Housepets: Do What They Must

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OtherStr8aura
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Housepets: Do What They Must

Post by OtherStr8aura »

Note: The following fic was written for AO3, and can be found at https://archiveofourown.org/works/53208235. Reception there if possible would be appreciated. To be blunt, it's got a much longer lifespan than these forums do. Thank you.

A study of Herman Steward, his life and his mistakes.

Set during HECKRAISER; more specifically, set right smack dab in the middle of the page 'Mustelid Pile', the 7/12/2022 strip.

TW for loose descriptions of animals eating and minor character death.


___

Miles and miles in the air, a private jet set a course for Egypt.

The inside contained a menagerie of animals, lynxes and squirrels, aardvarks and dogs. They conversed amongst themselves, each equally nervous and excited for their destination.

At the back, in a seat by the window, a badger and a ferret spoke for the first time in several months.

"Why have you always been so aggrieved with me?" The ferret, Keene, wanted to know.

"Because everybody thinks they're gonna fix the world if they could just get every last being on Earth to have all their wants fulfilled until life is perfectly fair, and then suffering will disappear. That's now how suffering works." The badger, Steward, explained. "Suffering is wanting things you cannot keep, which is everything, because everything is temporary. You can't fulfill desire; Desire is infinite, it expands to fit the container."

"What's any of that have to do with me, though?" Keene pressed. "You're talking, like, cosmic motivations. And who has time or perspective to keep track of any of those?"

Steward glanced out the window at the passing clouds as Keene continued.

"I am literally fighting for the rights of beings to autonomy in a world..." A lump formed in Steward's throat at Keene's next words. "...Where they are regularly eaten by predators. Like me."

"And!" Keene kept talking. "Do we really know that plants aren't sentient and autonomous too? Does life really matter if it's just a bunch of..."

Keene went on like that, for a little while longer. But for a second Steward zoned out, suddenly seized by a memory from not too long ago. Before Eudoant, before demons and Celestials, before the awfulness of these past few days...

Steward thought back to the forest.
____

Everything hurt.

It wasn't just because Steward had been running all day, from police and larger animals alike. His legs and lungs burnt, but that was just physical. What hurt far, far more hurt on a much deeper level than that.

Steward's soul hurt.

His body was trying to violently reject itself as he found himself in skin and a skeleton that wasn't his own. Shorter, plumper, more compact... And those were just the stature changes. Steward was covered in itching hair, and his mouth...

For the thousandth time tonight he reached for his own jawbone, feeling the uncanny shape it had stretched into after he touched that coin. His entire skull had shifted, even his eyes were larger. It was truly a miracle his glasses still fit, or else he would have been eaten by that cougar hours ago.

Steward hated Thomas. He hated the ECP. He hated whatever force had literally cursed him into this body, because on top of everything, it turns out Magic(k) really is real. He hated that temple.

But most of all, he hated that god-forsaken Ferret.

Steward had done everything for him. He filled his pool with jell-o. He put together a wedding for dogs and entertained every one of his annoying little whims.

And the moment Steward began to consider if the Milton fortune could be put to better use in human hands, he had been traipsed through poison oak and fired.

Deplorable. Despicable.

Exhausting.

Steward finally collapsed, unsure whether or not he was out of the range of any predators and not particularly caring anymore. He simply let himself give out, slumping onto his side in an open spot of forest.

Under the full moon, Steward closed his eyes and waited to die.

...

Tiny claws.

Pitter-pattering on his arm. A screechy, androgynous voice met his ears.

"Dead? Badger dead?" A cold beak pressed into his ear. "Know lots of animals reward handsomely for animal they not need to kill."

Steward scrunched his eyes tighter.

"Body warm too. Even better! Badger a la m- Squawk!"

'Badger' suddenly grabbed the bird, sitting up and adjusting his dirt-covered glasses to peer through them at the tiny nuisance. A tiny blue bird, small enough to fit in his clenched fist, shook her head wildly at him as it shivered.

"A-Ah! So sorry, so sorry badger! Thought badger- Ah ha, but that not matter! H-how doing, today, lovely day?"

Steward grimaced, steeling his grip. For a moment he considered how easy it would be to snuff this thing's life out.

"Bah." He released the poor bird and shooed it off dismissively. "Get out of here. I'm dying, if you couldn't tell."

The bird fluttered up to eye level, gasping thankfully, before suddenly looking nervous. "Oh! Ah- There some disease I should know about? B-because, no offense, but badger's value as food sort of decreases if diseased. Not that I couldn't lie, but..."

"Hey. Nobody's eating me, okay?" Steward turned around, shooting a pointed glare and jabbing a finger towards the bird.

The bird chuckled unsurely. "Ah. Yes. Err... If badger intends to die, then... Well, sort of circle of life, yes? Badger surely understands. No two ways about it."

"Yeah. I get it." Steward growled. "As if things couldn't get worse, I'm going to end up being nothing more than a meal, after everything, no matter what I do. What a miserable existence you animals must live."

He turned around and started walking, but the bird continued to flutter after him. "Not so bad when used to it. I mean, for domesticated animals, maybe seems weird, but ferals born and die knowing they probably gonna be food. Never really bothers us, especially since... You know, what's most we're ever gonna do? Not like we contribute much to world."

"That sounds miserable." Steward said dryly. "To know your life has no meaning, no matter what. And hey, who said I was domesticated?"

The bird snorted. "Ferals not wear glasses."

Steward paused. Bird had a point there.

"Whatever. You can stop following me now."

"Sorry, sorry! But throw Trinket bone, yeah? Badger is clearly on the verge of kicking it, and, well, like I said..."

"Yeah, I heard you. Fine. Sell my meat to the wolves when I finally drop dead of starvation."

Trinket tilted her head. "Starvation? Badger dying of starvation?"

"Yeah? I don't know what the hell badgers are supposed to eat, or what berries are poisonous."

"How long been since last ate?"

"I don't know. Half a day?"

Trinket snorted. "Badger so dramatic."

"My point," Steward sneered, "Is that I don't know anything about living in the forest or fighting predators, and I can't go back to human civilization. I'm pretty much boned, whether it's now or in a few weeks."

"Well, badger more protected from predators than most, really." Trinket seemed comfortable enough to alight on Steward's shoulder, and he was curious enough that he didn't immediately shoo her off. "Claws, teeth... Better than I got. And if diet is problem, I throw bone. Badger not first runaway pet we see."

"I'm not... Sure. Whatever. What do badgers eat, then?" Steward's brow furrowed.

Trinket shrugged, impressive given her lack of shoulders. "Eggs. Grubs. Mammals. Bi- NOT birds. Birds deadly poison to badgers." She quickly backtracked.

"But you're fine with the thought of my eating your eggs." Steward deadpanned.

"Animals eat Trinket's eggs all time." Trinket waved off. "I used to it."

"Well, none of those are great." Steward glanced around. "I don't know how much my taste buds have ch- That is, I don't know if grubs are... Uh, gonna be very filling. Eggs, I could get behind, I guess. But I'm not eating other sapient creatures."

Trinket tilted her head, genuinely curious. "...Why not?"

"Be-" Steward stammered. "Because! Those are people!"

"People eat people all time." Trinket pointed out. "Badger is mostly carnivore. That what those big canines for. Badger gotta chomp on some unlucky sap eventually."

"It's not gonna happen." Steward said sharply. "If you're so desperate to sell out your kind, take me to a nest somewhere, and I'll eat the eggs."

"You wait few hours, Trinket going lay-"

"I'd rather eat something I didn't see come out of you, thank you." Steward stuck his tongue out and turned away, holding his arm out. Trinket hopped across it's length to his finger and took flight again, soaring to the skies.

Steward craned his neck up, watching the tiny blue speck and following it as it soared.

A chill went up his spine, recalling her words.

Runaway pet.

Maybe that was more accurate than she could have ever known.
____

"You seem troubled." Steward deadpanned.

"Yeah? How does going all the way to Saudi Arabia, only to have to fly back because your destination turned out to be within your state sound to you? Does it sound troubling?"

Thomas Milton wasn't a man with the same capacity for patience as Steward. A small part of Steward- No, a large part of him- derided the ex-heir to the Milton fortune. He was crass, careless, and cruel. Whenever Steward began to have doubts about his own morality, he comforted himself with the reminder that he wasn't Thomas.

And yet, as much as Steward complained, he was the one who had chosen to work with Thomas.

"You're going to have to calm down, Mister Milton." Steward felt a small rush at getting to use that name to refer to a human for once. "This job is going to require a degree of subtlety."

Thomas crashed into a sofa chair, one of Steward's few belongings. "...Tell me about the muffins and cookies temple."

The two of them were convening in a room of the Milton mansion while its owners were away. Thomas had been hesitant, but Steward had insisted on the face-to-face contact. What's more, he considered it early preparation in case their plan went well- Thomas would technically be his boss then, after all.

"Unknown origin. Moved by Henry Mi-"

"I know who moved it, get past that part." Thomas snapped.

Steward cleared his throat. "The animals in the woods seem to have developed an amateur religion based around its worship. One of Keene's underlings apparently lives there. And for a few years now, Keene's been obsessed with getting inside. This isn't his first attempt, as a matter of fact."

"So he's outsourcing the job. Making other people do it for him. Poor idiot's too stupid to realize the winner's probably gonna pocket as much gold as they can long before they turn any over to him." Thomas chuckled. "How's the fleabag been treating you, anyway?"

Steward approached the mini-bar, pouring himself two glasses from one of the few alcohol bottles the Miltons had imported. They enjoyed getting inebriated as much as any other billionaire, but Steward had had to fight to convince them to import human inebriation on top of the thousands of boxes of orange soda.

"He's different these days. Less... Impulsive. More sane. But still a ferret at heart, too stubborn to listen to anything I have to say. If we leave the Milton money with him, he'll burn it entirely within another two years. I regret to say you're only going to be inheriting a fraction of what you may have earned during your last attempt."

"Don't remind me." Thomas said, taking his glass from Steward. "He's just as foolish as my uncle was, obsessed with 'liberating' anything with half a brain. He'll be turning to the coral in the sea next, I'm sure."

Thomas took a sip, scowling off into space. "Uncle loved his damned ferrets more than his own family. Uncle loved animals more than people."

"I gathered as much, from what little I've witnessed of his actions." Steward sighed.

"Nowadays he's going on about magic(k), too." The extra 'K' slipped into Steward's dialogue without his noticing. "All in service of his father's work. I almost respect whatever con artist sold him on that idea, that he could change anything he wanted with a childish adventure, rather than exerting the adult work needed to actually make change. It's a tempting thought to anyone. I wonder how much that information cost him."

"Too much, whatever it was." Thomas said. "Animals aren't meant to be anything more than animals, anyway. Evolution, the food chain, the ecosystem- All of it makes it pretty clear that an animal's job in life is to eat, excrete, and die. Just because they can string a few sentences together doesn't change that fact."

Steward didn't reply to that, only took another sip.

Before they continued scheming, the two adult men took a moment to enjoy the silence before the storm, and contemplate just where their lives had led them.
____

Steward missed wearing clothes.

"You're a lucky prick with those wings, you know." He snarled at Trinket.

"Hey, birds still got predators." Trinket defended. "Should see falcons around here- Big enough for dogs ride like steeds."

Steward was too tired to argue.

Over the past few days, annoyance had become worry had become sincere fear for his life. A string of bad luck, unable to find any nests, had become a string of close calls and barely missing getting gutted by wolves, had become a string of horrendous bowel movements after sampling the berries Trinket could eat just fine.

Through it all, Trinket kept following, convincing Steward further and further that she was feigning her sympathy. How much could she really care about Steward, if she was still fixated on making him into dine and dash once he kicked it? Under it all, their discussions had revealed more and more that Trinket was a conwoman at heart. With the skunks, with the raccoons, with the deer, anyone with whom she could mutually benefit from working with. Steward couldn't help but be impressed by some of her past work, if only from a technical standpoint. Thomas could have used a helper like her, if he hadn't been so staunchly anti-animal.

Trinket landed from her flight on Steward's shoulder again, just like she had when they first met.

"Ah. Erm. I know badger said not bring it up anymore. But I really think he benefit greatly if he just-"

"Not a chance." Steward's fists clenched as another painful ripple and loud growl emenated from his stomach.

"Please, badger? I used to seeing starving animals, but they usually keep stiffer upper lip about it. Badger's agony is making me little bit-"

"Trinket, if I sincerely have to resort to that, you realize you're going to be first, right?"

"Yes? Obviously?'

Steward's eyes shot open. He forced himself up into a sitting position, leaning against a tree.

"...Trinket, I mean to say I'd eat you."

The magpie hopped up on his knee. "Yes."

Steward quirked an eyebrow. "...You'd die."

"Duh?"

"So you- You've been following me around, knowing that at any moment, I could snap and eat you?"

"Or badger drop dead. 50/50 chance." Trinket waved her wing in a so-so motion.

"That's- You were willing to stake your life on a 50/50 chance."

Trinket sighed in exasperation. "Okay, it been few days. Not long, I know. But badger really needs to realize that ferals don't really hold same 'sanctity of life' beliefs pets do. Especially prey."

Steward's cheeks flushed. "I- Look, I knew a group of ferals back home. A wolf pack. They were..."

Uncooked steak. Deer carcasses. Frank discussions of eating deliverymen.

Steward shook his head. "Look, a life is precious. I hate seeing you take yours for granted."

"I not take life for granted." Trinket said. "Trinket live it happily. But Trinket is also very small and very tasty. Good times got end eventually, right? But that no mean it invalidates current moment."

"But you're offering to cut it short, even though you don't have to." Steward argued.

"Would keep badger alive longer, no? Is inherent to predation. One person gives their life to another. And we run anyway, because we no want go down without fight. But I much rather see my nutrients given to you then just stranger."

"Earlier, you lied to me and said birds were poisonous to save your skin."

"Earlier, Badger just... stranger."

Steward felt his jaw, flabbergasted. "You... You just met me, you've known me for a week. And you're already willing to lay down your life for me?"

Trinket nodded casually.

"...Is just life. Nothing big."

Steward slumped back against the tree, stomach growling.

He looked up above him, at all the beautiful stars that were out tonight, and his breathing grew shallow.
____

Before the forest, before the Miltons, and before Steward even had his first job, he lived by a lake near the woods.

Which meant hearing a lot of screams.

Those sounds were normal, his father told him shortly after they moved there. It's just the animals. The natural food chain, the circle of life.

It didn't stop Steward from hearing a murder, every time. They kept him up, made him hug his blankets to his face, scrunching his eyes shut until the merciful silence returned.

His home in the city prior, where he had grown up, was entirely animal-less, save the occasional annoying pigeon at the window. He had tried holding a few conversations, but there was never anything meaningful- They wanted his food, and once they had it they were content to leave.

The animals here were different. Once or twice, out on the river bank, he found himself face to face with a deer, or a squirrel. Once, a family of opossums made its home under the house, and whenever he sat at the breakfast table he could hear the two mates yelling at each other while their babies wailed.

And he ignored them for the most part, but one day, the morning following a particularly gruesome set of agonizing howls, he found a squirrel scrabbling up his windowsill.

He asked it what the woods were like. He asked it how it could stand those screams.

He remembered the squirrel looking at him with that condescending sympathy. Just from his asking, it knew he had come here recently.

"I've never known a day without em," The squirrel replied.

And it ran off to start collecting for winter.

Cute little thing. It had a streak of cream fur running down its forehead.

That's how Steward knew who it was when he found its corpse frozen in the snow the next month.

After a few more weeks, he was sleeping soundly. The screams never bothered him again.
____

A streak of cream fur, running down the forehead.

It wasn't identical, of course. Nature didn't create identical. Babylon Gardens was miles and miles away from Steward's old home, it was purely a coincidence.

But staring into it, and the amber eyes it sat between, brought the memory back.

"Well, go on." The squirrel said impatiently. "You found me. Aren't you going to get it over with?"

Steward's hands shook, and he realized his glasses were slipping down his face. He couldn't release the squirrel to fix them, though.

So hungry.

"Just- Aren't you- Just-" Steward stammered.

He felt Trinket's eyes on him from the tree she waited in. Non-judgemental. Clinical in their detachedness.

"You pets, I swear to the Opener. Do I need to walk you through it?" The squirrel huffed. "Take your claw, right? Run it up my belly. Reach in and start tearing stuff out. Actually, actually, no- Bite my throat first, okay? Or heck, you're big enough, just put my head in your mouth and- Y'know, chomp. Wipe out my brain instantly. It's good eating."

"Struggle. Please, alright? Just put up a fight." Steward begged.

The squirrel shook its head. "Why? You're holding me tight enough. You're clearly starving. Look, your fur is barely clinging to your bones. Just eat me and end it, alright? I'm not playing into your sadism kink, I didn't consent to that."

"It's not- I just need to feel like you had a chance. I've got no choice, okay? Just-"

"Why are you prolonging this?" The squirrel ordered, and in a moment of Steward's weakness, his prey slipped an arm out of his grasp. Rather than push against him, it stuck a finger at his nose. "Down the hatch, sicko. Or do you want me to play the little lost lamb, too?"

Steward scrunched his eyes shut, and he felt tears welling out his eyes as his body spasmed.

"Look at you, man. Look at what domestication did to you. You're a predator! Do you even need those glasses? Take a sniff of me. See if it awakens anything in you. This is nature, stupid. I'm sorry your owners raised you vegan, or you've only ever had to get your food pre-canned, but this is the real way of things. You've got to get your paws dirty."

It hurts.

Hungry.

"Put my head in your mouth. Open up. That's right. Come on, move your paws. Get me in there. Whoof, you've gotta clean your teeth."

Hate this.

It hurts.

Predator.

Food.

"Don't give me a three-two-one count or anything stupid. Just end it. It's bad enough having my cheek on your tongue like this. Ugh, what an awful way to die. Not getting snapped up by any normal person, but by a pathetic, pampered, prissy little dog like-"

Chomp.
____

Disgusting.

Abhorent.

Revolting.

Heaving. Seizing. Hatred.

Thrilling.

Chew. Tear.

Cry.

Scream.

Never stop.

Full.

____

Steward's fur was stained red. He wondered if it would ever come out.

Trinket landed on the ground, standing without a care in the middle of the meaty slush.

She took a peck. A nibble. A few more.

She looked up at Steward.

"...Badger... Okay?"

Steward nodded, even as his chest rose and fell shallowly. He lifted his arm, finding newfound strength to do so, and extended his finger.

Trinket flapped up onto it.

"You said... You're good at... Stealing from people? Humans included?"

Trinket scoffed. "Nobody better at stealing than me."

Stewart nodded. "Good. We're going to steal. We're going to do a lot of it. It may not seem like stealing to you, but believe me, we're gonna make a man penniless. And I'll keep you fed, as best I can. I know I can't give you anything else. Not in the short term, anyway. I hope that's worth it."

Trinket looked confused. "Short term? What long term?"

Steward thought about the ECP.

He thought about Keene.

That god-forsaken ferret.

The good he could be doing. All he was squandering, just from his natural laziness.

The folly of it, of trying to help animals live side by side.

As if any of it was possible.

Evolution and nature abhorred equality.

Steward abhorred Keene.

"Nothing. You'd get nothing out of it, other than some free meals. But a feral doesn't want anything more, do they?"

Trinket waddled forward, rubbing her head into Steward's chest.

"Feral wouldn't know what do with more."
____

Steward zoned back in.

Back on the plane. Flying to Egypt. Gonna fight a demon.

Keene was staring at him. Waiting to see some response. Steward glanced at his former employer unsurely.

"...How... How do you decide what's right to do?" Steward stammered slowly.

Keene shrugged.

"...Pick some people you love and support them, I guess."

In a private jet miles and miles above the ground, only hours before they help decide the fate of the universe, two predators took a moment to enjoy the silence.



And to contemplate just where their lives had led them.
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Obbl
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Re: Housepets: Do What They Must

Post by Obbl »

This is a fun read. I thought the animals' take on life was a little too alien, reminiscent of "pure logic" scifi, but the main focus was Steward's progression, and I definitely enjoyed that. It's very much the kind of introspective story I like to write and read, completely with the list of pure emotions. Keep it up :D
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Amazee Dayzee
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Re: Housepets: Do What They Must

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

I really found this story very impeccable with where you took the audience! I can't wait to see more from you in the future!
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