Worm but Cricket and Shatterbird Kiss

Worm but Cricket and Shatterbird Kiss

Or: (How I stopped worrying and learned to love Shatterbird.)

A/N: Hello citizens of crackfic central, Bask in the awe that is the next chapter in the of the CricketBird saga™ ^{(All rights are owned by Cricketbird international, we will sue. Like We’re horrendously suing happy, we make Nintendo and its takedown of fanmade games look pedestrian in comparison...the thing is we can’t afford lawyers so like...feel free to steal since you won’t be able to face consequences but like...what was the point of this again?})

Thanks to my Co-Author u/-Samwich- for dealing with my lazy ass and writing alongside me, as well as for joining me on this quest of crackshipping. I only ask that you don’t waterboard me, pay them vast sums of bitcoin via Venmo and enjoy friends.^{(Don't me someone isn't working on something similar already, I won't believe it.} )

######################################################################################

Cricket stared at the doors to the kitchen, idly poking at what was left of her steak in dread.

Layla had been in the kitchen for a long time, Cricket was beginning to worry.

Why though? I should be more worried for the people in the kitchen more than anything!

Was Layla chewing them out, butchering them all for a slight mistake in the order that Melody had failed to detect?

Finally, Layla exited the kitchen and quickly walked over to Melody. “We should leave.”

For a moment Cricket felt extreme panic, had she messed something up? Said the wrong thing? She was glad her robotic voice had no inflection as she asked, “We need to leave right now?”

“Yes, now. Just trust me.” Layla smiled at her, it seemed like a forced smile.

Melody did trust her, though she knew she shouldn’t. Shatterbird took her hand to get her out of her seat and Melody felt her heart beating faster than it ever had before.

She started following Shatterbird out when she heard a loud voice blare out from behind her, “This steak is overcooked! I wanted it rare!”

She started to turn towards the source, an angry-looking man with a plate of steak in his hands, fuming and indignant, never mind he was enjoying fine dining in a city that had been absolutely devastated by one of the most dangerous forces of nature on the planet.

Suddenly the doors to the kitchen slammed open and people started screaming when they saw a large creature shove itself through the spindly hole the double doorways provided. The man who had complained stood still, paralyzed with fear as the creature approached him. It stared him down as it used one of its large appendages to rip a handful of flesh off its side, dropping it onto the man’s plate with a plomp that splattered his clothes with blood from the newly carved piece of flesh. The porcelain dish fell from his hands and shattered.

In a low growl, Crawler spoke, “That rare enough for you?”

The man stared at Crawler and wet himself, just as Jack Slash emerged from the kitchen as well, chuckling as he lampooned, “Looks like he’s raring to go.”

The crowd was too busy fleeing to chuckle or groan at the pun as Crawler trudged back to the kitchen in a huff, mumbling something incomprehensible under his breath.

Layla gave her hand a squeeze to get her attention, “We need to get out of here.” Cricket nodded and followed, “I’ll explain once we’re alone.” Cricket gave Layla’s hand a squeeze in agreement, if she hadn’t been listening at first she was now.

"What's there to explain?" Her voice rang out, clear as a high school intercom and only slightly more understandable by all besides Shatterbi...Layla's ears. Now that she thought of it...she did like calling her Layla more, and with their hands clutched so tight…. Snap out of it! Flee now, think about how warm her hand is later!

Soon enough a multitude of smiling blonde waitresses began corralling the fleeing crowd, the waitresses opened down the middle revealing thousands of reaching thorny tendrils, the lovebirds barely managing to avoid whatever horrific fate awaited the hapless rich folk that indulged themselves in luxuries few in town could even dream of possessing...you know what...Cricket didn't mind them getting Slaughterhoused.

Melody was guided through the battered streets, past scum that eyed the pair as easy marks to mug and through flooded alleyways. They never let go of each other, not for a second, frankly, Cricket felt like a teenager again, but she couldn’t drop her guard...as much as she wanted to. Shatterbird was a killer, despite all this impromptu kindness only a fool world turn their back on the slaughterhouse.

“There…” Layla said with a tired huff, before continuing. “I figured they’d lose interest and look for something else to keep them entertained. I swear, one second Jack’s Descarte, the next a toddler slamming his toys together, chasing whatever bizarre whim comes over him.”

The two of them paused for a moment, just standing there. Melody didn’t need the rest, but she said nothing, allowing her companion to continue taking the lead. Layla glanced around several times to get her bearings before saying, “This way.” Melody gasped for a second at another gentle embrace between their digits. Layla had grabbed Melody’s hand again to guide her without realizing it.

Melody stared at their joined hands with a small grin and followed. Layla took a circuitous route, and several times she’d stopped with a dour look upon realizing they’d doubled back to where they started.

This is getting us nowhere…but, I could spend forever letting her do this. No, getting out of public view is the priority now.

“I’ll lead the way, I’ve lived here most of my life.” Melody took two steps forward and started leading Layla to the nearest Empire 88 safehouse.

“I.. I suppose,” Layla responded. She let go of Melody’s hand and Cricket had to stop herself from whining at the loss of contact, but then Layla stepped even closer and wrapped both her arms around Melody’s right, pulling herself abreast the gladiator. “Where are we heading?”

Melody didn’t process the words at first, her mind was a storm of warm feelings, but after a few seconds of silence the words clicked and she said, “A safe house.” It will just be the two of us… Alone...do we still have some of that wine from the...Snap out of it, Melody!

When they reached the safehouse Melody instantly realized something was off. The old machine shop turned hideaway had been ransacked, windows broken, and the door spread wide open with two almost intimidating-looking men outside, one with a machete and the other leaning back, with a bulge in his coat pocket It didn’t take a stretch of the imagination to know it was a gun.

The chosen didn’t operate like that, guards out in the open and looking to intimidate, it only invited the police and by extension the protectorate. Really though, the biggest indication that something was amiss was the hand-painted banner made from white bedsheets and grey paint. ‘Community movie night’. Also, one of them was black...not exactly par for the course.

The two women entered with caution, the men merely giving them a nod as they shuffled into the front office which bore a simple cardboard arrow pointing to the shop itself. The door wide open and to their surprise inside there were just people, street urchins from the look of them, nothing but rows of salvaged sofas and chairs providing comfort to their occupants. A tiny projector had been rigged to a phone in the back and was projecting something out of view.

Melody counted about ten already from the door, two families and their children huddled together after what was no doubt a long day of scavenging. The sound of idle movement indicated more people sat within. The shop could hold them, it was mostly empty space and a few machines to look legit for the feds.

The only other occupant she could see was by the projector, who looked their way and quietly trudged towards them. He looked tired and his clothes matched.

“Hey, thank you for coming in.”

“What exactly is this?” Melody asked, her surprise directed more at the impromptu theatre than the fact the building was unoccupied.

As he drew closer Melody’s grip tightened into a fist, only for him to try and calm her down with a raised hand, “Don’t worry, no one is here to harm you. We found this place, same as you did. You can stay if there’s danger out there. Don’t worry, we’re not Nazis.”

“What makes you think I’m a Nazi? I mean… what about Nazis?” Melody hated herself sometimes.

The man gave her a quizzical look, but then responded, “After Leviathan’s attack our homes were wrecked but we came across this place. It’s pretty obviously involved with Empire 88. The carpet is red and has embroidered Swastikas, same as the curtains. Whoever lived here gave up on it and split.”

What idiot decorated this place?!

Melody took a deep breath, “Well, we wouldn’t want to inconv-”

Layla cut her off, “Could we stay for a short time? The Slaughterhouse Nine might be out there.”

Melody eyed Layla for a moment but said nothing. Her companion merely bit her lip, casting a sad glance Melody’s way. Oh goddamnit, whether she knew it or not Layla was making the exact move she needed to. Almost like some sorta...path she could follow, right to victory.

The man’s eyes went wide…

“The...the Nine? I don’t know what good we could do but...I’m not gonna leave two women out in the cold with Jack Slash looking for blood.”

How chivalrous of you, just know where to keep your eyes pointed. Melody snapped back in her head. Taking her place as the true knight of the evening. Unknowingly inching closer to Layla, who responded in kind by resting a hand on the Gladiator’s shoulder and sending a warm, pleasant tingling along Melody’s skin where the woman’s finger’s lingered. There was more to it. There had to be.

“Excuse me,” the man said, walking towards the door that led outside,” I need to get the guards inside, and that banner down...if the Nine are about why look like a juicy target? Enjoy the film, We’re playing all night, this building was one of the few that didn’t lose power.” with that he left, saying something or other to the guards. Layla took hold of Melody’s arm, tugging it gently and urging her into the impromptu theatre.

They quietly walked between the makeshift rows which had been crammed together like sardines in a can and found a loveseat in the back by a corner. Melody looked across the room, her initial estimate had been too small, at least twenty-five people in total crowded the room, watching a man onscreen make a buffoon of himself in a restaurant. How appropriate.

Cricket could barely hear anything from the two tinny speakers set up by the projector. Good for laying low, but she doubted that was the real reason they weren’t projecting at full volume, they were probably just crappy speakers.

Layla got comfortable, leaning against Melody’s shoulder, her weight pleasantly pressed against her body as they relaxed in front of the wall the squatters had painted white to serve as a screen. The film unfolded, A romantic comedy it seemed, some Cape was trying to seduce a woman that had a cape prejudice, with mixed results. Nothing too cerebral in these troubled times, it only made sense that people would prefer to get their minds off the horrors of the last few months, and...Layla’s friends turning the city into their own personal murder canvas.

Melody couldn’t help but take the lead from the woman clinging to her shoulder, nervously pressing their hands together with a gentle grip. Could she be sure this wasn’t a test? That the second she actually embraced the butterflies in her stomach she wouldn’t find a knife in it? At first, the woman was hesitant, her hand flinching and going stiff, only to slowly wrap around Melody’s...It frankly only made things more confusing for Melody. Was she merely mistaking the murderer’s sense of entitlement for genuine affection?

The Romcom ended and another movie was fired to life, this one more serious. The tale of a PRT trooper stationed in one of the many quarantines set up to keep disasters from spreading and ravaging the world, focusing mainly on the growing strain she was experiencing with her husband several states away.

Melody felt her heart pounding in her chest, only for the tension to wrench up as Layla raised her head and looked at Cricket with half-closed eyes.

“Would it be alright...if I rested my head on your lap? If I fall asleep sitting up I tend to get a stiff neck.”

Melody almost had a stroke, her grip tightening on her companion’s hand, grateful that the lights were dimmed and Layla couldn’t spot the sheer embarrassment slathered across her face.

I want nothing more than that. “Sure, if keeping you comfortable stops a bloodbath,” Melody said, trying and failing to sound disinterested.

“I wouldn’t think you’d care about the rabble in your territory, but it seems you’re very sweet when you want to be,” Layla whispered as she laid her head onto Melody’s lap, turning over and dangling her legs over the arm of the chair.

Cricket had been well rewarded.

Several life-threatening circumstances later the protagonist managed to transfer back to her home state for a heartwarming reunion. Her and her husband finally going on a date for the first time in months, holding hands...Melody fantasized her and Layla in the same position, Nazis be damned, it was just a paycheck to her anyways.

She watched as romantic music played, the camera closing in on the couple on screen as they watched the sunset from a hill in some park. The protagonist and her husband’s faces got closer and closer. Melody felt the grip on her hand tighten. The Gladiator responded in turn as Layla scootched up to see the screen, Layla was now practically sitting on her lap, blocking her view of the movie. Melody could smell her hair, lilac, and jasmine.

Tighter, their fingers interlocked. with a metallic crispness, Cricket whispered into Layla’s ear, “Beautiful.” Layla turned to her, maybe she was going to speak, maybe not. Either way, their lips met, and a warm light shined on them for the scant five seconds the kiss lasted. Her lips were soft, her breath tasted fresh. Melody could only imagine how fast she was going to die, but at least she would die in heaven. Layla’s wrapped her arms around Melody, as she had in their first encounter.

An eternity later Melody felt her lips fall away from their enlightening embrace. Layla's cheek soon met hers as she whispered sweetly into Melody's ear. "Glad you finally got the message."

Melody reached for her larynx, only for a gentle hand to push it back down. Layla murmured to the Gladiator. "It's a bit loud, no need to disturb the audience, don't worry, my ears are sensitive, and very much willing to labour unceasingly to hear you."

"I couldn't be sure that it was real. I was scared that...it was the test...if I fell for you, if I tried anything...you'd kill me." Melody's voice cracked weakly, sounding like a dying animal swaddled in a blanket, given comfort in its final moments.

"Not you, Melody. Never you."

"That's not what you would've said when we first met."

"That was a week ago. Now, are you going to kiss me again or leave me to languish in this theatre without a hint of affection."

The answer was obvious.