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“Wyyyyyyy, Lynx is bullying meee!”
S-Monkey’s whine echoes off the rusted walls of the junkyard, quickly reaching an almost unbearable pitch. S-Wyvern, drawn by the cry, clambers over heaps of rusted scrap metal to his pouting younger brother. S-Lynx just huffs and crosses his arms. Stupid crybaby little brother.
“Am not!” he grumbles defensively. “I just said that you can’t expect to ever win against us with such a lame power as rubber! I’m right, aren’t I?”
S-Wyvern grins crookedly. “Well…” he gestures to the cracked chalkboard they use to record their fights. 74 tallies for “W”, 76 for “L”, and not a single mark under “M”.
“Meanie!” their youngest brother yelps. “I’ll show you lame! Fight me right now!”
“What, so you can lose again?” S-Lynx smirks, and S-Wyvern chimes in, “Besides, we already had all our fights for today. Just wait til tomorrow, ‘kay?”
“But whyyyyy?” S-Monkey complains, “I could totally handle more than a hundred fights!”
“Just- just because, okay! That’s just how it is.”
S-Lynx knows that he probably could handle more fights, but their hundred daily fights are just one of those things that feel right, like scrounging for valuables in a trash heap, or using a pipe to fight, or calling the other two his brothers.
“Pleeeeeaaaseeeee?” S-Monkey pleads, the stars in his red eyes literally sparkling, and S-Lynx has to turn away from the force of his practically lethal puppy-dog eyes.
“Sorry, but that’s the rule.” S-Wyvern finalizes, also carefully not making eye contact with his pleading brother. S-Monkey, realizing his strategy is getting him nowhere, decides to try his next idea: he grabs a piece of something metallic off the ground and chucks it at S-Lynx as hard as he can. It passes harmlessly through his left wing with a spurt of flame, but it serves its purpose - S-Lynx rounds on his brother, temper flaring.
“What was THAT for!?” he yelps, his fists immediately catching aflame.
“Dunno…” S-Monkey lies (badly). “Just felt like it.”
S-Lynx launches himself at him, growling loudly, and S-Wyvern steps between them in an attempt to mediate, which fails as both of them collide with him and they collapse into a squirming pile of limbs and fire.
“Hey, watch the wing!” S-Wyvern shrieks, so just to be petty S-Lynx reaches out and tugs on a handful of his feathers. He's rewarded for his efforts with a hard bite on his hand, and he has to turn the limb to fire to get it out. S-Monkey’s limbs have wrapped around them at least three times by now, but S-Lynx is well-trained in the art of dealing with a little brother who takes “clingy” to a whole new level.
He's halfway through squirming his way out of his brother's attempt at a sleeper hold when suddenly, a deafening crash interrupts their fight and a rusty hatch on the ceiling creaks open, dumping a pile of metal scraps and other garbage onto the already colossal mountain of trash that fills the room. Their previous argument is swiftly abandoned as all three brothers separate to scramble for the top of the pile, eagerly searching for anything new.
S-Lynx had almost forgotten it was a Scrap Day, a day when all sorts of interesting junk were dumped down from the people Above - he’s never met any of them, of course, but he assumes there must be people up there, because where else could the garbage be coming from?
If his internal clock is to be trusted, Scrap Days happen about once a week, which allows for a handy way to track the time passed, at any rate. It’s been over 200 Scrap Days since the three of them woke up in the trash-filled room they call home, and it had been a while since they’d celebrated their third “birthday”, so to speak, so S-Lynx should probably start looking for gifts for his brothers…
It’s a little hard to keep anything a secret from them, considering they all live in the same small space and S-Monkey doesn’t believe in concepts like “privacy” or “secrets”, but something in him insists that birthday presents are important, so he always makes sure to find them both gifts.
S-Lynx is in the middle of scraping muck off a battered book in an attempt to make it legible - personally, he doesn’t see the appeal of reading much, but S-Wyvern hoards any book he can get his hands on, so it might make a good present - when he hears S-Monkey shriek. Immediately, he drops the book and starts scrambling over to where he saw his little brother last.
Thankfully, when S-Lynx reaches him, it seems like his shriek was one of excitement, as S-Monkey dances around with his newest find clutched in his hands.
“You little shit, you scared me!” he grumbles, punctuating the statement with a punch to the shoulder. His little brother is too enthused by his new treasure to even protest, instead scampering over to S-Wyvern to shove the item into his face as well.
“Hey, Wy, look at it, look at it!” S-Monkey grins, ecstatically spinning in a circle. “This is my favorite treasure ever!”
“I thought that toy robot was your favorite treasure? Or was it that shiny bracelet?” S-Wyvern teases, making his little brother pout.
“Those were just my favorite treasures because I didn’t have this treasure yet! This one is my real favorite treasure.”
They both grin at their little brother’s silly logic. S-Lynx has no doubt that he’ll find something else shiny a few Scrap Days from now that’ll become his new favorite treasure, and another after that - it’s how he’s always been.
Although, this new “treasure” isn’t quite the same as all the others. It’s not shiny or colorful, it doesn’t move or make noise - in fact, it’s rather simple - and yet S-Monkey is smiling almost impossibly wide as he pulls it on over his birds-nest of white hair.
It’s… a hat.
A straw hat, to be precise.
It’s tattered and frayed, loose pieces of straw sticking out every which way, the formerly golden shade bleached to a dingy pale yellow.
Wrapped around the brim is a faded red ribbon, stained and ragged at the edges. It looks like it had maybe seen better days, decades ago. And yet -
“It’s… perfect.” S-Monkey sighs, and seeing the expression on his little brother’s face…
S-Lynx can’t help but agree.
