Hours passed. Charel and Stanford were beginning to get restless. Chomby could tell. At first they sat around and quietly talked with each other. At hour two, they pulled out their phones. They even asked for the wifi. Hour five, it was now one in the morning. Charel had began pacing around the living room and checking through the blinds. Stanford had started to nod off.

Chomby knew he couldn’t rest, but he knew these two couldn’t stay here forever.

“You… you guys look tired. Maybe you should go?” Chomby suggested, breaking the long silence.

Charel dropped her hand and turned to Chomby. “I appreciate that, sir, but we haven’t heard anything from Xenon, and he’s not back yet.”

“He’s been out on night patrols longer than this before, though. I don’t want you guys to waste your time on me.” Chomby looked down at his fingers. “I already feel like I’ve caused enough trouble as it is.”

Charel sighed and looked over at Stanford. When she saw him nod off, she went over to him and nudged him awake. He snorted and shook his head.

“Wha- what is it?” He looked around the room. Once he saw nothing dangerous happening, he relaxed back into the chair. “Sorry. Whole lotta nothing kinda makes one sleepy, y’know?”

Charel rolled her eyes. “You’re the lead we have on a rather peculiar cold case. Not to mention one that seems like it needs to be solved before someone gets hurt.” Charel went over to the blinds and looked through them again. “As it stands, you’ve successfully identified a prime suspect, know what their motive is, and have proper contact with them. I think that’s enough to say you’ve helped out a good deal of people.”

“How?” Chomby asked.

“Well, sometimes, helping people doesn’t mean you save them like a hero would, you help them by preventing something that can hurt them.” Charel put a finger to her chin. “A good example would be cleaning out a blocked sewer system. People don’t necessarily know it’s blocked, but if you fix the sewer blockage, you save a lot of people from having a bad time down the road.” Charel looked back to Chomby. “Does that make sense?”

“I guess?” Chomby twiddled his thumbs again. While he was looking at his belly tattoo, he noticed a glint of red glide across his belly.

“Wha-” Chomby was about to say.

“Stanford. We got incoming.” Charel lowered her hand to her holster. “Red lights of a… car? No, there’s only one light. It seems too high up for a vehicle.”

Chomby noticed the red beam of light was coming from outside. Through the small hole Charel was making in the blinds, he saw, for a split second, a circular point of red light. It was moving directly toward the door. The closer it got, the more audible a whirring noise was. Chomby recognized this.

“A drone!” Chomby stood up.

“A what?” Charel asked.

“The mainframe!” Chomby bolted to the door, but Stanford held a hand out to stop him.

“Woah, hold it, Chomby! We don’t know if it’s the mainframe thingamajig or not.” Stanford’s voice came out shakily.

“Didn’t Xenon say he had a tracker on him? The drone is supposed to arrive if he presses the button!” Chomby wanted to open the door, but he followed Stanford’s command.

The whirring noise stopped and the red light shown on the ceiling outside the door. Within a moment, there was a knock.

Stanford and Charel shared a glance. They then nodded. Stanford cautiously opened the door and put himself between Chomby and whatever was outside.

“A-a-a-a-aerial Unit Drone 45 has arrived at Destination_Detective_Sergeant_Wolf_House. Urgent message for Unit_Anomaly_Chomby, Officer_Stanford, and Officer_Charel.”

“Is a drone supposed to look like a starfish?” Stanford asked.

Chomby nodded.

Stanford opened the door more. “Uh, come in?”

The drone dragged itself into the room with its tentacles before stopping in front of Chomby. “Confirmed, Unit_Anomaly_Chomby present. Message transmission as follows,” the unit paused, “Caretaker_Xenon has activated the emergency alert button. Danger. Danger. Requesting Backup. Danger. Danger.”

Stanford pulled a walkie-talkie from his side and spoke into it quickly. Chomby couldn’t understand the jargon, but he heard a reply within a few moments. While this was happening, the drone had crawled up Chomby’s leg and rested on his shoulder. He was used to it acting this way. It would usually sit there for a minute or two then slither back down his leg and leave. He realized this was the mainframe checking if he was physically okay.

“Unit five en route. Officer Stanford and Charel, escort civilian to HQ to be detained for their safety. Meet up with Unit five once complete. Assume hostiles on arrival.”

Stanford looked at Chomby. “Alright, Chomby, seems we gotta take you to the office for your safety.”

“But, what about Xenon?” Chomby asked.

“Caretaker_Xenon. Danger. Danger. Danger,” the drone said as it slithered down Chomby and toward the door. Stanford and Charel watched it leave out the door and shut the door behind itself.

Though Stanford looked confused, he looked back to Chomby and spoke. “We’ll do what we can, Chomby, but we’ll do even better if we get you somewhere safe first. Alright?” Stanford opened the door and ushered for Chomby to leave as well.

“But… I can’t just leave him! He’s only doing this because of me!” Chomby’s thoughts began to race with concepts of what could have happened. Seeing Xenon being hurt, or worse, killed, only made Chomby’s heart rate increase.

“He knows what he got himself into.” Stanford bit his lip. “I hate to think of it, Chomby, but it’s possible he may already be-”

“Don’t you dare say it!” Chomby barked. “Don’t! He’s not! He won’t be! I am not losing my only friend!”

“Then let’s get in the car now. The sooner we drop you off, the sooner we can go rescue him.” Charel said from behind as she patted Chomby’s shoulder. “We promise we will do whatever we can. There isn’t much you can do, anyway.”

Chomby thought back to the many papers he’d read on his ‘battle prowess’. Just by the depictions alone, it showed that Chomby was a formidable combatant. “Yes, there is! I’m a fighter!” Chomby said. He flexed one of his arms and patted it. “I can fight!”

“We don’t know if there’ll be a fight, Chomby,” Stanford said. “People could be armed. You’re not armed.”

“I’m a soundbyte, gosh dang it! I’ve got a freaking sonic boom I can make from my mouth! Please! Let me go with. I need to make sure Xenon is okay!”

Stanford and Charel shared another glance. Stanford sighed and held the walkie-talkie to his mouth. “Civilian is requesting to accompany Unit 8 to the location. Claims they can fight if necessary. Does not seem willing to cooperate.”

There was a pause before the person on the radio replied. “For crying out loud… town heroes and their sense of duty. I’ll have to ask Stacy about this, but you guys need to get out of there anyway.”

Stanford looked at Chomby. “They’ll see. But, please, we gotta get going regardless. Staying here only worsens the chances of saving Xenon.”

Chomby reluctantly agreed to leave. For the amount of times he’d been pulled out of his house by random people to go try something, he started to feel less useful than he had been expecting. When Stanford took him to the car, he could only think about how often he’d been taking a backseat while everyone had been trying to help him out. What was he doing this whole time? Complaining. Worrying. Having bad dreams. Going with the flow.

He was afraid it would come to this, but Xenon was in trouble. Of anything else, that detective deserved better. He wanted Chomby to stay safe, but now he was in trouble.

A radio blip stopped Chomby’s thoughts. A voice rang out through the static. “Stacy wants Chomby to stay at the station. He’d only put himself in danger.”

Though Stanford’s eyes were on the road, Chomby could see his expression change to surprise in the rear-view mirror. He was about to say something, but Charel spoke up. “Seems we gotta take you to the station, Chomby.”

“But, I can’t!” Chomby protested.

“If you’re worried about a criminal record… or having your mugshot taken, that’s not going to happen. You’re only going there for your safety while we go investigate. I know the police station can be a bit scary-”

“But Xenon! Xenon’s in trouble!” Chomby leaned forward. “Please! He’s my friend!”

“We’ll do our best, Chomby-”

“He’s in that predicament because of me!” Chomby raised his voice. “I’m the only person who knows why he’s doing this. I’m the only person who….” Chomby quieted his voice. “Person.” Chomby slumped his shoulders and sat back in his seat. “I’m… I’m not a person.” Chomby’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Xenon’s risking his life… for a jacket.”

“What’s that?” Charel asked.

Chomby didn’t reply. The sudden realization of what Xenon was dealing with made Chomby’s thoughts darken. Xenon was doing all this for a piece of clothing – A piece of clothing that was pretending to be alive.

The rest of the ride was silent. Stanford and Charel escorted Chomby out of the vehicle and into the police station. He never looked up when they took him through the screening arches. Two people came and took him from Stanford and Charel, who said their goodbyes and reaffirmed they would do what they could to help Xenon. The two then left through the front door. Chomby stared as the pathway closed behind them.

“So, Chomby, you like snacks? We’d usually have fresh doughnuts to start the day, but we’ve only got some day-old doughnuts.” A tall, officer with a dark complexion said. He introduced himself as Michael.

“I love the chocolate doughnuts myself,” The officer named Terry said. Unlike Michael, Terry was a lot more stout and had black hair to complement his pale complexion.

Chomby didn’t reply.

“Come on, let’s go to the break room!” The two gently pushed Chomby further into the station. He passed a bunch of empty desks as they walked. Given it was currently around two in the morning, mostly everyone was gone.

“We don’t actually have a dedicated break room, so we just use an old office no one wanted. Doesn’t have any windows, so it’s a private area!” Michael said in a cheery tone. Chomby knew he was trying to perk up Chomby’s spirit, but Chomby really didn’t feel enthused.

The trio made it to the back of the building where Michael opened a heavy, wooden door and ushered Terry and Chomby inside. Chomby could see several chairs dotting the room. Most were randomly placed around the walls or in front of the large, wooden desk in the center. Chomby saw an opened box of doughnuts sitting on the corner of the table. It looked like it only had three left.

“Ahh, guess there’s only three left. Well, which one would you like?” Terry asked as he grabbed a napkin. “We’ve got two glazed and one chocolate…. I’d say to let me have the chocolate doughnut, but if you want it, then I’ll gladly give it up!”

Chomby really didn’t want to reply, but he knew these two were doing their best in a bad situation. He sighed and pointed at the chocolate doughnut.

Terry grabbed it and passed it to Chomby before grabbing a glazed one for himself and Michael.

“Gotta say, even if they’re a day old, Fluffmaster’s Bakery makes some darn good doughnuts!” Michael chuckled.

“Agreed!” Terry said. He looked over at Chomby. “You work there?”

Chomby arched a brow and finally spoke. “No. I’m a DJ.”

“Oh, is it an advertisement thing, then?” Terry pointed down at Chomby’s belly.

Chomby followed his gaze. He was a bit confused. All he saw was the tattoo. “No, I’ve just… always had that on me. I don’t know why it’s there.”

“Oh, odd!” Terry walked over to the doughnut box and flipped the lid down. He then pointed at the logo. “It just looks a lot like the Fluffmaster’s Bakery logo. Thought you were associated.”

Chomby looked at the box and saw the emblem on it. It looked exactly like his tattoo, only colored in. “I… I don’t know.” He started to rapidly look between his belly and the box. “I’ve been trying to figure out why the tattoo is there, but I just…”

Chomby noticed he was still holding the doughnut in his hand. He could see the hole inside the doughnut.

“You just…?” Terry tilted his head to the side.

“Well it’s just…” Chomby grabbed the doughnut and looked through the hole. He thought back to the time in the park on the bench. He remembered what he’d said back then. “It’s like I’m looking through this doughnut hole. It gives me limited vision of someone… but doesn’t give me their full picture.” He pointed the doughnut at the logo on the box. “There’s a reason I have this tattoo, and it matches this logo, but I can’t see it all through the doughnut. I’d been so close to finding someone I’d lost, but now it’s led down this path.”

Chomby noticed Terry and Michael share a glance with each other. Michael spoke up this time. “Led to you meeting the cultist guy? We’d been trying to find him for months, you know. One of the cases that’s going cold.”

“I know. I read the files.” Chomby lowered the doughnut. “Sarge said it was cultist activity.”

“Who’s Sarge?”

“He worked here.” Chomby sat himself in one of the available chairs near the door. “He was the detective for the paranormal investigation department.”

Terry chuckled. “That’s funny.”

Chomby scowled. “What’s funny about him?”

“No, not him!” Terry said. He gestured to the room. “THIS room was the office for paranormal investigations.” Terry pointed at the filing cabinets in the back. “That’s where the files were stored.”

“Wait, really?” Chomby looked at Terry with surprise. “Sarge worked in this very room?”

“I really don’t remember a guy named ‘Sarge’ working here, but, I am a newbie.” Terry shrugged. “If he worked as the paranormal guy, he’d’ve been in this room!”

Chomby looked more closely at the room. Though most of it was giving the vibes of a break room, he realized he remembered something about it. It was vague, but he remembered a set of gray-and-cream-colored hands rummaging through the files in the cabinet in the back. They picked out a specific folder and placed it on the table. Case 1231 – Forest Chanting.

“Urgh, this one. I can’t make heads or tails of it,” Chomby heard them say. Their voice sounded very similar to Sarge in Chomby’s dream. “Chanting, forest, smoke, blood in the air. All points to a cult. But of what? Who? Why?” The image faded, bringing Chomby back to the room with Terry and Michael.

Chomby felt his knees become weak. His hands began to tremble. “Forest Chanting.”

Terry looked at Chomby. “You okay? You seem to be shaking.”

Chomby felt his heart rate increase again. He looked at the logo on the table, then at the doughnut, and finally at his tattoo. “Bakery. Fluffmaster’s Bakery.”

Chomby imagined he was staring at the Sarge he wanted to believe was real. Sarge had the kind-hearted expression that Chomby wanted to see so badly. The werewolf was so concerned about Chomby’s well-being. In that moment, he remembered what Sarge asked. “Are you just a jacket?”

Chomby saw Michael walk over to him and place a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t realize that his whole body was shivering now. This was odd. He never shivered before. “Chomby, do you need assistance?”

Chomby was about to reply, but his mind flashed to Xenon. The alien was in that exact same pose as Michael when Chomby was having a breakdown before. At that moment, Chomby had felt he was at his lowest. He was surprised how much lower he felt now than he did then. Figuring out he was an article of clothing made the whole situation worse.

He remembered what Xenon had told him. The alien’s tone was warm, compassionate, and concerned. “Does that even matter?” Xenon asked.

“I-I…” Chomby wasn’t sure if he was answering Michael, Xenon, or Sarge at this point. He could see all three people in his mind so vividly that he swore they were all in the same room. “I don’t know… I just…” He felt his eyes begin to well with tears again. His mind continued to race. Flashes of Xenon, Sarge, Bark, The mainframe, and Unit_00 clouded his vision and made it hard to think straight.

He knew Michael was trying to talk to him. He could feel the man gently nudging his shoulder, but he couldn’t get out of his panic. He tried slowing his breathing, but he only managed to speed it up. He tried finding something tactile to touch, but he’d gone numb to his surroundings. He could only think of the blaring questions he’d been fighting against the entire time he’d been trying to solve this mystery. Who am I? What am I? Where is Sarge? Am I worthless? Am I a fake? Am I even real? Am I even-

In his turmoil, a quiet, and gentle voice pierced through his loud thoughts. It came out as nothing more than a whisper, but he could hear it clearly. “My friend. My very, best friend.”

Chomby’s mind wandered to Xenon. He wanted a hug, so he imagined Xenon embracing him again. He then started to think of the Sarge he wanted to be real. He imagined that Sarge doing the same. At that moment, he felt two people he wanted more than anyone else giving him a hug. He knew it wasn’t real, but he felt a warmth he had almost forgotten about. The kind, comforting warmth he’d been looking for this entire time.

He couldn’t hold it in anymore and immediately broke down. He could feel the tears continue to pour from his eyes for several minutes. He tried to wipe them away, but he just kept crying. His breathing had slowed down to stuttered sobs as he threw his hands to his eyes and squinted his eyes tight. All this time. All of the heartache he had gone through. All this time he had been missing this strange, enigmatic person from his memories…. He was wanting them now more than anything. He wanted his friend back.

After several minutes, Chomby managed to calm himself down enough to think cohesive thoughts. He clenched his fists. Michael’s, Xenon’s, and Sarge’s questions all rang in his head now. He had an answer. With his vision blurry with tears, he stood up and narrowed his eyes. He gritted his teeth and took a deep breath. “No.”

Michael took a step back to give Chomby some space. “No to the assistance?”

Chomby wiped the tears from his eyes. “No. No. NO. NO!” Chomby took a deep breath. “No, I’m NOT just a jacket. No, It DOESN’T MATTER. And NO, I’M NOT A DEITY’S PAWN!” Chomby pointed a finger at himself. “I am Chomby! I am a soundbyte AND a DJ. I make music, and I’m best friends with a werewolf named SARGE. NOT BERITHAL. SARGE!”

It took several seconds, but all the turmoil in Chomby’s head faded. He felt himself fall back into the room with Terry and Michael. The two stared at him in confusion. Terry was currently holding a walkie-talkie. He seemed about ready to use it.

“Uh… okay?” Michael asked. “Good to hear you’re friends with someone named Sarge?” Michael looked down at Terry, then back at Chomby. “Are they an emergency contact? Should we be calling them? Where are they?”

Chomby’s eyes widened. It dawned on him. He knew the answer. He pointed at himself. “I know where he is.” He quickly grabbed at his collarbone. There was still no zipper there, but it didn’t matter. “He’s been inside of me this whole time.”

~~~~~

Next chapter is up! I'd say this one's one of the more important chapters, so it iiiis a bit longer. Oopsies.

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Chomby/Sarge/Xenon/Art/Story (C)  Juntarhenogu Me