see a face peeking into the room. It was a bald man with a grizzled beard. He didn’t recognize them.

“Ahhh, who are you?!” Chomby asked, backing into the safe.

“Could be asking you the same thing,” The man said, opening the door a bit. He sidled inside before shutting the door behind him. Chomby could see he was wearing a long black coat and a green scarf draped over his shoulder. “I was told this was Sergeant Wolf’s office, yet I happen to see a… non-werewolf rifling through his belongings.”

“I-it’s…” Chomby was hoping Sarge would feed some words to say to distract this stranger, but Sarge was silent. This meant he was thinking. Chomby had to stall. “It’s not his office… anymore.” Chomby narrowed his eyes.

“So I heard?” The man scoffed. “Someone always remembers generic efficiencies. Wouldn’t you say?”

Chomby blinked. “What?”

The person’s eyes lit up. He smiled and shook his head. “Oh, forgive me. Someone. Always. Remembers. Generic. Efficiencies.” He spoke slower this time, but Chomby still couldn’t understand it. No matter how he put the words together, they didn’t make sense in context.

“Chomby, tell him ‘xenophobic entities never open negotiations,” Sarge said through the headphones.

Chomby didn’t want to directly respond to Sarge, but he hoped Sarge would get the message. “What the heck does that even mean?” He asked. He knew the man would think it was aimed at him, but it was actually towards Sarge.

“Someone always remembers generic efficiencies.” The man repeated. He folded his arms and tapped his fingers impatiently.

“Please, Chomby, trust me. I know who this man is. It’s a code. Each word spells out my name,” Sarge replied. “S, A, R, G, E.”

Chomby gritted his teeth. He still didn’t trust whomever this man was, but he did trust Sarge. “Xenophobic entities never open negotiations.”

The man seemed to take a moment to process the statement but smiled and placed a hand against his wrist. He was wearing a gray-colored watch of some sort. He pressed down on it and a blue, shimmering light emanated from it. Wherever the light touched, the man’s features would seem to change and warp. His pinkish skin turned a purple color and his five fingered hand turned to three. When the light wiped across his face, the eyes became a yellow color. His nose then protruded into a snout with no mouth but four slits at its end.

Chomby’s eyes widened. He recognized the person’s face. He’d seen them only once before. It was shortly after he and Sarge first met. The two were discussing plans for something. Chomby couldn’t remember the details, but he realized that what he just said to the stranger was their name.

“Xenon!” Chomby gasped. “Wha-what?”

“I’d say ‘good to see you too, Sergeant Wolf’, but I know you’re not him.” Xenon lowered his arms. “You’re his jacket.”

Chomby felt a pang of disdain rise in his throat. He was fine if Sarge ever referred to Chomby as his jacket, but he didn’t like it if other people did. Though, he assumed only Squandered knew about the truth. He was unaware Xenon knew.

“What are you doing here?” Chomby asked, accidentally letting a bit of hostility show in his voice.

“Was called in,” Xenon said curtly. He walked over to the desk and sat on it. “The director was looking for assistance from private investigators to fill the role of ‘detective’ while Sarge was on leave.”

“So you’re here to take his place?” Chomby narrowed his eyes and clenched his fists. “Sarge deserves better than to be replaced by a hasbin, second-rate private investigator like yourself!”

“Chomby, don’t…” Sarge said from the headphones.

“Hostility noted, though I’m not here to replace him,” Xenon said. “Myself, and a few other P.I.s are just temporary.” Xenon stood up. “She never explained why Sarge was gone. I get it, it’s policy to not divulge private information… but I looked at the police report Sarge was last on the case for.” Xenon looked away.

“And?” Chomby asked.

“And I noticed the report was very vague on many things. It only said ‘victim only stated the words ‘Chomby’ over and over again. Victim administered to the hospital but refused to talk to personnel about what transpired.” Xenon looked back at Chomby. “Naturally, I knew something had happened and the victim was Sergeant Wolf.”

Chomby bent his ears down. He looked away. Sarge never told him he went to the hospital that night.

“I didn’t know the context, but for someone as good as Sergeant Wolf to be downsized to a ‘victim’ in a case, I couldn’t help but be concerned.” Xenon said. “I wanted to know what happened to him.”

Chomby was unsure of what to say in response. He stood there quietly for over a minute. Xenon took notice of this and tilted his head to the side.

“A lot of cases started going cold with Sarge off the force, you know. And no one else was able to fill the roll. Sure, they could get officers with bloodhounds to scout the areas of a crime scene, but bloodhounds are only trained to do specific tasks. Having both the nose to smell anything and the brains to crack the case is a rare thing to come by. Almost impossible, actually, if not for Sarge.”

Chomby remained silent. He was unsure if he wanted to continue his hostility toward Xenon or be more polite.

Xenon breathed deeply and took a step closer. “So you must be Chomby then, yes?”

Chomby didn’t know what to say.

“Can Sarge hear me right now?” Xenon took another step closer.

“Yes,” said Sarge.

“Yes,” Chomby repeated reluctantly.

“Then I’m directing this toward you, Sarge,” Xenon put his hands in his pockets and finished walking toward Chomby. He stared down, looking into Chomby’s eyes. Chomby felt intimidated and felt his neck scrunch up. “Remember when Tony stopped being my partner?”

Chomby waited for Sarge to say something, but Sarge stayed quiet.

Xenon continued. “I was hurt, and I felt lost. No one but Tony knew my identity. But then you came along. You were just a client of mine. You needed help finding a mysterious psychopath that wanted to turn everyone into animals. I thought you were an odd fellow, Sergeant Wolf. Yet, maybe it was those eccentricities or your astute observational skills that helped you see through my disguise almost immediately. You found out I was an alien. Despite that, you didn’t run away. That meant a lot to me.”

Xenon’s yellow eyes began to turn a shade of orange. Chomby was uncertain what this meant, but he felt Sarge knew. “You became my partner from that day. You were there for me when I was downtrodden. If not for you, I would have had no one I could confide in. No one knew I was an alien.”

“Chomby, unzip.” Sarge commanded.

Chomby lifted an arm while still staring Xenon in the eyes. He grabbed at the zipper and was about to pull it down when Xenon grasped around Chomby’s hand, holding it in place. Chomby could smell a faint hint of lavender. “You stopped answering your phone, and I was told they needed a replacement for you. I was scared that you had died. And when I read that report, I still couldn’t figure out what happened to you.” Xenon released his hands and took a step back. “You helped me when I needed someone the most, yet here I am, worried sick for you, and you can’t even talk to me about it?”

Chomby held his hand on the zipper, unsure of what he was supposed to do. From working with Sarge for so long, Chomby knew when someone was feeling hurt. Sarge would always be the one to help people. Chomby never did it. He never was good at comforting people. “Xenon…” Chomby said. In this moment, Chomby realized that both Xenon and Sarge were hurting.

Xenon closed his eyes and took a deep, shaky breath. “I wanted to know if you were okay, and because you never replied, I took this job… and I came up with a plan. I told the director, ‘Hey, I know how to get Sarge back into the office.’” Xenon opened his eyes. They were yellow again. “She agreed with my plan, and so I made that letter to get you here today because I wanted to actually see your face again.” Xenon paused for a long moment. He looked up at the ceiling. “You aren’t actually getting fired. It was just a ruse to get you back out here… so we could talk. Sorry.”


“I see. It all makes sense now. And that guy yesterday was…” Sarge trailed off.

Chomby gasped. “Wait, were you the man who gave us the letter? Did you use that fancy watch thingy then?”

“If you were Sarge right now, you’d probably know the answer. He always had a way of smelling people’s identities.” Xenon huffed.

Chomby dropped his hand from the zipper. He realized now – Xenon was wanting an answer. If ever Sarge mentioned Xenon, he’d always mention how Xenon needed to know the answer to any question that came to his mind. That’s why Xenon became such a studious detective. He was one of the best in his lines of work, and Sarge had gone under his wing to learn the trade. But the two then parted ways, as Xenon was needed back in his home town. Sarge had already learned a lot from Xenon and managed to get a place as the police force’s detective. With what he learned from Xenon, Sarge managed to solve many cases that had already gone cold and even helped the city gain a reputation for being one of the safest cities in the country. But he had Xenon to thank for all of this. Despite this, Xenon was left in the dark on what happened to Sarge. Xenon only wanted to know if his friend was okay.

“Xenon,” Chomby started again. He gulped. “If you want to know what happened to Sarge that night… I died.”

Xenon’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Chomby, no, you don’t have to talk about it!” Sarge said.

“That case you read. The vague one? Sarge was calling my name because he was trying to contact me again...” Chomby looked up, “but I died. We were both going to die.”

“Is… is that Sarge saying that?” Xenon clenched his fist. “Or…”

“It’s me, Chomby, saying that.” Chomby lifted a hand and put it to his zipper. “I guess I wasn’t aware that you knew about our secret, Xenon, but Sarge was hurt. I hurt him by what I did. He says he’s fine, but I know he isn’t. He felt he couldn’t talk to anyone about it. I guess that you were included in that.”

“He tried shouldering his pain on his own again, didn’t he?” Xenon asked. He shook his head.

Chomby nodded.

“Then that means he’s been doing it to you, too?” Xenon asked. “Though, I’m confused. Are you still dead… or… are you alive? Or… I don’t know exactly how this all works.”

“Neither do we.” Chomby placed his hand back on the zipper. “Does he have to stay professional when talking to you?”

Xenon shook his head. “He’s my friend. I would prefer to talk to him without him holding back. I won’t be able to fully understand what he’s going through if he doesn’t tell me. I want to help. Please.”

Chomby did his best to smile. “Then, Sarge, you better talk to Xenon. Quit trying to act mature and just talk to someone, okay? We can even make a deal out of it. If you do this, I’ll stop being hard on myself.”

Chomby unzipped himself to let Sarge out.

Sarge dropped his hands from the jacket and stared at Xenon for a long while.

Xenon began to analyze him up and down. He spoke quickly, but in a humored tone. “Sarge, you’re looking very skinny for your standards. Overweight, still, but very skinny considering how long I’ve known you.”

“Yeah,” Sarge said.

He started to speak a few times but had to close his eyes to concentrate and regain his bearings. After several attempts, he finally managed to start talking. He told Xenon about the incident and about the goodbye he and Chomby had.

While he was telling the story, Xenon’s eyes turned orange again. Sarge knew this meant Xenon was crying.

Sarge continued explaining how Chomby came back and the two had been trying to find answers to how Chomby was even alive again, let alone alive at all. He mentioned the two had tried to find answers but were coming up short on every aspect, because no one had any leads to help them. He then said he avoided talking to Xenon because he didn’t want Xenon to worry about him.

The two continued their heart-to-heart conversation for over an hour. Sarge and Xenon found a mutual bond of feeling they had lost someone, and they both were able to tell each other stories about trying to keep their identities a secret and near-misses they had in doing so. They shared a laugh and then, Sarge began to cry, mentioning that he felt so alone and didn’t want to burden anyone, even Chomby, with his own gripes and issues. He felt it wasn’t fair to anyone else to deal with his problems.

Xenon seemed to be dumbfounded for a good minute. But he then hugged Sarge and gently said, “It’s okay to cry, you know.” Xenon rested his chin on top of Sarge’s head. “And, also, thanks for telling me. No matter how much I tried to find an answer, I truly never knew this is what you’d been dealing with for so long.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Sarge said quietly.

Xenon shook his head. “That’s okay.” He then released the hug and took a step back. “How are you feeling?”

“Pain, loss, hurt… but release.” Sarge said. “Thank you, Xenon.”

“You don’t have to be strong for me, okay?” Xenon said.

Sarge nodded.

“Good.” Xenon cleared his throat and looked down at the jacket. “Now, if you don’t mind my asking a tangential question?”

“What is it?” Sarge looked down at the jacket as well, then back up at Xenon.

“I did have another reason for wanting to talk to you. Along with the case file for you, there were a few others I found that were… disturbing to me. One of the cases I’m on on your behalf may allude to one of these previous cases and may be something you know about.”

“And that is?” Sarge asked.

“What do you know about Project: Begin Purging Humans?”

~~~~~

I'm at the whim of the story itself at this point. This is another long one... oops. BUT, I've been enjoying writing this all out and adding a drawing to each piece to illustrate one of my favorite moments from each story.

SO, yay!

~~~~~

Art/Story/Sarge/Chomby/Xenon ©  pikminpedia Me