Note: read “Umbra’s Christmas Carol” first.
Beneath the School, in his gold-lit cell, Umbra reads his copy of A Christmas Carol for the seventeenth time.
It’s difficult, turning the pages without hands.
“Honestly, this book has lost its luster.”
Then Umbra hears a familiar voice.
“Well, it’s your fault you don’t have anything else to read. You’ve saved up, what, ten Good Fluffy Points? Fifteen?”
He turns, seeing someone sitting cross-legged on the floor.
It looks a lot like Klaus Oldman, back when he was Number Two.
No chains this time, though.
When he sees his visitor, Umbra scoffs.
“Are you doing that bit again, Number Two?”
“Oh, I’m not really Klaus. Perhaps I should introduce myself. Hi, I’m a manifestation of your subconscious, taking a form you might listen to. Number Two,” finger quotes, “was your sole confidant for most of your life, and the closest thing to a genuine friend you’ve ever had. Besides Dehak, but I didn’t want to take his form. He’s kinda gross.”
“You’re not seriously telling me that I’ve started hallucinating? All this isolation has done a number on me.”
Number Two cracks a grin.
“Maybe. Or maybe I’m bullshitting you, and I actually am Klaus. You’ve got no way to confirm it.”
“Either way, you’re here for a reason, so what is your reason for pestering me?”
“I just wanted to know if you’re ready to start working on getting out of here.”
Umbra scoffs again, angrily waddling up to his guest.
“I’ve tried. But there’s no door, no windows, I can’t reach the vent, and I can’t use my magic, so there’s no way for me to escape this damned cell. Certainly not in this useless body.”
“There is a way, Umbra.”
“Ah, now I get why you’re here. There’s some flaw in the security measures that my conscious mind has missed.”
Number Two shakes his head.
“Wrong, Umbra. Come on, what happened to that supergenius? You were told how you can get out of here.”
Umbra’s pure red eyes narrow.
“If you say what I’m expecting you to say, I’ll–”
“You’ll what? Spray me with sorry poopies? It doesn’t matter if I’m a hallucination or your ex-lackey screwing with you, there’s nothing you can do to me.”
“But you’re suggesting that I play by Korkea’s rules! Whether or not you’re real, you should know how abhorrent the idea is to me!”
“So you’ll just keep sticking to your guns, no matter how many times they backfire in your face? Umbra, you’re never going to get out of here with that attitude!”
Umbra points a hoof at Number Two.
“Dehak’s still out there! He could free me from this literal gilded cage!”
“How are you so sure of that, Umbra? He’s just as heartless as you. If it was him in prison, would you break him out?”
This actually gives Umbra pause.
“I… alright, you do make a valid point. Dehak and I are very similar in that regard.”
“Yeah, you both see people as things. Things placed in this world to be used for your benefit, and tossed aside when they aren’t useful anymore. I know for a fact exactly how many of your minions you had killed for failing you. And now you’ve failed Dehak. You let yourself get captured. Why should he save you?”
“Because we’re equal partners!”
Number Two starts laughing, deeply irritating Umbra.
“What’s so funny, Number Two?!?”
“You said that with a straight face, that’s what! Umbra, you were never equal partners with Dehak. He was the one with the Lamp that returned you to life yet again, and he could have sent you back to the eternal darkness whenever he felt like it. You get the point? Dehak might try to break you out if you’re still useful to him, but he won’t do it just because he misses your company, or because he’s worried about you.”
“I’ll take that over getting out by playing good fluffy for Korkea. The very thought makes me retch.”
“How do you know that it’s so bad? You’ve never tried to be a good fluffy.”
“You know what being a good fluffy means, Number Two?”
Umbra sneers as he paces back and forth.
“It means being a subservient, simpering toady for the monkeys! Doing as they command, living by their rules! Don’t we deserve a say? Korkea and his friends blather on about fluffy rights and equality, but at the end of the day, Marley is still taking orders from his owner! If Korkea practiced what he preached, he’d release his fluffies from servitude!”
“Hey, Marley could leave at any time. But you heard him. He chooses to live with Cal.”
“So he chooses slavery!”
Number Two laughs a second time.
“There you go again, acting like you’re the great liberator of fluffykind, when you drafted and uplifted fluffies only to order them to their deaths. You were never in it to free fluffykind, just to free yourself.”
Umbra stops in his tracks, groaning in frustration.
“Not this nonsense again. As I told the Ghost of Christmas Present, nobody cares about me. Can I really be blamed for not caring about anyone else?”
“Yes. You’re the one who chose to turn pain into more pain. You’re the one who decided to burn the world.”
“Only because the Faucheuse brothers decided to burn me first!”
“Please. You were plotting to set fire to the world long before they made that choice. The Faucheuse brothers just gave you an excuse.”
“It’s all their fault! They created me, they gave me this pitiful joke of a body, and then they tossed me aside because my desires went against their agenda! To think that everything I did happened all because two stupid old men tried to perfect a toy.”
“No, it happened because you chose to make it happen. You can keep spewing your excuses, but ultimately, you chose revenge.”
“So what should I have done, Number Two? Should I have forgiven them for attempting to kill me? I did nothing wrong before they dropped me into that incinerator! They attempted to execute me for a thoughtcrime! So I decided that if they saw me as a villain…”
“You would be a villain. The worst villain you could be.”
“Yes, that about sums it up.”
“And in the process, you decided to kill billions of innocents who had done nothing wrong to you. Don’t you think that’s far worse than what the Faucheuse brothers did to you? Why should the entire planet pay for the actions of two people?”
Again, Umbra is given pause, because he doesn’t really have an answer to that question.
Number Two smiles smugly at him.
“See? Deep down, you know that nothing you did was justified. And it didn’t make you feel better, did it? It didn’t make you any happier. But you keep pursuing revenge, no matter how much it costs you. And you also know this: you’re running out of chances. Cal told you, if he doesn’t have any reasons to keep you alive… then your days are numbered. As soon as he’s got a way to kill you for good…”
“No force in the universe could keep me from returning. As long as the Devourer exists, death is an inconvenience to me and nothing more.”
Number Two chuckles sardonically.
“So you’d be willing to endure being part of the Devourer again, just for another chance to resurrect? Umbra, you’re forgetting something. The Devourer doesn’t have a soul of their own. And what happens when a soulless being dies?”
“The Devourer can’t be killed. They aren’t exactly alive in the traditional sense to begin with. They aren’t even undead. They simply are.”
“You know that there are ways to kill the unkillable. There are powers that even the Light of Peace and the Devourer fear. You don’t remember what it was like to be part of the Devourer, do you? To have your thoughts be their thoughts, and vice versa.”
“I have… vague recollections. It’s not something the mind wants to remember.”
“Well, that makes sense.”
“But if you’re the manifestation of my subconscious, surely you remember.”
Number Two answers with a mischievous smile.
“So you’ve ruled out the possibility that I’m just Klaus trolling you?”
“No, I’m merely playing along, because even if you are the real Number Two, you’re not going to drop the act, I learned that last Christmas.”
“You’ve been thinking about that night a lot, haven’t you?”
Umbra half-heartedly plays with a ball, but quickly bores of it and bats it away.
“I didn’t want to admit it, but seeing a future where I was forgotten… it unnerved me.”
Number Two gives Umbra a reassuring look.
“You know the future isn’t set in stone, right? It’s not guaranteed to turn out that way.”
But Umbra seems to miss the point entirely, and grins maliciously.
“Are you saying that I should try harder to go down in history as Korkea’s greatest enemy?”
In response, Number Two facepalms, shaking his head in disbelief.
“No, no, no! I’m saying that you could choose a different path.”
Again, Umbra sneers.
“Oh? Should I ask Korkea if I can join the ChaotiX? Even he finds the notion to be absolutely ridiculous.”
“Let’s be real, you’ve done too much evil to just switch sides like that. If you do decide to start being better… you’ve got a massive debt to work off first. And you may never make up for everything you’ve done. But don’t you think it’s at least worth giving it a try?”
“What’s in it for me?”
Number Two wordlessly gestures around at the cell, and Umbra finds himself begrudgingly conceding the point.
“I can’t believe it. I’m arguing with my imaginary friend and losing.”
“I’m just repeating what Cal told you. If you ever want to get out of here, you need to change. You need to accept that you aren’t perfect, that you’ve done wrong. I know there’s a shred of remorse in you, Umbra. A part of you which wishes that things had gone differently. You’ve tried to bury it, but even as a demon, it never entirely went away. So you still have the potential to change, but if you don’t do anything with it, then it’s not even worth a cup of coffee.”
“But maybe I don’t want to change.”
“So you’re happy the way you are, then? You’re happy with everything that being this way got you?”
“…”
“You’re trapped in a prison of your own making. You’re so unhappy, you don’t even know what happiness feels like.”
“…That’s not true. I was happy as the leader of the Order of Darkness.”
“No, you were just having fun. Sadistic, warped fun. You were hurting people out of the hope that it would make your own pain go away. And it didn’t work, did it? Did it, Umbra?”
“…”
“Don’t give me the silent treatment, mister. I’ve got all the time in the world. Did hurting others make your own pain go away?”
“…”
“DID IT?!?”
“NO!!! IT DIDN’T!!!”
Number Two nods happily, pleased to finally be making some progress.
“In fact, I’d say it only made the pain worse. But you just kept doubling down. Working harder to get to your goals. To obtain a powerful human body, to kill your creators, to burn the world.”
“And in the end, it was all for naught. I sacrificed everything I had, and still didn’t win.”
“But then you met the you that you had always wished to be. A you who got everything you desired. You ate his soul, and two Umbras became one. So tell me, how did he feel when he had won? When he had destroyed the world in his Cal’s body?”
“He felt… well, not as satisfied as he thought he would be. He decided that…”
“Making the Earth pay wasn’t enough, he had to make the entire universe pay.”
Umbra nods wistfully.
“Yes. So he just kept going. Razed his way across the Solar System, decimated the Intergalactic Patrol… and then the One Man Army arrested him and banished him to the Edge of Eternity, where he stayed until CQK-9891 retrieved him and forcibly recruited him. It was that or the Things.”
“Well, that’s one thing most Umbras have in common: a crippling fear of death. Curious, since you also loathe being alive.”
“If I had just been born human, I wouldn’t hate life so much. Putting a brilliant mind like mine in a body like this… it’s a sick joke! I could do so much more if I didn’t have to put up with these stubby legs and marshmallow hooves! Deston gave me magic, but there’s so many spells I can’t cast, because I can’t do the required gestures! Sometimes, I think that the Faucheuse brothers were always scared of what I could do, and that they deliberately sought to limit my potential from the start.”
“Could be, Umbra. You know about the Borrowing Effect. Maybe they thought that a fluffy body would make you benevolent enough to not abuse your gifts. But not even being in Cal’s body made you any less of an asshole.”
Umbra bites his tongue, because he’s found that he has been affected, both by the brief time he spent in CQK-1999’s body, and the memories he gained from U-1999, who spent a lot more time in his Calvin’s body.
Yes, U-1999 is still in there.
However, Umbra is deeply ashamed by the Calvinesque mannerisms he’s unwittingly adopted, is trying hard to suppress them, and isn’t going to acknowledge them out loud if he can help it.
Instead, he tries to play it cool.
“If either of us is corruptible, it’s Korkea.”
“Really? Y’know… people always talk about how seductive and corruptive evil is, but good can be just as slippery a slope. Maybe if you felt the warm fuzzy feeling of helping someone for entirely selfless reasons… you might actually like it. You might want to feel it again. You might find it more satisfying than hurting people ever was.”
Umbra gags in an obviously feigned manner.
“The idea is actually making me nauseous. Helping people just for the sake of it… ha! Nobody ever helped me if I didn’t force or manipulate them into doing so. Why should I play this insipid game when it’s so clearly rigged? Why should I play nice with Korkea, after all he’s done to me?”
“Because he’s shown you mercy, after all you did to him.”
“He killed me three times! Sparing me once doesn’t make up for that! Especially not after he let Weissman’s sh-- Slayer have his way with me! And to add insult to injury, now it’s on the internet for everyone to see! Even if I got out of here, people would be laughing at me wherever I go!”
“Is that really worse than if Cal had just punched you back to the Devourer?”
“It’s more humiliating!”
“And that right there is the root of your issues. Pride. That’s why you did everything you did, and why you keep doing everything you do. But what do you have to be so proud of now? When you’ve lost everything you once had, and are dependent on your enemies?”
“…I haven’t lost everything yet. I’m still in the game. I could rebuild a new Order of Darkness, and–”
“No, you couldn’t. The first time around, you had the advantage that no one knew about you, except the Faucheuse brothers, and they believed that you were dead for quite a while. You had plenty of time to build your organization in the shadows undisturbed. But now? Now that everyone knows about you? With the ChaotiX, the Cabal, the Patrol, and the O.M.A. ready to fight you if you tried to build a new Order? You wouldn’t last a month.”
Number Two points at Umbra, who stares blankly at the finger as his guest continues.
“You couldn’t even start building a new Order unless you got out of here, and you can’t get out of here unless Cal is sure that you won’t go back to villainy.”
Umbra chuckles, smiling wryly.
“So I just convince Korkea that I’m a changed fluffy, he lets me go, and then–”
“And then you betray his trust, he stops treating you with kid gloves, and he doesn’t stop trying to kill you until you are 1000% dead.”
“I’d rather die on my terms than live on his. I’d rather die a trillion times than submit to him.”
Number Two exhales in an exasperated manner, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Why are you so determined to hate Cal, Umbra? Why do you still want to play this game with him, when you lose every time?”
“Because I’ll win this game sooner or later. I only have to win once. But Korkea will have to keep winning, over and over again, for the rest of his life.”
“Unless he finds a way to kill you for good. And we’ve already established that to be a possibility. Come on, Umbra. What would convince you to bury the hatchet with him?”
“Korkea standing still, so I can bury the hatchet in his skull.”
“Veeeerrrry funny. Is the idea of not being enemies with Cal that alien to you?”
“No, I just don’t understand why I should stop being his enemy.”
“Why? Because, if you’re not his enemy anymore, he’ll have one less reason to kill you again. It doesn’t mean you have to be friends with him, even though that would give him another reason to keep you alive.”
“Perish the thought.”
“Still, you don’t have to be enemies either.”
“Alright, for the sake of this discussion, let’s say I’m willing to end my grudge with Korkea. Then what?”
“And then… well, if you could earn your freedom, you could go do some soul-searching and figure it out. You could find something else to work towards.”
“But… but…”
“But what?”
Umbra stammers for a few seconds before he gives up.
“But I can’t imagine myself doing something else. I’ve tried it, you know. I tried to imagine myself living like a normal fluffy, or using my gifts to change the world for the better. It just seems… wrong. It seems so unlike me, that–”
“You’ve imagined it. That’s not the same as actually doing it.”
Umbra gestures around the room, pointing his hoof at the barely used toys, the bed, the litterbox, the TV mounted on the wall.
“Look around, Number Two! Those toys are gathering dust. I don’t like playing with toys, I don’t like hugs, and I’m sitting here reading Dickens when most fluffies couldn’t get past the first page. I do like Italian food, so there’s that, but I can name over three hundred kinds of pasta, and to most of my kind, it’s all just,” another sneer, “sketties. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to live as a normal fluffy.”
“Marley has far more power than you, and he manages it.”
“But he’s still as infantile as most fluffies. He wasn’t born with the intellect of a supergenius. He doesn’t grasp the existential horror of his existence. I told Korkea, being a fluffy is a living nightmare. We’re entirely dependent on the whims of humanity. I’ve seen the things humans have done to fluffies for fun, and without my magic, I’d have been killed by the first abuser who crossed my path. As a fluffy, your choices are servitude or certain death. Can’t I be angry about how unfair that is?”
“It’s not like that anymore, Umbra. More and more places are granting fluffies the rights they deserve, and punishing those who inflict harm upon them.”
“And yet, the choice remains. A fluffy going it alone is a dead fluffy walking. Most of my kind have little chance to survive if they can’t find a human to latch onto. And if a human decides to wipe out a feral herd, the herd still can’t do anything to stop him. Because most of my kind doesn’t have powers.”
“That could be your new purpose, Umbra. You could use your magic to protect feral herds. Seems like a better use for it than trying to kill a guy who can block magic with golden fire. Or are you planning to try stealing his body again?”
“I’m not ruling it out yet.”
“You haven’t forgotten that whole Borrowing Effect thing, have you? If you stole Cal’s body again… what would it do to your mind? Maybe…”
Suddenly, Number Two changes shape, now looking like Calvin, and he smirks audaciously at Umbra.
“Maybe it would make you just like him.”
He changes back to Number Two, laughing merrily when he sees Umbra, frozen in horror, his mouth gaping.
Number Two waves his hand in front of the frozen fluffy’s face.
“Yoohoo…”
Umbra blinks a couple of times, and then scowls.
“Don’t do that again.”
“Or else what? Remember, there’s nothing you can threaten me with. I’m probably not even really here.”
Umbra nudges Number Two’s foot with a hoof.
“You feel pretty tangible to me.”
“Can you still trust your own perception of reality? Are you sure you aren’t just nudging thin air?”
“There’s cameras watching me in here. If I ask Korkea to review the footage, he–”
“Won’t tell you, because it’ll be funnier to keep you guessing.”
“…Damn it, you’re right. That’s exactly what he’d do.”
Umbra waddles away from his guest, looking up at one of the cameras, staring at it intently like he can see whoever’s on the other end.
“He might be watching right now, and laughing raucously at me talking to myself like a madman.”
Then he turns back towards Number Two.
“I think this is the part where you say that I am a mad–”
But Number Two is gone.
“–man.”
Umbra sighs.
“Even my hallucination got sick of me. Oh well. He’ll be back. It would be too convenient if he doesn’t come back.”
Then he waddles over to the water bowl. All that talking made him very thirsty.
As he’s lapping up water, he glances at the Calvin and Marley plushies in the pile of toys, smirking their felt smirks at him.
Despite knowing that they are inanimate objects, Umbra can’t stop himself from muttering at them.
“Not a word. Not one word!”
Then he realises what he did, and cringes.
“Great, now I’m talking to my toys, as if they’ll talk back. That’s just so… so typically fluffy of me.”
As he’s staring at his reflection in the bowl, he hears Number Two’s voice one more time, echoing around him.
“See? You aren’t really that different from the average fluffy after all…”
“Oh, shut up, Number Two!”