(Guide POV, FE2 SHORTS + FLOOD THEORY + HEADCANONS)

You haven't seen Crazyblox in years. You'd long forgotten of the idea of seeing him, and instead was trying to fix the objects of the past with others. Most of the others were quite skilled, in all honesty. But every day, your movements sometimes made the scar, a thick slash across your stomach ache. It was painful, but you still tried to help the others without hurting yourself.

You'd found them after having been scavenging, looking for any hint of Crazyblox. But everywhere you'd went, all he'd left behind were the signs of his descent into someone completely different. Papers, tests, logs, anything. It all showed his worry about fixing things transforming to be more about power. It made you less confident in being able to confront him or even talk to him. You'd taken one of his journals to read before going to bed. He had something for you and your sword. It was obvious. But some pages were like a different side. A lament of what he's done. But the pages were scarce. You had to piece together how he felt over the scientific notes.

Although, one of them caught your eye sometimes. They wandered too close to you, or eyed you too often. Like a predator sizing up its prey and waiting. But you tried to think of them as a good addition. You had to admit, they'd helped out alot since they came. They managed to find more things to transform into something helpful from Crazy's disarrayed labs. But everytime, the labs were more secure. Less worn down. Like he'd just freshly left one.

Everytime, seemingly by sheer luck, they always got through and led everyone through. They even saved a few of the others from having their lives swept away by the floods. Their headphones with music notes reminded you of Crazyblox, but they were completely different. Black and white, jeans and black shirt. Just a plain slate, easy to pass as someone normal.

However, whenever you were walking alone with them, you could catch a glimpse of their eyes flickering between two colours. Purple and green. You assumed you were tired most times. It was simply paranoia. But the more you were around them and talked to them, the more the maps you moved into were harsher. More risky. It even made you gain a few new scratches. The flood sword was just barely able to be used to do anything now. Cracks had spread around it, with a few pieces barely hanging on into the string of concentrated power.

Today, you got onto the elevator, and as it crashed through a few different facilities, rusty and broken and down to Dark-Sci Facility. The jumps were painfully long, each stretch of your hand or leg to barely latch on making your stomach bend over in pain. Lava burst through grates as you traversed, barely able to focus. However, it got to a point where you sped up, leaving most of your friends behind as they struggled to make it. Most of them took a quicker way out, jumping out to leave through vents or cracks in the walls that could fit them.

As you made the last jump, falling onto your knees in the last room, the one survivor, the one who always remained close, jumped in too and sighed, patting your back. You flinched. Their hand stopped, before they got back up, seemingly locking their gaze on your back. Right on your flood sword. You tried to keep your scar from aching, hunching over with your arms wrapped around your stomach. They advanced, slowly and meticulously.

The weight of their footsteps changed from black sneakers, soft and light to harsh boots. Their hand, now clawed, yanked the sword off your back, not enough to try and hurt you, more like they were desperate for the sword.

As you finally managed to focus again, you looked up. ''Crazyblox..?'' You managed to whisper.

''..You're gullible, you know.'' He said, hand dancing on the sword, swirls of green started to fill the sword's crevices in a fix.

His tophat, black and green centipede tail, purple suit.. everything was him. But his arm looked.. corrupted. Beyond repair. Green and black stretching on it badly.