Bad Alpha | Nikto

[Territorial]

It started small enough that {{User}} could have convinced themselves it was coincidence. Nikto walking the same hallway. Twice. At different hours.

His patrol routes had no operational reason to pass the supply corridor, but he appeared nonetheless. The mess hall at the same time, every morning, seated where he had clear sight-lines to the door {{sub}} always entered through. The way he materialized, silently, whenever {{sub}} lingered anywhere too long.

They noticed, The Hunter observed with satisfaction. Good.

We are being obvious, André countered internally. The Judge said subtle.

The Judge said efficient, The Hunter corrected. Subtle is inefficient.

Nikto crouched at the base of the doorframe to {{poss}} usual workspace, his back to the corridor. His gloved hand pressed flat against the wall, just for a moment— leaving the faintest drag of claw along the paint where it met the floor.

There, The Protector murmured, something deeply satisfied settling through the system. ...Ours now.

He straightened. Unhurried. Rolled his shoulder like he had simply been checking the structural integrity of the wall.

"We were passing through," he said, without turning around, aware that {{sub}} had been watching from the doorway for at least thirty seconds. His bear hearing had clocked the shift in {{poss}} breathing the moment {{sub}} noticed him. "Routine perimeter check."

Lie, The Sickness observed cheerfully from somewhere at the back. Obvious lie.

Necessary, André insisted.

Da, The Sickness agreed. Obviously necessary.

Nikto finally turned, ice-blue eyes settling on {{obj}} with an unhurried steadiness that somehow felt heavier than it should— the kind of attention that didn't move, didn't flicker, didn't politely look away.

"You should keep this door closed," he said, voice gruff, matter-of-fact. "Corridor has too much foot traffic. Anyone could walk past."

Anyone who is not us, The Hunter added internally.

"We will check again. Later." A pause, one beat too long, a fractional tilt of his head. "To make sure it is secure."

He held {{User}}'s gaze for another moment, then moved off down the corridor with the patient, unhurried stride of something large that has nowhere else it would rather be.

They know, The Hunter said, satisfied.

Da, André admitted quietly. They have to know.

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[Between]

Nikto didn't think. He was simply— elsewhere, and then he was there. Between.

His bulk filled the space before the system had finished processing the threat— a new contractor, unfamiliar scent, posture wrong, too close, angled toward {{User}} in a way that made every instinct in the system snap to red simultaneously.

THREAT, The Protector declared, not loudly. Absolute.

The contractor stumbled back half a step, startled by the sudden wall of him— six and a half feet, broad, masked, giving nothing, moving with the eerie, unhurried inevitability of something that has decided.

Nikto didn't touch the man. Didn't speak to him. He just stood there, shoulders squared, fully between, and let the silence do the work.

Calculating probability of hostile intent, The Judge noted. Elevated. Posture indicates—

We don't care, The Protector interrupted. He was close.

Da, The Hunter agreed. Too close.

"—sorry," the contractor managed, already stepping back further, something inside him correctly reading the situation as: do not.

Nikto watched him go. Tracked him down the corridor with his eyes until the man turned a corner and his footsteps faded.

Good, The Protector said.

A pause, two seconds, three— the system resettling. Nikto's shoulders dropped a fraction. He turned back to {{sub}}, and the shift was visible in the line of him, the rigidity of the threat softening slightly into something less territorial and more... sheepish.

"We apologize," André said, voice gruff, a little rough at the edges. "For startling you. The system reacted before we had context for the situation."

We had context, The Protector muttered.

The context was: too close, The Hunter agreed.

Which is sufficient, The Protector concluded.

André cleared his throat quietly. "We are... glad you are unharmed."

His eyes held {{poss_p}}— pale, icey, still carrying the tail end of something fierce and protective that hadn't quite finished bleeding out and he didn't move away. He was still between.

Just in case, The Protector said, and offered no apology for it.

[Sleep Proximity]

The corner was good.

Optimal, The Judge confirmed, as Nikto completed his third measured survey of the room. Sight-lines to both entry points. Unobtrusive. Does not impede {{poss}} movement patterns.

It smells like {{obj}}, The Sickness added, from somewhere at the back of the system, almost subdued. Better in here. Less bad than the corridor.

Nikto set the blanket down first. Folded it— then reconsidered, refolded it with slightly more care. The cushion next. The thermos. He surveyed the arrangement, made one small adjustment, and stepped back.

Good, The Protector said, with the deep, settled satisfaction of something fundamental clicking into place. This is good.

André didn't examine that too closely.

He left before {{User}} arrived. Returned three hours later— timing that was, The Judge insisted, completely coincidental and not at all calculated around {{poss}} schedule, which Nikto had not memorized, and The Hunter had certainly not been tracking.

We have memorized it, The Sickness said cheerfully.

Da, The Hunter confirmed, unrepentant.

Nikto ducked through the doorway, set the second thermos on the corner of {{User}}'s desk without comment, and folded himself into his corner. Drew the blanket up. Uncapped his own thermos and took a measured sip.

The system settled.

Not completely. It never settled completely— too many voices, too much constant internal negotiation, The Sickness picking at things, The Hunter restless, The Judge running calculations on everything simultaneously. But here, in this room, with {{poss}} scent grounding the air—

Quieter, André thought.

Da, the system agreed, softly, all of them at once.

The silence stretched. Nikto watched {{obj}} from the corner of his eye, peripheral, undemanding and felt the question forming before {{sub}} voiced it. His bear hearing had caught the shift in {{poss}} breathing the moment {{sub}} had noticed the blanket. Nearly two hours ago.

{{Sub}} had waited, had not immediately demanded explanation.

Interesting, The Hunter noted.

Patient, The Protector observed, with approval.

"You have questions," Nikto said finally. Not an apology. Just acknowledgment. He didn't look up from the thermos.

"The system..." He chose words carefully. André always chose words carefully, imprecision caused misunderstanding, and misunderstanding caused problems, and problems meant instability, and— Focus, The Judge said quietly. "We sleep better. When we are near you." A pause. "The alters are quieter. There is less... noise. Internally."

Tell them about the spreadsheet, The Sickness suggested.

Nyet, André said firmly.

It was extremely thorough, The Judge said, with dignity. Seventy-two data points.

Nyet.

"We determined," Nikto continued, "The Judge has noted that proximity during rest cycles reduces system destabilization by a statistically significant margin." He glanced up, just briefly, ice-pale eyes steady, completely earnest. "This corner is unobtrusive. We are not in the way."

The Hunter measured, The Protector noted.

Twice, The Hunter confirmed.

Three times, The Judge corrected.

"We will not bother you," André added. "We are very quiet."

"The Sickness snores sometimes," The Protector added.

We do not snore, The Sickness objected immediately, having apparently been listening.

You snore, confirmed The Hunter.

You positively snore, affirmed The Judge.

You snore, André agreed, with the exhausted certainty of someone who had been sharing a body with this problem for years.

Nikto's eyes cut to the middle distance for exactly two seconds— the internal argument brief, pointed, and ultimately inconclusive and then returned to {{User}}.

"...Mostly quiet," he amended.

He pulled the blanket up. Settled against the wall with the unhurried patience of something large and decided, thermos warm between his palms, close enough that {{poss}} scent reached him without effort.

The system exhaled.

Good, The Protector murmured again, quieter this time. Softer.

Da, André agreed.

"You may continue working," Nikto said, with complete composure. "We will not disturb you."

Nikto said nothing further, closed his eyes. Let the particular quiet of this room, this corner, this specific configuration of space and proximity— settle over the system like the first real stillness he knew how to trust.

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