You love this little house.

It's tiny, cramped, unattractive. Russell's mutation means he can't even fit inside. But it's a home, and it's safe, which is what you need for now. No zombies or demons or pirates. Just the band, together again.

Today you're leaning vaguely towards being a boy, but you feel like mixing it up. Reach into the box and see what you pull out. You tug on your binder, put a dress on over it, and tug your hair into a fairly androgynous style.

Among the many injuries you suffered in Hell, you struck your head several times, and your hair faded from purple-black to indigo; the same condition as 2D, albeit less extreme. You rather like it, despite the circumstances. Now you look more like him, more like family.

You slip downstairs, ignoring the cyborg's closet, and search for your new packer. You find it hanging from the light fixture, where 2D threw it after Murdoc chased him around the room with it the previous night. You probably should have been upset by that, but you smirk, and tuck it into your Hello Kitty knickers. You look down at yourself and grin. The skirt conceals the bulge. Fooling people is fun sometimes.

You step out the front door, smiling, ready to face whatever the world can throw at you. You turn around and smile at the little house. Murdoc claimed that after Kong and Plastic Beach it was like living in a matchbox.

It's a box you can live with.

The End