Chapter Text
“Help.”
In the doorway stood Jamack. His shirt was mussed, torn, and bloody. His jacket and tie were missing entirely. He was holding his upper right arm as if it would fall off if he let it go. His eyes were nearly squeezed shut. He stooped a little, arms tucked into his chest. His legs trembled like he’d worked them past exhaustion, which is saying a lot for any frog. His breaths weren’t quite even. His skin was dull and tight. He looked ill.
Kipo gaped. “Jamack?”
He shot a furtive glance behind him, then leaned heavily on the doorpost. “Please,” he hissed.
“Wh—yeah, yeah of course,” Kipo stuttered, backing away. “Come in. Couch is right there,” she said, gesturing. She watched him with wide eyes as he staggered in. She looked out the door and, seeing nothing suspicious in the dark, closed it. She turned just in time to see Jamack collapse, and launched forward to catch him under his arms. “Woah! Let’s get you a seat, huh?”
He grunted, and his arms spasmed a little as Kipo walked him over and set him on the plush plaid couch. His eyes were shut tight, and he twitched randomly.
Kipo put a paw to her mouth. “Ohh man. Jamack, I’m gonna get my dad; he can probably help better than I can. I’ll be right back, I promise.”
His hand shot out and grabbed her paw as she pulled away. “Is—“ he started, cracking his eyes open. “Is he like you, or like Doctor Emilia?”
The fur raised on Kipo’s arms and her lip curled. “She did this to you!?”
His grip tightened. “Is he like you, or her?” he repeated, desperation warping his tone.
She didn’t need to ask what he meant by that. “Like me,” she said, giving him a firm nod.
Jamack let go and rubbed at his arm. “’Kay.”
Kipo gave him one last glance, then ran deeper into the treehouse the Timbercats had lent her and her family. She skidded around a corner. “Dad! Dad!” she yelled. “Help! Dad, I need you!”
Lio Oak burst through a door at the end of the hall and sprinted for her, barefoot and half-dressed. “What is it, Kipo!?” he asked, grabbing her shoulders and looking her over. “Are you okay? What’s going on?” He put his hand to her cheek, then pulled her close and looked around frantically.
She grabbed his hands in her paws. “It’s Jamack; Dr. Emilia did something to him.”
He blinked. “Jamack?” His expression darkened as he processed the rest. “Oh.”
She bit her lip and nodded. “He looks really bad, Dad. He’s in the living room.”
Lio patted her on the shoulder and gave her a reassuring smile. “Show me.”
She led him back to the front of the house as he pulled his tank top down from around his shoulders and tied the arms of his jumpsuit around his waist. She motioned for him to stay by the wall as she approached Jamack. “I’m back!” she said. “And I brought Dad!”
Jamack looked up warily.
Kipo gestured between them. “Dad; Jamack. Jamack; Dad.”
Lio inclined his head. “Nice to finally meet you.” He smiled. “Thank you for saving my daughter. You can call me Lio.”
Jamack gave Kipo an exasperated look. “Must you slander me like this?”
“He’s still getting used to being a good guy,” Kipo deadpanned.
Lio suppressed a smirk and nodded mock-seriously.
Jamack scoffed and looked away.
Kipo came over to stand in front of Jamack. “Can you tell us what happened? Or at least what’s going on now, so we can help you?”
His gaze flicked between her and her father, who was slowly making his way over. He pulled open a tear in his sleeve, revealing three welts in a row on his arm. The topmost had a messy gash trailing from it. “You’ve met Dr. Emilia, I take it,” he said. “She injected something into my arm. Said she’d figured out a faster solution than working out a reverse mutagen.” He looked up at Kipo. “Had a book with your name on the front.”
She jolted and gasped.
Lio tensed. “No.”
Kipo turned to him. “I thought it got burned in the bag—“
“She must have stolen it from you before that,” Lio said, looking disturbed.
“So, she—“ Jamack winced hard and shuddered as a wave of pain washed over him. “Sh-she could actually do it then?” he asked breathlessly. “She’s not just some weirdo with needles?”
“Do what?” Kipo whispered.
He rubbed his palm between his eyes. “She said she could turn regular mutes into megas,” he grated.
Kipo’s eyes lit up. “Cool!”
He gave her an incredulous look.
Lio put his hand on her shoulder. “Kipo, remember; you and your mom are special cases. Most megas aren’t… They aren’t sapient like other mutes. They’re huge and mutated, but ultimately still animals, like the ones from before.”
Jamack turned to Lio. “Her mom’s a what?” he muttered disbelievingly. He looked Lio up and down.
Kipo blinked, cogs turning in her head. “Oh.” She scowled. “No! What? She can’t do that!” She looked up at Lio. “But that’s not fair! You can’t just do that to a person! You can’t just—take that away—“
Lio sighed. “That’s what she’s always wanted to do. Guess she decided that she’d rather deal with more megas than be stuck with intelligent mutes any longer.” He kneeled for a better look at Jamack’s arm. “When did she do this?”
“A week ago,” Jamack mumbled. “It’s been getting worse since then. I escaped earlier today.”
Lio frowned and hummed. “What have your symptoms been? What’s been getting worse?”
Kipo knelt next to him and gave him an encouraging nod. As an afterthought, she put away her paws.
Jamack looked off to the side. “Various things,” he said evasively. His lips curled in a small smirk. “I made her work for the first dose. Unfortunately, even with my training, the TheaOtters are terrible at real combat. They managed to escape in the van, but while I was covering them, the good doctor and her goons were able to pin me long enough to jab me.” He crossed his arms tightly to keeping them from shaking. “And it was a terrible job, frankly. I’ve seen froglets give neater injections.”
Kipo raised an eyebrow. “Heh?”
Lio waved off the odd comment. He was laser-focused. “And? Did you react to it immediately? Did you see what the formula looked like?”
“Bright green,” he said. “Like algae. And glowing, too.” He rolled his eyes. “A little cliché, if you ask me.”
“Bioluminescent markers,” Lio said. “Used to track the formula’s progress through the body. Likely paired with water-soluble iodine if she has any functional x-ray equipment.”
Jamack swallowed. “Oh.” He curled forward as a small spasm ran through him. “W-well, whatever was in it worked pretty f-fast. Mostly it just made me sick.” He frowned. “At first, anyway. I’d tossed her mooks around and opened an escape route when my heart practically jumped out of my chest and I passed out.”
Lio tilted his head slightly. “Palpitations?”
“Mm-hm,” Jamack affirmed. “Had them a few times this week, but that was the worst episode. Like getting kicked in the sternum.”
“Oof,” Kipo said, wincing in sympathy.
Jamack looked off to the side. “I woke up in her little base of operations. I was just nauseous, so I thought the injection had just been a tranquilizer that didn’t work right. It happens.” He hesitated. “Nothing else for the rest of the day. The next day, I got the second dose, and overheard her talking about—“ He sneered. “About the project. About what she was trying to do.” He paused. “Same glowy green stuff from the first time,” he added.
Lio glanced sidelong at Kipo. “And after that?”
Jamack grimaced. “That’s when things got bad. The second shot…” He meshed his fingers together. “It started out as fairly mild, but over about an hour it built until it was unbearable.” He waved a hand vaguely before gripping it tightly again. “Pain. Sharp and hot in my head, and a deep, visceral—I don’t know how else to explain it but as a visceral wrongness in my gut, like someone was bending each of my bones just short of breaking, or very roughly rearranging my organs after filling them with chlorine.” He took a deep breath and let out a shaky exhale. “After it reached its peak, it kind of just. Stayed like that. For the rest of the day and into the night. I don’t think I was fully conscious for all of it. It did eventually start to dull enough to think properly.”
Lio nodded slowly.
Kipo chewed the inside of her cheek, brows furrowed in worry.
He tilted his head up. “I had a seizure in there somewhere...” He stared dully at the ceiling. “Next day, third and last injection. Pain flared up again for a few hours. Got really itchy.” He shut his eyes and grimaced. “Then sick again.”
“Mm-hm?” Lio said, prompting him gently.
Jamack leaned forward and looked towards the door. “Just a mix of the same after that. Got in a few scuffles. They took some blood two days ago.”
Kipo frowned. “What would they want with your blood? The cells don’t have DNA in them, and they’re working on genetics, aren’t they?” She turned to her father.
“Most mammal red blood cells don’t carry DNA; that’s true,” he said. “But amphibian red blood cells do. Or at least, they did in the old world.”
Her eyes widened and she nodded.
Lio dipped his head in thought for a few moments, then looked up. “Anything else unusual, Jamack?”
“No,” he said shortly.
He sat up straight. “Alright then. I’ll have more questions for you later, and I’ll need to figure out exactly what she did, but for right now let’s just worry about helping you feel better. Sound good?”
His brows furrowed and he glanced at Kipo, who grinned. “Sure,” he said.
Kipo stood. “I’m gonna get some water,” she said, and ran off.
Lio followed Jamack’s gaze to the front door. “You think they’ll come after you?” he asked.
“I’m not sure,” Jamack admitted. “Not here, at any rate. Too many hostile mutes.” He looked at Lio. “It can’t actually work, right? Whatever this is definitely messing me up, but it can’t turn me… into a mega, right?”
Lio sighed. “It might. Her organization is partially responsible for the creation of both Kipo and Hu—the mute you’d know as Scarlemagne.”
“Scarlemagne?” Jamack sat up, eyes wide. “Scarlemagne?”
“Yes,” Lio said, wincing. “So while she doesn’t have any prior experience turning mutes into megas, she does have extensive work with old-world animals, mutes, megas, and human/mega hybrids. She’s never done it before, as far as I know, but she has the know-how to figure it out. A first test usually isn’t likely to work, but it’s not impossible.”
Jamack chuckled darkly. “Well, with my luck…” He trailed off with a tired sigh. He gave Lio a piercing look. “You used to work with her,” he stated.
Lio frowned. “Used to,” he admitted. “A long time ago.”
“She really doesn’t like you,” Jamack said, watching his expression closely.
His eyes hardened. “The feeling’s mutual,” he said in a low voice.
Jamack raised an eyebrow. “I gathered that much, but what—?” He cut himself off and looked towards the entrance to the hall, prompting Lio to do the same.
Kipo stalked out of it a second later, standing on the balls of her feet as she balanced a large pitcher in both hands. “Got it,” she chirped, glancing up. She walked over slowly, careful not to spill anything. “I couldn’t find any cups though,” she said apologetically.
“That’s alright,” Lio said, smiling at her. “I’m sure we’ll manage without.”
Jamack was focused on the pitcher, and didn’t seem to have registered their exchange.
Kipo held it out for him to take.
He grabbed the handle and the side, but as soon as Kipo let go, the pitcher fell. Jamack caught it, straining to hold up the overfilled container. He was able to lift it a little, but frowned in frustration when he couldn’t lift it any higher, and his arms shook more violently. Water splashed over the edge.
“Oops.” Kipo grabbed the pitcher again, one hand supporting the bottom and the other guiding the top. “Let’s try that again.”
Jamack flashed her a look; something between irritation, wariness, and relief. He pulled the pitcher up again, and Kipo followed his movements, allowing him to bring the edge to his lips and take a few generous gulps.
He quickly emptied half the container, then jerked it higher up, pulling it from Kipo’s grasp and inverting it over his head.
“Hey!” she yelped. “What—“
His arms went limp and the pitcher clattered to the floor. His eyes shut and he hunched forward, bowing his head. The only indication that he was still conscious was the deliberate way with which he clasped his hands together in his lap. His breathing slowed considerably.
Kipo picked up the empty pitcher. “Uh. Do you… need more?”
“Later,” Jamack muttered.
Lio furrowed his brows. “Can you tell us what’s happening right now? What’s bothering you most?”
Jamack’s hands twitched. “You know that excruciating pain I mentioned? Never went—“ He was interrupted by a full body spasm. The tendons on his hands popped, only to smooth out as he went completely limp. “A…way,” he finished lamely, almost managing a sardonic smile.
Kipo bit her lip and fidgeted. She gave her dad a worried look. “How do we fix this?”
Lio frowned. “If I can get my hands on some menthol or capsaicin… But until then, bedrest is the best option we have to try.”
Jamack opened his eyes. “There’s mint in the forest, and Cappuccino has cayenne peppers. Not that she’s within calling distance, but…” He gave a weak shrug.
Lio sat back, thinking. “Are frogs still ectothermic? Would heating pads be a bad idea?”
Jamack raised an eyebrow. “An extremely bad idea. And yes, for the record, we are.” He snorted. “’Are frogs still ectothermic.’ It’s been two centuries, Kipo’s dad. Get with the program.”
Lio grinned sheepishly. “Sorry. I figured you would be, I just wanted to be certain.”
“Besides,” Jamack muttered. “It’s more than warm enough up here.”
“Well,” Kipo said, standing. “Rest it is, then. Luckily, this is a pull-out couch!”
Jamack’s eyes widened. “You expect me to sleep here?”
She blinked. “What’s wrong with here?” She looked around the rustic front room.
He opened his mouth, then closed it, weighing his options. He glanced at the door. “Does that lock?”
“Sort of,” Lio said, standing. He plucked a wedge of wood from the side table and shoved it under the door. He used his heel to push it in further. He tugged on the door, and it wouldn’t swing.
Jamack looked unimpressed. He sighed. “Nevermind. It’s fine. That’s fine.”
Lio frowned. “You can use my bed if you wa—“
“No,” Jamack said quickly. “No, that isn’t—this is fine. There aren’t any better options.”
Kipo brought out her paws. “Can I help you up so Dad can put the bed together?”
“Sure,” he said dully. He took her offered paws and slowly made it to his feet. He was shaking like a leaf. He took a step away from the couch, but his knee buckled.
Before he could fall, Kipo turned and scooped him up in a princess carry.
He squawked and snapped his arms up to grip her shoulders. Once she’d steadied, he shot her a glare. “This better be quick.”
“Don’t worry!” she chirped. “Dad’s got it.”
Lio made short work of the pull-out couch, removing the cushions and extending it out to reveal a pre-set bed. His movements caught Jamack’s attention as he straightened the bedding and fluffed the pillows. He caught his eye. “Do you want a quilt, or is this blanket alright?”
“Quilt?” Jamack repeated quizzically. “What’s—?” He broke off as he seized up in another convulsive fit, his face twisting in agony.
Kipo’s tail swished out for balance, and her eyes and ears changed. “Dad!” she shrieked, glancing up briefly from Jamack. “H-hey, it’s okay,” she soothed as Lio lunged across the bed. “It’ll be over in a second.”
Sure enough, the spasms died down into twitches and tremors as she handed him over to Lio.
He pulled Jamack onto the bed, folding the blankets aside. “You’ll be alright,” he said softly. “I’ll work on getting that mint once you’re settled, okay?” He pushed gently on his shoulder, trying to get him to uncurl and lie back.
Jamack reacted as if he’d been burned. His hand shot up and pulled Lio’s away, holding it in a vice grip that he shouldn’t have had the strength for. His eyes snapped open wide. “No.”
Lio blinked. “What?”
Jamack flung his hand away and clawed at the bed to pull himself upright. “No.”
Lio backed up a few feet. “But you should lie down. Your circulation—“
“Not like that,” Jamack growled. He leaned forward and settled down on his hands so that he was lying on his belly. “Go away.”
“I’m sorry,” Lio said, brows furrowing. “I didn’t—“
“Away.”
Lio stood up from the bed and picked up the pitcher. “Alright,” he said calmly. “I’m going to get some more water so that you’ll have it here if you want it later. And then I’ll leave you alone.”
Jamack glared. “Fine.”
Lio glanced questioningly at Kipo as he left, and she answered with a tense grin.
Once Lio had left the room, she turned to Jamack. “So, what was that about?” She was careful to keep her tone light.
He let his head drop and groaned into the sheets. “I’m not talking about it,” he mumbled peevishly.
She sat on the edge of the full size bed. “Okay. Just remember that I’m here if you need me.”
He was quiet for a few long seconds. Then, “Just… Don’t ever do that.”
She cocked her head. “Touch your shoulder?”
He looked up. “No, that isn’t—it’s not that. The other…” He looked off to the side. “Just… don’t. Okay? Just don’t.”
“I won’t,” she said. “Or, I’ll try my best not to, because I’m still a little confused about what exactly you want me to not do.”
“Good enough,” he murmured. He pulled the folded blanket over himself and tugged it around until he was completely covered. “Stick around until your dad comes back,” he said, his voice muffled. “And then leave with him.”
Her tail swished back and forth slowly. “You sure? I could keep watch. I was gonna stay up to read anyway.”
It was a few seconds before he answered. “Yeah, okay,” he muttered.
Kipo grinned, then frowned. “Man, you must really feel awful; you never give in that easily.”
He sighed. “It’s been a long week.”
Lio stopped in with the water, and Kipo told him the plan. He promised he’d go out for mint as soon as the sun rose, and headed back to his room.
Kipo turned the lights off, grabbed her book from the side table, and picked up where she’d left off.