A/N

So I finally decide to come back to this. It's one of many fanfics I wrote on a whim, but I do know where I'm going, so bear with me.

Whatever this thing was, fixing it couldn't be so hard...Zartok had watched enough nerds put broken things back together to know that all he had to do was what they would do.

Thud.

Squinting at the tiny loose screw, the cyclops carefully tried to return it to its place with the screwdriver.

Thud.

Thud.

Ignoring the soft noise, he turned it over in his hands, he decided to look for any wires that seemed out of place.

Thud.

There was none, as far as he could tell.

Thud.

Thud.

The next logical thing to do would be if there were any power sources, such as drained or improperly secured batteries the little thing might have been powered by.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

"WOULD YOU STOP THAT?!" he snapped at the animalistic alien who happened to catch a falling sock he repeatedly threw up into the air. "I haven't the slightest idea why you're so interested feet garments all of a sudden, but if you're going to play with them, play with them elsewhere."

Shrugging, he swooped up the small bundles and walked further into the forest, away from the campsite.

Letting out short, quick breaths that would have been laughter had he still had his voice, he threw some of the socks up into the air, not quite paying mind to the ones that fell from his arms.

Swish!

Eyes widened, he noticed one of the bushes move. Grood's keen sense of smell told him he was being followed...and just who was following him. Teeth baring, he grabbed a bundle, preparing to attack.

"Easy now, no need for hostilities..." the tall figure stepped out from behind the trees, hands up in front of him to show he wasn't carrying any weapons or otherwise posing a threat. "There is no need for alarm, but I've been watching you, and I've noticed you're not yourself. What's wrong?"

Despite that the only light they had was from the stars, Saint Walker had no trouble dodging the first bundle of socks.

"I've always known you were an impulsive soul, but this is a bit much, even for you," Saint commented, shaking his head. Stepping out of the way of another, he added "surely there's a reason you've become infatuated with these all of a sudden." Moving his head to avoid another, he continued "that would be fine if I didn't think there was something incredibly odd, and perhaps dangerous about these..."

But Grood didn't listen, he just decided to deal with him the same way he dealt with Zartok earlier: by overwhelming his opponent with socks. Of course, being the perfectly dodging badass Saint was, not one of the wrapped up pairs hit him, but he knew there was no reasoning with his opponent. Sighing, he calmly walked away further into the darkness, and away from the aggressive beast.

Grood let out a satisfied snort. Good, he was gone. Eyes wider than usual, he scanned the ground for any socks that he had dropped, gathering whatever he could into his arms. He had lost a few pairs: and he wasn't sure he would get them back until the morning. Shivering, he gathered up the soft balls of fabric, and used them as a pillow before he drifted off to sleep, his dreams soon to be filled with socks: all the socks he could ever want, imagine, and even more.

Saint hardly ever fancied a chat with the other criminals that lived here with him unless absolutely necessary, but, unfortunately, he deemed this one of those times. He knew enough Cardonian in order to talk to the leader of the group...but whether or not he was willing to communicate would be another story altogether.

It didn't take him too long to find the campsite: it was the only fire burning here. The cyclops' cheeks were now a dark blue, clearly frustrated he couldn't figure out how to get the small device in his hand to work. In order not to startle the general (as he unintentionally developed the habit of doing), he threw a small pebble near fire so it would catch his attention.

"Grood, I thought I told you to-!" A long pause sat between the two men before Zartok spoke again. "What do you want, Walker?" he growled.

"I've noticed your second-in-command has been acting rather strange."

"The socks? Yes, irritating, isn't it?"

"'Concerning' is the word I would use, personally," Saint remarked, a hint of sadness in his voice.

"How so?"

"When was the last time Grood developed an obsession over anything?"

Zartok paused, thinking for a moment. "Never, that I can remember. If he had, it would have been before I crashed here."

"What about agitated?"

"I haven't noticed any agitation from him."

"Disrespect?"

The cyclops thought earlier to when he was bombarded with socks. "A little bit...but I don't quite see what you're getting at. His attention span is relatively short. He'll get over it soon."

"I know it sounds silly, but something about these socks don't quite sit right with me..."

"That's because you're a goody-goody," he sneered.

"General, please, I urge you to look at the bigger picture," Saint's troubled face was now lacking its usual friendly smile.

"What bigger picture? It's only affected him."

"I know there haven't been any new arrivals in quite a while, but what if there will be? People willing to take advantage of those who aren't in their right minds, or even those who get a hold of the socks themselves. What if it affects them, as well? Not to mention if these people were dangerous: it could strengthen their abilities, and wreak havoc on the few who stay, or will come to stay here."

"Regardless, what do you expect me to do about this issue?"

"To listen to me, and perhaps help me prevent it from getting any larger. If these socks really are dangerous, No one knows Grood better than you and Drusa do...but I take it she is unavailable, which reduces my options of whom I may ask."

There was another pause between the two, this one longer than the last. It was finally broken by Zartok's sigh. He grabbed a large fallen branch from the nearest tree, and set it aflame using the campfire, holding it as a torch. "If this will get you away from me faster, then we shall go and investigate your concerns."

Saint smiled. "Thank you, General."