Baker, his eyes still squeezed shut, frowned. This was getting ridiculous.

HELLO ROMOV I GOT OUT OF THE BASEMENT, gushed the tar. Baker felt a twinge in his eyes -- the ones in his head -- as the illusion was lifted, and the water flickered into tar.

“Wait, Romov?” exclaimed another voice, a annoyingly petulant one that Baker recognized.

“Max?” spat Baker. He opened his eyes on reflex, then closed them again immediately as he realized his mistake. A precious few silent seconds passed, and then the tar receded from the room and collected in a small glob of viscous black. Baker put Cardona’s eye in his pocket and opened his own. The door opened, and Max walked in, mildly disheveled.

“This should be interesting. I’m going to catch up with the tar real quick. You deal with that kid.” The flames around Baker’s arms extended onto the black glob and slurped out of Baker’s head.

“Why were you trying to kill us?” accused Baker.

“You left me to die in a basement!” protested Max.

“Well, clearly, you didn’t die.”

“That’s no excuse--”

“You saw us running, you’re the one who’s responsible!”

Max crossed his arms and remained defiantly silent.

“...And weren’t you the one trying to kill Anna in the first place?” continued Baker.

“That was Persephone’s plan, not mine.”

“God, kid, think for yourself sometimes.” Baker shook his head disapprovingly.

Romov nestled into the tar, burning comfortably.

“So how did you get out of the basement anyways?”

MAX TAUGHT ME HOW TO OPEN DOORS.

“That’s what was keeping you in there?”

HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW IT WASN’T JUST MORE WALL?

“Why didn’t you eat the kid in the first place?”

WE HAVE A LOT IN COMMON! HE IS VERY GOOD AND I LIKE HIM. WHEN WE GOT OUT OF THE BASEMENT HE SAID HE KNEW SOMEONE I COULD EAT.

“And you went along with this, despite knowing I was in Baker.” An overwhelming flood of shame washed over Romov, and he recognized its source from the tar.

“Aww, don’t worry, tar. I forgive you.” The shame washed away and was replaced with ecstatic friendliness.

OH THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU

“But no more trying to eat Baker. Even if Max tells you to.”

Max was doing has best to shrink into nothing as Baker reprimanded him. It wasn’t very successful, as Baker continued to berate him for his poor choice of friends and think about who you hang out with and if your friends jumped off a cliff.

“--and I’m certainly going to be reporting Persephone to the administration.”

Max recoiled in horror.

“Couldn’t you just kill her? Reporting her seems harsh.”

Baker closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He opened them with a ridiculously intense stare.

“What.”

Max didn’t get a chance to answer before his face had smashed into the ground. Pushing it into the floor was the hand of Anna, who was still in her pajamas -- stained black by tar.

“You little shit,” she growled. She seemed to notice Baker watching curiously. “You too?” she said. Baker nodded. She turned back to Max, face still pressed firmly into the floor. “I’m gonna pop your head like a grape--”

“Woah woah woah,” said Baker. “Let’s not be violent here.”

“Er fink yer shhud lishen to backer,” spit Max as best as he could.

“We can just report both him and Persephone.”

“NNVRMEND,” panicked Max.

A self-satisfied grin crept up on Anna’s face, containing an uncomfortable amount of sadism. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right, Mr. Baker.” She let up on Max, who stayed on the floor, where it was relatively safe. Maybe if he was lucky, he would disappear from existence. Flame curled behind Baker and travelled up his leg, seating itself in his head again. Max noticed the blue tendrils of fire, and his jaw dropped.

“Tar and I made up,” explained Romov. “What’s going on here?”

“Oh my god, is that Romov?” exclaimed Max eagerly.

“Goddamn-- tell him no.”

“No,” dutifully lied Baker.

“I’m your biggest fan, Romov! And by the way, I was totally against what the administration did to you” shouted Max, as though trying to project his voice through Baker’s eyes.

“I vote we kill him,” said Romov.

“What is with all of you people and killing people?” amazedly asked Baker. Max’s grin faded and turned into confusion.

“What did he say?”

Anna interestedly stared at Baker with a slight head tilt. “We can’t report Max, or Persephone, for that matter. Not if you have the Romov kicking around in your head.” Max sighed with relief.

“Two fifths of me, actually,” said Baker, Romov commandeering his lips and vocal cords. “And you’re right. My chances aren’t good if we get anywhere near administration. Or if someone tells.” He swivelled Baker’s eyes to stare at Anna before weakly relinquishing his grasp.

“I didn’t realize you still heard rumors all the way down in Basement 1B, or wherever the hell you were,” indignantly muttered Anna.

“Didn’t we talk about consent?” quietly whispered Baker.

“Slipped my mind,” Romov said inside Baker’s head.

Anna folded her arm across her chest, propping her other elbow up and holding her chin with a thoughtful expression. “Persephone definitely has to be dealt with before anything else, preferably today. She shouldn’t know that we escaped from Basement 1B yet, so we have the advantage. Unless her rat tattled.” She shifted her glare to Max, who attempted to speak, but only managed a weak shake of the head after his mouth refused to make any sound.

Something cold, wet, and familiar pressed against Baker’s ankle. He looked down to see a purring lump of tar. He stared at it indifferently, expecting to find some anger harbored against the source of at least three of his possible deaths, but finding none.

“May I speak, my liege?” mockingly adulated Romov. Baker sighed, then nodded. The familiar puppet-feeling washed over Baker as Romov took over his mouth and vocal cords.

“Baker and I will help you get rid of Persephone, but we want your help retrieving my aspects. I get my body back, you don’t worry about Persephone anymore, and Baker… gets something too. We’ll figure it out.”

“And Max?” said Anna. The pair turned to face Max. He was worming towards the door. He froze.

Baker’s face remained blank as Romov contemplated Max.

“He can hold onto the tar for us,” concluded Romov. The lump on Baker’s ankle squirmed eagerly and rolled disturbingly quickly towards Max, plopping into his pocket. Max looked thoroughly miserable. “Persephone ideally doesn’t know we’re back until we deal with her, so in the interest of witness protection…”

The tar spread from Max’s pocket, slickly coating his shirt. He started to panic once it reached his skin. Baker looked on, horrified, as a thick black liquid coated the boy. Eventually his convulsions quieted.

“Well, that was dark,” Anna mused.

The surface of Max’s face, now a blank oozing surface of tar, burbled and rumbled, and a cough-like sound was emitted from deep within the tar before he scrambled back on his hands and legs with a muffled scream. The black surface tessellated and assumed the appearance of someone completely unlike Max in nearly every way. Anna looked a little disappointed.

“You’re now a transfer student at Kingsly named… Steve,” said Romov through Baker.

“Steve?!” burbled Steve.

“Sure, why not. If we catch you talking to Persephone, then you’re going to be reported along with her.”

Steve’s face sloughed slightly, then arranged itself again. His skin was like a troubled pond. Romov grinned, a conscious effort to control Baker’s face.

“Alright, folks. Let’s go hunting.”