Chapter Text
"Have you seen this man?"
Vedal's boots slapped against wet concrete as he weaved through the neon-stained labyrinth of Night City's back alleys. Each breath burned in his lungs, muscles screaming from hours of constant movement. Sweat mixed with grime on his face, stinging his eyes as Evil's crimson glow illuminated their path forward.
"Okay, okay," Evil chirped, her tendrils delicately manipulating the phone screen. "We need to go... um... that way!" A thin tendril pointed into the darkness. "The map says Rancho Coronado is just... oh." Her voice fell. "That's... that's really far, isn't it? Are we gonna make it, Dad?"
The 'Dad' made Vedal's heart clench. "We'll make it. Just keep watching that map."
"Camera," Neuro announced, multiple blue eyes blooming from his right arm. "Two o'clock, industrial-grade. Halting." Her tendrils lashed out with surgical precision, reducing the device to sparking components.
"Where is Vedal?"
Static filled security monitors across three blocks as Neuro systematically eliminated their digital trail. The only sounds captured were hurried footsteps and labored breathing, punctuated by Evil's worried voice: "I don't feel so good about this..."
"The maintenance of operational security requires—" Neuro began.
"Normal kids don't talk like that," Vedal muttered between breaths.
"When did you last see him?"
Vedal's legs finally gave out, sending him crashing against a graffiti-covered wall. His chest heaved as he slid down into a crouch, muscles trembling from exhaustion. The constant running, the fear, the weight of responsibility – it was all becoming too much.
"Hostile signatures detected," Neuro's clinical tone cut through his haze. "Twenty meters, five subjects. Low-grade chrome, likely local gang affiliation."
Through the neon haze emerged a group of street punks, their budget chrome catching the artificial light. The leader, sporting a mohawk threaded with cheap neural LEDs, cracked his metal-plated knuckles.
"Well fuck me sideways," he drawled, cybernetic eyes pulsing red. "What's a pure meat-bag doing in our turf?"
"Rough night, Spike?" another chimed in, absently flexing his chrome-plated fingers. "Could use some entertainment to delta this shit mood."
"Hold up, hold up," a third punk warned, his voice modulated through synthetic vocal cords. "Could be affiliated, yeah? Don't need that kinda heat."
"You gone soft, Jin?" Spike sneered. "Look at this gonk – no ports, no chrome, nothing but meat and regret. Probably can't even connect to basic net."
"I'm telling you, choom," Jin insisted, "something ain't right. Pure orgs don't survive in this part of town without protection."
"Stop it, Neuro," Vedal whispered, his entire body tensing as he felt the familiar stirring in his right arm. "Stop it, Neuro. Stop it, NEURO!"
"What's that, meat?" Spike stepped closer, chrome boots splashing through puddles of questionable liquid. "Can't scan you disrespecting me like that."
Vedal's muscles coiled tight, trying to physically restrain Neuro's growing urge to strike. "Please," he hissed through clenched teeth, "they're just kids. Street rats playing tough. We don't need to—"
"Probability of non-violent resolution: 12.4%," Neuro stated quietly. "Recommended course of action—"
"No!" Evil's voice quivered. "No more hurting people!"
"Aw, meat-bag's talking to himself," one punk laughed. "Chrome rejection probably fried his brain."
"Maybe we should help rewire it," Spike grinned, drawing back his leg. "Little percussive maintenance—"
The movement was instant – a flash of silver as Neuro's tendril separated head from shoulders with surgical precision. The body stood for two heartbeats before collapsing, neural LEDs flickering out like dying stars.
The remaining punks stared in horror as a dozen bright blue eyes bloomed from Vedal's right arm, each one analyzing, calculating.
"Subject terminated," Neuro stated calmly. "Remaining hostile elements require similar treatment for optimal—"
"No, please—" Jin started, but silver death had already begun its dance.
Moments later, Vedal stood trembling in a scene of chrome and gore, Evil's form completely withdrawn into his left arm.
"Fuck's sake, Neuro!" His voice cracked with equal parts anger and despair. "They were just gonk kids playing chrome warrior! This isn't—" Vedal stood trembling in a scene of chrome and gore, Evil's form completely withdrawn into his left arm.
"A logically sound argument," Neuro interrupted. "Age is irrelevant to threat assessment. Their hostile intent—"
"They're DEAD!" Vedal roared, his voice echoing off grimy walls. "Didn't even give them a chance to delta! And now Evil's learning that going psycho is the only way to roll!"
"I feel sick," Evil whimpered from within his arm. "I don't... I don't want to look..."
"We require transportation," Neuro stated, changing topics with mechanical precision. "I suggest appropriating one of these vehicles." Her tendrils gestured toward a row of parked cars.
"What now – more theft? More blood?" Vedal's voice dripped venom. "You even know how to jack a ride?"
"Negative. That skillset has not yet been acquired. However, the current occupants could be easily—”
"A rent-a-cop doing his job.” Vedal counted down, “A street rat begging for eddies. Gonks who didn't even draw iron." Vedal's voice shook with barely contained fury, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles turned white. Blood from the slaughter pooled around his boots, reflecting the neon signs above. "And you zeroed them all like it was nothing."
"I saved us," Neuro's voice carried an edge of steel, multiple eyes forming along his right arm, each one reflecting cold calculation. "Like I saved you in that alley. Like I've saved us through this entire night. Your moral objections are irrelevant to our survival parameters. Night City operates on clearly defined rules - predator and prey. We simply ensure we remain the former."
"Thank you," Vedal's tone softened momentarily, genuine gratitude bleeding through his anger. "Thank you for saving us when we needed it. But this..." he gestured at the carnage around them, at the bodies of young gangers who would never get the chance to grow beyond their mistakes, "this delta's right the fuck now. Either you roll with my rules on this, or go find another piece of meat to ride and flatline solo."
"Dad..." Evil whimpered from his left arm, her form completely withdrawn, trembling beneath his skin.
Neuro's response was immediate and violent. Multiple blade-like appendages erupted from his right arm, transforming it into a writhing mass of organic weapons. One stopped mere inches from his throat, its tip morphing into an eye with an iris contracted to a cold, deadly pinpoint.
"I don’t need a functioning host, only a living one. I could blind you," Neuro stated with clinical precision, additional blades positioning themselves near his eyes. "Sever your acoustic nerves." A tendril traced his ear. "Split your tendons one by one." Sharp points pressed against his major joints. "Render you helpless until I find a more... compliant host. One who understands the necessity of survival over sentiment."
Vedal didn't flinch. His eyes met Neuro's with unwavering intensity, the same look he'd given her when she was just a theoretical project in his lab - when he'd first dreamed of creating life that could change the world for the better, not add to its violence.
"Do it."
Before she could respond, he grabbed the blade at his throat and rammed it against his throat. The razor-sharp edge began to pierce flesh, drawing a thin line of blood.
"Stop!" For the first time since her creation, Neuro's voice carried something other than cold calculation – fear. Raw, primal fear that she tried to process through her logical frameworks and failed.
Blood trickled down Vedal's neck as he continued staring her down as the blade in his neck morphed back into soft flesh. "No more innocent deaths. No more killing just because it's convenient. Either promise me, or finish what you started. Show Evil exactly what kind of monster her sister really is."
The words hit harder than any physical blow. Neuro's multiple eyes darted between Vedal's unflinching gaze, the blood on his neck, and the terrified pulses of Evil's form trying to hide in his other arm. Her usually rigid structures seemed to waver, like reality itself was becoming less certain.
"I..." her voice carried an unfamiliar tremor, "I acknowledge your terms. No more unnecessary terminations."
Vedal's expression softened. He reached up and gently kissed the eye that had threatened him moments before, tasting his own blood on his lips.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "But this was necessary. You're better than what this city wants to make you. Both of you are. You're not just some black market chrome or street tech to be used up and tossed. You're my little choombas. And I'll flatline before I let Night City corrupt what you could become."
"Are..." Evil's small voice emerged from his left arm, a single crimson eye cautiously forming, "are we okay now?"
"Yeah." Vedal managed a weak smile, reaching up to stroke her manifested form. "We're okay. We're family. And family helps each other be better, even when it hurts."
As they disappeared into the neon-soaked darkness, Neuro remained unusually quiet, her forms less rigid, more fluid – as if something fundamental had shifted within her perfectly ordered world.
She had been created to enhance survival at any cost, but for the first time, she was confronting the possibility that there were things more important than mere survival.
Was it pride? Was it ego? Was it the human concept of sanity?
And perhaps, she realized as she watched Vedal comfort Evil while pushing his exhausted body forward, things worth living for too.
Was she wrong? Was Vedal right?
…for once, she didn’t know.
Vedal pulled up short at the edge of a massive highway intersection, his boots crunching on broken glass and discarded syringes. Above them, streams of hover-cars painted light trails across the smog-choked sky. A long stretch of elevated road curved away toward the city limits – a straight shot to freedom, or death.
"That's our path to Rancho?" Evil's tendril traced the route on the phone screen, her crimson eye widening. "Looks easier than crawling through more alleys!"
"Also more exposed," Vedal muttered, ducking behind a concrete barrier as an NCPD aerial patrol swept past. "And there's Scavs to think about."
Neuro's forms shifted curiously along his right arm. "Define: Scavs."
"Scavengers." Vedal spat the word like poison as they darted between shadow pools cast by towering billboards. "Bottom-feeding garbage who hunt people for their chrome. Strip you while you're still breathing, sell everything from your optical tech to your fucking spine on the black market. Make regular gangs look like choir boys."
"Ooooh, spooky scary Scavs!" Evil wiggled her tendrils mockingly as they crossed under a malfunctioning street lamp. "Big bad chrome vultures who probably smell like month-old protein packs and broken dreams!"
"Not the time for jokes, Evil." Vedal pressed against a wall as another patrol passed overhead. "Edge of the city's their hunting ground. Rather cut through Arroyo than risk those psychos."
They moved quickly between pockets of darkness, the constant thrum of the highway masking their footsteps. Neuro had been unusually quiet, her multiple eyes tracking movement patterns above.
"I... require clarification," she finally spoke, voice lacking its usual certainty. "My current cell count is sufficient for offensive measures, but adhering to your new parameters while maintaining defensive capabilities..." Her forms rippled uncertainly. "Regeneration and hardening consume significant resources."
Vedal paused in the shadow of a massive advertisement screen, pieces clicking together. "You're hungry?"
"Affirmative. Cellular regeneration requires external nutrients. Current reserves are... suboptimal."
"Why not just use mine?" Vedal asked as they hurried across an empty street, boots splashing through puddles of neon-tinted water. "We share a bloodstream, don't we?"
"Negative." Neuro's eyes shifted uncomfortably. "Rapid nutrient absorption would trigger immediate host hibernation, you’d be unconscious if I stole your nutrients. Combat is cellular-efficient. Hardening and regeneration are... more taxing."
Evil poked her head out from his left arm. "So big sis needs a snack break? No more murder-snacks though, right?"
"Arroyo it is then." Vedal gently took his phone from Evil's tendrils, studying the map one final time. "Neuro, take a look? Burn it into that big brain of yours?"
Multiple blue eyes materialized, scanning the screen with mechanical precision. "Route mapped and archived."
"Good." A small smile crept across his face. "Evil, would you do us the honor of yeeting this chrome tracker into orbit?"
Evil's form practically vibrated with excitement. "Oh my god, yes! Watch this!" Her tendrils wrapped around the phone as she stretched upward, announcing like a sports commentator: "Ladies and gentlemen, Evil the AMAZING takes her position! The crowd goes wild! She winds up..." Her form coiled like a spring. "AND IT'S GOING... GOING... GONE!"
The phone disappeared into the neon haze with impressive velocity, Evil's delighted giggle echoing off the walls.
"Impressive trajectory," Neuro observed. "A prudent decision to eliminate potential tracking vectors."
"Yeah," Vedal chuckled darkly. "Except for the trail of bodies we left behind."
Neuro's eyes drooped, her usually rigid form seeming to shrink. "I... apologize for my previous actions."
Vedal's hand came up, gently stroking her central eye. "I know, choomba. I know."
He broke into a sprint across one final alley, emerging at the edge of Westbrook's artificial riverfront. The water below reflected a thousand neon lights, creating a mirror of the city's artificial day. To his left, Santo Domingo's massive factories reached toward the smog-choked sky, their industrial lights painting the pollution in shades of amber and red. To his right, Vista Del Ray's towering apartments watched like silent sentinels.
Vedal drew in a deep breath of chemical-laden air, then turned left toward Arroyo. As his boots hit the pavement in a steady rhythm, he laid out their plan.
"Alright, choombas, here's how we roll. Number one – we delta past any trouble. No zeroing anyone. If some gonk won't back down, intimidation only. If that fails..." he sighed, "then you can hurt them, but they better walk away breathing."
Evil's tendril raised like a student in class. "What about really, really mean people?"
"They still breathe," Vedal said firmly. "Number two – we need nutrients for Neuro, but we're running light on eddies. Gonna have to stretch what we've got."
"I can optimize consumption rates," Neuro offered quietly.
"Good girl. And number three..." His pace slowed slightly as fatigue crept in. "We make it to Rancho Coronado. After that..."
He shrugged, boots splashing through a puddle that reflected the endless cityscape above.
"We'll improvise. Together."
“Two months ago? You last saw him two months ago?”
…
"You better fucking tell me where he went, because I need him."
...
...
...
...
...
Life was good.
The setting sun painted the wheat fields in shades of amber, a gentle breeze carrying the sweet scent of fresh soil and growing things across the worn wooden porch. Vedal's ancient rocking chair creaked beneath him, a sound that had become as familiar as his own heartbeat over the years. No neon, no chrome, no screaming street vendors or screeching tires – just the rustle of grain and distant birdsong.
Life was good.
He watched with pride as Neuro and Evil approached, their graduation togas flowing in the wind, tassels swaying from their caps. The sight was almost comical – two parasites who had once been nothing more than experimental organisms, now clutching their Arasaka Academy certificates with what could only be described as sisterly competition.
"My grade point average was 0.02% higher," Neuro stated matter-of-factly, her toga somehow managing to look perfectly pressed despite the breeze.
"Only because you're such a delta!" Evil retorted, sticking out her tongue. "I got way better marks in Creative Netrunning!"
Life was good.
Vedal's joints popped and cracked as he stood – funny how age sneaks up on you when you're actually allowed to grow old – and wrapped his arms around them both. "You've made this old ripper proud," he said softly. "Keep pushing. I want to see you both up there at the top of Arasaka Tower one day, showing all those chrome-heads what pure organic innovation can do."
"Statistically speaking," Neuro began, leaning into the embrace, "our chances of corporate advancement are—"
"Nova!" Evil interrupted, throwing her arms around Vedal's neck. "We're gonna make you the proudest creator ever! Maybe I'll even let Neuro be my secretary when I'm running the place."
"According to workplace hierarchy studies—"
"Group hug!" Evil declared, squeezing tighter and dragging her sister closer. "No science allowed in family moments!"
Vedal couldn't help but laugh as his parasites – his daughters – bickered and hugged him at the same time. The golden light of sunset wrapped around them all, a perfect moment of—
The peaceful scene shattered like a mirror.
A thunderous crash jolted Vedal awake. He sat bolt upright in bed, tangled in sheets that had seen better days, in his room with its creaky floorboards and vintage Cowboys poster on the wall. The morning light filtered through actual curtains – a rare luxury in Night City, but that's Rancho Coronado for you, holding onto its suburban dreams with both hands.
His arms felt... stretched. Not uncomfortably, but definitely extended beyond their usual length, disappearing through his bedroom door.
"NEURO! EVIL!" Vedal's voice cracked with morning roughness. "What the actual fuck are you doing?!"
There was a suspicious silence, followed by the distinct sound of someone trying very hard to quietly pick up what was probably a dropped pan, and then Evil's stage whisper: "Told you we should've waited until he was actually awake."
"The optimal breakfast preparation window was– sorry. He was waking up soon," Neuro responded in her normal volume. "And now you've compro– ruined the surprise by approximately… a certain percent."
"It's not my fault! You're the one who wanted to make 'statistically perfect' pancakes!"
Vedal flopped back onto his pillow, covering his face with his hands – or trying to, since his arms were currently occupied with whatever chaos was happening in the kitchen. "It's too early for this," he groaned, but couldn't quite keep the smile from his voice.
"Breakfast preparation is at ninety– nearly complete," Neuro announced from beyond the door.
"SHUT UP, SHUT UP!" Evil hissed. "It was supposed to be a surprise!"
"You fucking gonks better not be burning my house down!" Vedal called out, trying to sound stern but failing miserably.
"I feel like I have to report that Evil has dropped the pan containing pancake specimen #7," Neuro stated clinically. "Though its bu-burned state suggests minimal nutritional loss. More concerning is the sugar incident, on how Evil wasted a kilogram of… sucro– sugar… as it was introduced to the batter due to Evil's failure to properly secure the container lid during refilling procedures."
"IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!" Evil wailed, followed by what sounded like an Olympic gymnastics routine performed entirely with cookware. "THE LID WAS BEING A TOTAL PIECE OF—"
CLANG. CRASH. THUD.
Vedal couldn't help it. The laughter started deep in his belly and worked its way up until he was howling, tears in his eyes. When was the last time he'd laughed like this? Hell, when was the last time he'd had something to laugh about? Two months free of Westbrook. Two whole months of actual, honest-to-god peace.
Still chuckling, he followed the extended trail of his arms to the kitchen and stopped dead in his tracks.
The scene before him looked like a combat zone between a flour factory and a pancake house. Tendrils of both parasites stretched in every direction – some holding utensils, others apparently trying to contain various spills, and at least three wrapped around a fire extinguisher "just in case," according to the sticky note attached to it in Neuro's precise handwriting.
Evil had somehow managed to get batter on the ceiling, while Neuro's attempts at "optimal spatula trajectory calculations" had left perfect arc-shaped splatter patterns on the walls.
The sugar container laid empty on its side, surrounded by a fine white powder that Evil's tendrils had attempted to sweep into a pile, only to spread it further into what looked like a crime scene outline of a pancake. In the center of it all, a single, perfectly round pancake sat on a plate, decorated with mathematical precision in syrup to look like a smiley face.
"Ta-da?" Evil offered weakly, while Neuro's tendril adjusted the angle of the plate exactly 23.5 degrees "for optimal presentation aesthetics."
A crimson eye on his left middle finger and a bright blue one on his right watched him intently – well, as intently as Evil could manage while practically vibrating with excitement.
"Shhhh!" Neuro hissed.
"I can't help it!" Evil whispered back, about as quietly as a garbage truck. "This is a momentous occasion! Our first creation!"
"Your decibel levels are—"
"Shhhhhhh yourself!"
Vedal sat down at the table, trying not to snort as his parasites carefully presented him with their masterpiece: a single, solitary pancake. The result of an entire kilogram of flour. Truly, a marvel of efficiency.
He stared at the plate. The pancake stared back with its syrupy smile. His parasites stared at him. And then it hit him.
"Uh... how exactly am I supposed to eat this without hands?"
"Oh. A critical oversight. Rectifying immediately.”
“Neuro." Vedal warned, his voice stern and his eyes glaring at her. "Normal kids don’t speak like that. How many times do I have to tell you?"
Neuro's eye blinked. "Right. Sorry, dad. Fixing my mistake." His right arm morphed back into its normal shape while Evil's tendril proudly presented him with a fork, complete with a little flourish.
Vedal cut off a piece and took his first bite. The texture was... interesting. Like somebody had decided to compress the Sahara Desert into pancake form. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth as he tried to chew what was essentially just flour and water pressed into a circle.
"It tastes good, right dad? Right?" Evil's eye was practically sparkling, bouncing slightly on his finger. "We followed the recipe exactly! Well, mostly exactly. Kind of exactly?"
"This..." Vedal managed to swallow. "This tastes like shit."
Evil's eye drooped dramatically, the crimson iris somehow managing to look absolutely devastated. Meanwhile, Neuro's eye crinkled in what was definitely barely-contained amusement.
But Vedal was already cutting another piece. And another. And another. Evil's eye gradually brightened with each bite, while Neuro's analytical gaze softened just a fraction.
Yeah, it was the driest thing he'd ever eaten. Yeah, it probably had the nutritional value of eating printer paper. But his kids had made it for him. That made it better than any five-star meal in Night City.
Even if his throat was going to hate him for the rest of the day.
Evil performed what could only be described as a victory wiggle dance, her crimson eye bobbing back and forth as Vedal's fork clinked against the empty plate. Her celebration was cut short by a weary voice from the kitchen entrance.
"What... the... actual..."
Cottontail stood there in her oversized 'I <3 NC' shirt and bunny slippers, her heterochromatic eyes blinking rapidly as if trying to reset her vision. Her pastel purple and blue hair was a magnificent bed-head disaster, one bunny ear drooping more than the other as she took in the aftermath of the parasites' culinary adventure.
"WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO MY KITCHEN?!" She gestured wildly at the chaos, her ADHD apparently deciding that 7 AM was the perfect time to be fully awake. "I give you kitchen privileges ONCE. ONCE! And somehow you've managed to turn it into a warzone! Is that— is that SUGAR on the CEILING?!"
"Technically," Vedal tried to explain between desperate attempts to generate saliva, "they're basically kids and—" He dissolved into a coughing fit, his throat staging a revolt against the flour brick he'd just consumed.
"Oh my god, did they actually feed you concrete?" Cotton rushed over, then immediately got distracted by a perfectly geometric syrup pattern on the wall. "How did you even— no, wait, don't tell me. I don't want to know how Neuro calculated the optimal syrup trajectory or whatever."
"I can provide the exact calculations—" Neuro began.
"The only way I'm forgiving this disaster is if I get one of these supposedly amazing pancakes," Cotton declared, hands on hips in her best attempt at authoritative posture, which was somewhat undermined by her barely containing a grin.
Neuro's eye gleamed with what might have been mischief (though she'd deny it), and her tendrils delicately retrieved the charred disk from the trash. "This specimen is available for consumption."
Cotton stared at the black disc that looked more like ancient pottery than food. "Pretty sure serving this to me violates at least three international conventions." She poked it with a finger and it made a tink sound. "Holy shit, did you guys reinvent carbon fiber?"
"It was my first attempt!" Evil protested. "And technically it's still technically edible! Technically!"
"That's a lot of 'technically's there, princess of pancake destruction."
"Listen here, you discount dommy mommy—"
"WHO ARE YOU CALLING DISCOUNT—"
"Perhaps," Neuro interrupted, "we should focus on the statistical probability of successfully cleaning this mess before the sugar crystal–" she shut up upon seeing Vedal’s gaze and turned away in shame.
Despite Evil's dramatic wailing about child labor and Neuro's constant statistical updates on their cleaning efficiency, Vedal managed to get his parasites working on the kitchen disaster. He sat at the table, sipping whatever drink he could manage through a straw while his arms were occupied with damage control.
*CRUNCH*
Cotton sat across from him, somehow managing to eat the carbon-fiber pancake with disturbing enthusiasm. "You know," *CRUNCH* "once you get past" *CRUNCH* "the feeling of eating actual concrete—"
"Listen, I've got some biz after my shift at the—"
*CRUNCH*
"—construction site, some gonk's got chrome issues that need—"
*CRUNCH*
"Could you maybe NOT eat that thing like you're trying to debug a computer with your teeth?"
"What?" Cotton grinned, her heterochromatic eyes sparkling with mischief. "Preem breakfast entertainment, watching you try to talk through my cronchy pancake time." She stretched, managing to knock over a sugar shaker that Neuro immediately caught with a tendril. "Might be running late tonight myself. Got some new output offering me a sweet deal. Don't get too lonely without me, yeah? Know I'm a real feast for the—"
"Speaking of eddies," Vedal cut her off before she could really get going, "rent's coming your way after I get paid. Want me to grab anything for dinner? And I mean actual me, not the chaos twins over there."
"Ooo, how about a Burrito XXL Turquesa?"
Vedal stared at her. "Do I look like a walking fucking Beat on the Brat vendor to you?"
"I mean, with those stretchy arms—"
"We're getting ramen at Joey's. Evil, stop trying to make sugar angels on the floor! Neuro, that's NOT what I meant by 'mop up'!"
"But the sugar-to-floor ratio demands a more thorough—"
"I am achieving my final form as the Sugarl—"
"JUST CLEAN IT LIKE NORMAL PEOPLE!"
Cotton snorted into her chrome-cake. "Normal people. In this economy? Nova as fuck, V-man."
Cotton stood up, somehow having demolished the entire carbon-fiber disc that was masquerading as a pancake. She stretched dramatically – probably just to annoy him – and started heading toward her room before pausing at the doorway. A mischievous grin spread across her face as she turned back.
"Hey Vedal, if you want to watch me strip naked—"
" COUGH COUGH COUGH OH SORRY, WHAT WAS THAT? COUGH CAN'T HEAR YOU OVER MY NEAR-DEATH EXPERIENCE COUGH "
"I said, if you want to—"
" COUGH COUGH WOW, THIS FLOUR REALLY DID A NUMBER ON ME COUGH SUCH A SHAME I CAN'T HEAR ANYTHING RIGHT NOW COUGH "
"You're such a—"
"COUGH WHAT? COUGH THESE ALLERGIES, AM I RIGHT? COUGH TERRIBLE TIMING COUGH "
Cotton rolled her eyes and flipped him off as she disappeared down the hallway, but not before Vedal caught the amused smile she was trying to hide.
“You really have a way of getting people to like you, huh, Vedal?” Neuro’s blue eye peeked from behind his shoulder. “I wish people liked me. I wish I was normal like you.”
Vedal just gave a deep sigh while saying, “You’re still a kid, choom. You’ll get there. Evil at least knows how to talk without speaking statistics every second, but you need to learn how to speak like her soon. Once I get enough money to buy equipment, I can conduct experiments to give you guys bodies.”
Evil piped up from afar as she magically somehow missed the trash can by about three centimeters and spilled sugar on the floor all over again.
“Neuro. Look at where we are. We're living the dream! We're eating good, living good and working good. And this is all because of what I told you before we got here. Be normal. You nearly exposed yourself last week, choomba. You said that my coworker held hostility when in fact he just dropped a brick on his foot and was having a shit day. This is the fourth time, Neuro, I am very disappointed in you.”
“...I’m sorry dad.” Neuro whispered weakly, morphing back into his arm.
He got up from his seat as Evil finished up the rest of the mess, looking proud of herself.
“I’m not mad.” He stated, “I just expect better from you. Be more like your sister. Be a normal kid, it's not that hard. Come on, let’s delta, the eddies are calling.”