Warnings: Obsession and other general yandere behaviors; they hate you at first; swearing; canon typical violence (mentioned); device hacking + privacy being breached; threats (directed at MC); spoilers for several Cantos; written by someone who's still on Canto 6 </3; probably OOC; MC implied to play on phone; NOT PROOFREAD
Notes: Lil celebration post as my requests finally open!!! Also I wanna try using m-dashes now. It isn't AI I just like how m-dashes look
To them, you meant their downfall. Your very existence. Your inane ramblings. Your voice. Your stupid voice…
You simply being there proved it was all fake. All the suffering, all the growth, all the memories and relationships. All false events slipped and interwoven into their minds like a plague.
None of it was real. None of what they went through- were made to go through- was real.
So why? Why do you now sit safely behind that invisible wall, voice ringing in their ears as you chat with people around you and things around you and to them. To them?
You can't even comprehend how your mere existence ruined their lives. Ruined any dreams, hopes, goals. All burned by a single word and left them stranded with the ashes as you continued as if you didn't even know. Did you even know? Could you even understand?
But it wasn't like they could get rid of you. You were safe. Simply just a presence they were forced to hear again and again and again.
…
Each and every Sinner, at least once, wished they could kill you. Find and mangle your body, try to ruin you as you ruined their lives. They hated you, they swore they hated you.
Well… not one.
Dante had no memories to lose. No relationships to watch burn. No complicated past that was so real to them and yet wasn't at all. They were simply a clock-headed manager who swore they heard you clearest of all. Each kind word you uttered, each humorous remark, each light tease, each complaint, each murmur.
They liked listening to you. They sympathized with why the Sinners and others aboard Mephistopheles felt different, yes, but they didn't understand. They had nothing to lose, and- even if the world they existed in technically "wasn't real"- you treated it as if it was. It gave them relief, in all honesty.
That probably was why the reliance came so swiftly. You gave them reason. Made it felt real. Each cheer and blissful remark as they succeeded in their goals and each bemused chuckle as comical events occurred…
Without you, well, could their life even be "real"?
Your appearance broke up the monotony of day to day life. You would usher the story along, encouraging the Sinners along their paths just as they did, and acted as if this world was a very real thing you merely peered into. Something like a book, real as long as you're there to witness it.
You had favorites, things and characters you resented, scenes you found funny or made you start to cry. You were more than a person. You were a force who strung along this world and Dante was so willing to let you lead them any which way.
They already had little say over actions, less so than the Sinners, so what even was the harm? When you clicked that "Win Rate" button, they got to choose what actions the Sinners took (even if you'd often reach in and correct them to be "better" choices). And if they were forced to bow to the whims of someone kind like you, someone who gently encouraged them to lead and rejoiced with each success, why would they complain?
All they wish is that they could've been the one to greet you whenever you open the game.
–★★★–
No Sinner warmed up to you as quickly as Dante. Well, excluding Meursault.
But to say Meursault "warmed up" to you would be quite the overstatement. In fact, he merely accepted his position and continued on as per usual. He was under the Manager's command, but- by a technicality- the Manager was under your command. Therefore, you were his true superior here.
He was willing to tolerate you and follow through on your commands. While some of your remarks were more questionable, he was willing to turn a deaf ear and continue his duty as long as you were there to give it to him. As for his real "warming up"… well, that comes later. Far later. And no one even notices when it does.
Outis as well accepted her position. Her little remarks weren't tolerated when you experienced the stories of the Sinners (she had received enough reprimand from Dante for attempting to slip a snide remark you immediately clocked and grew confused on), so all she could do was grit her teeth and go along with whatever order you issued in battle and listen to you be so foolish she wish she simply could—
…It was no use. Clearly, someone in a position like yours was better off blissfully unaware they were essentially a god looking in upon a world of dolls sat prettily for them to watch suffer again and again. Even if you were, kindly put, an actual idiot often, you were capable of slight strategy at times. Often scraping past bosses in the first few attempts if they were deemed a challenge and doing what you could to ensure fights ended in the favor of the Sinners (even if the story often turned around and said they failed).
And while certain things could improve, she wasn't going to break the orders given to her and say anything.
Ishmael, meanwhile, had to such qualms.
Specifically after her Canto, to be precise. Her confrontation with the fake woman who ruined a false life wasn't what she yearned it to be the moment she started going down this path, yet you treated it as if it were real. Being horrified at the things she suffered through and cheering as she speared through the Whale's heart with her snag harpoon.
She wanted to scream it was fake. That it didn't matter and was pointless. But you… you made it had a point. Somehow, someway, you forced it to be real. Real to her, at least.
But, by the name of the Head, your team building skills were pathetic. These passives won't work well with this character- This isn't even a keyword for the central team comp and offers no support- Did you just attempt to put Sunshower Heathcliff onto a team you want to use to complete Canto 7? What is wrong with you?
While she isn't allowed to directly intervene, she is going to make comments in the story. Slight, missable things. Hints to what keywords to use for an upcoming boss, recommendations for IDs and EGOs… all carefully crafted to keep you as oblivious as possible as she drills this information into you.
Of course, the wiser of the Sinners catch on to what she was doing. Yet, Faust has no complaints. Being the way she is, it hadn't taken her especially long to catch onto the fact that she- being the primary ID of all Fausts- was the most real one. The others barely existed outside of IDs or EGOs you'd cycle through for each team comp you struggled to compile- even with a certain Sinner's help- and yet she, and only she, would be the one found in each Canto. Returning in each story, central to the plot.
Not to mention, you clearly had a soft spot for her. Specifically her, as the LCB Faust. She couldn't necessarily place it's source- perhaps relating to her role as a shunned figure in the Gesellschaft and connecting it to your own life- or simply finding her to be specifically likeable. Either way, you seemed to listen intently to her lectures. Often complimenting her or something akin to that.
And to say she didn't enjoy it would be an utter lie. She relished in your praise, almost blooming in it like a flower under the sun. It was the first genuine praise she constantly earned in her life, real or fake. And she'd much prefer if it stayed, flowing around her in a constant veil she wanted to wear on her day in and out.
And she was Faust. She was wise enough that, if you stopped enjoying the game, you would leave. Therefore, to regulate success in the form of viable teams was immensurable in ensuring you stayed. Thus, Ishmael was permitted to continue her hints and Faust did what she could to tweak the rates of Extraction in your favor. Especially if the newly released character was something you want.
Furthermore, making her base ID appear in your pulls regularly surely wouldn't bother you. You may question how you acquire so many of her EGO shards, but she knows you will care little about the constant Fausts as you see the chains shine gold.
Yi Sang doesn't miss Ishmael's actions either. He's simply unable to truly comment on it in a way that feels as if it truly meant something. Out of each Sinner, he is one of the most devastated his entire history was a lie. Forced to time and time again witness people he remembers as friends tear themselves and others apart by a past that was never real. Even at the end of his Canto, he felt like he had only slipped deeper into the shell of who he was.
Even your joy didn't make him regaining his wings feel real. Merely a scripted event he was made to undertake. He felt rather pathetic, in a sense. Even his current compatriots were more capable of coping than he was. But he could not.
And when you noticed he continued to behave similarly to how he did pre-Canto. Noticing a few missing lines here and there and slight alterations anyone could've missed. But you commented, and you worried for him.
Perhaps it was simply a worry stemming from an issue with your game, but Yi Sang noticed your murmurs of concern. And to say it didn't warm his heart would be a lie. Constant encouraging, sweet worry, almost delusional behavior on your end… You made him want to use those wings he regained, to fly once more. To reach you so high up in the sky and thank you for the love you gave him.
A part of him regretted he never truly could. Never could thank you, or feel your warm skin, or hold you in his arms. Never could utter so much as a new sentence without your experience being warped and you'd leave in fear. But that didn't matter to how his feelings of you changed.
You went from the being that proved it all to be fake to the being that made him feel a genuine warmth he'd never feel again. Perhaps that's why he was the first to admit his love for you.
And his admission wasn't necessarily popular. By this point, out of every Sinner, only about a third of them felt positively about you. To the others, you still were the personification of their ruin.
Of course, though, their attachment grew as you watched them through each of their stories. Encouraging and watching them move forward. Perhaps that was how the seeds of obsession were planted. Perhaps it was because others heard little snippets of what you said and assumed you to be a divine being. Perhaps that was why they started to believe it too.
Don Quixote became one of your most reverent followers by the end of her Canto. Not only had you bore witness to a past she herself wasn't aware of existing (unlike the others, her devastation over the fact her life was nothing but fake fizzled away rather swiftly) and your perception of her barely changed (leave her blissfully unaware you always knew, will you?), but you had listened with rapt attention when she spoke of her beloved Fixers. You deemed each word she uttered as meaningful, and she would do all she could to repay you in whatever way she can.
When you were gone- oh it was painful when you were gone- she was your greatest defender. Any snide comment against you was quickly retorted with a quick yell and charge from her. How dare they slander someone as kind as you! You did not mean to shatter their worldviews! No. After it happened for a second time, she understood you quite well. You only meant well.
You were a truly just figure—the very thing Don would picture when thinking of such a thing. And she would do all she could to ensure your name remained untainted with foul lies and remarks! Alas, she could not speak to you. Could not lead you about her room and show you each memorabilia and merchandise she has collected for every Fixer she could find merchandise of. She could not see you listen with rapt attention, seeing you nod along from the corner of her eye. Could not hold your hand in hers and usher you about, shield you from those who wished you harm, could not sing your praises to your face…
But she would be your knight for as long as you were unaware, and for long after.
Heathcliff was in a similar boat to Don. However, at first, he absolutely despised you. Was his love for Cathy even real? Why was he forced to recall suffering that never even existed outside of pieces of code etched into his being? And why did you have any right to saunter about and act as if you…
You're lucky the others held him back from screaming his head off at you. You're also lucky to be safely behind a screen, separated from him and the bat he would love to use to split your skull in half.
But then came along his Canto. It wasn't something he was looking forward too, not feeling ready to go back to Catherine—not with all these doubts of his love you sown in him. But this wasn't something he was allowed to change.
So he went through it. Listening to your words that made him want to pop a blood vessel, deal with the bastards who didn't even truly exist, and find out she was dead. He had to confront his other self, distort, and then fight the Wild Hunt until the Red Gaze stepped in.
But as the Canto started to creep to its end… he couldn't muster that hate for you anymore.
Maybe because you didn't leave. Maybe because you let him rest on that moment with the memory of Catherine. Maybe because you mourned alongside him as she was deleted.
He remembered, he was forced to remember. Him and only him.
But you remembered too. Of course you did, you weren't in the bloody game, but…
It was nice knowing someone remembered her alongside him. That, even if he nor she were real, their love was. What he felt wasn't something that could be forced into him, he knew it.
It grew harder to stop him from saying lines that weren't supposed to be in game. Specifically regarding Catherine. Constant comments about her, confusion from the Sinners, but sympathy from you. He wanted you and him to talk about her. Someone who recalled her to hear all the stories he remembered having with her. And you were that someone. You were someone he wanted to walk and reflect with, the real journal he wanted to keep.
You became his new Catherine. The two of you separated, but in love. And he refuses to mess up like how he did with Catherine. There will be no Erlking when it comes to you.
But with Gregor, the Ungeziefer Kaiser is inevitable. Not out of malice—no. The fight was something he couldn't prevent, as much as both of you wished he could.
It wasn't a pleasant thing, first having everything he knew uprooted and then suffering through… That. He already felt lowly enough, with his arm and past experiences. He couldn't understand why you seemed to… like him?
You were sweet, appearing unbothered or regularly forgetting about his arm. You thought of him as entirely a human, not the pathetic bug he knew he was. He didn't resent you for forcing him and his coworkers to learn they were never real. He didn't resent you for not leaving and constantly reminding them again and again they were just bits of code in a device. But he couldn't understand how you thought so highly of him.
In all honesty, he didn't think you were half-bad. He didn't get too attached to you or despised you too much. You were alright, and he was alright with you. Then came the Ungeziefer Kaiser fight.
After that, it was like a switch flipped. He was horrified to realize he could be forced into becoming a brutal boss-fight you'd helplessly grow stuck on or struggle past. He was miserable to be left out of the plot for a long time after, alone from everyone.
Being unable to hear your voice for the first time after growing so used to it felt off. He just felt entirely off. When alone with only his thoughts, that's when his opinion of you spirals. And it does moreso when he gets back.
Hearing the relief in your voice… overjoyed to see him return and using the new IDs you acquired for him with utter glee… He came to realize you loved him. You had to. Why else would you be so glad to see him okay? He couldn't see any other reason for you feeling like this. And, in a way, he supposed he loved you too. Couldn't understood what you saw in him, but… A part of him enjoys your love. He'd rather it didn't disappear.
Unlike the others though, he wasn't particularly skilled at hiding his newfound infatuation with you. And Rodion would relentlessly tease him, as if she hasn't been in love with you since Time Killing Time.
Was it something she'd simply fess up to? Oh, absolutely not. She's not that gutsy, after all. She simply knew that, by the end of that Intervello, she had decided she loved you. There was no big build-up like Heathcliff or sudden change like Gregor. She simply decided you were no longer annoying and instead were rather cute.
Funny, how thin a line annoying-ness and cuteness is. And it was simple enough you crossed the line and became a harmless crush. But, having a crush that you can't act on and merely grows as you don't leave, well… It went from harmless to so, so much worse.
And unlike the crush, she was well aware of how wrong she was. What kind of woman began to view someone as a possession? But in a sense, you weren't truly a thing to her. You existed outside of her world as a voice who could control the actions taken during combat at most. She saw no physical body of yours, no eyes or skin or anything. She already wasn't entirely sure you viewed her as a human, and she wasn't able to entirely humanize you.
Well, you were doing the same thing, weren't you? Just listening in, thinking of her as just a beloved PNG with text in a box below… Maybe making some things for her or admiring her, but not thinking of her as real, no? She was sure you'd make some fucked up shit about her, wouldn't you? So how wrong was she really? You're just as bad as her…
Oh, don't worry! She doesn't hate you for it, no. You're both shitty people with how you think of each other. What's the harm in both of you being shitty together? Shame there's that screen separating you two, and the others on this bus thinking the same as her… Wanting her winnings? She'd be offended if she didn't understand why. And at least some of 'em are cute about it, like Gregor or Sinclair…
And speaking of Sinclair… He is the most wet, sad, pathetic thing when it comes to you. Already you cooing over him flusters and embarrasses him. But he can't see your face when you do it. And he is so lucky there doesn't exist a sprite of him blushing for you to see…
It also took him quite awhile to fall for you. Mostly due to what you did for him and… well… his trauma. He sometimes wondered if he was as good as a prosthetic user because he isn't real. He never was. Does he even count as a human..?
Yet, by the time Canto 7 ended… well, he was used to your kindness. You wormed your way into his mind until almost every thought involved you. How would you react to this..? Would you enjoy this kind of thing? How would he protect you if..?
There were many what-ifs for someone he couldn't truly interact with. Someone the mere thought of made him tremble. He wondered so many things about you, but feared he'd never get the answers he wanted. He'd never talk face to face with you. He'd never hold your hand. He'd never…
Hong Lu, though, wasn't as caught up by these what-ifs. To be quite honest, he was rather apathetic to you before his Canto. Oh? So your arrival came with worldview shattering realizations? Oh well, it is what it is.
Then came his Canto. Where he finally learned how to express his opinions on things. Where he finally figured that he didn't like you due to what you made him realize. Sure, you were kind, but you destroyed any semblance of existence he thought he had. But a part of him wasn't sure, so he kept thinking. Trying to formulate just what he thought of you.
And by the end of Canto 9, he came to the realization he actually liked you. Sure, the realization that his life was never real was not something enjoyable, but it wasn't your fault. You didn't mean any ill will by trying to play a game you enjoyed.
And on the contrary, you were quite a likeable person to hear. Made a good few humorous jokes, took serious moments as solemnly as you could, and served as more of a guide than Vergilius did. What was there not to like? Shame he's forbidden from speaking with you… he'd like to hear more about what you think on a wide array of random topics.
Ryōshū, meanwhile, could genuinely care less. She already forgot pieces of her life, already had the trauma from the Nursefathers, already had suffered so much. What was one more thing on the pile? S.H.E.E.T. (She had expected everything, thickhead).
If she had her way, she'd S.Y.N.C. you. You quite honestly annoyed the hell out of her. She'd want you to S.T.F.U. constantly. But you wouldn't, and she couldn't, so she just had to begrudgingly deal with it. And all she could do to resist was make Faust withhold her IDs and EGOs from you in Extraction.
Then came her Canto and her change of heart. Maybe it came from forgetting Araya. Maybe it came from your warmth now truly directed at her. But she didn't want you to B.U.R.N. anymore (break up, run now). She didn't know why herself, but all she knows is she—like the others—fell to your whims. Impressive, T.B.H.
Though her interest manifested in the worst forms. Notably, with how she wanted to turn you into A.R.T. (Absolutely relentless torture). Your body would be soft and malleable under her, a perfect canvas for whatever suffering she wanted to paint on you. She wanted to see you powerless, looking up at her in fear, and understand how she felt below you. And after, she wanted to nurse you back to health so it could start all over again.
She was one of the latest to fall, but the quickest to spiral into complete utter obsession. Almost ironic, in a sense.
And then there were the others on the bus.
Vergilius was perhaps the most affected by your presence. Unlike the Sinners, he would get no Canto. He would be given no opportunity to see those he remembered and move beyond his past. He wasn't even a playable character, merely a playable NPC who's join a fight or two now and again.
Yet, he tolerated you. Begrudgingly, of course, after all, you annoyed him as much as Don did, but he tolerated you nonetheless. You weren't something he could get rid of, not without fuss and the worry that—without you—they'd eventually cease to exist.
He watched the others fall to your apparent spell with faint disgust but hesitant acceptance. He could not control the others, just as you could not control him in battle. He also wasn't particularly inclined to tease anyone like Rodion or grow angry with them like Outis—well, not that they had any right to make fun of anyone when they felt the same way…
He doesn't even realize when he falls. He doesn't even realize he did fall. There isn't even a specific point where he does fall. It takes a long time, yes, but it comes. And he only realizes when Charon comments on how happier he looks when he hears you finally log on and progress the story, or do a Mirror Dungeon run, or anything of the sort.
Charon herself isn't bothered by you. In all honestly, she always knew this was a game yet didn't care as long as she had Verg and Mephi. Though, now she has you too. You make Verg perk up slightly when you finally show up, and Mephi likes you… well, she guesses she likes you too then. Disappoints her you aren't here, but she copes better than the others do. Anyways, with the rate they're going, their work at getting out of the game to meet you will be finished in a little while. So, she, you, and Verg can all be a family soon enough.
She wonders who's going to wear the wedding dress in the marriage. Probably Verg.
–★★★–
If they were only a little more patient, everything would've probably ended in their favor. But no.
The well of content had run dry. All current story? Completed. All current events? Completed. IDs? EGO? All you wanted that were out as gathered as you could get them (your newfound "luck" was instrumental to that), and leveled up and threadspun too. So, outside of dailies and MD, there wasn't much to stick around for.
And they started to panic. Sure, every few weeks new content would drop for you to play for, but you were appearing to lose interest. Not in the series, no—they hear how you consume fan content (it isn't the same as spending time with them), but in the game. If you were gone, they'd be…
They didn't want to know what would happen if you left. If you deleted them. If you suddenly stopped being there. They didn't want you to go. Even nights without you were almost unbearable now. What would happen if it became a week? A month? Forever?
So they came up with a plan. A very stupid, very rushed plan. They'd get access to the rest of your device.
It was hard enough to dig into the code—their life blood—to find the permissions. It was even harder to alter them, change what the game was allowed to access. Especially when they realized they needed you to tap the little button and approve them accessing these things.
But they were in too deep to give up now.
When you logged on, you were startled to see, "'Limbus Company' would like to access Camera," as a pop-up. But when you clicked, "Don't Allow," the pop-up came back. Every time you tried to deny it, it kept popping up.
Then the text read, "Just let us see you," and you nearly chucked your device through the nearest window. But curiosity overtook you, and you allowed it.
Then the next pop-ups came. Location, Contacts, Storage, Call Logs, Gallery, Memory, Personal Information, other apps…
And when the Microphone came up, all the text next to it said, "We already hear you." You nearly went and uninstalled the game right there. By this point, you came to the realization your game was hacked and you made a horrible mistake, or…
Then there was Dante's sprite standing in a blank, empty void.
<Sorry about that…> The textbox read, <We couldn't get access to what we needed to otherwise.>
And then they confirmed that, yes, they were aware of you. Always were (at least since you showed up). They wanted to finally reveal it to you, but you weren't given a reason. The text continued, growing faster over time, until you just shut off the game and buried the device in a drawer somewhere.
You checked it again the next morning, and found it open on your Notes app.
"Don't do that again. We can make you regret it."
And then came the slow, painful process of trying to change everything. Your email, phone number, important information like pins and passwords… all when the aggressors causing this came from inside the very device you now tried to get rid of.
It was a hard, delicate balance. Especially when the characters would lull or pressure you into opening the game, into chatting with their sprites and silent voice lines because they didn't know how to artificially create voiced lines for you to listen too. Especially when they inevitably noticed and did all they could to destroy your progress.
But it was too late. You were able to change it all, let everyone know you changed it all, and throw the device far, far away. You accepted you never could risk playing Limbus again, stuck solely to watching others enjoy this game. But it was for your own good.
But you should've known you weren't safe.
–★★★–
Living alone came with benefits and losses.
The most notable loss, though, was there was no one to help protect you when they showed up.
It was late at night. Sun set, hour past ten, and you were relaxing alone in the safety of your general living space. There was something small playing on the TV, mindless background noise as you folded laundry. It was still warm in your hands, and smelled just like your favorite soap. A bit of mindless comfort that got your mind off things.
Your hands had finally stopped shaking now. The thought of your strange game was far in the past. Months have gone by, anyways, with nary an issue in sight. You had many plans going forward, especially for the upcoming weekend. But for now, all you focused on was laundry.
Then there was a knock at the door. At this hour? Naturally you checked, why wouldn't you? But the sight you were met with… How were they here?
"Open the door." Vergilius ordered simply. His voice speaking in a non-Korean language was… jarring. You heard ticking, probably from Dante, but you couldn't understand it. You just moved as far from the front door as you could.
"We know you heard us." Faust told you, "The lights in your home are activated, strongly indicating you are here."
You started to lose track of who was saying what when they spoke again.
"C'mon bud, let's just make this easy and open this door…"
"Attempting to resist is futile, Player!"
"Open this bloody door already! Before we just knock it down!"
"Mine dearest player, I implore thee to welcome us into your abode!!"
"Y.I.B.H.A.N."
"I- I agree-! Just… please let us in..!"
"What do you hope to get out of this? We know where you live."
"Aww~ Look at your home! I hope ya got enough room in there to fit all of us~"
"I understand if this intrusion startles you, but-"
"Is it really that hard to open a door? Perhaps they work differently here."
"The Manager has requested I-"
The sudden banging on your door made your head spin, and you realized—in horror—they're trying to knock it down.
So you fumbled to unlock the thing and swung it open. Your chest heaved, and you stared at the fifteen people standing on your porch, illuminated by it's light and the glowing bulbs from the inside of your own home.
You couldn't muster up a word to say as Charon moved to the front of the small crowed.
"We're home now. Charon wants to go inside."
–★★★★★–
Final Note: A tier list summarizing when each Sinner starts to simp (Featuring the Driver and Guide)
Sorry I didn't go super in detail to all of the yandere ass behaviors these dorks did. Mostly this was just a "what if" thingy. May make this a series if people request follows up. Good thing my requests are open!! lololol
Warnings: Obsession and other general yandere behaviors; violence; blood; gore; MC starts a minor revolution through shenanigans; body horror; swearing; vomit; mentions of child death
Note: THERE’S EXTRA SCENES ON THE END!!!! I HOPE YOU LIKE IT!!!
Aida’s corpse lands on the ground with a thud, half of her head torn off thanks to Rodion.
You watch the tall woman step over the corpse without a singular word and go to the elevator, not saying a singular complaint as she walks through the liquified remains of the Tieqiu boss, lightly waving everyone to follow her.
You just stare at the room of corpses, watching as Aida’s string lingers for several moments, before finally snapping. You already know what that means.
And now there’s another spirit following you around…
You flinch when a hand is placed on your back, and glance over at Dante. They tilt their head slightly, and you nod in response to their silent question. You just step forward and continue along, adjusting Aida’s hat to cover her face with your tail as you go. Everyone files into the elevator, and you’re awkwardly left standing in a corner. As the doors slid shut and the elevator whirred to life, Saude released the spout of questions bubbling inside her.
“How did you manage to win without even using any Wishpower?” She asks, tightly clutching the Wishpower sheet Rodya had handed back to her in the midst of the fight with a grin on her face. “No, before any of that, what made you so sure that you’ll win regardless?”
“Yikes, hold your horses, gal… One question at a time. Okay?” Rodya muses with a chuckle, motioning for Saude to calm down. “The Tieqiu Crew’s boss had been wary of the Tingtang Gangleader before the game even began.”
“How did you know that? You couldn’t have read the tells from his mechanical body.” Meursault asks, the rare question coming from him catching several Sinners off guard.
“He had every reason to. After all, everyone seemed to know that the Tingtang Gang owned a Wishpower extractor.” Rodya answers without missing a beat, “He must've been totally sure that Wishpower was gonna come into play one way or the other, regardless of who ended up playing.”
“So… You deliberately made it look like you were using a sticker to bait him into calling you out on it?” Effie asks, raising a brow.
“Yup! Then I declared I’m going all in~ I needed to appear suspiciously ballsy in his eyes.” She gestures over to you, pulling her sleeve up to proudly show off the bracelet. “Not to mention, Squishy’s gift was perfect! A little flash of gold on my wrist, and the act was sold. A winning gambler creates her own momentum and rides it. Fuhu.”
Saude stares blankly at Rodya, and Effie looks away, pinching the bridge of his nose and muttering something under his breath.
“I mean, look. Even you guys thought I’d popped the wish stickers, right?” Rodya asks, leaning against the wall of the elevator. “If I’m being real, at the end of the day, wish stickers and all that stuff are just hopes and desires given official-sounding labels. To someone with unshakable faith in themselves, it’s nothing more than a weird piece of paper.”
“That can’t be true… J Corp.’s Wishpower-related tech is an officially approved semi-Singularity with widely proven efficacy.” Saude retorts, though her voice is cracking, “Tens of thousands of people rely on Wishpower for every aspect of their lives…”
“Nothing hits the spot like a little confidence boost in this day and age, right?” Rodya muses, “But me? I’m different. I’ve always believed in myself.”
“… To have faith is to preclude the plummeting of one's heart.” Yi Sang says softly, “Pray tell, how does one go about acquiring such faith?”
“Oh, that? It’s actually super simple. I’ll let you in on the secret, so listen up.” Rodya says, and Sinclair perks up to listen. “Just think: ‘I’m the most awesome person in the world, so whatever anyone else says is a crock of shit!’”
Sinclair and Yi Sang seem to visibly droop at that advice, as Faust nods like it’s obvious. “That certainly makes sense. Faust subscribes to that perspective as well.”
“… Perhaps I shouldn’t have asked at all.” The first Sinner mumbles to himself.
“Rodya… Don’t tell me you've been taking my words as a crock of-” Dante starts, only for you to frantically motion for them to stop talking before an argument breaks out.
Much to your luck, they trail off as the elevator comes to a stop and the doors slide open to reveal a dim mine and large vault. The ringing of pickaxes striking rock sounds throughout the giant space, and the space is scattered with armed guards.
“Hold on a sec! The heck was the point of winning the game, then?!” Rodya asks, seeming to realize the guards won’t let the group in. “Why do we have to be so sneaky about this? And what's up with those slaves picking away at rocks?”
“We technically did earn ownership, but…” Saude hesitates as the guards seem to notice the large and very suspicious-looking group in front of the vault. “We don't have anything to prove that we're the winners, not to mention how we're more or less intruders to them.”
A wave of unease flickers through most of the Sinners, and you just grab ahold of the blades before they go and cause trouble.
“Quite the grand excavation. They sure didn't waste space.” Ishmael remarks, peering down the cavern, “They even made spare vaults here, all the while digging a tunnel.”
“What an incredible sight…” Rodya murmurs in awe. “When my time comes, lay me to rest under a pile of cash just like that one over there. I want my last breath filled with the smell of banknotes.”
“I’ve only seen scenes like this in movies…” You mumble to yourself, warily glancing at the shaking cages brimming with Peccatula.
“By the way, about that fella at the table who gave us the up-down… Did you know him from somewhere?” Gregor asks, raising a brow.
Rodion’s smile falters. “… A friend from back home.”
Dante shakes their head. “Something tells me the history between you two runs deeper than just that.”
“Greg, love, these get-togethers are always uncomfortable.” Rodion says with a tone bordering on ‘snappy’. “Didya already forget about that one heck of a reunion you had with your former comrades?”
Gregor nods slightly. “…Can’t argue with that.”
“There are things moving behind those bars.” Hong Lu suddenly notes, pointing to the cages with an absentminded smile. “Aha, I wonder if this is where they raise their pets?”
Ishmael grimaces. “…Do pets from your home usually rattle their cages like they're about to rip the bars apart?”
“It’s the Peccatula.” Faust states.
“Did they think they could tame Abnormalities?” Dante asks, glancing back at the group.
“Miss Yuri would’ve knocked three grown adults out cold with a scoff if she heard that.” Gregor remarks with a faint smile.
“Oh, Yuri…” Sinclair mumbles, worriedly glancing back at you.
You just look for a Yuri who isn’t there. Still asleep, huh..?
“It is possible, theoretically speaking.” Faust adds, “Provided that they possess a similar level of intelligence to humans and that an empirically proven method of managing them exists, that is.”
“Like a certain corporation?” You ask.
“Yes.” Faust answers simply.
“Huh… I guess they could make for excellent guard dogs if that ever works out.” Ishmael mutters to herself. Dammit you’re still waiting on her inevitable Little Red EGO or ID. Where is it, Kim Ji-Hoon? Make it and my life is yours.
Well… guess since you’re here now, it already is.
…
Make it and my money is yours.
“Oh? On closer look, these people have fingers or other parts of their bodies bitten off.” Hong Lu says casually, gesturing at the horde of exhausted miners that line the walls. “…Is this in fashion these days?”
Dante just slowly stares at Hong Lu, and you slowly place a hand on their shoulder to stop them from attempting to strangle the 6th Sinner.
“Tch… We’ve got security guards and Peccatula… This is starting to be a bother…” Gregor mutters, lighting another cigarette.
“Got any ideas, Greg? You said you fought on the front lines back in the war. Try something.” Rodya encourages with a shove, as Gregor yelps. “What does that have to— Hey, stop pushing!”
The slave Gregor winds up by blinks, slowly looking up from their endless toiling and towards the 13th Sinner. Gregor stares back at them with a slight grimace, and the air felt like cold butter.
“H- hey. Looks like things aren’t exactly pleasant for either of us, huh? How about we just… let this slide?” Gregor suddenly asks, holding up his human hand.
In response, the emaciated person merely stares back.”
“We're not here for the money in that vault. I mean, sure, we wouldn’t refuse if offered-” He coughs when you frantically shake your head, “But that's not the point. We're just trying to get to the lower level. We're not here to cause trouble, I guarantee you. Why don’t we pretend we never saw each other and just go our separate ways?”
They blink in response, eyes glazed over. “F… Four… 47,920,000 Ahn…” They turn back to the wall, and start lethargically swinging. “47,910,000 Ahn… 47,900,000…”
“Speak some sense, or I’ll B.A.R.F. on your hands.” Ryōshū warns, her hand tightening on her sheathed sword as her red eyes narrow.Sinclair Story Icon.png
“I think… she means she’ll ‘break all remaining fingers’ on his hands…” Sinclair mumbles, turning his head away slightly.
“At this point, I’m more scared by how fast you figured that out.” Dante remarks. The slave ignores the group, muttering to themselves.
“Must repay… repay all the debt… before I can go back to my family…” Then they seem to remember there are other people there. “They said they’ll take off 1 Ahn for every swing… 47 million and… How much…was it… Agh! Don’t talk to me! I need to count…!”
“Hold it. What's all that noise over there?” A security guard says, and several start approaching.
“Ah, shoot…” Gregor hisses through gritted teeth, before suddenly calling out with an awkward tone. “We… We can’t live like this anymore! This is… outrageous… abuse! To tie people up and force them to dig! Let us all… rise up… and fight our oppressors…! Forward—chaaarge!!”
Everyone silently stares at Gregor with the blankest expressions known to man.
Shit… guess the scene’s gonna progress as normal.
Honestly, this is fucked. Everything about this is fucked. You want there to be an uprising and for these people to return to their families. You saw that photo in the scrapyard.
But… you can’t do anything. Whenever you try, there’s only more trouble.
You’re right. You can’t change anything. And yet, it’s admirable that you keep going. You’re surrounded by people who will not help you. But I can help you. I promise you I can.
But…
Just close your heart to all but me. Let me help you.
…
You don’t know what possesses you. Perhaps a desire to prove Carmen wrong, perhaps as an attempt to make something better. Or just a desire to get one of your favorite Sinners out of the line of fire.
But you step forward, try to move Gregor behind you, and start yelling.
“DO YOU PEOPLE WANT TO SEE YOUR LOVED ONES AGAIN?!” You call out, and- slowly- the slaves start to pause and look over.“YOUR FRIENDS? FAMILY? LOVERS?”
The slave closest mumbles a word of agreement, as hundreds of glazed eyes look towards you. The security guards are approaching quickly.
“[Name], what are you doing?” Gregor whispers to you in a panic.
“Being a distraction so you guys can form a plan-!” You hiss back, before raising your voice again, “SO WHY DO YOU RELENT TO A CYCLE YOU’LL NEVER ESCAPE? WITH EVERY SWING, YOU DO NOT GROW CLOSER TO BEING FREE FROM YOUR DEBTS! YOU ONLY FALL IN LINE AND LET YOURSELVES BE ABUSED AND TAKEN ADVANTAGE OF! THERE’S AT LEAST TEN OF YOU PER GUARD. IF ALL OF YOU TOOK A STAND NOW, ALL OF YOU COULD RETURN TO YOUR FAMILIES! ALL OF YOU COULD SEE YOUR FRIENDS, CHILDREN, LOVERS, PARENTS!!”
You spread out your arms, a fuel of adrenaline and desperation bringing greater volume to your words. “DO YOU FEAR THE MONSTERS IN THE CAGES? THEY HOLD NO LOYALTY TO THE GUARDS, AND WILL GLADLY BRING HARM TO THEM. DO YOU FEAR THE CHANCE OF FAILURE? YOU ARE NOT ALONE! MANY WILL HELP YOU RETURN TO YOUR LIVES! ARE YOU AFRAID OF DEATH? IF YOU TAKE NO STAND, YOU ALL WILL DIE IN THESE MINES. ALL YOU NEED TO GO HOME IS TO TAKE A STAND HERE AND NOW!!!”
You stand there, chest heaving, as what you just did fully processes. The slaves are mumbling, starting to show emotion, and all of Limbus Company that is here is staring at you in silent shock.
“The fuck is that thing?” A guard snaps, and you flinch as you realize they’re here now and the Peccatula are being released from their cages. OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT!!
You try to scramble off the rock, the blades readying themselves to start massacring the guards as you fumble out Yuri’s sword, realizing you accidentally got a solid ten meters away from everyone else and are vulnerable. You could get seriously hurt. OH FUCK!!!!
You ignite the sword as the fact you’re surrounded dawns on you, and you prepare yourself for a bloody, chaotic fight.
Only to watch a guard get a pickaxe lodged in the back of her head, and the slave Gregor spoke to a minute prior standing over their corpse. They pull the pickaxe out, and turn their attention to another guard.
For a moment, everything is quiet.
And then dozens more slaves start swarming the guards. Every moment, more start joining in, and the caverns are filled with screams and bloodshed. You think you catch a flash of white, but you ignore it. You just scamper back over to the Sinners, trying to move as far into the back as humanly possible.
“The hell was that?!” Heathcliff asks you, grabbing you by the shoulders and shaking you.
“GAHH!! I- I JUST-” You start yelping out, “STOP SHAKING ME!! I WAS JUST TRYING TO HELP-!!”
Heathcliff stops and lets go like he just grabbed a hot coal, a slight frown on his face as you catch yourself with a wheeze, putting away Yuri’s sword. “I- I don’t know what made me do that- I just saw Gregor and realized he was fucked if I didn’t do something and I don’t want Dante in pain from reviving him and heard about the debtors wanting to see their families and just… wanted to let them go home. But in all honesty I don’t know what possessed me to start yelling like that IwassostupidI’msostupidandsorryandohgod-”
“Oi! Calm down!” Heathcliff barks at you, startled, “You look like you’re about to piss yourself.”
You immediately shut up.
“[Name], you manage to surprise me every time you act.” Dante tells you. You just nervously giggle and look away.
“Wow Squishy, didn’t know you had… that in you.” Rodion tells you, looking out at the revolution in a mix of surprise and… remorse?
Wait. That tax collector from her memories. Did you..?
Oh. Oh no.
“You did well, private.” Outis tells you, “Better than that moron over there. Next time you attempt a subversion, ensure your acting skills are at least at an intermediate level.”
Gregor sighs, shaking his head. “C'mon, go easy on me… I'm embarrassed too, you know…”
The group stares at out the chaotic scene, with the guards so focused on fending off the slaves- and soon the Peccatula- that your group is ignored.
“So… should we move on..?” You slowly ask, “Cus I don’t think the Golden Bough is here…”
“Right, yeah-” Dante nods quickly. “You’re right. You’re right! Let’s get a move on.”
You watch Dante quickly usher the Sinners to go, and you stand next to Rodya and Gregor with a grimace. “...is it just me, or is Dante acting weird?”
Gregor sighs and takes a drag of his cigarette. “Not just you, bud.”
You glance back, and notice Effie and Saude not moving. “Aren’t you two coming with us?”
Saude shakes her head. “Haha, no, our role is finished.”
“Go on.” Effie says with a wave of his hand, “And don’t fuck up this mission!”
“Uh- see you!” You call back, and quickly follow after the group.
Effie crosses his arms as he watches the fourteen of you leave. “Even [Name] was a nonsensical idiot…”
“Well, they weren’t that bad.” Saude murmurs, looking over at the revolution taking place. “Actually, they were kind of cute. In a pathetic, desperate way.”
“Don’t tell me you actually..?” At Saude’s smile, Effie groans. “Seriously? Not you…”
Saude merely chuckles in response.
–★★★–
The floor below isn’t anything like the towering caverns you had accidentally caused a revolution in. Instead, giant, colorful containers line the space and tracks carrying smaller boxes are everywhere. There aren’t any guards from what you can see, but there aren’t many debtors either.
“It's a freight container, made of smooth plastic that comes in assorted colors.” Meursault notes as you and a few others closely examine a container on the floor, “The use of so many peculiar materials suggests that this is more than just a basic manufacturing facility.”
Without anyone touching a thing, the dead facility springs to life. A tune akin to circus music rings out in cheerful chirps, somehow ringing hollow enough it feels grating.
“I've got a bad feeling about this…” Sinclair mumbles, nervously glancing around. “Why aren't there any guards on this floor?”
No one can answer as the tracks suddenly stop, and the new container before the group opens with a hiss. Out of it creeps an Abnormality who’s mechanic always frustrated you when you first started playing.
“Ah. Ah.” It says in a robotic, awkward voice. “Highly excited!!! Ahh~”
Everyone tenses as the thing’s arms swing back and forth in a in janky, stiff motion, and You Want To Get Beat? Heartily? starts looking around at the group wildly, it’s eyes sometimes staring at nothing at all. “Thoroughly amusing!!! Da GAME of DEATH!”
Faust grimaces slightly at the thing’s sudden sing-song voice, and other freight containers open as more Abnormalities start creeping out.
“ATH. ATH!!” The thing starts to approach, arms stuck out at the Sinners. “ATH!!!! ATH!!!! ATH!!!!”
“Hm… It appears they redoubled excavation efforts from this point onward.” Faust notes, peering further into the factory, “Otherwise, there would be no reason to mass-produce augmented humans on a conveyor belt…”
“Got it, but we gotta get a move on!” Dante says with a startled yelp, “They’re pointing right at us singing that spooky song!”
A metallic clang rings out as the blades deflect a blow from one of the several approaching Abnos. In game you fought three of them, but here there’s more like fifteen!
You just brace yourself for a long, tedious fight.
—
“Are our attacks even doing anything?!” You hear one exasperated Sinner ask, as the Abnormalities refuse to falter and let up. Every time they grow close to death, they merely recover as if nothing had happened and charge again. They aren’t being hit hard enough-
The group- despite your ideas- decided against going into the factory, which meant the fight would remain tedious with everyone being at low levels and the IDs being… mid-tier at best.
You glance over at Gregor being stuck in his G Corp ID and wonder why the 1st season IDs were so ass. And this team comp’s a mess… not even a specific keyword to center around. If you wouldn’t arouse suspicion, you’d go give Dante some tips.
“Huh- [NA-” Dante starts, and color inverts as you realize you were distracted enough one of the Abnormalities is above you, ready to punch down and pummel you to a bloody pulp. Quickly, the nausea takes over as you stumble out of the way, but time doesn’t immediately resume.
What the-?
You blink, and realize you feel kind of… tight? Almost as if you’re clinging onto something. Specifically, your right eye feels tense. With a shake of your head, you try to relax the eye.
Then color returns to normal and you watch the Abnormality punch solid ground, and you try to stay on your feet.
That was… weird. Huh, maybe…
You step aside for a moment until the nausea dulls just enough, and try to tighten your eye. In an instant, time freezes again. You relax, and it resumes. You try this a few more times, and you realize you can just… freeze time.
This is like a Time Piece, but… they can only speed it up and slow down. Maybe this is a power you have..? Time-related powers… what could it mean?
A scream makes your head snap up, and you watch as at least half the Sinners are all killed, and Dante is being charged at by the largest Abnormality here. Oh crap- Okay. Okay. You have a job. So do it.
You freeze time, grab the blades, and charge with everything you have. Jumping up a painfully short height as you flutter your wings in vain for more height, you raise the blades above your head and drive them down into the largest Abnormality as you resume time, barely able to stop yourself from puking.
The screech that rings out from the thing doesn’t hurt as much as when it flings you aside, sending you crashing into a freight container and landing on the floor in a miserable heap. Your ears ring too much to process the yelling as you look around a spinning world, and realize the blades have both cracked in half. You mentally curse, hacking out bile as you feel like a pathetic idiot who just lost their main defense in a world that definitely wants them dead.
Gah… why the hell does your shoulder feel weird..?
The blades both twitch, and you sit up, clutching your aching head in a hand. And you gape as both blades each shrink into a small egg the size of your fist. They weakly roll on the floor, and you stare at the eggs patterned in the same intricate design of the handles of your weapons.
…no way. No way-! ARE THEY SERIOUSLY-?!
You yelp as you’re suddenly pulled off the ground by a loudly lecturing Outis, and you’re barely able to drag the eggs towards you with your tail, catching them on the feathers as you drag them towards you.
“-AND WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?!” She questions, staring at you with a look of rage you hadn’t expected before. In response, you just weakly point at the Abnormality you just attacked, which has returned to the harmless form of an egg.
Outis blinks, before scoffing. “So what? You cannot be revived, Assistant Manager! Foolish actions like that-”
“What..? Are you my boss, now..?” You ask her dryly. You don’t want to die, but… “I was doing my job, which is to keep Dante alive. And I clearly succeeded. I- I’ll be fine. Let me go….”
Outis glowers at you, but releases you with only a series of frustrated muttering as you rub your sore arm. And tail. Just about everything on you is sore now, actually.
You sigh, glancing down at the now-egg blades, and you pick them up and cram into your pockets. You hope they return to normal soon…
You sigh as the battle seems to have come to an end, with Dante reviving a few dead Sinners with a familiar foghorn-like scream and you stumbling back towards the rest of them.
“How close are we to the Bough..?” You ask when they recover enough to lucidity, standing on aching legs begging to sit down and rest. But soon the Canto will be over. There’s gonna be some running, though, and you aren’t excited for that.
“[Name]! Are you- you look- are you-?” They stutter out, waving their hands wildly as they try to figure out what to say.
“I’m fine, please just answer my question.” You tell them, feeling the wings on your head drooping.
“...we’re close.”
“Great.” You say with a slight nod, “Let’s get going then.”
“Hey, you just got thrown into a wall. We can take a break if you need-”
“I don’t need a break. If we’re close, let’s go grab it and head back to the bus. It shouldn’t take long, right?”
“But… huh? Wait, where are your swords?” Dante asks, glancing around, “You know, the scissor-looking ones? I swore you just had them…”
You feel yourself shrink, but feel relieved by the subject change. “About that… it’s… hard to explain. Because…”
And slowly, you pull out the eggs. “This is what happened to them. They broke, and… well…”
“It appears [Name]’s weapon is a pair of Abnormalities.” Faust notes, examining the remains with a hungry gaze.
“I just found out.” You blurt out before anyone asks, “I- I knew they were weirdly sentient, but I didn’t expect them to be actual Abnormalities. I don’t even know where they came from.”
Everyone’s expressions range from skepticism to visible confusion.
“Wow~” Rodya says with a whistle, slinging an arm around your shoulder, “Guess you really are a special one, Squishy.”
You don’t miss that hint of bitterness in her tone.
“I mean- not as special as you.” You quickly yelp back, “I’m more… weird. Awkward. Inhuman..? You- you managed to pull off that whole stunt during the game, which is a lot more impressive than anything I could’ve done. I don’t even know how I do what I do- I’m like…” a freak.
You swallow a lump in your throat. “Let’s go! Like- we’re almost at the Bough, and, I don’t know about you, but I want to go back to the bus and take a long shower. Plus, we oughta get moving before those Abnormalities recover. C’mon! Let’s go!!”
You quickly scamper onwards before anyone can stop you, stuffing the eggs back in your pocket as you internally curse yourself. You’re going to give up on avoiding standing out. You look too weird and care too much about these stupid characters to not. Just… try to not let them find out.
–★★★–
[Name] is an Abnormality.
I was stupid not to realize it sooner.
They’re an Abnormality. One we haven’t encountered before. That’s why we couldn’t find any trace of them anywhere else. Because they must be new.
Of course, this still leaves many questions surrounding their existence, such as the unexplainable feeling that I have met them before, but it also provides answers to things such as their appearance and general knowledge.
“So… your weapons are Abnormalities?” Hong Lu asks, peering down at the eggs you’re being made to show off.
“Apparently…” You mumble, “I never expected them to be… well… y’know. But, it makes more sense than not.”
“How so?” Ishmael asks with a raised brow.
“How else would they be so… alive? They can comprehend languages with no ears, and they have personalities.” You explain, “I’m an idiot for not figuring this out sooner…”
“I mean, no one else did either.” Gregor points out.
“True…” You mumble, “Guess all of us are just stupid.”
Gregor’s polite smile twitches. “That… wasn’t my point.”
“How long until they hatch?” Dante asks, peering over your shoulder.
“You think I know?” You question back in response, “I don’t know how Abnormalities work or when they specifically revive. Probably soon?”
“...until your weapons are back to normal, I want you as far out of combat as possible.” Dante instructs, “Scratch that, you’re severely injured, just stay out of combat period.”
“Eh?! But- but the contract-!” You stutter out, “I- I need to-!”
“No.” Dante says sternly. “My call as manager. Don’t think I can’t see you limping.”
You’re limping? “Dante, I’m just trying to-”
“Just fall back. Stay to the back of the group.” Dante instructs, “...please.”
You bite your tongue and slow your pace, ‘til you’re left in the very back and a solid pace or two behind everyone else. The ONE time you take a step forward to do the job you made up having to do and that eventually became your real job…
You sigh and scratch your shoulder. Since that weird sensation earlier, it’s itched a bit. But you pause when the skin moves too much.
Furrowing your brows, you slowly peel back the neckline of the shirt to see a weird slit along your right shoulder and collarbone. Did it get scratched? No… the shirt isn’t damaged. Just stained with blood.
You pull open the slit, and see a flash of white, razor sharp teeth. Your breath hitches and you immediately hide it, panicking. What? How- it can’t- no- wha?
Your body it’s… changing? Why is it..?
A gust of cool air in your face and the sounds of faint music makes you look up, to see a monumental castle of ice come up before you. It towers above everyone, and is the music’s source.
You glance at Rodion, who has a tense expression and her golden string is violently shaking, randomly jutting out and waving like sound. Is that how resonance works? What are the purposes of the strings? And why does only Dante not have one? Even the boss back in the room did, so… maybe only Dante can’t resonate with a Bough..? But why do people die when they’re severed?
“I'd come here whenever I felt the need to clear my thoughts. Though there are no armchairs or that whiskey you like…” A man with snow-white hair says, standing before the impenetrable structure. He adjusts his faux-leather gloves as he looks back, his lavender eyes glittering in an expression you cannot tell if it is amusement… or pity. “… the chill dominating this place pierces even the thickest coat. That helps me think with a more lucid mind.”
Rodion steps before the group, mouth pressed into a thin line. “Didn’t expect you to get here first.”
“My men and I knew of a shortcut leading here.” Sonya answers simply, “It was a route we learned by parlaying with the local lowlives in our search for the whereabouts of a great, buried power waiting to be used for our noble purpose. Alas, we… could only make it as far as this place, the general vicinity of the buried Golden Bough; we could not get any closer to it.”
“Thought you'd never leave District 25, but seeing you resorting to those tactics like some kind of gangster… Maybe you should've stayed a country boy.” Rodion says bitterly, “Sonya, your lackeys have been taking from shopkeeps who weren’t even rich to begin with.”
Sonya sighs, before giving a warm smile that feels out of place in an environment such as this. “… Want to know something, Rodya? This cave used to be nothing more than a peculiar hollow whose walls were lined with hoarfrost.” He gestures back, eyes sparkling, “And look at it now. A giant castle, surrounded by thick columns of ice, has risen here. This change happened the instant you walked in.”
“… Sounds like you figured this would happen on my arrival. How’d you know?”
“I have many sources… But that’s not for you to know, Rodya.” Sonya says, but you can’t stop yourself from blurting out.
“You’re with that Hermann woman, aren’t you?” Everyone glances your way as you stride forward, “That’s the only other person we know of after the Boughs. You know her.”
Sonya chuckles lightly, and he moves, approaching you with light, relaxed steps. “You’re that one Rodya called ‘Squishy’, hm? I can see why she calls you that. I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced, I’m-”
“Back. Off.” Rodion warns, stepping between you two.
Sonya raises his hands as he takes a singular step back, his smile never shifting. “I merely wanted to introduce myself to the one who caused the riot.”
You choke on your own salvia. He saw it?!
“Very impressive, honestly.” He continues, “You’re the first person I encountered who was capable of encouraging the masses to rise up with merely some words. Ah, is ‘person’ the right word here? You don’t look…” At your expression, he chuckles. “Nevermind. I just wanted to say, we could do much good, you and I. The Yurodivy-”
“Absolutely not.” Rodion snaps.
“Yeah, no.” Gregor says with a warning tone, arm starting to spasm.
“You’re one-” Heathcliff starts, but Sonya raises his hand. “I was asking them, not you all. But I see what they want doesn’t change much. Unless…”
You don’t like the way he’s looking at you. How everyone’s looking at you. “...no.”
“Very well.” He says, gesturing onwards. “Off you all-”
“What makes you say that I caused this in the first place? I’m not some kinda witch of the Backstreets or anything.” Rodion suddenly blurts out, quickly diverting the conversation away from anything to do with you.
Sonya seems to realize this, yet he plays along nonetheless. “I think the answer to that should become quite obvious once you observe those faces encased in ice. Take a peek. They’re the ones you loved yet secretly contemned, are they not?”
You choke as you feel like the ground gives way under you, and you can no longer breathe. But before you, you see several people- more like shadows than humans- surrounded by things. A group of tax collectors surveying any valuables to collect from a debtor, who’s collapsed on the floor, coughing in pain as a person with a snide grin stands over them. A young girl is sobbing on the floor, desperately trying to get the collectors away from what you assume is her father. But you aren’t there, and you can’t move, and you can’t interfere.
“250,000 Ahn.”
The District 25 resident quakes at the tax collector’s words. “That’s all it’s worth? You can't be serious…”
“Oh, I am dead serious. Just look at how old and battered it is- it's scratched all over, and any shine it once had has long dulled. To be frank, others wouldn’t pay more than 200,000 for this. And the rest… All worthless garbage.” They tap something you can’t make out. “With that, your remaining unpaid tax is now down to 400,000 Ahn.”
Why do the poor only grow poorer the harder they work?
And finally, you notice Rodion standing near to the scene, listening in with a wall between her and it. As a member of the Yurodivy.
It’s ridiculous, isn’t it? As the pawnbroker's vault grew fuller with each passing day… our neighbors only grew more gaunt, forced to give up even their precious mementos and cherished memories to be weighed for pocket money upon her ruthless scale.
You’re sent whirling through absolutely nothing until you’re left staring through Rodion’s eyes. At her relaxing at a desk, watching Sonya talk to a small yet eager group. Devouring every word he preaches. Words you can barely hear.
Sonya rallied people, delivering speeches using big words.They organized a group under the name of the "Yurodiviye." It went okay at first. Sonya's words managed to inspire even the thickest folks to help the impoverished of the Backstreets.
Almost like you, Squishy. I know you can hear every word I say, eh..?
Can the others hear too?
You don’t think so.
…
But I could see it on Sonya's face that he still wanted something more.
Eventually, the Yurodiviye that was first established to actually go out and help the needy was warped into an organization full of passive pundits who only cared about sitting around and endlessly debating how the streets and the Nests were to be revolutionized.
That’s why I left them. That’s why he wants you.
But being an armchair revolutionary wasn’t going to feed our starving neighbors!
“But I told you time and time again, Rodya. That we must wait for the right moment.” The memory Sonya says, looking directly at her.
Sonya, I’m sorry, but that “moment” you kept talking about… It didn't come when little Ivan, Yurodiviye's youngest… dug through trash for food waste just to recall what having food in his stomach felt like… Nor did it arrive after he choked to death from it.
“Detailed policy plans and the power to realize them are both necessary in monumental endeavors such as ours- the redistribution of wealth.” Sonya says simply, but memories and reality start to blur, and you’re being dragged along with it. An observer.
Communism…
You got a word for it?
Back home, yes. An idealistic system that ignores the innate greed humans have. Regardless of age, gender, appearance, everything. Humans live by greed, and for it.
…
“Such personal grievances and tragedies will inevitably occur as the wheel of progress turns.” Sonya says, seemingly incapable of hearing you.
Personal? Don't you remember how it all began? Helping people was our purpose! You and your Yurodiviye no longer seemed interested in doing that, nor in anything I'd hoped for when we began.
“Is that why you decided to take matters into your own hands?”
Absolutely. What our town needed wasn’t an empty promise telling people to sit on their hands and wait for some vague "moment," but someone willing to pick up the axe.
The scene shifts. Rodion confronting that tax collector you first saw in the memory. Axe in her hands.
It must've been one of those days when most of the neighborhood hadn't seen even a glimpse of food for at least 4 days. But the biting wind hounded and howled without mercy, clawing at the cracked skin of people who barely had any energy left to even move. And I happened to know whose safe kept so much money that she could treat my neighbors to a three-day-feast and not even make a dent.
“So, what did you do?”
…No, wait. I don't think I want to do this anymore.
“The Golden Bough has resonated with your psyche and has created this confessional of sorts, just for you.” Sonya says simply, “And a confessional’s purpose is to lead a sinner to the path of penance.”
How is he hearing this when no one seemed to hear Gregor’s? Does he even know you’re here?
He doesn’t. This is just a memory, [Name]. Nothing more.
You don’t hear what the tax collector says. Why would you? You’re just here to watch. Stuck. In this tight, miserable nothingness.
If only that old woman had changed her mind in her last moments…
“But Rodya… You must have known that a terminal leech upon her neighbors wouldn't turn over a new leaf just like that. You knew she wasn’t the kind of person who’d give up that life for that of a generous philanthropist. You wouldn’t have brought the axe otherwise.”
“Poor Rodion, dear, you seem to be under the delusion that you’re some sort of savior…” The woman says with a snide smirk, “Demanding my money so brazenly to my face won’t change anything. You're nothing but a louse yourself, no different from the paupers in the Backstreets.”
That’s right.
I’m the one who put an axe through her head.
There’s so much blood. It stains the walls and Rodion and her axe. It coats her axe in a thick layer of red.
Like cutting open the belly of the goose that laid golden eggs, I cleaved into that hag’s skull.
I mean, someone had to do it. Am I wrong?
Unlike the idiot cottager in the fable who gave in to greed and severed his own future prospects… We were just hungry, miserable people who would've gladly scooped out her brains for a meal.
And unlike the goose, her “belly” was full of golden eggs.
“Yes, the old lady you killed was a tax collector wielding considerable authority in District 25.” Sonya says simply, “But what gave her so much power… was her sibling’s status as a member of The Middle.”
I… I put an axe through her skull for my neighbors, so that they wouldn't starve to death. Was that so wrong?
“No, you did that for yourself. You couldn’t stand the fact that you weren’t anyone special. Did you know?” Sonya shakes his head, his smile one of pity. “The Middle… never forgets, never forgives anyone who has wronged their family. They aren’t too interested in finding out exactly who did the deed; what matters to them is that they demonstrate clearly what happens to the poor fools that dare to disturb them.”
And now you’re left staring at a street of people being brutally killed. Children, elders, and everyone in between.
“The joy of the Backstreets residents, who'd tasted the tenderness of quality meat for the first time in their lives, soon made corpse towers of them all. Not much different from the car pagodas outside the casino.” Sonya’s voice is gentle, sympathetic, “I’m well aware of the sheer weight of pain and guilt you’ve been burdened with ever since then. It can't have been easy to live with the realization that, at the end of the day, you really weren't so different from the idiot who cut open the goose that laid golden eggs.”
Since that day… Nothing I held truly felt like it was mine. It's all… all my fa-
“It's okay, Rodya.” Sonya says, and the memories shift. Back to Sonya staring into Rodion’s eyes with that warm yet proud smile. “You see, Rodya… I've perused hundreds of books and thousands of documents… and met all kinds of people around the City, all to change the world.”
“Change the world so that the oppressed can be free from the exploitative dominion of the ruling class and find liberation in the truest sense. And I want to make that world a reality.”
“However, I learned that such a world cannot be realized by changing what is already here. Once ink makes its mark on a page, it is permanent; you can't simply put the ink back in the pen.”
It changes again, to visions of what could be. Instead of a man being brutalized by tax collectors, the backstreets are bustling with joy as Sonya leads a stunned Rodion down it.
Look closely. This is the world you and I can usher in. “A world… that can be created using the Golden Bough with which you resonated.”
To a vision, not of Rodion standing over the mutilated body of the tax collector, but of she and Sonya having drinks as they look out of a colorful street. “May no soul on this earth suffer from starvation ever again. May every individual have the right to pursue their delights, both spiritual and intellectual.”
To… you wandering down the street, led by the duo as you look around in awe at the scene, rather than members of the Middle slaughtering innocents. Why are you..?
What the..? You- huh..?
“…Join hands with me, and I’ll gift you that world.” Sonya says, but it’s hard to tell just exactly who he’s talking to now. “It would be as if everything that has happened… hasn't happened at all.”
God- you want answers. You want understanding.
Ah. Who could ever understand such a feeling? Even the briefest glimpse of that world felt so dreamlike.
You want out. Out of this nothing.
I wanted to etch that mesmerizing instant into my memory so I wouldn't forget it- not even for a second. If this were a dream, let my sleeping self never wake and join the residents of the dreaming world.
Maybe you can..? Push… push… PUSH..!
But, despite everything…
You gasp as you feel like you’re being dragged straight out of a sea. An ocean of nothingness you were drowning in. Cold air gnaws at you, wriggling into your flesh as you try to catch yourself.
“Sorry, I’m still turning down your offer.” Rodion’s voice helps ground you, and you weakly look towards her, “How should I put this… I don’t wanna bask in the warmth just yet. I feel like I oughta be shivering in this cold a bit longer. Think I’ll stay this way, at least until I can answer whether I deserve to be warm again.”
Her gaze falls back on you for a moment, back on everyone. She takes a deep breath, running a hand through her hair. “Besides, Sonya… You knew my temper would get the best of me and make me kill her, didn’t you?”
Sonya is silent for a long moment, before shaking his head. “Rodya, this will probably elude you, but you don’t have the Sign. I came here hoping to see you possess it, but I’m seeing it on a few of your friends instead.”
Why the fuck is he looking at you. The fuck you mean “the Sign”. No way in hell you have “the Sign”. Oh God, does this mean gayass Demian is gonna be after you..? No- please- anything but him-
Rodion blinks, raising a brow. “The Sign? What do you…”
“On top of that, you can’t even see the Sign. In other words… you don’t have what it takes to lead.” Sonya clicks his tongue. “But I’m different. So, to make a better world-”
“Yeah, yeah. I think I remember hearing ya say something like that a while ago, sitting atop a desk buried in piles of books.” Rodion scoffs, “…That’s why I can’t join you. I still believe that your big words and endless debates won't ever feed the neighbors. And as I’m sure you’ve learned by now…”
She grins, gesturing back at the other Sinners. “There’s no way a rowdy rascal like me would fit under some dweeb’s leadership, right? Hahah!”
Sonya is silent at that.
“Congrats Dante, you escaped ‘dweeb’ territory.” You tell them with a grin, unable to and not wanting to stop yourself. “Unfortunately, you’re still in ‘childbearing hips’ category, but I can think of many people who’d want you to keep those.”
Dante sputters as Rodya cackles, and the air feels warmer. Not by much, but warmer still.
Sonya’s expression softens slightly, before he steps aside. “The Golden Bough awaits inside the castle, Rodya. I hope you’ll be able to find what you seek.”
He watches idly as the chaotic band moves past him, but he places a hand on your shoulder as you go.
“If you ever change your mind, my offer will still stand.” He tells you warmly.
You sigh. “I don’t think it will.”
And into the ice castle you went.
—
The Sinners stand, slightly battered and bruised from the first fight, and an echoing boom rings throughout the frozen keep, causing you to let out a shriek of pain as it feels as if your ears are torn inside of your head.
“What the…?” Dante murmurs, looking up as the environment quakes and ice-covered rubble falls from above in small but painful chunks. “Wait, if this keeps up…”
They look around, before grabbing your hand and calling out to the others. “We- we gotta get out of here, now!”
“What about the Bough? We’re so close, we can just grab it first-!” You argue back, and Dante shouts back something you ignore as you pull away and move deeper into the structure. Rodya’s string branches out, and you follow the wave until you find where it connects. A small, delicate, golden tree sprouting from a crack. It yields as you yank it out, and you turn to move back as you crash face-first into Meursault’s chest. Right in between his pecs.
It’s actually really firm-
You both stand there for a moment, then your muffled voice speaks. “Dante sent you to get me, didn’t they?”
“Yes.”
“...alrighty then.”
Thankfully, even as the castle started to break around you, it was fairly easy to escape out to the others, Bough safely in your hands.
“Can you stop tryin’ to get yourself killed?!” Heathcliff shouts at you.
“Can you all do you jobs?! Seriously, THE BOUGH WASN’T THAT FAR FROM US!” You screech back, before trying to smooth your ruffled wings with a huff. “Seriously! Why did I-”
“…Am I seeing this right?” Ishmael slowly interrupts, and everyone slowly looks towards the castle. “The castle isn’t falling apart, it’s like…”
“Indeed, it’s most certainly rising to its feet.” Faust notes, and you gape as the building now stands atop chicken-esc legs, and starts moving towards the group.
“Don’t look back! Just run!” Gregor yells, grabbing you by the arm and dragging you along as everyone starts running away from the steadily approaching castle. Furthermore, Sonya is just gone and now there’s a dozen or so more enemies around.
GODDAMMIT WHERE ARE THE BLADES REGENERATING WHEN YOU NEED THEM?!
Dante pants, half keeled over when everyone finally stops, though the castle and its frost-covered minions are still approaching. “I- we ran quite a bit, but what now…?”
How are they panting when they don’t breathe..?
“Footfalls. Not of a human. Rather slow and heavy.” Meursault notes.
Ishmael grits her teeth. “…You could just say that something mammoth is after us!”
The 5th Sinner nods simply. “That may have served better.”
“D- Dante! Our job here’s done, so we can just book it! Cool?” Rodya asks, trying to fend off one of frozen remains of a miner from the upper floor that charged.
“G-gimme a second! I never considered what we'd do once we got down here-” Dante yells back, wildly looking around for any way out.
“Oh, really! Can we worry about that later?!” Rodya shouts back, having had to hack off an arm of the Abnormality attacking her.
Speaking of Abnormalities…
You fumble the eggs out of your pocket and shake them. “C’mon you two… I’m seriously injured and could use some weapons-!”
Unluckily for you, that doesn’t wake them up.
“The bus… Where’s the bus?” Gregor asks.
“Clearly not here!” You shriek at him, “How could it possibly get down here anyways?!”
“Quit prattlin' and run! Away from that thumpin'!” Heathcliff barks.
Faust hums. “That might be the first logical statement I’ve heard leave your mouth, Heathcliff.”
He merely scowls in response. “… I’m gonna smash your skull to bits later.”
—
You feel like your legs are about to give out at this rate. It’s just running and desperately trying to fend off an encroaching horde until-
“I see the exit over there!” Ishmael calls out, pointing. Immediately, that’s the course everyone sets to.
An exit is found.
“Gah, bloody persistent, innit?” Heathcliff mutters, hissing in pain as a chunk is ripped from his forearm.
“We’ll have to distract them somehow before we can get away…” Dante says, looking around for any opportunity.
“Why don’t you throw one of us at ‘em? You can bring them back later anyway.” Ryōshū points out, before staring at a certain German boy.
“Why are you looking at me?” Sinclair weakly asks.
“Great idea Ryōshū!” You sarcastically say, “But how the heck are we going to get the Sinner left behind out of here after we leave?”
Ryōshū hums. “Y.M.B.L.”
“‘You’re more bitey lately’..?” Sinclair translates, confused.
“I’m tired and it’s been a stupidly long day!” You yelp back, having just had to stab an Abnormality through the head with enough force you think your arms may fall off with how sore they are. “God forbid I get-”
“Hold on, look over there…” Dante interrupts, and you see Sonya standing at the exit with a bemused smile.
“Leave this to me.” He says calmly, making a motion with a hand.
“WHY ARE YOU HERE?!” You screech at him, completely realizing you forgot this happened in game. God you wish Canto 2 was more memorable all you remember is Sinclair broke it down whiteboy style and Ryōshū is a fucking menace…
“Sonya?! What are you playing at?” Rodion snaps at him.
“Rodya! What are you talking about? Just let him do his thing, we need all the help we can get!”
She merely scoffs. “No one ever helps for free, y'know? There's gotta be something! Only person I met who’s willing to help all willy-nilly is-”
Sonya interrupts with a sigh, before slightly tilting his head. “It’s just like how you simply couldn’t hold yourself back from using your axe that day. I’m discovering that I might have a similarly… inexplicable drive.”
Rodion moves you behind her as he approaches a very confused Dante. “Dante, I take it that your organization is working to make a better world in its own right, yes?”
“I… Uh-huh?” Dante fidgets slightly, considering his words as Sonya seems blissfully unaware of their uncertainty.
“Silence sometimes speaks volumes. I’ll take that as a positive.” Sonya says, turning to leave. “And one more thing… That child will soon visit you, too.”
“Child?”
“Huh?” Sinclair rubs his eyes, squinting at Sonya. “Ah… Sorry. My eyes must have fooled me. I thought I saw something on his forehead for a second…”
You saw it too. That flash of red. Fuck’s sake, you can see the Sign.
“Yes, I mean that boy who left quite the impression on you. It’ll be a touching reunion, I imagine.” Sonya says with a bemused chuckle, “Don’t expect me to act on the same impulse of kindness next we meet, though. If a clear path towards prosperity of the many shows itself before my eyes, I’ll take it without hesitation.”
His gaze lingers on you for a moment, and members the Yurodiyiye start to appear, thankfully fending off the Abnormalities for you all.
He turns to leave as Rodion sprints past him, but you hesitate for a moment.
“Sonya.” Both he and Rodion pause, giving you curious and confused looks.
“Your moment isn’t going to come unless you make it.” You warn him, “...but you don’t seem like someone who listens to a singular warning from one person, eh? Well, good luck.”
And you follow after Rodion, just as everyone else. She shakes her head and resumes running, but Sonya merely stands there and watches you all leave, lavender eyes focused on your retreating form.
“Until I make it, hm?” He chuckles, “You and her really are alike.”
–★★★–
The 2nd floor was empty, much to your relief, leaving progressing to the first floor a breeze. But the emptiness and silence of the endless caverns left you unnerved. There were no more guards, Peccatula, or even debtors. It was entirely empty.
Though your worry seemed unique, as no one else seemed remotely bothered. At least, not by the absence of any life save for the LCB.
“Rodion. Are you not concerned?” Yi Sang asks the 9th Sinner, his usual mournful expression alike as ever as a short breather is taken on this floor.
“What’s up?” She asks, seemingly unbothered by what just happened.
“Irrespective of consequential differences, he was nevertheless a fellow of yours.”
“Ah, that~” Rodya chuckles, “Eh, he’s a clever dude, so I’m sure he’ll figure out a way to live and all that jazz.”
“…Truly, an ideal form of friendship.” Yi Sang murmurs, before walking away. You watch Rodya lean against a rock and look out, gaze drifting over the dark space as you take a spot next to her.
“So… uh… your memories.” You start, causing her to glance at you, “That… idealized world. Uh- why was I there?”
“How could you see them?” She casually shoots back.
“You think I know?” You ask in response, huffing as you drag your sore body onto the rocks to rest momentarily. “I don’t know anything, Rodya. All I know is I’m stuck here and somehow fuck up every time I try to do my job.”
She chuckles. “You’re a lot more sassy than I thought you were, aren’tcha?”
“Yeah… guess since I’m trying to be less scared of you… well honestly you’re all psychotic and terrify me with how casual you are about things such as the bus that eats people, but I guess I’m just… trying to make myself fit it, y’know?”
You can’t tell if you’re lying or telling the truth.
“Yeah, I get it.” She responds, and a silence falls between you two for a long moment.
“...do you think I messed up by causing that riot?” You nervously ask, “I- well- I saw what happened to you then. What if the same thing happens to them? What if I doomed hundreds of people by shouting some words? What if-”
“‘What if what if what if’,” Rodion snaps back with a huff, “Look, [Name], babe, you haven’t fucked up any more than I have. If anything, I’d say you did more good than bad. No matter what you did those people were going to die, be it from being hunted down or worked to death. At least you managed to get a bunch of weak-willed folk to muster the courage to see their families one last time before they died.”
Is she… bitter..?
“...” You can’t think of anything right to say in response to that. Rodya just sighs, squeezing your shoulder. “You’re better than you think, Squishy.”
A silence rests between you once more, and now everyone’s continuing on back to the bus. But you and Rodya wait behind for a moment.
“Hey, Squishy, why’d ya talk about humans like that?” She suddenly asks, “About them living by greed. How are you so familiar with them if this is your first contract?”
Should you..? “...because I used to be one, Rodya. But please don’t go blabbing to the others about it.”
And she doesn’t manage to say anything in response as you push yourself off the rock and rejoin the rest of the Sinners.
—
Dante, wheezes as they collapse onto the seat of the bus, having just finished recounting the events of the day to Vergilius with your and Faust’s help.
“…I see, so that’s your story. There’s just one thing that bothers me, though.” The expression of the Red Gaze hardens. “This man… Sonya, was it? His actions during those final moments don’t quite seem to align with the way he pursues his ideology. We need to get a clearer idea of his true intentions before moving on from this-”
“Hey, time out, tiiime out!!!” Rodya blurts, “First Yi Sang, and now you too? Why does everyone care more about Sonya than me? I'm the one who got the Golden Bough, aren't I?”
“...well, technically [Name] did-” Sinclair starts to point out.
“Wouldn’t have if she didn’t resonate with it.” You retort back, before practically melting into your seat. On your way back out of the casino, the blades managed to recover enough to resume their usual forms, but the knowledge of what they are still haves you reeling. But honestly? You’re too exhausted to care.
Faust said you’re supposed to go try on your new uniform in like an hour… maybe you can squeeze in a nap until then…
Rodya chuckles, before reaching into her pockets with a dramatic flair. “As a plus… Check this out, everyone~”
With a wave of her hands, she displays the overwhelming handful of colorful chips with a dazzling grin. “We can exchange these cuties for cash at any casino, so we should drop by one. I nabbed ‘em while our one and only assistant manager hit the jackpot and dazzled the floor.”
“I was practically thrown into the machine…” You lament, rubbing your still aching head. Don, meanwhile, nervously gulps at the glower Vergilius sends her way. Poor girl is absolutely fried.
“I’m impressed that you thought to pocket all that amidst the chaos.” Dante admits, and you realized they’re practically laying against you.
“Well, Verg? What do you say to a juicy serving of prime sirloin steak to celebrate our abounding success today?” Rodya asks, shaking the chips slightly as a few tumble to the floor.
Vergilius stares with no expression at her for a moment, before glancing Charon’s way. “…Any thoughts, Charon?”
“… Mmm.” Charon thinks for a moment, pressing an ear to the wheel. “Seems Mephi wants it too. Fresh, succulent, juicy meat.”
Gregor grimaces. “Gah, of all the things you could mention…”
Vergilius shrugs, going to take his own seat. “Alright, then. I’ll entrust Rodion with the task of locating the venue for our team dinner.”
Charon nods. “Okay. Vroom-vroom.”
“Now we’re talking, Verg.” Rodya says with a chuckle, “After all’s said and done…”
You close your eyes, missing the nervous expression she had for a mere moment, missing the glance she tossed your way, missing that faint glimmer of hunger and curiosity in her eyes. Missing the way it’s hidden with no trace and missed by all on the bus.
“I’m pretty rad, aren’t I?”
–★★★–
“Impressive, Yurodivy.” A woman with short, neat hair says. It’s dark enough in color it starts to border on the color of the emptiness of the night sky. Her boots are impeccably clean as she walks through the remains of corrupted debtors and the occasional fallen member of the Yurodiviye. “Not only did you manage to clear out the legion of foes…”
Hermann stops, her gaze falling to the man with crisp white hair behind her. “You also burned all that cash.”
Sonya chuckles, waving a hand. “You should know, Hermann, that I’ve never been a friend of capital.”
“I will admit, you're not like most idealists; you actually walk the talk.” She says simply, turning and approaching him with calm, measured steps. “You'd have earned yourself a further compliment if only you had capped it all off by securing the Golden Bough.”
Sonya’s expression barely changes. “...I encountered that one you mentioned. That enigma. I must admit, they are more impressive than you’d like to think.” For a rare moment, he frowns. “Alas…”
“I suppose you didn’t win them over.”
“They are more like her than I thought they would be.” He answers, “But they’re somehow more stubborn. I’ve never encountered anything like them. Even Rodya couldn’t compare.”
Hermann pauses. “...the little enigma even managed to woo you in the minutes they spent interacting with you?”
“Well… I wouldn’t necessarily say ‘woo’,” Sonya answers, “...Part of me might’ve wished that they agreed to follow me, though. Like how she’d follow me like in the past.”
He thinks for a moment. “Actually, never mind. I think I’m actually relieved to find that things haven't changed at all. Rodya never wished for a perfect, flawless utopia. I’m not sure her new friend would either. Rather, she might have felt that it would be boring to live in such a world, since there’d be no way to affirm that she’s special.”
He glances above, smile faint. “That’s the impression I got.”
“I thought her to be a woman of virtue and unshakable principles…” Hermann says with a quiet hum, “Turns out she's but a dreamer, just like yourself.”
“She still has a long way to go, that's all.” Sonya says, before confessing, “… Though I doubt she'll admit that.:
“I got your point. I’ll keep it in mind for future considerations on our course of action.” Hermann says, “What of the enigma? What did you learn about them beyond that they're like that friend of yours.”
“...[Name].” He says after a moment, “Though, many seem to prefer using a wide array of nicknames instead of their actual name.”
“[Name].” Hermann echoes, before turning to leave without another word.
“You won’t scold me for this?” Sonya asks, surprised. “I did ultimately fail to complete the task you gave me.”
“Would reprimanding you make the Bough suddenly appear at our feet? Or perhaps give us every answer to the sudden intrusion to everything expected? No.” Hermann continues ahead, “It’s fine. Wherever the Boughs may be right now…”
She faintly smiles. “What matters more is who claims the bundle at the end.”
–★★★–
You adjust the collar of your shirt for the third time this evening.
Ugh- why are you so anxious?! It’s just a dinner with everyone, plus Effie and Saude. Maybe it’s because you’re worried to go out in public? You’ll be fine… right?
You let out a sigh under your breath, nervously reaching up to your horns. They’re less smooth. Starting to feel like… bark. Tree bark. Tree bark-like skin.
Your shaking hand trails down to your neck. You pull back the collar, unable to stop your shivering as you see the slit along the bone. You tap it with a claw, and it twitches. Then you slowly pry the makeshift lips open, and the mouth on your collar clicks its teeth together, the long, wet tongue slowly slipping out and brushing against the pad of your index. You feel both the tongue and the finger.
You flinch and snap your hand away, the tongue slipping back into the mouth as it shuts again. Immediately, you drag the neckline back over it, shivering slightly. You wish you had something with a higher collar to wear… all you have is Yuri’s jacket, the clothes you woke up in, and now your new uniform.
New uniform… think about your new uniform. Not this.
The uniform itself looks like Dante’s. Red jacket, black button-up shirt, black pants, gray belt, black shoes. The main difference between your’s and Dante’s, though, is the fact your tie isn’t red and is instead gray, like your belt, and there is no writing on your jacket, which is also much shorter than Dante’s trenchcoat. The outfit also has adjustments to fit things like your tail and wings. It’s made for your body exactly. The body you were forced to have. The one that’s changing to grow less humanoid.
You groan as you rub your eyes, smacking your forehead with the heel of your palms twice. What’s even happening to you..? Why is it getting worse?
A rapid knocking on the door makes you glance up, and you sigh. “Come in.”
The door slides open a crack, and Dante peers in. “Ready to go?”
“...yeah. I’m ready enough.”
Dante tilts their head as they pull the door all the way open, watching you step out. “What do you mean? What’s wrong?”
“It’s… hard to explain.” You answer, “I… don’t know how to really say it. I’ll tell you when- if- I’m ready.”
Dante gently places a hand on your shoulder. You stare where their eyes would be if you had a head, not moving, not pulling away, not saying a word. You tense, then relax, then tilt your head down. You’re tired.
“...Looking forward to the dinner?” They ask you.
No. You’re terrified they’ll see the mouth. “...Yeah.”
—
You aren’t entirely sure what kind of restaurant this is. Clearly, it was pretty high class, especially for the Backstreets, and it offered all sorts of types of food that you recognized from all over your world. Though, you noted it primarily had Korean food.
“Wow~ Look at all of this~” Rodya muses, as if she wasn’t the one who picked the restaurant.
“Shouldn’t we wait for Effie and Saude before we order?” Sinclair meekly asks.
“I’m just figuring out what I wanna eat,” She replies with a playful huff, “What are you eyeing, Squishy?”
“Oh- uh-” You blurt out what you think you’re going to order, startled she targeted you specifically. Outside of Gregor, you seem to be one of her favorites to tease…
Speaking of Gregor…
You glance over at him, where he sits to your left. Dante is to your right. He idly stares at his own menu, his cigarette out of his mouth in compliance with the rules of the restaurant. Ryōshū, meanwhile, told them she’d “S.Y.N.C.” anyone who tried to make her stop smoking.
Gregor glances your way, his eyes locking with yours. He gives you a slight smile, and you shyly advert your gaze. He’s really beautiful in person… GAH! NO! DON’T SIMP FOR THE BUG MAN!!! RELATIONSHIPS WILL BE YOUR DOWNFALL!!!
“Sounds good~” Rodya coos, and you turn your head away as she continues talking, wishing you weren’t sitting with your back to the front door to the restaurant so you could see when Effie and Saude show up. You hope they show up soon. It’s awkward you insisted they come along and yet they’re late… then again, you rode here in a death bus with a guy who has a clock for a head and a Color Fixer who’s tired of this shit, so…
“You’re late.” Vergilius’ deadpan voice drawls, snapping you out of your thoughts. You peer over your shoulder to see Effie standing with his arms crossed, Saude gently waving, and the waiter who led them here quickly walking away to get them water.
“I hope it isn’t by too much.” Saude replies without missing a beat, and she and Effie sit down. “It was a little difficult to make it here on such short notice, after all.”
“Glad you could make it.” You tell them. You don’t miss that these two are no longer in their LCCB uniforms. Then again, all of the Sinners- excluding Dante- are in much more casual outfits. Outside of them, Vergilius, Charon, and you, no one else is still in their uniform. You’d dress out of uniform if your clothes were clean… or if you actually had a variety of things to wear.
You just try to ignore your endless series of nagging thoughts as the dinner drags on. You all order, the food comes, and you’re all in the middle of eating as conversation swirls around the table. You’re only paying half attention, but you think it gets to be about the mission.
“...and things would’ve gone better if they stuck to the plan.” Effie says, barely masking his frustration at the day’s events.
“Hey! We still succeeded at the end of it…” Rodya says with a playful pout. “Don’t tell me you’re annoyed.”
You glance at Saude, whose expression doesn’t change from her usual smile as she nudges Effie. Her message is clear: “Don’t get riled up. Let it go.”
“Why wouldn’t I be annoyed?” Effie retorts, ignoring Saude’s silent message, and you try to drown out the fight that’s starting to break out. You didn’t even know he was this frustrated at every plan he and Saude made being dashed. You’re not getting involved, you’re not getting involved, you’re not getting involved, you’re not-
“Just- for fuck’s sake- why am I even wasting my words on someone as stupid as you?!” Effie snaps, slamming down his glass, pushing himself away from the table, and storming out of the restaurant. The other patrons glance the way of your table, as do a few waiters. But, after what feels like barely a moment, everything resumes as normal. Most Sinners don’t even bat an eye outside of the occasional annoyed mutter. The only ones genuinely bothered by him storming out are Saude… and you.
When you look away from the door Effie left through, feeling guilt for not… trying to do anything. Whenever you try, there’s just more trouble. It happened back in the Lobotomy Corporation with Yuri. It happened in the casino. Who’s to safe if you try and change anything with Effie you’d even succeed? You may just make things worse again…
A prickling feeling creeps up your neck, and- nervously- you peek up. Only to see Saude with her eyes open, for what feels like the first time ever, and staring at you with an unfamiliar intensity you’ve never really witnessed before.
When she realizes you’re looking back at her, she motions her head slightly to the door. It’s not hard to guess what she’s telling you.
“I’ll… be right back.” You softly announce, pushing yourself up from the table.
“Why?” Vergilius asks you with a skeptical glare.
“Just… gotta do something. Don’t wait up.”
“[Name]- you don’t have to go do anything…” Dante reminds you, “Just sit down and enjoy dinner with everyone.”
“I don’t have to… but I should.” You don’t really want to give up, honestly. You just… need proof that what you’re doing is really worth it.
So you head out after Effie. Thankfully, it’s easy to find him. He’s sitting on a nearby bench, back turned to you, and seems to be shaking. Don’t ask why the bench has anti-homeless architecture, this is the City, you aren’t that surprised. This place is like… more evil New York. But the rats are eldritch horrors.
“...Is the anger out of your system, or do you need to blow off some more steam?” You ask, causing the man to only sigh in response and look up.
“I’m not going to take my frustrations at those idiots out on the only genuinely competent one that isn’t Faust.” Effie tells you, motioning you over absentmindedly. “...How the hell do you even deal with them?”
“I think I despise myself too much to honestly think negatively about others.” You reply, getting a weak laugh from him as you sit down. The two of you sit side by side in silence, the darkness of the night sky barely being broken up by the series of streetlights. This part of the Backstreets is right by the Wing itself, so it’s actually half decent here… a bundle of shops, restaurants, and even some tourist traps… It’s not the worst place you’ve seen.
“...” Effie scowls, “Gah- I honestly just want to strangle those idiots- They ruined everything Saude and I planned. And for what?”
“...we did still succeed.” You remind him.
“Still! Hours of careful planning- going out of our way to make the most foolproof plan we could. And for all the hard work to mean nothing! We didn’t even get a ‘thank you’. I think anyone would be pissed if everything they did meant nothing because a gang of morons decided to do whatever they felt like! And Saude started to enjoy it?” He groans, smacking his palm into his forehead. “I love Saude, she’s the best partner someone like me could’ve asked for, but how was she possibly able to tolerate all the shit we had to go through?”
“...” You don’t know how to respond.
“...” Effie is silent as well, glancing your way. “Why did you even come out here? You always had this look of horror at getting involved.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Do you think I’m stupid? You kept trying to get out of the mission after we got to the casino. But you still kept trying to make an effort to make the mission go well. So you weren’t lazy or anything…” He turns his head your way, “What? Did you think your presence would make things worse?”
How do you respond to that? Honesty? Lie and claim he’s delusional? What do you..?
…
Your gaze locks with Yuri’s, and she gives you an encouraging smile.
“...yeah. Yeah, I do feel like I made things worse.” You answer. “I mean- look at me. Look. I have horns, and a stupid tail, and wings, and it’s so obvious I’m not a human. People don’t view me as a person, I’m just… a thing. And I’m a thing that makes people’s lives harder. I want to help and make things better, but it’s like the world itself tries to reverse anything I do.”
“I’m not supposed to be here, Effie.” You continue, feeling the sting of tears in your eyes. “I wasn’t supposed to be a part of this mission considering how rushed the plans were for me, I can’t even disguise myself because of how I look. I- I can’t change anything. I want to change things and… and I can’t. I couldn’t save Yuri. I couldn’t stop something wrong from happening on the first floor of the casino. I couldn’t even get the Golden Bough successfully on the last mission even though it was in my hands. I’m- I’m just a useless demon…”
“Hey…” Effie says with a nudge, “For your information, I think you made the shitshow that was today a lot better by being actually useful.”
“Useful..? Useful?” You echo, “In- In over half the fights I either stood around aimlessly or got injured! How- how is that useful!?”
“You managed to actually wrangle a group of idiots better than the clockhead could.” He reminds you, “And considering no one else could do that, you’re pretty damn impressive. You have more respect from one Sinner than all the Sinners have for Dante combined.”
Do you..?
“And for your place here being wrong..?” Effie shrugs, leaning back, “Your presence was unexpected, but not unwelcome. If people really didn’t want you around, you wouldn’t be around…”
You are not a fan of the implications of that…
“...maybe you’re right.” You admit, glancing away. “It’s just… ugh… I feel like I’m going insane.”
“‘Cus of the idiots?”
“No-! I mean- partially… but mostly it’s because…” You sigh, “Would I sound insane if I claimed I could see the dead..?”
Effie gives you a confused look. “Uh- yes? What are you talking about..?”
You fucked up you fucked up- “...nevermind, forget it. Just-”
You didn’t even realize you were starting to hold your hands up until Effie grabbed one. You slowly looked his way, and he stared into your eyes with an expression you couldn’t read. You don’t think you’ve ever seen it before…
“Haha! You two lovers or somethin’?” Aida’s voice suddenly grated your ears. “Thought this cara de huevo was more into the chick who never opened her eyes, but seems he likes you more, if ya get what I’m saying.”
Now she’s talking in Spanish sometimes? You recognized she had a hispanic accent, but you didn’t think anyone spoke Spanish in the City…
Though, what really catches you off guard is when Effie flinches and pulls his hand out of yours.
“Did you-” He starts, before pausing. “Eh?”
“..?” You tilt your head, confused. What the..?
Effie slowly reaches out, taking your hand again. Though, he stares directly at Aida. She blinks in response, and all three of you realize Effie can see the dead woman too, judging from his gobsmacked expression.
Aida starts cackling, and you gape. “You- you see her too?! YOU HEAR HER TOO?!”
OH! OKAY THEN! LET’S JUST DRAG EFFIE INTO YOUR “SEEING DEAD PEOPLE” THING, HUH?!
“For a second I thought you were schizophrenic, but-” Effie tries touching and taking his hand off yours, “Oh jeez- that- that’s the Los Mariachis boss… haa… you can actually see the dead.”
“HOW ARE YOU DOING IT TOO?!” You sputter out, very glad it’s only you and Effie out here.
“You think I know?” He asks, raising a brow. “Just… wow. Seriously, wow. How- why-? Do you even know..?”
“...no.” You admit, partially confessing the truth and partially lying, “...sometimes, when people die, they just… stick around. Looking like how their corpses did right when they died and they sometimes just… show up. Then go away after a bit… I’m kinda getting used to it..? It’s still weird though.”
Effie just lets out a weak laugh of disbelief. “The only competent one I met for the first time today is the assistant manager… who’s a demon… who can see dead people…”
“Are you in shock..?” You nervously asked, pulling away, “It’s weird, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean-”
“Don’t apologize!” Effie huffs at you, “Do you know how many opportunities this opens? The fact that ghosts exist? The things your existence reveals- holy crap, [Name], this is- is…”
He lets out a winded laugh, shaking his head. “...I’m guessing no one else really knows, eh?”
“...no.” You admit with a weak voice. “Please- please don’t tell anyone. I don’t think it’d be a good idea for people to find out or-”
“Hey, hey. Calm down.” Effie tells you gently, “Calm down. I won’t tell the dorks you’re stuck with, but I’m telling Saude. She won’t tell anyone either. You’re safe, okay? No one’s gonna force you to suffer because of this.”
You don’t believe him.
Effie just sighs. “Hey, I’m not the kinda guy to blab to the world. Secret’s safe with me, alright?”
You nod slowly, a little nervous. A little skeptical. But Effie doesn’t seem like a bad person… you could trust him, right..?
“Doing better?” Saude asks, and you and Effie look back to see her coming out of the restaurant and approaching you two.
“Still annoyed, but…” Effie glances your way, “...a bit better now that I got it out.”
You smile faintly. “Okay, uh- let’s head back in now. I’m sure if we spend much longer out here we’ll get in trouble.”
“Hey.” Effie suddenly says, nudging you. “I think they can wait. After all, if I go back in there, I think I might try stabbing one of them with a fork.”
“Let’s go on a walk.” Saude suddenly encourages, “The three of us. After all, you don’t exactly seem comfortable with them. It’ll be good for you to get some air.” How did she notice that?!
Effie helps you up to your feet, and you’re just relieved Aida left as Saude places a hand on your shoulder, and the two sort of take you along as they start walking down the streets.
It’s barren, despite Night on the Backstreets being hours away, and the dim twilight is disrupted by the streetlamps and light from the inside of stores. Some people within the buildings glance your way, but you’re able to ignore the occasional stares as the LCCB duo let go of you, but hover close, idly chatting.
It’s a lot less oppressive than being around the Sinners… why’s that..?
“Hey, [Name], are you that impressed with your uniform that you’re flaunting the thing around right after you got it?” Effie asks, playfully teasing you.
“It is rather nice.” Saude asks, “Tailor-made too. Glad Faust had the decency to ensure what you wear fits you well.”
“Oh- uh- actually… this is the only clean outfit I have. Well, outfits..? Because I have multiple of these uniforms and- why are you looking at me like that..?” You shyly ask in response to the blank stares these two are giving you.
“Seriously? All you have are uniforms and the outfit you had at the casino?” Saude asks, utterly shocked.
“No, absolutely not.” Effie says, looking over at Saude, “We can excuse clothes shopping as a business expense considering it’s for an employee, right?”
“We can come up with a few good excuses.” She agrees.
“Woah- Woah! Wait, wait! My uniforms are fine! I- I don’t need-”
“Do you even have sleepwear?” Effie asks, at your lack of response, he chuckles, “Yeah, thought so.”
“C’mon, [Name],” Saude encourages, “This is for your own good. Now, don’t worry about a thing, and let us help you.”
“I…” At the smiles the two give you, your willpower fizzles away, “...okay, okay… I’ll do it.”
And with that, the two chipperly lead you towards a series of stores.
—
“[Name] has been gone for forty-seven minutes.” Faust answers calmly in response to Rodion’s question. The third time she asked that, actually, in the last ten minutes.
Everyone stands outside the restaurant, and to say I’m worried sick is an understatement.
“What could possibly be taking them this long..?” Sinclair asks.
“I never should’ve let them go out after Effie.” I mutter to myself, “Especially in the Backstreets when they’re unarmed. What if they got hurt? What if I let them get hurt?!”
Heathcliff scoffs. “Ain’t it obvious? They abandoned us.”
“Assistant Manager Esquire would never!!” Don Quixote screeches back, “Do not sully their good name with mad accusations! And yet… perhaps they have been kidnapped!!”
She continues on her loud rant until a glare from Vergilius shuts her up. But Don Quixote being quieted doesn’t mean the chaos within the Sinners died down. I’d have to be insane to think that [Name]’s disappearance didn’t cause whatever order there was to be broken down.
If this goes on any longer, I think someone’s going to kill someone else.
Some of the Sinners look dismayed, others look pissed, and some seem confused or unphased. It’s a chaotic mix of “oh god, where is [Name]? Are they okay?” and “I’m going to find them myself and rip off their tail with my bare hands”. And no one knows if they’re okay or not. Only Vergilius seems generally apathetic to their disappearance. And-
“[Name] is alive.” Faust suddenly announces, causing everyone to immediately shut up and look her way as she looks up from her tablet. “They’ll be back in a moment, unharmed.”
For a moment, everything is silent, before the chaos breaks out again, but ten times as worse. I just shrink away from it, and try to get as far out of the blast radius as I can when Don Quixote and Heathcliff seem to break out into a fistfight.
I just look away, and notice a figure with two large horns sticking out of their head, with two more human figures next to them, coming up the street. And I can’t stop myself from rushing to meet them.
[Name] flinches back as I come running up to them. “[Name]! You’re- you’re…”
My gaze falls to the many bags Effie and Saude are holding. Even [Name] is holding one… What the..?
“Dante!” They yelp back, the wings on their head fluttering as their snout curls up into a nervous grin. “Oh- I… I… ohmygoshimsosorryIletlmyselfgetcaughtupand-”
“Are you okay?” I ask them, “You disappeared and we didn’t know if you were alive or not-!”
“Calm down, Dante,” Effie tells me, “[Name]’s fine. We just did them a favor and grabbed some things they were lacking in if they’re now a part of the LCB.”
“We probably should’ve notified you before we left, but it was for the best we did it sooner instead of later.” Saude adds, “Right, [Name]?”
[Name] hesitates, their mismatches eyes wide. “I… uh… Dante, I’m so sorry. I totally should’ve told you I was leaving or did what I could to get back sooner, but Effie and Saude were just taking me to get clothes, considering my number of outfits is… very limited.”
Huh..?
“I totally get it if you’re mad! I- I won’t do it again and-”
“You went to get clothes..?”
“Uh- yes.”
I balk, startled and panicked. “If you needed clothes, you totally could’ve just asked me! I’m more than willing to help you out with anything you need. If you need clothes, I can get you clothes! You don’t need to go with…” I gesture at the two members of the LCCB, “Them.”
[Name]’s expression shifts, and their wings droop. They’re so adorable I just want to hold them in my arms and never let them go I want them to be mine- “I… okay. I mean- I don’t need clothes anymore. I have plenty now, but… sorry.”
Effie mumbles something in their ear I can’t hear, and they nod slightly in response. They perk up slightly and peer behind me. “Hm? Dante? What’s happening..?”
“Oh- OH!” I try to keep them from looking at whatever’s happening back there. Focus on me for five minutes, won’t you? Just looking at me is enough… “Don’t worry about that. I can handle it.”
[Name] just nods slowly, not believing a word I say, and Effie and Saude share a look I can’t help but despise.
“Come on, let’s go.” I encourage them, offering [Name] my hand.
[Name] sputters, quickly taking the small horde of bags from Saude and Effie, saying something I can barely hear to them, and trying to give them a wave as they walk past me and to the bus. I don’t look back as [Name] yelps when being essentially ganged up on by the Sinners for disappearing. I don’t look back as they yell at me for help.
All I can do is stare at the smiles Effie and Saude have because of [Name], and hate them.
–★★★–
You let out a quiet sigh when you walk out of your and Dante’s shared room to find a private space to prepare for your plan, gently closing the door behind you. Okay, you got tons of options to practice in where no one is likely to walk in on you… what you need though is something with a small item you can pick up and put in one of your pockets, a reflective surface, and room to move about. Which would be the perfect place to go..?
“Assistant Manager Esquire!” A shrill voice rings out, as Don rushes up to you, taking your hands in her own as her eyes look red. Well, the whites of them. We aren’t at Sancho yet. “How fares your head? I apologize for my grievous error in which I brought harm to you! Any punishment you wish upon me, I shall accept, for I have failed you.”
Where’s this coming from?! “No, no! Don, it’s fine, I’m-”
“You are not fine!” She screeches back, “I’ve witnessed the blood upon your clothes! I… I have failed you.”
She looks like she’s about to cry… “You’re… not going to give up on the idea of a punishment, aren’t you..?”
She shakes her head in response.
“Okay… uh… you…” It takes a moment of thinking, “You have to use my name now. No more nicknames.”
Don looks like you just asked her to shoot herself in the face. By that, you mean she looks horrified but somehow willing..? “Very well, Assis- I mean- [Name]...”
“Okay, uh-” You snap your fingers into fingerguns at her, “I gotta go now! Gotta do… demon taxes.”
“Demons have taxes?”
“Yeah and they are brutal, so I gotta make sure I’m all prepared and… stuff. Don’t wait up.”
“Wait!” Don pipes up, following after you, “Why dost thou not simply to thy’s “taxes” in thy’s room? Surely that would make sense!”
Oh shit-
“Don’t wanna bother Dante with the paperwork and stuff… plus, it’s pretty secretive.” You lie to her, “You know- I don’t wanna be a hindrance after the stunt I pulled a bit ago…”
Don stares at you, eyes sparkling. “Thou can use my room, then!”
“Huh?”
“I shan’t use my room for the next hour or so! Surely, that is plenty of time for you to put it to use!” She nods, grabbing your hand, “Yes, yes! Come along, fair [Name]! My abode awaits!”
Eh… guess it’s not the worst room to use…
With a euphoric giggle, Don opens the door to her room, and you step inside. Huh… it’s just a wee bit bigger than Dante’s room.
If you had to describe Don’s room… well, you’d have to admit it looks just like you expected. Every available surface, save for the floor, is covered in Fixer memorabilia and merchandise. There’s a bookshelf, desk, bed, and a few shelves, a door to her bathroom and closet, and the space is entirely cramped. It’s a strange mix of messy and organized. And, just your luck, there happens to be a small hand mirror set down on the desk.
Don jabbers your ears off as she haphazardly clears a spot of her desk for you, before turning to you with an excited grin. “Farewell, my fair [Name]! Please do not fuss with any materials within my room.”
And with a wave and giggle, she practically skips out of her room and closes the door behind her with a thud.
Well… not expected, but pretty damn decent. Now you just gotta practice…
You position the mirror so you can see yourself, grabbing a random pen you found and setting it right in front of the mirror, and move to stand in the center of the room.
Okay… now to do the thing again… just focus… focus… focus and…
Color inverts around you, and time freezes just like that, and you start counting the non-existent seconds. It doesn’t take long for the nausea to creep in and for you to immediately relax and let time resume. You take a moment to breathe, and do it again, relieved to find you were able to keep time frozen for one more second.
Again. Until you can do at least two minutes.
It takes awhile, and with time regularly being frozen, you aren’t sure how long you’ve been at it. But around the one minute mark, you started moving around too, trying to get as close to your original position as you could when time resumed. At the one minute and thirty second mark, you also added in grabbing the pen and putting it in one of your pockets.
You do this at least ten times when you reach the two minute mark.
Two minutes should be more than enough time to freeze everything, steal a few K Corp ampules, and get back to your original position.
And with this, you should have everything you need to save Effie. All you need to do is stop the bleeding and patch up his wounds, and he’ll be okay!!
Warnings: Obsession and other general yandere behaviors; violence; blood; gore; gambling; blunt force trauma, MC is slowly losing it but don’t worry they’ll lock in; death; general dark stuff found in PMoon games; swearing; white boy dance; French bullying
Note: IM SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO POST CANTO 2 IS SUCH A DRAG TO WRITE FORRRRRR
Tags: @piercing-gaze
–★★★★★–
Now that you’re outside the building, all pawn shops in the nearby area have completely shut down. Not one is open. But… you don’t blame them, not really. Not when this shitshow is going on outside.
At least someone managed to drag Don out when you all fled the building.
“Ey you pricks!! Stop right where you’re standin’!” One of the Tingtang members orders, “Ya think you can get away with messing with our family, tiny fave?”
“What’s with brutish Syndicates and their pretend families? Is that the only thing they can think of to bond with each other?” Ishmael dryly asks.
“...wasn’t there someone on the ship you cared enough about to consider family?” You ask her, furrowing a brow. You know her relationship with Queequeg, so you can tell if she’s going to bullshit you on this.
She just rolls her eyes in response and mutters something under her breath.
All you heard from it is her calling you a “dumbass”...
Though, from the way Dante looks over, you think they caught what she said.
Eh, doesn’t matter anyways… you don’t see yourself ever really getting close with her.
“Look at the bump you made on our precious young’un’s head!”
Ishmael just scoffs and doesn’t say another word.
“Good gracious… This was not part of the plan…” Effie laments, clutching his head and looking genuinely done.
“...sorry, I don’t think any plans are going to be stuck too.” You tell him, watching Don run and stab one of the Tingtang members while screeching about justice. “...not with this group.”
“Way to state the obvious.” He retorts with a pointed look.
“Well, clearly you need someone to, considering the fact you think any plan you had in place will work.” You reply with a glare.
“You-”
“Okay, maybe don’t bicker?” Saude interjects, stepping between you and Effie.
“...sorry.” You apologize, “Just frustrated with everything going on. I shouldn’t take it out on you.”
The two LCCB members stare at you like you spoke in a foreign tongue.
“...oh don’t tell me people admitting they were in the wrong is a rare sight here-”
How is it that you seem to have the most emotional maturity out of everyone here, combined, when you are constantly boarding on a mental breakdown bad enough to have Carmen burst into your head with a devious smirk?!
“You two, you thought we were worthless scum until now, didn’t you?” Outis suddenly speaks up, “I know you’ve been seeing our group as sewage full of waste!”
“I don’t think anyone spoke of us that harshly, Outis…” Gregor tells her with a tired look.
“I think they’re just disappointed in us.” You add, placing your hands on your hips. Gah- you forgot about the hip wings… suddenly stuffing claws into them is not a pleasant sensation.
“Have you not wondered why we have been charged with the momentous mission of claiming Golden Boughs despite that?” Outis questions, behaving like a commander of an army. Which she once was, you think.
“Wh- why is… that?” Effie asks, giving her a confused look. He seems a bit taken aback.
Fair, she did suddenly speak up out of nowhere… in the middle of a fucking battle field.
…holy shit Ryōshū just disembowled that guy-
“Although I won’t disagree that the others are rubbishes drenched in foul water…” Outis continues, earning looks from everyone.
“...No, seriously, you’re the only one who says that…” Gregor says, looking gradually more pissed.
“O- Oh, that’s what Ms. Outis had been thinking all this time…” Sinclair weakly says.
“I have remained undefeated, and our manager is capable of resuscitating us, making us practically incapable of death.” She continues, “In fact, just the two of us should be sufficient. Not even is that useless demon that only stands around and deflects any blows at the manager is necessary. Though that weasel Vergilius seems to disagree…”
“...don’t.” Gregor says, not even trying to hide how ticked off he is anymore.
But Outis just ignores him, “The point is, these detrites won’t be scrapped even after countless battles. They will come back as the exact same piles of trash they were before death.”
“That was a very inspiring way of reaffirming that we’re living, breathing garbage to you.” Ishmael says with a glower.
You sigh, not even really hurt by her comment about you. Because she’s honestly right. Nothing would change if you were gone. You have no purpose. “Congratulations, Outis. I think you just made everyone on Mephistopheles hate you. You just knocked Heathcliff off the podium of “most hated sinner”. Hope you’re proud.”
“Oi! Why am I the most hated?” Heathcliff asks, pissed.
“You were, and mostly because you kept trying or actually did beat the shit out of people for comments or attitude. Maybe if you, I dunno, stopped, more people would like you.” You snap at him, trying to keep calm. You’re not really succeeding… “Like, c’mon man, it’s kinda obvious. I’m sure you’re a great guy somewhere under all that unbridled rage, but if ya keep being a jackass, no one will want to talk to you. Like… think, maybe?”
He grumbles, but seems to listen to you. At least enough to not try and bash your skull in…
“…Morons.” Effie mutters, looking like he regrets taking this job.
And, for a moment, the space seems to quiet as all the Tingtang members seem to be entirely dead.
Though, it isn’t easy staring at a sea of bloodied corpses. Of corpses of real people who had real relationships.
You wonder how many parents died in this fight.
“Hey, c’mon, you don’t need to stare at it,” Gregor says, coming over to turn your head away from the scene, seeming to catch whatever haunted look came across your face. “Look at something else, alright?”
You make a quiet noise of agreement. It’s hard to really speak right now.
“They made for pathetic foes. That was absolutely nothing.” Ryōshū says with a slight angry glint in her eyes, tossing aside the butt of her cigarette and swiftly lighting a new one with robotic efficiency.
Effie scoffs. “The Tingtang Gang had tight control over this area. This is not going to be the end of-”
Unfortunately, he’s interrupted by dozens more Tingtang gang members appearing on the street, swarming out from behind street corners like flies.
“Who sent ya haricots to mess with us?!” One bellows, and the others roar in rage at the sight of their dead comrades.
Don perks up with a shine in her eyes. “We are the proud soldiers of Limbu-” Though she’s cut off by Effie slamming a hand over her mouth. “Hmgh…”
“Have you lost it? Do you want the entire District after us?” He asks, bordering on losing his mind.
“More are coming! Give us your command, Manager!” Outis yells out, causing Dante to wince and resume issuing orders.
Though more members keep swarming out. You wonder how many of them there are.
How many of them will die today? Being cut through like a hot knife through butter. Or those people who sharpen the knives and then cut through paper to show how sharp the knives are…
…
Stop distracting yourself. You’re surrounded by people dying. Not any named characters you focused on in the story, but still…
People are dying. Even if it isn’t the Sinners or characters you know and care about.
Is it even right to call them characters anymore? Because they’re more real than you are…
…
As the number of Tingtang members that continue to join in on this fight increase, you realize that there’s too many. The group is being overwhelmed.
With a sickening crack, you wince as Sinclair’s head is bashed off (twice in one week? Poor little German boy…), and the Blades that hover around you are practically ringing like bells with how they fly around and stab any attackers who get too close to you, as you try and keep yourself between the people who cannot be revived and the gang members.
But it’s too much. It’s too many foes. And you’re just standing around. Being useless.
Even Dante is at least spouting orders. You’re just letting the Blades and everyone else do all the work.
But what can you do? Scratch at the people trying to kill you? Can you even bring yourself to kill again? What if doing that just seals you into being a monster?
…
Can you let someone like Dante die right now?
…
You can’t.
…
Good thing you have another weapon.
And, with a shaking hand, you pull out Yuri’s sword. Of course, it’s deactivated.
But you know how to turn this on. You saw her do it. You remember.
And if you need help, you know just who to ask.
The blade ignites with a hiss, and you grunt as you drive it into the skull of a charging Tingtang member.
It goes through with little resistance. But, just in case, you drag the sword down and slice the body into two uneven chunks.
In the chaos of battle, you don’t even hear the body hit the ground.
“Dammit, they just won’t stop coming!” Heathcliff yelps out, gritting his teeth, “We’ll all wear our lives out before we can even take a step inside the casino.”
“Behind you!” You yelp out, slicing through one of the many opponents who tried to land a sneak attack on Saude.
Hong Lu smiles, as if the chaos going on isn’t a major problem. “Don’t fret, Heathcliff. As long as the manager is with us, we won’t die from fatigue or other things-”
“That’s NOT the point at ALL!” Heathcliff screeches back, before shouting out a series of slurs you do not want to think about in any way shape or form.
Why are some of these slurs you recognize?
“The solution is simple: Any organization can be brought down by deposing its leader; with the head gone, the meat supporting it will break apart.” Meursault casually states as he crushes a mans head with his bare hands (even if they’re in metal gauntlets).
Haha, you want him to crush your head like that.
…
What the hell are you doing you can’t be simping for the French-
“You. You’re the only one speaking my tongue here.” Heathcliff tells Meursault with a grin, “I’m proper miffed, so let’s go break some bones, head, whatever.”
“Hence, onward we travail!” Don cries out, raising her lance as she trots after Heathcliff, Meursault following the two with his usual blank expression.
“Wait! Come back here!” Effie orders to no avail, before sighing, “…This is the crowd you’re supposed to accompany, Faust?”
“Life is full of mysteries.” She calmly replies.
“That, perhaps, is what makes it an ideal reflection, no?” Yi Sang adds.
“M- maybe they have a point?” You interject, as you try to balance both the conversation at hand at the fact you are participating in an active battlefield. “Because I don’t think the current plan will work out with all the shops closed- maybe we can pretend to be representatives of the Tingtang gang? Cus if the leader’s gone, there’s no one to verify-”
“That you aren’t actually part of the gang.” Saude finishes for you, smiling.
“Hah, at least one of these fools has a brain.” Effie comments.
They don’t know you remember this from your Canto 2 playthrough.
“Tell me where your gaffer is! I wanna see ‘im, now!” Heathcliff orders as he grabs a barely alive Tingtang member by the collar, dragging them up and shaking them violently.
The person wheezes. “The sea heart… is gonna be at the car pagoda…”
Heathcliff scoffs. “The what? Where the hell is that?! Make sense!”
“It’s probably the scrapyard nearby.” Effie explains with a huff, “Really though, are you actually planning to take down the gang’s boss? That won’t be reflected in your employee performance review or anything, you know?”
“He’s not sharp enough to calculate such things into his actions.” Ishmael mutters.
Outis scoffs. “He’s waste, bearing little relation to schemes or plots. On the other hand, he flirts closely with nonsense.”
Heathcliff scowls at that.
“At least he’s got determination.” You tell the three, “And he’s not any more of a waste than I am. If anything, he’s got more value to the group than I do. Anyways, my point is there is sense to what he’s doing.”
“Don’t put yourself down like that…” Gregor tells you, but you think you see Heathcliff smile at your words.
He’s a jackass in the beginning, but this is the least you can do. Anyways, if he likes you a bit more than the others, maybe he won’t try to kill you again.
And maybe this way, you can find out why he seems to listen to you when you try and get him to stop killing people.
“[Name] has a point,” Saude states, “If we take down the leader, you all can disguise yourself as Tingtang gang members. That way, you won’t arouse much suspicion moving in a large group, and you’ll be able to reach the top floor without much trouble. And we could siphon some wishpower from the Tingtang Gang while we’re at it.”
You nod slowly, chest heaving as the battlefield seems to finally go quiet…
Guess all Tingtang gang members in the area are finally dead.
…
How many did you kill? Two? Three?
What kind of person loses count of the people they murdered in cold blood?
Then you remember the money you just got. It’s still in the same place, and you go over and grab the bag. You wave over the closest Blade, wincing as both fly over.
If they were dogs, their tails would be wagging.
“Can one of you guys please take this to the bus? Just knock on the door till someone opens it then drop this off in Dante’s room, if it’s not a bother.”
The Blades slowly turn to face each other, then immediately start fighting.
“Oh my god- HEY-!” You screech at them, feeling devastated, “CUT IT OUT! Cut it out… I just wanted to know if one of you was willing to help out…”
You let out an incomprehensible noise of pain, causing literally everyone to slowly look at you.
At least the Blades stop fighting. Small win…
You want to go lay down on the floor for an hour.
“Just… one of you do it.” You weakly tell them, setting down the bag and just trotting onward, trying to ignore the buzzing negative thoughts out of your head.
You’re a terrible person.
–★★★–
To say I’m concerned for [Name] is an understatement.
They seemed to constantly exist in a state of anxious panic, almost aimless with every step they take yet worried all the while.
Of course, a part of me both understands and relates to this. After all, it wasn’t long ago I myself lost all my memories and had to learn everything that I apparently once knew all over again.
But [Name] got dropped into an alien world with no knowledge and keeps being dragged around into incredibly dangerous situations.
On their first day they had to watch a woman they clearly had an emotional attachment to die in their arms. I wouldn’t be surprised if they blamed themselves for her death.
Though… a part of me feels… strange, when I think about this. I’m not sure why…
My eyes- do they count as eyes?- fall onto their form. They’re trying to keep a distance from the group, but, strangely enough, Gregor’s doing what he can to stay close to them.
It feels… off that one of the Sinners is doing what they can to stay close to the assistant manager. My assistant manager.
I brought them into this world, didn’t I? They’re contract bound to me, so… why does it feel like they’re trying to remain distant from me in particular?
“Hey, [Name]?” At my voice, they glance back my way. It’s impossible to miss how tired they look, as if the day so far simply exhausted them. “If you need, we can stop for a moment. I don’t think anyone here wants you to overwork yourself…”
[Name]’s face scrunches up into a scowl for a moment, though quickly smooths out into a blank look. “No… no. I’m fine, let’s just get this over with quickly… not like I did anything to tire myself out anyways…”
That last part is merely a mumble, but I can’t miss it.
If I didn’t notice they seem this bitter until now… what else have I missed?
How can I miss so many of the struggles they’ve had?
Or how they seemed to know the Sinners beforehand, if that note I found means anything…
My hand instinctively falls to that note I found stuffed into one of the pockets on the coat I lent them yesterday. After they went to bed, I couldn’t stop myself from rooting through noticing that small lump in the frontmost pocket in the jacket. And in it, I found a note.
‘You and I need to talk [Name]. Go to my room after your shift. I know you know why.’
The handwriting was neat, but rushed. And, unfortunately, I don’t know who’s handwriting it is. Or why it was in the pocket. Or why [Name] seemed to ignore it.
Did they even notice they got the note? I should ask them about this later…
…
Maybe it’d be a good idea for me to reach out to [Name] more. They seem to be purposefully isolating themselves… surely nothing in their contract prevents a friendship between us, right? And they probably want to be less alone… right?
So I quicken my pace a bit to catch up to them, trying to make small talk to learn anything about them. They hesitate, but shyly play along.
Though I don’t miss the feeling of holes being stared through me, and my gaze locks with Gregor. His expression is unreadable, but it’s not one of neutrality.
No, he seems silently pissed.
But the moment he notices I’m looking at him, his gaze falls blank and he adverts his gaze forward.
…
Haa… he’s going to be a problem, isn’t he?
–★★★–
“Ohh…? Come hither, fellows, and lend me your gazes!” Don Quixote calls out, darting over to the junkyard filled to the brim with towering stacks of cars, as she peers through the windshield of one.
“…What is all this?” Sinclair asks, hesitantly following suit. You tag along, and peer in, only to see…
A jar full of paper cranes and tons of photos of children. Some with their families, and some just joyfully looking into the camera.
…
…
“Cars are heaped upon each other as if to form a tower.” Yi Sang notes, peering up.
“Sombre.” Meursault bluntly adds.
“Why are so many piled up like this…?” Sinclair asks.
“Oho, some have scripts upon their wind-shields! It must have been their families’ writing!” Don Quixote calls out with sparkling eyes. As if none of this is super fucked up to look at. As if she doesn’t care.
“This one says… “I miss you.”” Sinclair notes with a grimace, “The owners… are coming back soon for them, right…?”
"Not a chance.” Rodya says, her smile a bit strained. “Even if they did return from the casino, they wouldn’t be in the right state to happily reunite with their loving families~”
“...are you, familiar with stuff like this?” You ask her nervously.
She glances down at you, fingers tangled in her hair absentmindedly. “Mhm…”
“……” Outis is silent, and you recall she’s supposed to be based off Odysseus. You wonder what her Canto will be like… not that you plan to experience it in person.
“Well… To play the auxiliary role of your tour guide, this here is the hidden landmark of the street.” Saude explains, “The bitter end of gamblers. And this served as a stepping stone for the Tingtang Gang to amass wealth and power by dealing used cars.”
You can’t stop yourself from grimacing.
Gregor takes a quiet drag of his cigarette, looking over at Rodya. “So Rodya, you’ve been to places like this pretty often, right? Got anything to add? Bet you could tell us some pretty interesting trivia.”
“Gah~ Dunno, dunno. Don’t ‘member a thing. I decided to forget all about the past and focus on what’s in front.” Rodion’s smile falters, “…And I would be able to keep to that self-promise if not for irritants like them. Heh.”
“Oi, bohnen! Who do ya think you are to goof around our turf?” A Tingtang member calls out as a small patrol of them approaches the group, “Or what, ya here to sell ya car?”
“Nay! We mount an omnibus!” Don gleefully shouts back.
“We don’t deal in organs, though? Hmm, well, I guess a pair of eyes with pupils as specially-colored as yours might sell…” Another member says.
“And whatever that thing has going on.” The first one says, pointing at you. A decent amount of the Sinners tense at that, for… some reason
You REALLY wish you figure out some way to be a human again soon, or you fear being constantly called a “thing” is going to make you lose your mind.
“So we have come to the right place! We are here for your leader!” Don Quixote yells at them, as if she’s an alien or something.
“Ya pretty bold in facing a gang. Who do ya work for?”
“We serve under Limb-!” As everyone gives her a look ranging from “please shut up” to “shut your mouth right now before I beat you to a pulp”, Don slowly shuts her mouth. “Kehm…”
Never in your life have you heard a more awkward silence. And you’ve gone on some really awkward dates.
“I asked you a question! Don’t stop midway!” The first gang member calls to the group.
“Just take us to the guy in charge!” You tell him, “Then you’ll find out.”
They take a moment to discuss with one another, before shrugging and sending one guy to go get the boss.
You did not expect that to work as well as it did… and judging from how confused the others look, neither did anyone else.
Maybe you like… rolled at Nat 20 on Charisma or something, who knows?
“Hm? What’s up?” The boss asks as he shows up, eying the group with scrutiny.
“Boss! Some fasole who haven’t even told where they’re from rolled into town all of a sudden!” The first gang member explains with a huff.
“Who sent ya? The way you’re dressed tells me it ain’t Los Habaneros or the Butchers…” The boss then snidely grins, “I’ll give you a chance to grovel fer forgiveness. Do that and I’ll let ya leave with your limbs in tow.”
Yi Sang pauses for a moment. “…We should gladly part if you were to take off your clothing for us.”
All of the Tingtang members stare at the depressed Korean in horror.
“That makes it sound kinda weird.” Gregor adds, grimacing slightly.
“Boss… I think they might be the… odd pods people have been talking about… y’know, rumored to fadangle with people’s odors.” One member adds, before focusing on you. “...wait a minute-”
Oh no.
“Greh… Disgusting bunch… Lemme tell ya, that’s no way to live…” The boss mumbles, staring at us in genuine disdain at only hearing the first part.
“HOLY SHIT, IT’S THE DRUG DEMON!!”
“I’M NOT A DEMON AND I DON’T HAVE DRUGS!” You screech back, feeling emotional pain on a level only experienced by college students who just got partnered up with two people that don’t do any work for a group project that’s worth 50% of their grade.
“…I have not wanted to win a fight as desperately as I do now.” Dante admits. “[Name], please don’t participate in this fight.”
“What? Why?” Did you fuck up? What could you have done??
“Just trust my judgement.”
“...o- okay.” Please don’t tell say they figured you out…
And when the fight does break out, you just stand there. Watching silently. Feeling more useless than usual.
“...I see your manager has a favorite.” Effie suddenly mentions to you, as both he and Saude also are not getting involved in this fight.
“What makes you say that?” You ask, looking over at him.
“You dense or something? They went out of their way to keep you out of harms way.” Effie answers with a roll of his eyes, “Probably because you look like a sopping wet cat…”
“Says the guy who looks like he recently got out of an emo phase…” You mutter, causing Effie to snort.
“Ironic the one who looks like a demon is saying that…”
“At least my music taste isn’t just a bunch of people singing the most tragic things ever…”
“Well-”
“Guys…” Saude suddenly interjects, though she doesn’t look as annoyed by the banter as you expected.
You both stare at her for a moment, before she smiles. “At least I don’t listen to any emo music.”
Both you and Effie are silent for a moment, before the three of you giggle at once.
Guess they seem to like you… at least, they like you a bit more than they like the Sinners.
“Ya… tarned little roaches…” The Tingtang boss mutters, collapsed onto the ground as you realize the fight seems to be over. “Who the hell do ya work for…? ‘S about time… ya told us…”
“We…” Gregor answers, seeming a bit upset by the roach comment, “…are from Limbus Company. Finally. One less millstone ‘round the neck.”
“That…doesn’t…help at all…!” The boss sputters out.
“Oh, and for reference, Effie and I work in a different department. Please don’t associate us with them.” Saude suddenly interjects, waving a hand at the Sinners. Heathcliff and a few others scowl at her, but don’t try to start a fight.
The Tingtang boss just stares in confusion, before groaning and ceasing all movement.
“Is- is he dead?” You worriedly ask.
“Nope.” Gregor answers you, “Why? Something about that guy worries you?”
“I- I just-” You hesitate, “...nevermind.”
It may not be a good idea to just spout about your issues with murder… especially after you killed some people.
“Do we seriously have to wear these, though? Stuff reeks of sweat and blood and… smells grody, too.” Rodya speaks up suddenly, pulling a shirt off a Tingtang gang member and holding it like it’s literal garbage. “Yuck, some hair, too… This is the first time I’m jealous of Dante’s missing eyes.”
“I can see, by the way…” Dante mutters.
“I kinda like the pattern…” You admit, staring at the shirt Rodya holds. “Though, I have kinda seen cooler outfits before…”
Like the Middle’s.
You’re so dead if you’re here long enough to get to the Ricardo bossfight.
“This looks… pretty dandy, actually? I guess their business was more successful than I thought.” Effie says, staring down at a different gang member’s outfit.
“I want that. Bagsy.” Ryōshū says, pointing at Effie’s outfit with the point of her sheathed blade.
“I- I can’t, it’s been tailor-made.” He sputters back, startled.
“…The label here says it’s good for all girths.” Dante notes, peering at the tag on Effie’s clothes.
Effie tenses at that. “Grr… W- We wouldn’t be doing any of this if you hadn’t caused that ruckus in the pawnshop.”
“I don’t mind. I’ve always wanted to try on clothes like these. It’s like we’re filming a movie.” Hong Lu chipperly says, pulling off the boss’ shirt and putting it on himself to see if it fits.
“To be honest, I’m a little nervous. It’s been a while since I’ve worked in disguise.” Ishmael admits as she takes some clothes off a corpse.
“I don’t feel like it.” Ryōshū mutters with scorn, “This is the coward’s way.”
Saude’s smile is strained. “Sorry, but can someone please keep her mouth shut?”
Gregor shrugs. “…You’re free to try as long as you’re good with your ribs being cut apart.”
For some reason, that managed to draw muffled laughter from a good few of the Sinners. Effie just scoffed and he and Saude moved on to explain to Dante how the Wish Canister worked, leaving you alone to go work on finding a suitable disguise that somehow would fit you.
“Hey, Squishy, look!” Rodya chipperly squeals out, holding up a surprisingly clean Hawaiian shirt that’s pink with white flowers. “You’d look adorable in this!”
“I…” You start, only for Heathcliff to butt in for… some reason.
“Bah, they’d look better in this!” He barks out, holding up a purple and blue Hawaiian shirt.
“It’s just-” You try to say, only for Rodya to give Heathcliff a strained smile.
“Heath~ When did you start caring about Squishy so much, hm~? Anyways, pink goes better with red. Isn’t that right?”
“You little-”
“I like both, they’d just make poor disguises!” You yelp out, stepping between the two before a fight breaks out. “I’m like… a freaky, hideous demon or… something. I think wearing something like that would make me stick out more…”
You glance at Effie and Saude. “Plus… I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to go into the casino. I’ll just head back to the bus and stay out of everyone’s way.”
“Woah- hey, bud, you know you don’t have to listen to what those two say, right?” Gregor asks, “You’re the assistant manager. They’re just… some people we gotta deal with.”
“Uhh… where’s… this coming from?” You hesitantly ask, causing Gregor to tense and sheepishly look away.
“He’s right.” Ishmael suddenly adds. “You’re stupid to think you’re just going to walk out of this.”
“C’mon Squishy, don’t cower out of this!” Rodya cheekily encourages you with a nudge.
Why is everyone ganging up on you to go into a casino..?
“Well, I-” You hesitate, desperate to change the topic and distract these people, and- “Don? What- why are you wearing the disguise like that?”
She literally just put a shirt twice her size over her uniform…
“Assistant Manager Esquire! Behold! I hath succeeded in my disguise!” She eagerly says, holding up her arms, “None shall recognize me!”
…you think you hear audible facepalms from at least three Sinners.
You just use this distraction to creep over to the LCCB and Dante.
“Hey- uh- no offense, but… are you sure these disguises are gonna work..?” You ask, gesturing at Don. Oh hey Hong Lu is copying her now.
Saude quietly mouths “what the fuck?” and Effie squints at the scene in a mix of confusion and dismay at being partnered up with people like this. Dante just awkwardly stares at them.
“...probably not.” They answer you after a moment.
Effie pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath. Saude sighs and gives you a regretful smile. “It’s for the best that we try to stay disguised. You… you don’t need to wear anything though.”
“...is it because I look like a freak?”
“...because of your demon nature, yes.” She answers after a moment.
You just sigh, rubbing the back of your neck. “Uh- I think I oughta start heading back to Mephi, then…”
Dante flinches, whirling around to stare at you in shock. “What?! Why?”
“I mean- it was brought up earlier, in the pawnshop.” You answer nervously, “I’m too… weird looking. Heck- I wouldn’t be surprised if I went in and people freaked out cus they thought I was an Abnormality! I can’t really disguise myself or logically pretend I’m a Tingtang gang member- plus, any pre-existing plan got kinda ruined, so… I thought it’d be best for me to not be here for this mission… that way I’d cause no more trouble than the trouble that will…” You glance at the Sinners, “inevitably happen, y’know?”
“No, no no no [Name]-” Dante starts to stutter out, still startled.
“Actually, Effie and I discussed this on the way here,” Saude interjects, “It’s probably for the best if you join us for the entirety of this mission.”
Dante seems to relax slightly when she says that, but you hesitate. “Are you sure..?”
“I got more faith in you than half of those idiots combined.” Effie tells you, jabbing a thumb in the Sinners’ direction. “I’d rather have you around to wrangle them than not.”
“Don’t forget about the contract.” Dante reminds you. “Your job is to protect me, isn’t it?”
“Specifically, it’s to ensure you don’t die until we can regain your head.” You lie, “It’s just I feel like my presence in the casino will bring more harm to you than if I weren’t there.”
“Look, it’s expected you go into the casino, trouble or not.” Effie tells you, “Now stop looking like a kicked puppy, grab your blades, and let’s get going.” He looks at Dante, “You ready?”
Dante hesitates for a moment, then firmly nods. Effie smiles at that.
Saude waves at the other Sinners. “As for the rest of you, you’ll act as Tingtangers, and we’ll be the croupiers. Good luck and break a leg!”
“Gah- watch the tail…” You murmur to Dante when they accidentally bump into you.
“Sorry…” They mumble back, and you try to ignore the weird look they give you as the two of you trail after the Sinners as they push the door open, and enter the casino.
—
Immediately, it’s stupidly loud and tedious. You’ve been in a casino before, and it already was overstimulating on its own with the vibrant lights and constant noises of yelling and machines trying to lull you into pulling with jingles and ringing. But in your current state?
Gah- why does your vision and hearing have to be more sensitive? It feels like you’re being flashbanged… Even a few other Sinners are shielding their eyes, and you think you catch Meursault silently putting in earplugs.
The security guards give the outfits you wear a confused look, but make no move to stop any of you from going in. You just try to ignore when they keep staring at you in particular.
Your hands move to shield your ears from the roaring wave of sound and the wings on your head twitch as they try to shield your eyes from the blinding lights. It barely helps.
Just try and get off this floor as quickly as possible. It should get better later.
“Wha… What manner of sorcery are these dazzling contraptions?” Don asks, looking around with her golden eyes sparkling in innocent delight.
You think you see Effie and Saude go with Rodya to get something… maybe chips? This place is too loud…
“Try not to go saucer-eyed at everything you see in here, Don Quixote. You're gonna make us look suspicious.” Gregor says, nudging Don.
“The patrons here've all got eyes like those of a dead fish. And they smell just like one, too…” Ishmael scowls and covers her nose with her hand, “Hell, the Tingtang schmucks smelled better than them! Do they ever wash up…?”
“I don’t think they’d appreciate you pinching your nose right in front of them, Ishmael…” Gregor points out.
“Still. This bilgy stink- I’ve only smelled it on deckhands on a ship.” Ishmael mutters, turning her head away in disgust. She was lucky almost every guest in this casino had a glazed over, empty look as they seemed entirely absorbed in the slot machines.
“Manager Esquire! Assistant Manager Esquire! Hast thou ever witnessed such a wondrous thing?” Don eagerly asks you two, darting up to stare at a slot machine in awe. “What must I do to hear the jolly bells as the other patrons do?”
“I wouldn't know… I don’t think I’ve ever been to one of these places before.” Dante admits, taking a peek themselves.
“Hey- wait!” You say with a yelp, quickly getting between them and the machine, waving your hands to deter them. “We have a mission to focus on! We can’t be getting distracted like this..!”
You try and herd the two back to the others like some deformed sheepdog, trying to keep a disappointed Don from just going back to the machine and trying to keep Dante from trying gambling.
“Trust me, I’ve gambled before in gacha games. Rarely ends well.” You continue, trying to move them as far from the machines as you can reasonably get them.
“Pray tell, what is this… “gacha game”?” Don asks, eyes sparkling.
“Video games but with gambling.” You answer. “Don’t you have them here..?”
Out of everywhere that wouldn’t have gacha games… the City would NOT be on that list. The capitalism here is too intense for that. Someone would’ve done it, surely.
“Assistant Manager Esquire! Thou has participated in the act of “gambling”?” Don suddenly asks, rushing forward to take your hands, “And done so in a video game?! Would thy please do me the honor of going into great detail-”
You’re so startled by the sudden act, you yelp as you step on your own tail and tumble over backwards. Your right horn slams point-first into the button on the machine. Unfortunately for you, it was the one in the story with the coin inside…
All Sinners, save for Rodya, slowly turn as the machine spins to life, you in a crumpled heap on the ground, thoroughly dazed from the blunt force trauma you just undertook.
“I hope Dante is being careful with those wish stickers we took from the Tingtang Gang. Making the right choices, and all.” Saude says, well out of your earshot as she, Effie, and Rodya gather a fair amount of chips.
“That manager, you mean? That was the only favor we asked.” Effie says with a shrug, “They’d better be handling it properly. ”
“Relax, you can count on Dante~ They’re one of the few people in the team with a sensible head on their shoulders.” Rodya says with a wink, “Plus, they got [Name] around to keep them out of trouble. And Squishy’s been doing a great job so far.”
“Why do you call them that?” Effie asks with a raised eyebrow.
“Well, just look at their tail-” Rodya starts with a wave of her hand towards you, only for a “JACKPOT!!” to ring out, and the machine to start spitting out chips like a toddler who just ate something green.
The gambler right next to this machine stares, chin dropped. You are about to cry. HOW DID THIS EVEN HAPPEN?! YOU DON’T HAVE THE STUPID STICKER!!
You blink, half-buried in chips, and the world- already disorienting with the flashing multi-colored lights and booming sounds of the casino- spins around and around… You manage to steady yourself slightly and look towards Rodya, Effie, and Saude. They’re staring at the scene in horror and dismay.
“Holy-” Heathcliff starts to say, and Don launches into a mix of frantic apologies and excited squeals at the sight. You think Outis plans to skin her alive with the expression the war veteran is wearing on her face.
You hear some mumbles from the casino.
“A jackpot? Which machine?”
“Wha- now? Just like that?”
You slowly look over at the gambler next to you, still drawing down at you with a stunned look, and shakily offer him a handful of chips.
“Please take these and let me die…” You beg them, before sinking into the chips with a dull, miserable whine.
“One moment, please.” A security guard asks, suddenly approaching, “May I see your I… D..? Uh- what the..?”
Staring down at a demon half buried in chips definitely is not a normal sight here… oh no…
You rub the back of your head, which stings, and pull your hand away to see it stained with green liquid. Oh, you’re bleeding.
“What’s your problem? Is it a crime to win a jackpot at a casino?” Heathcliff asks the security guard, as Gregor offers you a hand to pull you up, only to wince at the blood gushing of your head once he does. “Jeez-”
“Chance in this place does not function the way we think it usually does. One may accumulate luck for a large payout or trickle in small amounts to break even, but winning the jackpot on the first try at a machine is clearly an impossibility.” Faust explains to Heathcliff, glancing your way and pausing when she sees you bleeding out from the head.
“How bad is it..?” You ask.
“Your hair is half green.” Gregor answers with a grimace.
“Oh.” Is all you can reply with.
You glance up, and see a sorrowful Don listening as Ishmael seems to rip her a new one with a series of harsh whispers you can’t make out thanks to the ringing in your ears.
“BLOODY HELL!!” Heathcliff screeches out when he notices you injured, horrified. He looks oddly panicked for a guy inclined to kill you not even a day before.
You look down, and see your blood starting to form a puddle on the ground. It also stains half of your back. You wonder what it tastes like…
You draw your hand towards your mouth, absentmindedly licking the Enkaphlin that was once in your body. Huh, is this what Cogito tastes like..?
“This can't be happening… After everything we did to set this plan in motion…” Effie laments, looking towards the 2nd Sinner with a frustrated look, “Faust, what were you thinking, volunteering to drag these idiots along on your mission? You're supposed to be one of the most brilliant geniuses in the City- so act like it!”
Faust tilts her head. “Though I have not worked with them for long, I was able to arrive at one conclusion: I ought to become a Faust that believes in uncertainty. When the lack of a plan becomes the plan, all variables become constants. That is the "plan" as I have understood it.”
Ishmael sighs, and grabs onto you. “I’m taking [Name] somewhere calmer before they bleed out to death. Cover me.”
Dante hesitates, then nods. “Alright… It’s time for our usual gig… Kill… and be killed.”
You think after that you pass out. You aren’t quite sure.
Well, whatever happened, what you remember next is finding yourself slouched over on the stairs, feeling deft hands wrap something around your head. You blink a few times, only to come to realize you’re surrounded by everyone and Saude seems to be bandaging your head. You peer beyond them, only to see the first floor of the casino halfway to ruins, everyone down there either tearing into the mountain of chips like piranhas or desperately trying to work on the remains of the Wish Canister for anything.
“What… happened..?” You ask, trying to sit up.
“You don’t want to know.” Effie tells you, pinching the bridge of his nose. He looks like a disappointed father…
“I’m probably severely concussed and also probably liable to sue for the injuries I sustained, but I’ll be mostly fine…” You answer, “But I’ll probably be dead weight… I should head back to Mephi and-”
“You aren’t going anywhere.” A few people say in sync, and Saude just sighs and helps pull you to your feet.
“Your bleeding stopped and you aren’t displaying any symptoms of a concussion beyond the fainting, but that could’ve been from blood loss,” Saude tells you.
“You’ll be fine.” Effie tells you, “Probably.”
You just give him a deadpan look, and internally lament as you get dragged to the next floor. You try to stick to the back, doing what you can to dissuade a few Sinners from asking if you’re okay. Why does shit like this keep happening to you..? It’s like your only purpose is to suffer…
“The atmosphere here seems rather different. It appears that a different Syndicate controls the second floor.” Faust notes when everyone walks into the much brighter, but much quieter, floor. There’s also Mexican music playing. The Los Mariachis… at least after this the next few floors are fun shenanigans and whimsy until the fourth floor, where the shenanigans and whimsy die down a bit… at least it’s mostly upbeat after this.
“Hey, oigan! What’s with all the doom and gloom on your faces?” The- what were they called again? You think they were called a “Mariachi Alegre”? Dammit- why did Canto 2 have to be so basic? Rodya deserved so much better- “Don’t you know the floor rules? Sour looks are a no-no, so put a hat over your long face!”
Ryōshū scowls, “Are you talking to me? Keep staring and I'll S.Y.N.C., that what you want?”
The Los Mariachis member raises a brow, confused. “The heck's SYNC mean?”
Ryōshū’s eyes narrow. “‘Snap Your Neck Completely.’”
Dante shakes their head. “Come on, Ryōshū… Can we please stop immediately resorting to violence-”
“Ey, never mind that. This one's mug is even nastier, no? Which hand's supposed to be your eyes?” The Alegre’s gaze flicks to you, “And this thing? What is it- some kind of deformed dog? Awfully sad looking thing…”
Dante stills. “… Ryōshū, ready to throw down?”
She grins at that. “You bet, Dante.”
As much as it guilts you, you don’t step into this fight. Mostly because you have a feeling that, if you tried, you be forcibly stuck in a corner with them claiming you’re “too injured” and “need to rest” or something, all while refusing to let you walk your sorry ass back to the bus…
Damn hypocrites… you aren’t even useful…
You just lean against a wall and sigh, watching the fight as your thoughts swirl. A voice that isn’t yours tries speaking to you. You ignore it.
Just think about something, anything else. But… not how you’re useless. Not how you failed Yuri. Not how you’re a liar who’s digging themselves into a pit there’s no crawling out of. Not how-
“Ahem.” You raise your head as a random Los Mariachi’s member stands next to you, holding a sombrero in their hands. They nod at you, and you startle.
“Oh- I- I’m not sure that would fit on my head…” You admit, pointing at your unfortunately large horns. “I mean- I wouldn’t say no to a hat, it’s just… y’know…”
They consider your words for a moment, before taking a knife out and stabbing two moderately large holes in the hat, before waving their hand at you. You only sigh in response and bow your head, allowing them to slip on the hat, sticking your horns through the holes. They say something to you in Spanish you don’t understand, but- judging from the pleased smile on their face- they’re content you put on the hat.
You rub the back of your neck as they walk away, before a loud sobs echoes through the floor and brings everything to an abrupt halt.
“GAAH!!! NOT AGAIN!!!” The gambler howls out, “I lost again, dammit! Why won't this losing streak end?!”
“Oye, espera, time out! We're gonna need to do some customer care, team!” The Mariachi Alegre barks out, and everyone participating in the fight abruptly draws away to surround the crying gambler. “Dear Customer, I hope you haven’t forgotten the rules, have you?”
“B-but… That was… I just blew all of my savings…” The gambler whimpers out, an expression of horror and dread on her face you only saw in the Lobotomy Corp with… Yuri…
…
Stop thinking about her stop thinking about her-
“If you insist on ruining the mood of the table, we might be forced to throw a pañata party out of you.” The Alegre warns with a shake of their head, before turning and instructing one of his fellow members, who nods and rushes off.
You hear Gregor question what a “pañata party” is, but you aren’t focused on that. No, you’re just trying to stay out of the way enough you can talk to Yuri without looking insane.
“Yuri-” You whisper from the relatively empty part of the floor where you stand, “Yuri-!”
“Yes?” She asks you, and you look back at where she stands next to you. You hate how she still looks dead… “Ha… I like your new hat.”
“...why aren’t you around constantly?” You weakly ask her, “I- I think I’d do a lot better if I had someone who I wasn’t terrified of hurting me around… and you’re that someone… and- and…”
You miss her. Even if you can see her ghost, you miss her…
“Oh, [Name]...” She murmurs, expression shifting into one of unfathomable regret. “...I get… tired. When I’m out, I mean- I get tired and can’t last nearly as long as I want.”
Her gaze shifts away from you, and she shuffles on her feet. “...I’m sorry. I don’t want to leave anymore than you want me to, but… I’m forced to.”
She takes your hands in hers, wearing a warm smile. “I promise to come see you whenever I feel more awake, okay?”
“...okay.” You mumble, and she presses a light kiss to your cheek. You shut your eyes, wishing she felt more warm and real as her weight fizzles away. When you open them again, you’re surrounded by people who don’t care who would gladly throw you aside if they found out your lies. You’re truly… alone.
So let me help you.
“Hey, bud!” Gregor calls out to you, “What’cha doing all the way over there?”
You flinch, shifting awkwardly on your feet. “Nothing! Nothing…”
Nothing… nothing… you are nothing.
Dante motions you over, and you comply without any verbal complaint. And as you do, Don puffs out her chest with a confident smile plastered on her face. “Allow this knight to demonstrate what dancing is about!”
And then she starts doing a little cute jig. She has no idea what she’s doing, but it’s… cute. Cute enough to make you feel a bit better.
“This one won’t do.” The Alegre says with a shake of their head.
“There's not an ounce of sincerity in her moves.” The Vivaz agrees, and Don looks utterly devastated.
“What in the name of chivalry dost thou mean?!” She babbles out, dejected.
“Dance is a window to the heart.”
“Without a clear and pure heart, it loses all meaning.”
“……” Don droops, “…I find thine assessment rather disgracious.”
“This is getting further out of hand…” Effie laments, glancing the way of his partner. “What are you doing, Saude?”
“Oh, just working on our statement of apology to the company, given the way this is going!” She answers with a strained smile, scribbling down a series of ideas on a notepad.
You idly watch as the fight resumes. And yet, the fight is kinda useless… for every enemy the Sinners knock down, two more take their place. And the Los Mariachi aren’t even trying to go after anyone on the sidelines. Compared to the Tingtang Gang, they’re pretty damn honorable… Until they aren’t, but that’s later.
“I can't believe I'm saying this, but our best chance of getting past this floor…” Ishmael admits with a huff, retreating towards Dante, “… might be a dance so magnificent that it can move their hearts.”
Dante looks mock-confused. “Dance…? What is this concept of "dance" supposed to be? As you all know, my memories aren't all there…”
They’re a worse liar than you… little no one here believes what they’re saying…
“Say, Hong Lu, have you taken dance lessons or anything?”
He perks up. “I learned a little bian lian, though I only had three instructors teaching me. To perform it, I’ll need a few masks, fans, makeup, and…”
Dante shakes their head. “… We aren’t gonna find them here. Next.”
“Well, I did step on a good few feet of snobbish toffs at balls.” Heathcliff admits with a faint smirk.
“My inner voice expresses fear.” Yi Sang confesses.
Ishmael adverts her gaze. “… Me? I spent half of my life on a ship.”
“Dance is where I-!” Don gets a hand slapped over her mouth. “Hrrmph! Cease this relentless obstruction of my words!”
“A sword dance for the first time in a while doesn’t sound bad. I’ll kill it on the floor.” Ryōshū murmurs.
Outis stills. “Though the only beats I have ever danced to were morning exercise programs during roll call, if the Executive Manager so demands, I will immediately see to it that-”
“W- well, Dante… I’m good at most things, buuut, I'm what you'd call a bashful girl… when it comes to dancing. Ahaha…” Rodya muses, playing with her hair with a look of dread plastered on her face.
Gregor shrugs. “I don’t mind, except my arm might rage out of control from the stimulation and charge for the audience’s heads.”
No one even looks at Meursault. They also, thankfully, don’t look at you.
“Faust doesn’t necessarily enjoy dancing for leisure, but could gladly perform a routine if it’s for the mission’s sake.” She says with an apathetic look, “However, it’s not technical perfection they want. They’re looking for something unstable and unpolished, such as…”
“Sinclair!” Rodya eagerly calls out, and everyone’s gazes fall onto him, who visibly pales. “Wha?!”
“You busted a move or two as a kid, didn’t you?’ Rodya asks, a sly grin on her face.
“B- bust? I suppose I… took a basic maracas course at school as an elective…” You cannot comprehend why or how that was an elective at any school.
“Sinclair's in the rich boys club too? How’d you figure that out, Rodya?” Dante asks, curious.
“I can tell from the way he walks and talks.” She answers chipperly, “On the other hand, uncultured ones… Pfft… It shows, y’know?”
Rodya gives Heathcliff a sly grin, while he merely grits his teeth in response. His grip on his bat is so tight his fingers are white, but he’s not moving to fight her for the comment. Rodya, meanwhile, creeps up behind Sinclair and wraps her arms around his shoulders. “‘Kay now~ My little Sinclair, I have a very, veeeery important task for you.”
Sinclair pales, looking mildly uncomfortable as Rodya starts to move him. “Huh? Hey? Rodya? Where are you taking me-”
You just watch as Rodya seems to give Sinclair a pep talk of sorts, even though you can’t really hear it.
“Hey, bud, where’dya get that hat?” Gregor asks, surprised.
“They just… put it on. Even made holes for my horns.” You admit, adjusting the brim slightly. “I like it, honestly.”
Gregor hums in response, nodding. You can’t tell if he’s impressed or not.
“Sinclair… You can do this.” And you realize the 11th Sinner has walked onto the stage, gripping the two maracas he got at an awkward angle.
“Yeah, think of all the times when Heathcliff walked all over you…” Ishmael adds.
“I- I’m…” Sinclair swallows a lump in his throat, “Can I… Can I really do this?”
“I mean- you probably can…” You admit, “It’s pretty impressive that you’re actually capable of this, hah…”
Sinclair stares at you with a flustered look, before returning a determined nod to you. The lights dim, the music starts, and this white boy starts busting it down. Everyone else seems to be having fun too. Well, mostly everyone, Heathcliff and Gregor just look mildly bewildered, especially when Hong Lu comes over in a poncho and tries to get the others to wear sombreros too. Ryōshū and Meursault managed to acquire instruments, and are playing along to the music (Ryōshū on a little guitar you don’t know the exact name of an Meursault on a pan flute), and Rodya’s clapping and cheering on Sinclair. Might as well join in when the mood’s up, eh?
“BREAK IT DOWN, SOPPING WET GERMAN BOY!!! GO WHITE BOY, GO!!! YOU’RE DOING SO GREAT, SWEETIE!!” Your comment almost makes Sinclair freeze in the middle of playing, but he catches himself. Did you fuck up again? Why do you always do that? You should sew your mouth shut…
“The flick of his wrists… That passionately absorbed expression… Restrained rhythm… Perfection!” The Alegre notes, awed.
“It’s calm… Yet it’s the calmness that stirs my heart… This young man—he’s channeling something from within… This is sublimation…” The Vivaz adds, “He is fighting to overcome his repressed darkness and inner turmoil with the body’s motion…! Ohhh… The lingering embers of a firestorm… heating the rhythm… for gestures to be struck along… This conjures an image, one of a bonfire that has burnt through the whole night! And we are witnessing the cotillion of ash dancing atop its remnant!”
“Sorry, what?” Dante asks, very confused.
“Sinclair’s doing an amazing job.” You explain, “Something, something… the guy deserves like… a headpat or something after this.”
As the music dies down and Sinclair stands on stage, chest heaving as his cheeks are dusted in pink, all the members of the Los Mariachis are cheering and clapping.
“Young man, won’t you consider joining us? You have the potential to grow big.” The Alegre calls out, but Saude jumps in quickly.
“That boy belongs to our company. You should know that unauthorized poaching of valuable talent from their current employment is a serious crime.” At her words, the Los Mariachis member shrugs and relents.
“What a fine performance. You wish to get to the top floor, right?”
“You may pass. You have earned the right.”
The Alegre nods at the Vivaz’s words. “Be warned, though, the folks upstairs won’t be as reasonable. They have no concept of festivity in their heads.”
Sinclair strides back over, his expression notably brighter than before. “The things welling up inside me… This is what it was about. It makes me wonder why I thought it would be hard. I feel much more comfortable now.”
You reach out, rubbing a clawed hand on the top of his head. His hair’s really soft… “You did great, Sinclair. Keep up the good work.”
Sinny merely sputters in response, face flushing from pink to a bright, vibrant red that reaches the very tips of his ears. He lets out a choked squeak that vaguely sounds like an expression of gratitude towards your comment, but you sheepishly let it go and pull your hand away. You never notice the death glares Sinclair receives because of your affection directed at him. But he does.
But no fights break out as all of you move up to the next floor.
–★★★–
“What d’we have ‘ere?” A member of the… what are they called again? The Tieqiu Crew..? You can’t remember. Something, something, Rodya deserved a MUCH better Canto.
“D’you fellers have any idea what you’ve just walked into?” Another member asks, as the comically tattooed, beefy members of the Tieqiu Crew glare at the little band of misfits you’re stuck with.
“Muck about, and we’ll make unwilling contortionists outta all 'o you.” Another warns, “Then we’ll lop off your digits joint by joint and make purdy mahjong tiles with ‘em.”
Ishmael lets out a sigh. “Sheesh… Some warm welcome that was.”
“Feh, I’m not one to let introductions like that go unanswered.” Heathcliff snaps, raising his bat. “Oi! Square up!”
You flinch as Heathcliff slams his bat straight into one of the Tieqiu Crew member’s head, just trying to avert your gaze from the uncomfortably wet sounds of battle. You just fidget slightly, waiting for the fight to inevitably finish and you to finally learn what Ryōshū said in this scene.
“You’d better behave and keep your noggin safe and sound, ‘cause we might need somethin’ around for kick the can.” A member warns after a moment, as the Sinners don’t seem to be winning this fight. You tense as Dante collapses against you out of pain as he revives a very unfortunate Don, who had half of her head caved in by accident. Gah… at least you didn’t get isekai’d as Dante… you don’t think you could handle pain like this.
“I remember now… Their intimidating language is what made them infamous in the first place…” Effie murmurs to himself, giving Dante a side-eye for leaning against you instead of the table right next to them. “Rumor has it, their language is so coarse that it once inflicted enough psychological damage to reduce dozens of rival Syndicate members into gibbering messes…”
Heathcliff grits his teeth. “Oi, you lot! You'd better shut your bloody mouths while I'm bein' nice-”
“Who the fuck do you think you're eyeballin' up 'n down, little man? Keep starin' and I'll pluck 'em right outta them sockets for ya, dog-eyes.”
“Easy, don't be so hard on 'em! I cracked one open like an eggshell in the scuffle, hollered into 'em, and heard only my voice echoin' back 'cuz its empty as a drum.”
“Well brush me sideways, they don’t even got a string o’ egg noodle for brains? What’s the round thing on their shoulders, then? A bag o’ gas?”
“……” Heathcliff stands there silently, chest heaving as he slowly starts to shake.
“Hm. Wonder if they all go to the same asshole school.” Gregor mutters, his arm violently twitching as he tries to keep it from stabbing one of his allies.
“… Pft.” Rodya snickers, grinning sheepishly at the looks she gets. “I- I mean, it was kinda funny. D-don't glare at me like that~”
“… Dead.” Heathcliff whispers out, before swinging his bat with a roar, “YOU’RE ALL BLOODY DEAD!!”
You wince as you watch Heathcliff then get sent through a pool table. He’s spewing curses and sounds like the average COD lobby, if the average COD lobby was British.
Dante droops, and you realize they’re still leaning against you. “What should we do? I don't know if fighting'll get us anywhere at this point…”
You slowly pull away from the Manager as Ishmael scoffs. “What’s there to consider? We have our trump card.”
“We have what now?”
She merely smirks as she gestures to a certain nicotine addict. “Just the right person to teach them something ‘legit.’”
The three of you slowly look toward Ryōshū, who merely raises an eyebrow in response as she lights yet another cigarette. She brings it to her mouth, taking a drag as you give her a sheepish smile.
“...well?”
“W.I.I.F.M?” She asks, and you have a solid guess what she’s asking.
“Something, something… I’ll buy you a pack.” You offer, waving a hand.
“Ten.”
“Uh- three.” You offer back, startled at how many she wants.
“Seven.”
“Five. Final offer.”
Ryōshū grins at that.
—-
“After you give it a good @#$@#$ and @$#% it up, go $#%@#$ on it.”
HOLY SHIT?!
“Next up, you @%$#$^ the @$%@$% and then soak it in #$#@.”
IT’S SO MUCH WORSE THAN YOU THOUGHT AND YOUR ASS ONCE WENT ON 4CHAN FOR A DARE.
“Lastly…”
Dante is trying to cover your ears, but it doesn’t help at all. In fact, Ryōshū just started talking louder when she noticed they did. At least Rodya seems to successfully be shielding Sinclair from this hell. Every Sinner is gaping at her words. Well, the ones that show regular emotion. Hell, even Effie and Saude are horrified. Meanwhile…
The Tieqiu Crew are deadass taking notes… notebooks and pens and everything.
“Wow- she’s- she’s really talented with this stuff…” You mumble, eyes wide. “Gah- Dante, stop pushing so hard- My head isn’t a watermelon-!”
“Ack- sorry, sorry…”
“That has to be the gob of a witch, yeah.” Heathcliff almost whispers, expression contorted in a weird look of disgust and discomfort. Ryōshū, meanwhile, is spouting some words that you can’t tell if they are slurs or just normal terms.
Yi Sang nods slightly. “I am impelled to applaud the inventiveness of her language. The pen- Nay, the tongue is mightier than the sword, indeed.”
“Damn, and here I thought I'd heard my share of the sailor's mouth in all those years I'd spent seafaring.” Ishmael says with a raised brow, “Guess my vocabulary was only the tip of the vulgarity iceberg.”
“......” Saude stares blankly ahead, before taking a sharp breath. “I honestly couldn’t fathom why the higher-ups would organize a team of people like you.”
Faust hums. “It is likely that rational understanding was not in consideration when this roster was established.”
“And I’m still having trouble figuring out what they were thinking when they assembled this team…” Saude says with a shake of her head, “But, I guess… this isn’t so bad after all.”
You pull your head out of Dante’s hands, shaking the stupid lump as you catch a glimpse of Effie staring at his companion in horror.
Faust nods approvingly. “Saude, you’ve finally reached the stage of acceptance. This is a cause for celebration.”
Ryōshū is now doing hand motions to help communicate the vile things she’s saying better.
Yeah… celebration…
–★★★–
“This isn’t good. We’ve reached the top floor, but we don’t have nearly enough Wishpower…” Dante’s words make everyone stop and look back at them. Especially you, as they didn’t hit the machine. They should still have the sticker. …right?
“What? What do you-” You yelp out, “You still have all that Wishpower from that sticker, right?! I- I saw you take it and-”
Dante adverts their gaze.
“You never told them..?” Saude slowly asks Dante, who merely weakly shakes their head in response. You hear Effie mutter a string of curses, and you stare at Dante with a blank gaze.
“...what did you do with the Wishpower, Dante?”
“Okay, in my defense, you can actually talk, unlike me.” They start, “And your face doesn’t usually change expressions, so I thought you- well- you’d be a better fit to play than I would, so-”
There is enough silence that you could hear a pin drop.
“You what..?” You choke out, your voice barely a whisper. “Did- who else knew about this..?”
“Manager bud told us when you were knocked out.” Gregor tells you, “Didn’t expect them not to run this by you first, though.”
You shake slightly, staring at Dante in horror. “Dude.”
“I’m so sorry, it’s just I had more faith in you than myself and-” “Why would you just do that? What is-”
“Okay, okay!” Rodya says, stepping between you two, “So [Name] didn’t know they were gonna playing and we don’t have any Wishpower. Don'tcha worry about that! 'Cuz it's finally time to reveal what I've been itching to share.”
Everyone stares at her as she pulls out and brandishes a sheet of stickers with only one left in the corner, a sly grin on her face. “I actually pinched a little Wishpower back at the pawnshop. It’s not a lot, but it should be just enough, right?”
Saude raises a brow. “Why'd you wait until the last minute to tell us?”
Rodya giggles in response. “Like you said, gambling is all about keeping a poker face. Wouldn’t want one of us to slip up and complicate things.”
“Make her play,” You beg to no one in particular, “See? She’s much more confident and skilled than I am, please don’t make me play poker, I am so ass at poker I will literally die.”
Rodya merely laughs at that. “Well? What do you think Dante? Shall we listen to poor Squishy over here~?”
Dante nods in response, having a look of remorse you didn’t honestly expect from the guy who had the gall to just decide to make you play poker. At the table with people willing to kill you. Well, they didn’t know about the willingness of the other bosses to kill to win, but still… asshole move, Dante.
“… Had it been just a few hours ago, I would've been vehemently against this. But now…” Saude trails off with a sigh.
“Good thinking. I’ve never lost once in anything where money was involved.” Rodya chuckles. “Alright…”
And she pushes the door open to the room, and everyone else crowds around the crack left to watch.
—
“Here comes the contestant~” She says, stretching out her arms, gaze scouring the room as her smile turns into a pout and seeing only two other gang bosses there, instead of the three she expected. “Wait, I’m not the last? Aw man, I wanted to be fashionably late.”
One of the other bosses, the leader of the Los Mariachis, raises a brow. “And you are…?”
Rodya smiles. “Name’s Rodion. I’m here to gamble for the basement access rights.”
“Pfft… Hahaha!” The woman you recognize as Aida laughs at that, her voice rich in a rich Chilango accent you didn’t hear in the original voice acting, “So much for finally meeting the infamous “Wishpower Whisker” of the Tingtang Gang in person. You've got a lot of nerve for a nobody, sauntering in here like you own the place.”
“What, this your first day or something~? Haven'tcha been playing this game long enough to know it's not about who plays, but who wins?” Rodya bites back, smiling all the while.
“Well, you got me there. I suppose getting this far's a qualification on its own.” The boss grins, “A pleasure. I’m Aida. And this is…”
“Golly, my back’s hurtin’.” The Tieqiu boss says with a huff.
Rodya blinks for a moment. “…That a robot? No, a prosthetic body..?”
“What're ya lookin' at me for? Never seen a full-body prosthetic before?” He asks, glaring at Rodya with his singular eye.
“Isn't your model… a bit antiquated?” She asks, “You look like somebody plucked you right out of a museum.”
“Old is gold, as they say. Patched it up a few times, and now it’s sturdier than most new ones.” The Tieqiu boss shrugs as one of the other doors to the room is pushed open, and a man with snow white hair walks in to a glower from the boss. “Why's that boy so comfy with bein' tardy, anyhow? Arrogant brat thinks he can show up late to serious business, eh?”
The man merely chuckles in response, his voice tinged with a warm russian accent. “Pardon me. I had an urgent matter.”
Rodion visibly tenses at the sight of him, barely able to keep her shock from making her act rashly.
Aida scoffs. “Are you having a bad case of main character syndrome or something, Sonya? Are you really so hungry for attention that even our annoyance feeds your ego?”
Sonya shakes his head with a smile. “Haha, it's not like that. If anything, I thought you were always the ‘main character,’ Aida.”
Rodion simply stares in response, her hands at her side and her expression as blank as she can muster.
Sonya nods at her. “It’s been a while, Rodya.”
Aida warily glances between the two. “What’s up? You two know each other?”
“Let’s say that she's a… friend from back home.” Sonya murmurs, “Isn’t that right, Rodya?”
Rodion nods slightly. “So, are you… still leading the Yurodiviye, then?”
“Hmm. ‘Still?’ You're saying that as if we've disbanded or something…” Sonya says with a raised brow. “You were the only one who dropped us.”
Aida waves her hand. “Now now, that’s enough catching-up. Since we have all the players, let’s go over the rules again. The four bidders for the casino are all here: Sonya, Aida, the Tieqiu boss, and… the Tingtang Gang leader's… suspicious yet shameless representative.” She shrugs at Rodya’s slight grin, and continues, “We'll be playing a straight game tonight—no cheats, no sleights of hand allowed. Anyone catches you in the act, you're out. It should go without saying that anything involving Wishpower is, likewise, forbidden.”
You think if the Tieqiu Gang leader had a face, he’d be grinning. “Ooh, when I catch ya cheatin', you're goin' right on the chopping block! I'll mess ya up good!”
Rodion is silent, and slightly tense, and you catch her hand slip into her pocket. You already know the twist, though.
Aida slams her hand on the table with a smile still on her face, and the Tieqiu Gang leader’s laughter dies down. “We’ll play three games in total, and the one with the most chips wins. Simple enough? The winner will get to take the elevator to the underground section where the Golden Bough is.”
She grins. “Yes, that same Golden Bough that the former owner of this casino so desperately wanted to claim, going so far as to dig a whole tunnel system under this property to find it. Too bad they suddenly passed away for reasons unknown, but that allowed us lucky four to win the joint bid on this establishment.”
Rodion hums. “… What an elegant way to put that they died under shady circumstances.”
Sonya chuckles. “Haha, oh Rodya. I see you haven't lost your sarcastic wit.”
“… Shut it.” Rodion orders, before her attention shifts back to Aida. “How do you guys all know about the Golden Bough, anyway? Didn’t think it was such an open secret.”
“Any Syndicate worth its name has caught wind of the stories. Those about the Golden Bough buried down here…” Aida answers, “And the riches and fame it’ll bring to the owner.”
“That so?” Rodion coos, “Seems someone has gained an interest in fame and fortune, huh? I think I remember how you always used to preach to us to steer clear of such things, Sonya.”
“The Golden Bough can be used to achieve things far greater than the accumulation of capital, Rodya.” Sonya tells her, “I have never strayed from my purpose: to destroy the system of oppression and exploitation, to keep a watchful eye on the unequal distribution of wealth…”
The Tieqiu boss rolls his eye. “Yeesh, Sonya's 'boutta begin lecturin' again. Someone kick away that soapbox under ‘im.”
“My apologies. It reminded me of the old times.” Sonya says, before looking at Rodion with glittering eyes. “It’s funny how I always used to discourage your obsession with gambling and riches. Yet here we are, sitting around the same gambling table, hiding our hands of cards from each other in this game with our goals on the line. So, what is your goal?”
Rodion is tense as her gaze momentarily falls the way of Limbus Company. It merely lasts a second, not enough for anyone to really notice or assume it means anything beyond a simple sideways glance. It’s just convenience that her gaze locks with you for that moment. “… To win.”
Yet, Sonya notices. “… Of course.”
—
The first two rounds pass with little issue, and Rodya’s honestly doing great. So great most of the others have lost focus and stopped watching. Save for you, of course, but that didn’t stop the others from trying to pull your attention away. Including your blades, for some infuriating reason. At least they went away after you chucked the sombrero at them…
Aida whistles, grinning. “And here comes the final round. You all keeping a good eye on your chips?”
Rodya flashes a coy grin, sliding her generous pile towards the center of the table with a dramatic flourish. “Hm, I’m all in.”
Aida blinks. “… All in?”
“Ooh~ Dealt a nice hand, huh, Rodya?” Sonya asks with a smile.
The Tieqiu boss eyes the 9th Sinner warily. “Hah~ That swagger of yours’s been rubbin’ me the wrong way the whole way. You lose this round and you're out, y'know that? The hell are ya countin' on?”
Rodya waves her hand dismissively, a smile on her face. “I’m the kind of gal who goes for the climactic flourish of the final round wager.”
Though, Rodion’s smile fades as her wrist is catched by the hand- well, claw- of the Tieqiu boss.
“Not so fast. Pull your sleeve up. Don’t think I missed your little sleight-of-hand there.”
Gah, she must’ve done it so slyly you missed her mimicking putting on the sticker…
Rodion scowls, yanking her hand away. “The heck's your problem?”
“You just put one of them wish stickers you got from the Tingtang bossman on your arm.” He snaps with an accusatory point, “That's why you went all-in on the chips this round- so you can nab the Golden Bough for yourself. Can't fool me.”
He points at a faint glimmer of gold on her wrist. “Lookee here, all! Right ‘ere ‘neath her hand, this thing. ‘S got to be the sticker, ey?”
Rodya narrows her eyes slightly in response. “…Got proof?”
Sonya tilts his head slightly. “Sorry, Rodya, but can I take a look at your wrist for a second?”
Rodion tenses, merely staring at Sonya in response.
The Tieqiu boss scowls, waving Sonya away. “Oh no, you ain't! Don’t you touch ‘er. Far as I know, you two might be in cahoots.”
“Nooow, I’ll lay ‘er arm bare, so keep your eyes peeled, aight? I knew this sly little fox would play dirty.” The Tieqiu boss says, reaching for Rodion’s sleeve.
Aida’s eyes narrow, and she glances around the room. “Wait, something about this whole situation… this exchange… it all feels oddly familiar. Am I having a déjà-vu?”
Rodion gives a very strained smile. “You sure are small-minded for such a big hunk of metal, huh? Why are you being such a nitpicky asshole about this?”
“Didn’t they teach you that with stolen Wishpower comes strict responsibility?”
“… You’ve been watching too many movies. What stolen Wishpower?” She asks with a shake of her head, “And what if you're wrong, huh? Gonna fold and forfeit the game?”
“Hah, you’ve got guts.” He mutters, “Fine, I’ll bet all my stakes that there’s a piece o’ the Wishpower on your wrist. What do you say?”
Rodion smirks at that. “Same as yours, which means it's gonna be either you or me. So ask yourself this: am I feeling lucky? Well, do ya, dickhead?”
The boss bursts into laughter in response. “Pahahahah! Oh that’s cute. And I'm the one who watches too many movies? Anyhoo, our wager's final, ey?”
Aida places a hand in front of her mouth, glancing between Rodion and the boss. “Oh my… It's just like in that- I think I know where this is going…”
“Here goes, the moment of truth~” The Tieqiu boss says, and everyone- including you- watch him yank the sleeve of her jacket back…
Only to show a simple, golden bracelet wrapped around her wrist. The same one you gave her yesterday.
Everyone stares at her with wide eyes, but none look as stunned as Sonya does. He stares at the bracelet like it’s an enigma he cannot figure out.
The Tieqiu boss stares in silence, before snapping back like he’s been electrocuted. “Wuhuh? What’s going on ‘ere? I saw it. I saw the little fox rub ‘er wrist! There’s- there’s no way it’s just…”
Sonya takes a breath, his mask immediately returning. “That means you’re out. What a pity.”
Rodya chuckles, pleased with herself as she slides her sleeve down again. “What happens to the loser, then? Lop off a hand or something?”
Sonya shakes his head in response. “You’re joking, right, Rodya? What's the point of removing a prosthetic hand?”
The Tieqiu boss’ hands fall to his side, his singular eye staring blankly at Rodya’s wrist.
No, this is… This can’t be right…
Sonya shakes his head lightly, a faint smile on his face. “The defeated will be shown generosity, but false accusations need to be taken care of with more finality.”
“Hang on, are you…?” Aida starts, before a giant rectangle of metal comes down and crushes the Tieqiu boss into a splatter of blood.
Rodion stares at the scene in silence for a moment, before the situation hits her and she recoils from the blood staining her sleeve. “Gweh… What in the…!”
“Holy crap, that came in like a car crash! Couldn't you have put a blinker on for a warning or something?!” Aida screeches at Sonya, before pulling her hand away from what remains of the Tieqiu boss. “Ugh… Look at all the grease and spinal fluid… Bwegh.”
Sonya doesn’t even blink, and merely smiles warmly at Rodion. “Remember, Rodya? It’s that same trash compactor from our Backstreets' junkyard.”
Rodion silently stares at Sonya, and her expression is unreadable. This is the first time you’ve been unable to get a solid guess of what someone is feeling.
“Remember what I said back then?” He asks her, “That we proletariats must unite and take down the ruling class and build a new society. I even remember your reply: ‘If you mean we should round up the rich and flatten ‘em under one of those compactors, then I’m all for it.’”
Rodion shakes her head slightly. “…Small correction: I said ‘crush 'em 'til they pop.’”
“…Is that so.” He says in response. Then he raises his head to look at her in the eyes. “Rodya, are you still unwilling to return to the Yurodiviye?”
Rodion grimaces. “I…”
“We all heard that loud slam just now, right?” Gregor asks, grabbing your attention as he tries to peer around you and through the back in the door. “Hey, bud, what’s goin’ on?”
“Uhm…” You draw back, and realize, much to your dismay, a few drops of blood from the Tieqiu boss got on your face. “A trash compactor..?”
“A what?” Dante asks as you wipe the blood off your face.
“Why was there even a trash compactor?” Saude asks, also trying to peer into the room. “What does one have to do with a quarrel about… Wishpower and the like.”
Heathcliff looks over, startled. “What? Did they catch on? Oi, quit spacin' out and try turnin' that clock.”
By now, everyone is also trying to peer through the door. And Ishmael scoffs, trying to get out of the pile of people forming. “Gosh, Can you stop pushing- Ahhh!”
You yelp as everyone tumbles through the flimsy door, and you’re sent face-first into a pile of spinal fluid on the floor.
But it wasn’t just you. In fact, practically everyone else landed on the floor when the door broke in half with the amount of force pressed onto it.
Aida gapes at the crowd that just tumbled into the room. “Uh… Who might you all be…?”
“Haa… hi, Rodya…” You croak out, glancing up at her.
“You alright, Squishy?” She asks, pulling you off the ground. You just weakly give her a thumbs up.
Dante gets up next, naturally frazzled. “Rodya, how did it go?!”
“I see that you've made some new friends in the meantime, Rodya.” Sonya muses, his gaze lingering on you for a moment. He smiles, and lays his cards face-up on the table.
Sonya laid his hand of cards open on the table. “The game is over. You win, Rodion. I have no objections.”
He strides out of the room, leaving a space of awkward silence. Until a hollow clap rang out. Slowly, you turn to see Aida clapping her hands slowly. “Haha, caramba… Thanks for the spectacular game, but…” She grins as Los Mariachis members start to enter the room. “…I’m not as cool as Sonya. Since you brought your friends, why don’t I introduce some of mine as well?”
Gregor grimaces. “…Y’know, uh, I’m pretty sure I heard one of your guys say that gambling is an activity done purely for fun or something.”
Aida chuckles. “Mhm, exactly. Isn't this more fun than caving right away?”
Rodion’s eyes narrow. “You were gonna force your way downstairs regardless of who won the game, weren’t you?”
“Pfh. Think about it. Why would I give up on the Golden Bough ‘cause a round or three of some game said so, when I have the strength and the manpower to seize it?” Aida asks, gesturing to her men.
“Aight, then. I’m actually glad you’re a rebel.” Rodion says, gently squeezing your shoulder as her hand tightens around her axe. “I was starting to get bored with all this sitting around and chatting.”
Warnings: Obsession and general yandere behaviors (yanderes lowkey start acting like creeps); I decided to jumpstart on the dark tones because fuck it we ball and I need to toy with your expectations; swearing; self harm; blood; we turning Reader’s body dismorphia up to 11; starts dark then gets lowkey funny then in the next parts gets dark again; minor Canto 7 spoilers
Note: I said I wanna make this series darker than my usual stuff and I plan to stick to that promise <3
Time to figure out how to balance “teehee funny” and “OH GOD WHY IS THIS MENTAL BREAKDOWN SO DETAILED”!?!?!? Should be fun, lol
Note from future Endri: Posting this early cus idk I locked in
–★★★★★–
I’m tired.
I’m so… so tired…
…
What even am I? Am I even a person?
…
Maybe the ■■■■■ would be ■■■■■■ if ■■■■■ ■■■■■.
…
The ■■■ feels ■■■■■ in ■■ ■■■■■.
I ■■■■■ it ■■ ■■ ■■ ■■■■■■ ■■■
■■■…
■ ■ ■ . . .
■■■■■■■■■■■■
■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■
■■■■■■■■
■T■■■■■■
■■■h■■■■■■
■■i■■■■■
■■■s■■■■
■■■■■■■■■■■■
■■i■■■■■
■s■■■
■■■n■■■■
■■■■’■■■■
■■t■■■■■
■■■■■
■■■f■■■■
■■■o■■■■■
■■r■■■■■
■■■■■■■■■■■
■■y■■■■■■■■■■
o■■■
■■u■■■
■■■■
■■■■t■■■
■■■o■■■■
■■■■■
■■s■■■
■■■■e■■■
■■e■■■■
■■■■
■■y■■
■e■■■
■■t■■■
■■■■.■■■
■■■■■
■■B■■■
■e■■
■■■
■■p■■■
a■■■■
■■i■■■
■■t■■■
■i■■■
■■e■
■■■n■■■
■■t■■
■■.■■■
■■M■■
■o■■■
■■r■■■
■■e■■■
■■■
■w■■■
■■i■■■
■■l■■
■l■■
■■
b■■■
■e■■
■■■
■■s■■■
■h■■
■■o■■
■w■■■
■■n■■■
■■■■
■s■■■
■■o■
■■o■
■n■■
■■.■■
■■■■■■■
■■■■■■■■■■
■■■■■
Make sure to be prepared for what will come. I only want what’s best for you.
You’ll never be ready, but that’s okay.
You’re not allowed to die, after all.
Not yet.
–★★★–
You wake with a start, hands clawing at the skin on your head as it feels like something is stinging. And aching. And wriggling.
Something crawls through your flesh. Something unfamiliar and…
And…
…
This isn’t your skin.
Your skin is not red. It is not red. It is not red. It is not red.
These hands are not your hands. This face is not your face. This flesh is not your flesh.
Razor sharp claws, pointed like the tip of a pen, dig into this alien flesh, as if the meager tears it can make will do anything to revert you to your true body. Not this horrible fake that you’re trapped within.
You’re never going to get your actual body back.
You’re never going to be human again.
You’re never going to be real again.
You’re never going to be-
You’re never going to-
You’re never going-
You’re never-
You’re-
You’re…
You’re…
Y o u ‘ r e . . .
Y o u ‘ r e n o l o n g e r y o u . . .
. . .
. .
.
“Bad dream?”
The thundering of your heart and ragged breaths come to an abrupt halt, your gaze snapping to see Yuri standing over you, a faint smile on her face. One that stems from worry.
“...yeah. Guess you could say that…” You murmur, weakly lowering your hands. “...I- I’ll be fine, though. Don’t worry about me.”
“...You’re a terrible liar, y’know that?” Yuri tells you with a weak sigh, her gaze softening.
If only she knew…
“Do… you ever get bad dreams?” You ask, feebly hoping to change the topic of this short conversation. You don’t like thinking about the fact you have to constantly lie to everyone unless you risk death.
“I used to.” She admits, “All the time. But… I don’t think I'll sleep anymore since…”
She trails off into silence. Silence that speaks more than any words could say.
Since she died. Died in your arms. A death that you failed to stop.
The room is quiet. The only sound you hear is the faint rumbling of the moving bus and your own breaths.
“...I won’t miss the nightmares, though.” She confesses, “I think I’m going to be happier if I don’t have them anymore, right?”
“...yeah. Yeah, that makes sense.” You don’t believe your own words. “Did anything happen when I was asleep?”
“Not much.” Yuri confesses, “Though, Dante did come in here and left some food when they saw you were still asleep.”
“Really? That was nice of them…” You murmur, pulling the blanket off of you, weakly stretching your legs in an attempt to force the sleep out of your body. And the discomfort of having slept on the armchair, even if you insisted on it since sharing a bed with Dante felt… awkward.
Yuri laughs a bit. “I still can’t believe you slept in that.”
“Do you mean your jacket?” You ask, feeling yourself flush, “L- look- I barely have any clothes and it’s the most comfortable thing I had available, I-”
Yuri just chuckles in response. “Don’t worry, seriously. It fits you better than it fit me, anyways.”
“...thanks.” You say after a moment, though the embarrassment doesn’t fade. “I’m gonna get ready now. See ya soon.”
“Mhm.” Is all she responds with, and by the time you look back, she’s gone. And you’re left alone in Dante’s room.
So you get ready. Climbing off the chair, stretching the limbs you’re forced to have, and going to eat some of that food.
It’s… a pale sludge in a bowl. It looks almost like porridge, if porridge had a more… thick consistency. And the bowl is full to the brim, with the substance almost dripping down the sides.
And it’s bland. Painfully so.
“Did they even put salt in this? Or anything to flavor it..?” You ask yourself, almost gagging at the taste that you can only describe as wet flour with soggy chunks you can’t identify. “When Faust said the food was for nutrients and stuff, I didn’t expect… this.”
You manage to choke it all down, considering you barely ate anything since you got here, and don’t want any incidents from a lack of energy.
You just chug the water that was provided and go get ready for the rest of the day. But you don’t change your outfit. Even if you can still talk to Yuri, it just feels… wrong to take off the top. Like you’re taking off a piece of her. It’s clean, anyways, so it doesn’t matter if you wear it for a while.
It’s the least you owe her.
The rest of a morning routine is the closest you can make it to your usual one. The one that belongs to your real body. But the vague sense of familiarity, even if unusually skewed due to this situation you’re stuck in, is a welcome relief.
Then you leave the room and head to the main seating area of the bus.
And the moment you walk in, the air immediately feels… darker. Sure, it felt sullen the day prior, but now that literally everyone is here… it feels like any life sort of got sucked out.
It was oddly silent, though. And any sense of comfort from your routine up and died right then and there.
“Good morning, [Name].” Dante suddenly says, looking relieved to see you. If you remember the plot right, they’re probably hoping you can turn the mood around.
“Morning, Dante.” You reply with a faint smile, taking a seat next to them.
“Did you sleep well?”
“As well as I could’ve.” You confess, trying to adjust the awkward way you’re forced to sit on this tail.
“You always could’ve slept in my bed-”
“I’m fairly certain that is a major HR violation, Dante. I appreciate the offer, now and then, but I’d rather… not. Thank you.”
You think you see them visibly deflate at that, but they don’t say much else.
“What would be an HR violation?” Rodya asks you, peering down at you from the seat behind you with a slight grin.
“Um- nothing…” You mumble out, shrinking away from her. You don’t want to deal with the endless teasing she’d give you and Dante if she heard what the offer was.
“Really? ‘Cus I’m sure it was something~” She muses, leaning in closer and-
“Lighten up on them,” Gregor interjects, taking a drag of his cigarette, “They had a long day yesterday.”
“Oh c’mon, I did too!” Rodya replies with a huff, “Though… I guess you had a harder time compared to us, hm?”
The world stills…
Yuri stares at you with that gentle smile …nothing happened… then blood… then she collapses into your arms.. there's a bullet hole in the back of her head… The thread of life… starting to tear… Stop tearing… stop… stop… stop… stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopstopSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOP
A hand on your shoulder jolts you out of it.
You blink, looking over at Dante, who’s staring at you in concern. In fact, it seems like everyone who noticed you slip into panic giving you worried looks. Or at least, looking in your general direction.
You cough into your hand, scratching at one of the wings on your head as you want to curl up and die.
“Are you alright?” Dante worriedly asks, their hand still resting on your shoulder.
“Y- yeah. I’ll be fine.” You sputter out, “Don’t worry. Seriously, don’t. I’ll be okay.”
Dante doesn’t seem to believe you. No one does, actually. You just try and ignore it. They’ll probably let this go.
You look away from the clock-headed Manager, your gaze accidentally locks with Gregor’s. It’s impossible to miss the clear worry in his gaze.
Dante caring about you… makes sense, in a way. If you woke up with no memories and met someone who promised they exist to protect you and seem to be doing whatever they can to be kind… you’d trust them.
But Gregor? The literal war veteran caring about someone who he met a day ago? You didn’t expect that.
Maybe he just pities you. Or empathizes on a level no one else here really can.
Either or, at least there’s more than one person here who gives a shit about you.
At least, they will until they learn of all your lies.
You wonder when you’ll be found out. And by who? And… who will be the most dangerous if they find out?
…
You glance towards the very front of the bus, feeling mixed emotions at how closely seated to it you are. Vergilius looks visibly frustrated, if you had to describe it. The day before he seemed bitter, but you’d think by now he’d calm down a bit after the failure that occurred the other day.
But he doesn’t appear to have. At least you managed to avoid the brunt of his ire.
“Couldn’t you tell me where our next destination is now, at least?” Ishmael suddenly pipes up, her expression contorted into a frustrated grimace.
“Oh, sorry about that.” Vergilius says with a sneer, glancing back the redhead’s way, “I was wondering whether briefing the mission to you miscreants would be worth the effort.”
“More information would be nice…” You mumble to yourself, feeling apprehensive to give the Red Gaze a rebuttal that could end up with you in major trouble.
Sure… he isn’t Kali. He’s not the Red Mist. But he is the Red Gaze, a Color Fixer you do not want to fuck around with. He is the most dangerous person on this bus and could kill you without a second thought. You’re lucky to even be alive right now.
“Pah, you’re hurting me with your cold shoulder. Don’t you know that kids falling behind need more love?” Rodya interjects, mocking hurt at Vergilius’ words.
“And let me plead you not to embarrass me this time.” He dryly responds, “I sure don’t want to look like a teacher taking a bunch of gradeschoolers out for a picnic. I have high hopes for you in particular, Rodion. You might just make a good guide for this tour.”
“Huh? I know I’m a big deal, but I don’t think I can be a guide for a place I don’t know…” Rodya replies with a frown.
“No worries. We’re heading to a location you should be more than familiar with.” There’s a cruel glint in Vergilius’ eye, “A Nest of hedonism where you can drown in money or be drained of everything you have-”
“So… Las Vegas?” You suddenly ask, primarily because there’s a loud part of you that wants to spite this Fixer for all the bullshit he has and will put this ragtag bunch through.
Unfortunately, everyone is now looking at you.
“...no, [Name].” Vergilius says after a moment, “I’m not sure what that is, but clearly it doesn’t involve anywhere here.”
…there’s a layer to his words. Almost as if he’s trying to get in a dig at you.
“...god forbid I try to structure any familiarity to things here, eh?” You say after a moment, and the two of you glare at one another.
You really need to learn to stop trying to spite this man… sure, right now he isn’t beating you to a pulp. But you can’t guarantee that he won’t. In fact, keeping this up will inevitably lead to a fuck ton of pain and misery you don’t want.
“...J Corp.” Vergilius says after a moment, “We’re going to J Corp.”
He’s letting this go, at least…
Rodya’s breath hitches, and from the way she tenses, calling her by the nickname ‘Rodya’ feels… inaccurate.
Sure, when she’s a little sprite on a screen, Rodya fits. Sure she suffers, but there’s a layer of separation that makes what you see and hear from her feel less… serious, in a way. A detachment that lets you feel just a bit less invested.
But this? Seeing this tall, quite literally built woman who you have seen kill actual people tense up and look nervous?
It just makes it feel like it’s more logical to call her Rodion when she’s like this.
This isn’t a dream or some fantasy. This is your real life and these are real people. And Rodion… She's real now. At least here. Stop trying to make a part of you take this less seriously unless it involves you.
All of this is serious.
“Well, I suppose it wouldn’t be so bad to win big while we’re at it.” Heathcliff suddenly adds, leaning back in his seat and shutting his eyes, “Oi, someone wake me up when we’re there.”
“…Coincidentally, the bus will be unable to take you right to the branch building this time, dear passenger.” Vergilius says after a moment, “Charon, park it.”
However, the gray-skinned girl is silent.
“..? Charon?”
“What’s “park”?” She asks, her tone as deadpan as ever.
Vergilius sighs in a way only a middle aged father good. “It means stop.”
“Stops are red. Red tastes bad to Charon.” She glances at you in the rearview mirror, “But not [Name].”
“...does that mean she bit m-EEEEEEEEE-?!” With a screech, you and everyone else are launched from your seats with Charon’s sudden slam on the breaks. Unlike Dante, who luckily caught themselves on the seat in front of them, you’re sent flying over it.
In that moment, you really wish you could fly with your stupid wings.
Luckily for you, though, Vergilius catches you by the back of your shirt, and you’re dropped onto the ground with a yelp.
All you can hear right now, except the ringing in your ears, is the loud complaints and shouts from the Sinners. Half of them are profanities.
“Good to see you all full of energy. Now out.” Vergilius coolly orders. With a groan, you pull yourself off the ground, feebly flapping the dust off your wings as you stumble over to check on Dante. Thankfully, they seem alright. A bit dazed, but alright.
“Hmm… The destination still seemed rather far… Ah! Will you call a taxi for us?” Hong Lu chipperly asks, peering out into the streets and eagerly staring at all the rundown buildings surrounding it.
The Red Gaze just gives the 6th Sinner an annoyed look, before looking over at Dante with a deadpan expression. “…As Ms. Faust will explain in detail, this mission is going to be quite different from our last, Dante. This is because, the location of the Golden Bough… is in the underground of a casino.”
“Do you mean to tell us that it’s among the brightly lit buildings standing at the center of that street?” Outis questions, peering out at the array of giant, glowing buildings in the difference.
Vergilius nods. “That’s right, it’s one of those.”
“The Lobotomy Branch Facility we infiltrated last time was one that had been neglected for quite a while.” Ishmael notes, looking thoughtful.
“So you mean that… that was the exception?” Sinclair nervously asks.
“Would you rather what happened there be the norm?” You ask, looking over at the German boy.
“...no.” He weakly answers, seeming to droop a bit.
“See, it’s times like this that remind me our team doesn’t necessarily lack critical thinkers…” Vergilius suddenly adds, “It really does make me wonder how you managed to blunder your previous mission even more.”
In sync, you and Ishmael give him annoyed looks. Hell, you aren’t the only ones on the bus to do it.
“He was doing this the entire time you weren’t around.” Dante tells you, “He’s been doing this since yesterday…”
“Jeez…” You mumble, grimacing. He really can hold a grudge…
“The Golden Bough is a potent energy source, holding the essence of many technological marvels.” Vergilius explains, “Such founts of energy will attract flows of wealth and people, and in no time, a whole civilization is built on top of it.”
“Therefore, it’s likely that future destinations will have been occupied by other factions and their structures.” Faust adds, her eyes calmly trailing over each of the Sinners, before pausing on you. “…Which, in turn, indicates that we should be prepared to visit a wide variety of venues in addition to this casino.”
“It also means that your first mission was a relatively easy one, yet you somehow snatched defeat from the wide-open maws of success.”
“…Does he usually hold grudges that long?” Dante asks, clearly growing annoyed.
Gregor awkwardly clears his throat and you shrug, but Rodya smiles. Though you can’t miss the anxiety brimming under her skin.
“Don’t ask me~ We haven’t known him much longer than you have.” She muses, “What’d he say again? Something like, “Welcome to Limbus Company. I’m your guide, Vergilius” and all that… Hah! Pretty good impression, wasn’t it?”
“You got his authoritative tone down to a tee, I’ll give you that.” Gregor adds with a faint smile.
“And how dead inside he is.” You add, trying to ignore the glare he’s giving you three.
“I had to hold myself back from asking if I could resign right after joining.” Gregor tells you, looking more cheerful than he did yesterday.
“Really?” You ask, “I’m kinda glad I got someone like Dante as my contractor… I prefer people who don’t really hold grudges anyways…”
For some reason, half the people on this bus seem to tense at what you just said.
“I get the feeling the rest of you thought the same…” Dante adds, glancing around the bus.
“Nonsense!” Don pipes up, her golden eyes sparkling with a childish thrill, “‘Twas a day to go down in history! Beckoned by the Red Gaze himself! Truly, there is no honor greater than a Color addressing your-”
“Huh, I guess he does have a fan after all.” Gregor notes with a smile.
“Well, someone’s gotta,” You add with a shrug.
“Ufuhu, true that.” Rodya says with a laugh.
Then the three of you chuckle in sync, and you feel like someone who’s gossiping with their friends. It’s a feeling that both makes you feel guilt and euphoria.
“That’s more talking than necessary. I really do not wish for there to be impetus behind a fourth rule for this bus ride.” Vergilius says with a slight glare.
“C’mon, give the employees some room to badmouth their boss.” Rodya tells him, “You’re being totally petty.”
“Next time, do it out of earshot. I’m more fragile than I look, you see.”
You can’t tell if he’s playing along or being serious…
“Right, time to get up and at it. I sure hope you come back with a Golden Bough in your hands this time.” He orders, motioning to get off the bus with his head.
“And if we bugger it twice?” Heathcliff asks with a raised eyebrow.
“Who knows? Charon might suddenly forget what button to press to open the door for you.” Vergilius tells you all with a warning tone.
“Button, red. Yucky color.” Charon says, glancing back at you in the mirror, “Not [Name], though. [Name] is only pretty red.”
“What does that even mean?” You ask with a grimace.
“…You’re one daft bloke…” Heathcliff mutters, glowering at Vergilius.
“UITGAAN.” Ryōshū says suddenly.
With a huff, Heathcliff looks her way. “And that means?”
“Shorthand for “Useless idiotic travelers go and abscond, now”.” She answers, taking a drag of her cigarette.
Heathcliff intakes a sharp, angry breath, starting to raise his bat.
Oh god…
When he glances your way, you frantically shake your head. He hesitates at that, scoffs, looks away, and… lowers his bat.
…why did he look your way?
–★★★–
“Allow me to give a rundown of the plan.” Faust says, as everyone is gathered in a small crowd around her. “Our primary objective is to infiltrate the casino unsuspected; it will be critical for the successful recovery of the Golden Bough. According to the information we’ve acquired, the casino has three entrances. One for ordinary visitors, one reserved for VIPs, and lastly, the backdoor used by employees. We’ll split into three groups of four Sinners to cover each entrance… Four of us will disguise as croupiers, four will pose as guests, and four will play the role of VIPs.”
Outis nods, “Working in smaller groups will certainly draw less attention.”
“It is wiser to divide rather than unite.” Yi Sang murmurs.
“And… Dante and I can just… stand in a corner somewhere, because I think a demon and a person with a clock for a head will get… a lot of attention.” You add, scratching one of the wings on your head.
“Faust appreciates how you are well aware it is best to stay out of the way for this mission,” She tells you, before looking at the others. “Open the envelopes I gave out to confirm the role you’ve been assigned. Also, the higher-ups expressed concern over our performance. They stress that the company’s future plans hinge on whether we can retrieve the Golden Bough through this operation.”
“...who are the higher ups?” You ask. Sure, you have your theories, including one where Limbus Company has ties to the Library, but it’d be nice if you got confirmation now…
“Faust requests you don’t ask for classified information.”
…well, there go those chances. Another day where your dreams of giving Hod a hug have been crushed.
“We will collaborate on a joint operation.” Faust says.
“Joint operation?” Dante asks, curious.
“Our partner is a special forces unit consisting of professionals and veterans…” The 2nd Sinner explains, “I believe they are now monikered the ‘LCC’, short for the Limbus Company Clearance Department. Rest assured that they are our betters, at least in espionage operations.”
Where’d the “D” go?
…
Somewhere you sense hundreds of people making dick jokes at that.
“I thought twelve people was already a crowd.” Ishmael laments with a frown.
“Guess someone finally realized that more isn’t always merrier.” Gregor notes.
“Wowzer! I haven’t met staff from other teams before. Just where could they be?” Hong Lu asks, eagerly peering around with an interested look.
But there’s no one who approached the group.
“We’ll be heading to the pawnshop.” Faust says when Hong Lu looks slightly disappointed. Or is he just confused? You can’t tell.
“Is pawning still a thing these days?” Gregor asks, and then you remember in canon he’s in his 30s. He’s in his 30s and is acting like an old man… oh no, Gregor…
“We’re in the so-called pawnbroker’s avenue. Most businesses double as pawnshops here.” Faust answers, “That place is our rendezvous. Let’s head inside.”
So everyone does, but Gregor stays back for a moment, glancing over at you.
“Hey… uh… how’s your arm?” He asks, motioning to the arm he accidentally stabbed the other night.
“It’s healing well, I think.” You answer, “It doesn’t hurt, at least.”
“...what happened to your arm?” Ishmael asks, and you flinch because you didn’t realize she was listening in.
“Oh- just a small accident. Nothing much. Won’t kill me, at least.” You answer, feeling a bit sheepish.
“...” Ishmael doesn’t respond, but she looks like she… realized something?
Did she immediately figure out you’re lying? All you did was tell her a half truth as to what happened…
She just continues on, and you’re left walking side by side with Gregor. At least he’s nice enough to hold the door open for you.
“Ain’t ya too many visitors at once? The shop’s cramped as is…” The old man who clearly owns the shop mutters as everyone files in, “Y’all prefer your luck of the draw from trumps or mahjong?”
Though he pauses when he notices you. You just tilt your head, until you remember that you’re deadass a demon and most people who see you may think you’re an Abnormality or something. So you just sheepishly wave your hand in greeting, then try to disappear among the Sinners.
“What’s that blighter on about?” Heathcliff asks, visibly confused.
“…Am I the only one here who read up on Nest J?” ishmael asks. “Vergilius gave us a pamphlet to peruse before we left.”
“...you got a pamphlet?” You ask feebly, having been given absolutely nothing when you left.
“Didn’t you get one?” She asks, giving you a confused look.
“...no…”
Sinclair perks up suddenly, fumbling around with something, but Gregor offers you a pamphlet. “Here, have mine.”
“Oh! Thank you.” You say, taking it from the 13th Sinner, carefully opening it so your claws don’t rip something.
But out of the corner of your eye, you think you see Sinclair look… dismayed?
You glance over, but he’s looking away from you now.
…
You just start skimming through the pamphlet.
“Here, you’ll get loaned different amounts depending on your fortune for the day.” Ishmael explains to everyone, even if it feels directed at you to a degree. “If you draw a great boon, you get extra cash, while misfortune means far less than what the pawn is worth.”
“Ah~ That reminds me, our family had hired dedicated fortunetellers.” Hong Lu adds with a serene smile, “They drew a greater boon for me in the divination they performed before I left. That must’ve been a sign that I would join all of you wonderful people on our journey.”
You’d take it as a compliment if you were actually supposed to exist here.
You don’t even know how many things you’re fucking up my just existing.
Sure, you had some dreams about existing in Limbus… but in a body that was actually yours. Not as some… monster.
Some monster who’d die with a single mistake.
“Wow, really, so indulging in lofty leisure on your grand estate was your fated life. Maybe I should pray that I’m born that rich if there’s a next time.” Ishmael bitterly remarks, dragging you out of your thoughts and back to the present moment.
“I’m good. It’s well-off folks like him that tend to play dirty.” Heathcliff bitterly remarks.
“You might be right. I didn’t like to get along with my younger sibling in childhood. Always trying to cheat and grouch if things didn’t go as desired.” Hong Lu says with a nod.
Heathcliff scoffs at that. “No, that’s NOT what I was getting at!”
“So you wanna get your fortune or not?” The pawnbroker asks, looking around. “Forget about that… Do you people even have anything to pawn? I’m not seeing any wealth on ya…”
Then his gaze falls on you.
“Oho… is that gold on you real?”
“Oh, this?” You ask, touching the golden marks on your cheeks. “Yes, it is. I- I actually have a lot of things I could sell, if you wanted to look…”
The pawnbroker's eyes glimmer as he beckons you over, and you nervously approach.
“What are you planning to sell, Squishy?” Rodya asks with a grin.
“Just the miscellaneous jewelry in my pockets I have for… some reason.” You answer shyly, “I don’t even remember when I put all that stuff in…”
“As you were likely contacted in advance, we are from Limbus Company, and…” Faust suddenly says, trying to turn the situation back around to the Golden Bough business, but no one’s paying attention except Dante.
Hong Lu, Don, Rodya, and the pawnbroker all look with sparkling eyes at the small pile of jewelry you dump on the counter, relieved to finally feel your pants pockets empty instead of brimming with random things you’ll never use.
Better to have some cash on you instead of things made out of gold and other valuable things…
“My, you have plenty of things…” The pawnbroker says, picking up a necklace made of gold. “Let’s see… I can do seven hundred thousand Ahn.”
Okay… if Ahn is equivalent to the Korean Won, then…
“It’s worth more.” Rodya interjects.
“I mean… it’s pure gold…” You admit, “So surely it’s worth more than that…”
“Pure gold, eh?” The pawnbroker notes, looking it over. “How about seven million then?”
You almost choke on your own saliva at the sudden increase.
“Y- yeah- that sounds good…” You mumble, as the pawnbroker starts looking through the other things.
“Assistant Manager Esquire, where hath thou collected so much wealth?” Don asks with a curious look.
“Oh- uh- gold’s actually pretty common where I’m from.” You lie, “I heard in other places it’s worth a lot, but not in my home, so… I guess when I come to places like this, I can at least sell the stuff I’ll never use…”
“How much would the necklace be worth in your home?” Hong Lu asks, curious.
“Well… judging from what I know how much Ahn is in relation to my home currency…” You murmur, “Like… seven thousand at most?”
Everyone except Hong Lu looks stunned at that. You just shy away a bit at that reaction.
“Gotta ask, why do you got something as old as that mixed with all of this?” The pawnbroker asks, and your attention is drawn to a shabby ring on the counter mixed into the pile of riches. It’s rusted, made of some sort of silvery metal, but it looks incredibly cheap at a glance.
“Oh- I… actually, I don’t know.” You confess, picking it up. There appears to be something engraved on the inside, but the wear made it impossible to tell what it said.
“Sell it.” Ishmael suddenly interjects.
“What? Why?” You ask, looking over at her.
“You said it yourself, you aren’t going to use it.” She says, but you can’t miss how… bitter she looks as she stares at the thing. “Just get rid of it.”
She walks to the other side of the store before you can say another word.
“...I- I think I’ll keep this ring.” You tell the pawnbroker after a moment, carefully slipping it on your ring finger. It’s a bit tight, but feels comfortable in a way.
Where did you get this..?
The pawnbroker shrugs and resumes looking through the other things you look to sell.
“Oh! I did bring this handkerchief with me when I left home…” Hong Lu says, pulling out something, “If [Name] is selling their things, why don’t I?”
“You don’t need to…” You tell him.
“But I want to!” He says with a cheerful smile.
“Oho… A dragon embroidered on silk.“ The pawnbroker says, closely examining the thing, “That’s some meticulous needlework, which might net… let’s see, seven million… Ahn?”
“A crummy piece of cloth is worth as much as a necklace made of pure gold?!” Heathcliff sputters out, “Have your eyes rotted out, old geezer?!”
“I mean… It's a really pretty dragon.” You remark, tilting your head. “It must’ve taken whoever made this hours, if not days.”
“See, this one has an eye for the quality in this.” The pawnbroker says, before glancing at Heathcliff’s hands, “Beh, now I see. You’re wearing a shabby ring and bracelet like they’re true treasure… Tsk-tsk.”
There’s a rage in Heathcliff’s eyes you never seen before. Not even when you and Sinclair pissed him off in Canto 1. This is a rage you haven’t really seen anyone reach. “…What did you just say?”
“Geez, cut it out!” Rodya says with a yelp, as you and her try to stop Heathcliff from bashing the pawnbroker’s head in (well, Rodya is. You’re trying to ensure Don doesn’t enact justice). “Dante~ Please shut them up~”
“You had us worried, Faust.” A gentle voice suddenly says, bringing everyone to a pause as they look over.
A woman with long black hair tied back into a ponytail with a red bow trots over, eyes closed with a gentle smile on her face. Saude…
“We were meant to meet each other at 11, but fifteen minutes had passed already. Surely you couldn’t have forgotten how to read a clock, right?”
“Certainly not. There was little I could do to alter the driver of the bus.” Faust calmly responds.
“Aha, so you’re taking a clock-person with you to help with the time? I suppose they didn’t come with an alarm.” A more harsh voice that oozed disdain came next, as a man came to a stop next to Saude, wearing a matching outfit.
…Effie. The one who’s going to die in the next Canto.
You can’t think of any way to stop his death.
Maybe if you manage to steal a K Corp Ampule during the chaos of the opening to Canto 3? Maybe then you can save him?
But… what if it ends up like Yuri? Where you fail?
…
“Come on, that’s a little harsh. Let’s try to leave better first impressions…” Dante mutters, clearly frustrated but trying to hide it.
Not that it matters, because neither Effie or Saude can understand them.
Effie looks around, his blue eyes scanning each and every Sinner with an expression that’s both impassive and amused in a mocking way. “Oh, so it was you? You guys are the team that botched the Golden Bough retrieval last time? Folks had high expectations for your team, what with some of the smartest people in the City being on it.”
“No wonder… Ms. Faust wasn’t looking very pleased.” Saude murmurs.
“My face has remained constant.” Faust calmly says.
“It’s in your eyes, Faust.” You tell her, “You have a glint of… “I am five seconds from killing everyone here for being a dumbass”.”
Effie snorts at your comment. A couple other Sinners look at least a little bemused, but Faust merely shrugs in response.
“Ey, what’re you standing around for? Go on now.” Heathcliff says, nudging Yi Sang. “This fellow here is also the brainy sort. Don’t brush him off.”
“I shall not, as that would be a hollow vaunt.” Yi Sang remarks, looking away.
“But you were a lot more talkative down in that basement?” Heathcliff raises an eyebrow. “Who are you and what did you do with Yi Sang?”
“I am and have always been whom I match in the mirror.”
“You- Haah, forget it.” Heathcliff looks away with a scoff.
“...Yi Sang, do you need a hug?” You ask the depressed Korean, feeling genuine concern for how sullen the man is now.
You know he gets better after Canto 4, but he seems like his intelligence being pointed out kind of… hurt the man.
“That would be enjoyable, yes.” Yi Sang says, so you just sort of go over and hug the man. Even throwing in a couple of comforting back pats just to clarify this is platonic but add that extra layer of “hey you’re appreciated” many people need.
Guess you’re the therapist now.
“Our first mission was devised with failure in mind.” Faust says, ignoring whatever if going on with you and Yi Sang, “We needed an opportunity to see what potential our Sinners held.”
“…Wait, it was?” Gregor asks, looking… horrified. And shocked.
“A plan whose purpose is to fail?” Outis says, frowning, “That could hardly qualify as a proposal.”
“So an innocent dying in my arms was done on purpose?” You ask, having pulled away from Yi Sang.
…Faust doesn’t respond to that.
“By the way, where is Vergilius? I agreed to assist with the operation mainly for a chance to get to see him.” Saude suddenly asks, and you’re fairly certain she’s jumping in to break the tension your question immediately raised.
“He must’ve been embarrassed. Imagine accompanying people like these.” Effie tells her.
“Tch… Is that why he dropped us so far away from the place? Because he was ashamed of us?!” Heathcliff asks, growing gradually more angry.
“…Doesn’t anyone have a thing to say about us being belittled?” Ishmael asks, annoyed, “And won’t all the boasting and bluffing not do much if we don’t introduce ourselves first?”
“These two will be our cooperators for this mission. They’re from the Limbus Company Clearance department, also known as the LCC.” Faust explains with her usual deadpan tone.
Sometimes you think Don Quixote stole all the energy from people like Faust, Vergilius, and Charon. Like an… energy vampire.
…well technically she is a vampire, so-
“The Before Team of Clearance, please. Ah, I’m Saude, and this here is Effie.” The woman with the red bow introduces, gesturing between her and her coworker. Though, technically you’re all coworkers.
Heathcliff rolls his eyes. “What, are we supposed to clap or…”
“Wonderful! It’s a pleasure!” Hong Lu says, clapping with sincerity. He seems to be the only one genuinely happy to be interacting with these two, since everyone else is either wary or looking at them with no emotion at all.
“It’s- uh- nice to meet you.” You hesitantly say, before your attention is diverted back to the pawnbroker (you almost forgot you are selling a bunch of things right now).
You split your attention between the pawnbroker and the two members of the LCCB.
“Now… For this mission, we’ll basically spoon-feed you everything. All you have to do is open wide and chew up your simple tasks.” Saude says in a voice that’s so sweet it’s almost sardonic. “Check the documents in this envelope, and do exactly, preciiiiisely as the papers say.”
Her voice is weirdly needling…
Holy shit you’re walking out of this pawnshop with a hundred million Ahn. Praise selling pocket jewelry.
“There’s not a lot of joining together at all in this “joint operation”, is there? You’re just telling us to follow from behind.” Gregor mutters.
Ishmael huffs, “This is insulting. Are they taking us for lubbers or what? Look, Manager, we’ve got to put our foot down and…”
As the pawnbroker has to go into the back to get all the cash, you glance back at Ishmael’s way, where she’s looking over the instructions she was given.
“And…” Her green eyes widen as she looks impressed, “…do as they say, I guess?”
“Huh?” Dante peers over her shoulder, curious as to what just made Ishmael give in.
“…The documents they gave us. They’re flawless.” She notes, “Look at this. It has routes drawn out and everything. It’s been ages since I saw a plan this clear and meticulous.”
“Mhm, surely. This is certainly indicative of their knowledge in writing up proper plans of operation.” Outis adds, “Ah, this isn’t to say that it holds a candle to the level of forethought you display, Manager.”
Holy shit you earned so much Ahn it’s being given to you in a briefcase like this is a stereotypical action movie.
Rodya lets out a low whistle as you sheepishly accept the cash. “Wow~ look at that, Squishy…”
“I am in shock.” You admit, awkwardly holding the money. You hope you can swing by the bus and drop this off…
“Tingtang Gang?” Dante asks suddenly, and you look over in confusion. Before remembering the plan based off what you read in game.
“A name doesn’t necessarily reflect the nature of an organization. That’s a shallow prejudice.” Faust replies coolly.
“It is unideal for one to choose to see things through the tinted lens that is bias.” Yi Sang adds.
“…Right.” Dante says with a slow nod, looking back at the plan.
So, if you remember right… the plan is for reaching the top of the casino. Effie and Saude are disguised as employees to help everyone sneak in. Everyone else will impersonate the Tingtang Gang and someone, planned to be Dante, will get a spot at the table on the top floor, win using Wishpower, and they got the Golden Bough.
“We’ve prepared fake identification as well. It’s just in case the casino security runs random inspections on visitors.” Saude adds after a few moments so Dante can read over more of the plan.
“Alright, that’s all fine and dandy… But how do you plan to win once you’re at the top floor?” Gregor asks, raising an eyebrow.
“What do you think our outfits are for?” Effie asks with a slight smirk, “We practiced for months to pass off as bona fide croupiers. We’ll give you good luck. The game is in your bag, all you need is a pair of functioning eyes.”
…he clearly has no faith in anyone here except Saude.
“And how are we gonna take the place of the Tingtang Gang’s boss?”
“We’ll put sedatives in the food served at the casino.” Saude explains with her usual smile, “We’ve already finished negotiating the details with the head chef.”
“Sedatives…” Yi Sang mumbles.
The two LCCB employees wink at each other, and the two definitely get along as a close duo. Hell, maybe they’re lovers.
“Hey, Dear Pawnbroker~ We’ll be taking a look at the goods on showcase from here to there~” Saude says, earning a quick nod and eager grin from the pawnbroker.
“Hyes? Oh! No yeah, sure, of course. Please take your time, ma’am.”
Your sale probably caused this man to lose most, if not all of his money. In fact, you’re fairly certain the jewelry you sold cost a lot more, but he just needed to buy it at a lower price to sell at it’s higher one later.
Are you upset? Not really… you’re coming out of this with a ton of Ahn that will last a bit you if you need to flee from Limbus Company, and he’s getting the stuff he can sell to pay off a good amount of debts he may have.
“Now then, let’s take what we need from the display.” Saude says, and everyone heads over there. You do as well, until Effie sticks a hand out in front of you.
“Woah… not that. With someone that looks like… you, human clothes aren’t going to work.”
“...what does that mean?” Gregor suddenly asks, his tone unusually tense. As if he’s warning Effie to watch what he says.
“...it means someone that looks like a demon can’t really just saunter into a casino.” Effie answers, looking annoyed, “We already have enough risks with some of the members of our… colorful cast. We don’t need more.”
“So… what am I supposed to do?” You ask, tilting your head.
“Here, we outlined your part in this.” Saude says, giving you a smile that feels a lot colder than you’d like it to be as she hands you the plan, “It’s a bit haphazard, though. You weren’t really… expected after all.”
You just smile and nod. Smile and nod…
“It’s a bit stuffy in here with all the people… I’m… just gonna go get some air for a moment.” You say, “I’ll be right back.”
Smile and nod… you can drop it when you’re outside and they can’t see.
And the moment that door is closed behind you, you just trot into an alleyway and slam your head against the wall.
It hurts. Why wouldn’t it hurt?
But that’s what this body deserves. It deserves pain. It deserves pain for being a fake, inhuman monstrosity that you’re forced to have-
“Oh [Name]... don’t do that…”
You stand there, heaving in the alleyway, as you feel Yuri’s hands gently hold your cheeks. She presses against you, and you glance back to see the warm smile she’s giving you. A real smile.
“Don’t hurt yourself like that…” She softly tells you, thumbs rubbing into the flesh and metal embedded in this skin you’re forced to have. “I know you don’t like your body, but you shouldn’t make yourself miserable like this.”
Her fingers tangle in your wings and hair, and you feel her sigh against your skin. Her breath is warm and she smells like apples and blood.
“I can’t stay as long as I like… but I love you, and you know I do. Don’t hate yourself over things like this.”
“...will I see you tonight?”
“I promise you will.”
You shut your eyes, and her presence is gone. You already miss it.
By the time you open your eyes and turn around, you’re caught off guard by an unfamiliar face… though the bug features give it away.
“Oh- uh- Franz, right?” You ask, glancing up at the golden string that connects to yours.
He just curtly nods. The two of your stare with locked eyes.
“...they’ll never treat people like us as humans.” He tells you after a moment. “You know what we are, right?”
“...outcasts.” You answer, “Outcasts who’ll be treated as freaks for things outside of our control.”
“That’s right.” He says, sounding miserable. “At least I’m dead, unlike you. I don’t really have to deal with the shit you’re going to have to go through.”
He pulls the now eternally smoking cigarette off his chest, taking a drag of it.
“...I know you’re a good kid.” He tells you after a moment, “No one deserves the shit people will put you through. But you’re a freak. And to everyone else, you’ll always be a freak. It won’t get better, so just learn to deal with it.”
You just look away.
“You know I’m not trying to hurt you, right?”
“Mhm…”
“Good. It’s just sometimes you need someone to tell you how it is.”
“...I’m sorry for killing you.”
“What are you apologizing for? You just stood there. You did nothing.”
You did nothing then.
You’ll do nothing now.
And all you’ll ever do is nothing.
…
–★★★–
All you need to do for the plan is stay out of the way. Maybe use your floating blades in case anyone goes after Dante. Mostly, you’ll be around Effie and Saude…
That is, if the plan actually went accordingly. Which it won’t.
You just sigh as you head around back to the front of the building, pausing at the sight of…
Oh fuck, the Tingtang members.
“Oi, dotard! Didn’t I say ya payment was due today?” One member says, banging on the door.
And, unfortunately, you immediately get noticed.
“Eh? The hell are you?” Another member asks, looking defensive.
You just stick your hands in the air. “I am literally just a customer with the group in there. None of us have anything to do with your business. Can- can I please go in?”
“...what’s in the suitcase?”
“...” You nervously around, wondering where the hell the blades are. Did you even grab them?
“P- Please… give me one more chance. I swear I’ll have the money ready.” The nervous voice of the pawnbroker calls back.
“Uh… the suitcase has…” You fumble around with it, QUICKLY BULLSHIT A STORY SO YOU AREN’T ROBBED, “...definitely not drugs.”
The Tingtang members focused on you glance around with one another.
“...do you think the suitcase has drugs in it?”
“They literally just told us it didn’t. And why would a demon be carrying around drugs?”
“I dunno, the fact they specifically denied they have drugs really makes it sound like they have drugs.”
“...” They all look your way as one of the members speak up, “What kinda drugs do you have?”
“...the non-existent kind, since I don’t have drugs.” You reply, feeling… very confused right now.
“...” They all stare at you in suspicion, before one shrugs. “Well, sounds believable enough. We should let them into the store.”
That actually worked?
“But what if they do have drugs?”
“Do you want drugs from a demon that just came out of an alleyway?”
“Actually… eh… no, no I don’t think I do.”
“I do.”
“Are you stupid?”
You just take advantage of this and go in, shortly behind the Tingtang member who was banging on the door.
“What’re ya lookin’ at? Ya think I’m playing?!” The member asks the cowering pawnbroker, and you notice half the people in your group are frantically waving you over.
“What happened?” Dante asks you, looking like they’re about to pop a blood vessel.
“I’m not sure, they just kinda showed up.” You admit.
“Did they hurt you?” Gregor asks, tensing when he sees the bump on your head.
“No, they let me pass with little issues.” You admit, wiping away anything that may be on your head from when you slammed it against the wall, “But they do think I have drugs.”
“What?”
“...do you have drugs?” Sinclair asks.
“No? Obviously I don’t..?” You reply.
“TIID.” Ryōshū mutters bitterly, earning a confused look from Sinclair.
“Hmph, if y’ain’t got money, why don’t ya pay your dues in that instead? We keep telling you.” The gang member says, picking up the pawnbroker by the collar.
“A- Anything but that… Please…”
“Is it okay to leave them be?” Dante asks, warily eying the scene.
“Shall I settle the dispute for them so it does not bother you, Manager?” Outis asks.
Oh, there your blades are. Guess they did follow you in here, huh?
At least they’re just… peacefully in a corner. Small win, better than them making trouble.
“What does that toughster mean by “that”, anyway?” Gregor asks, and you notice the fact he has his hand on your shoulder.
“…A currency more valuable than money exists in this District.” Faust explains, “It’s well known that J Corp’s Singularity is a powerful security technology capable of locking anything. What is less known, however, is the extensive cultural and historical background of the Backstreets of Nest J that lead to the Singularity’s creation.”
“H- history…? Are you seriously about to lecture us here and now…?” Heathcliff says with a huff, “I was never told about any mandatory education when I joined this company!”
Faust simply ignores Heathcliff’s complaints. “Here, a technology exists to extract ‘wishpower’ from people. Though it’s not widely known outside this District since it didn’t quite have the generality to be recognized as a Singularity. In essence, it’s processing ‘luck’ into a commodity that can be traded. Like a form of money. It brought forth the need for a way to stop others from forcibly extracting this wishpower, leading to the creation of a security technology that ultimately developed into the Singularity we know today.”
“Gee-wee, Faust~ Must be tiring having to teach these dunces in ways they can get it.” Effie muses.
He’s so much more of a dickwad in person…
“It’s fine, this was within my anticipated scenario.” Faust says.
“Because [Name] and I don’t know anything about the City, right?” Dante asks, tone unusually tense.
Faust hums. “Yes.”
“I don’t like the way you say that…” Heathcliff mutters.
“Come on now, gather the items to help with your disguises so we can leave.” Saude says, motioning everyone to ignore the scene, “We’re salaried workers, not “heroes” fighting for justice.”
“...what have you done?” You ask her, as Dante panics and shakes their head. “Wait… Not that word…! That… does not align with a certain someone’s… beliefs…”
“…!” Ishmael flinches, and looks around. Meanwhile, you drop everything and run after the 3rd Sinner, who is eagerly charging at the Tingtang member with her lance raised.
“Thou darest try to pilfer the valuables of others? This behavior can only be seen as wholehearted villainy!”
“DON QUIXOTE NO-!”
You manage to grab the girl… right after she bashed the Tingtang member in the head with the blunt side of her lance.
“Gah?! Assistant Manager Esquire! Thou must release me! I must-”
“DON. QUIXOTE.” You gasp out, “LOOK- Look… you are someone who’s got some real great wishes and dreams and stuff… and I really respect your dedication to justice… BUT BASHING IN THE HEAD OF A GUY WHO IS A PART OF A POWERFUL GANG IS A TERRIBLE IDEA!”
Don looks hurt at your words.
“Don, I’m sorry, but go stand in the corner, think about what you did, and then come tell me exactly why you did what you did and things you can do to both stay true to your ideals yet not get us in situations where we will probably get our asses kicked in a fight.”
“But-”
“If you do that, I’ll get you ice cream, okay?”
“...yes, Assistant Manager Esquire…” She sullenly remarks, trotting over to go stand in the corner with a sad look.
Saude and Effie stare at the scene with shocked looks. Actually, most of the sinners look stunned, unphased, or are silently approving you.
“For your information, keeping the Sinners in check is not part of my job description. That would be the job of this person here.” Faust suddenly says, “However, it appears [Name] is doing their job for them.”
“Don’t give me that look. There’s nothing in my abilities to keep her under control…” Dante tells her, “...Thank you though, [Name].”
“In Dante’s defense, I just think I have a better reaction time… that’s it.” You add, shifting back and forth as you try to back away from the unconscious Tingtang member. The wound is bad enough it’s bleeding, but they’re not dead.
“That ruffian isn’t actually dead, right?” The pawnbroker asks, peering down over the counter.
“Nope…” You reply.
“Whew… that’s a relief. Things would get fairly complicated if the Yurodiviye showed up, you know.”
Rodion flinches at that. “The Yurodiviye? What are they doing here… No, forget that, why are you worrying about them?”
“Not up to date with the news, are you, ma’am? They’ve been causing trouble here for months now.”
“Are they villains as well?!” Don suddenly asks, spinning around with a sparkle in her eyes.
“CORNER!” You bark at her, and she lets out a miserable sound and turns back.
“Oh, they’re villains to us humble merchants for sure.” The pawnbroker says, seemingly willing to ignore the fact Don Quixote was put in the corner, “They were going on about, what was it, roughing up greedy peddlers keeping money to themselves, and giving it to those who need it. Distributing something, they said…”
“The redistribution of wealth.” Meursault notes.
“Aah~ That’s it, yes. Those scoundrels are robbing us poor saps of what little wealth we have. And they don’t even do the dirty work themselves, it’s always the local brutes they send. Can you believe it?” The pawnbroker sighs, “Anyhoo, life has been hard for us because of those self-righteous bunches. Looked like they were here to find something at first, but all they do now is squeeze money outta us…”
“…Ah! I-I just realized, shouldn’t we take our leave now? More toughies from the Tingtang Gang might be coming this way.” Rodion says, nudging you and Gregor along with a nervous grin on her face.
And, much to your luck, the Tingtang member on the floor is waking up.
Effie sighs, “What a hassle… You’re making the problem bigger than it had to be.”
“Hey, Muffin and Sablé, was it? Don’t be so tart now.” Gregor says, his tone more pointed than what you remember it being in game, “There are plenty of pawnshops around here, right? We can always find a different-”
“It’s Effie and Saude. Please don’t mistake our names for confections. And your statement that there are plenty of pawnshops in the vicinity won’t mean much…” Saude grimaces, “…When said pawnshops notice the trouble happening here and close…”
“Don Quixote…” Dante laments, facepalming at the fact she kind of screwed everything up.
“I’m getting tired of lecturing these idiots on every little thing. We should just leave.” Effie remarks.
Unfortunately, a bunch of Tingtang members burst in.
“Ayo, codger, have you seen our li’l-” The one in the front freezes at the scene, “Wee slimmy! Just what’s going on here?!”
Everyone starts acting like they’re normal customers. Except Don, she’s still in the corner hitting the ‘why is everyone so mean to me?’ pose.
“Who did this?! Tell me now! That bean is gonna regret the day they grew stems!”
Why is the situation somehow serious and comically funny simultaneously?
“Gnh… O… Over there…” The injured Tingtang member says, pointing at your group, “That red… timepuss…”
You and Dante look at each other. They’re mostly dressed in red and have a clock for a head. You have red skin and a clock for an eye. Who are they going to guess is responsible?
“NO! DRUG DEMON! I HAD SO MUCH FAITH IN YOU!” One of the random Tingtang members cries out, devastated.
“I HAVE NO DRUGS AND I’M NOT A DEMON!” You cry back.
“Just so you don’t get the wrong idea, I have nothing to do with these people or what happened here. I was just about to bring a towel to cool this poor fellow’s head.” The pawnbroker suddenly interjects.
“That smarmy gaffer…” Heathcliff mutters through gritted teeth.
“I had no expectations for him in the first place, but that man really has a shaky reed for his backbone.” Ishmael remarks.
“Jah… Frijolitos over there… Stop. Freeze in your tracks.” The Tingtang member in the front orders, and all of them start closing in.
“Bah. No need to run. Let’s just kill them all and be done with it.” Ryōshū remarks.
“What’s next? You’re going to wipe out the whole Syndicate?” Effie asks, voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Heh. That doesn’t sound too bad.” She says with a smirk. Effie just gives her an annoyed look.
“The forces of evil must be uprooted with haste in order to raise the banner of justice high!” Don suddenly says, and you just slowly look over at her. Slowly, she shrinks back, looking sullen.
“...you can come out of the corner now.” You tell her.
“JOYOUS!” She cheers, eagerly charging at the group of Tingtang members.
“Uh, so, is there seriously no one on your team who’s in their right mind?” Effie asks, “Except the one who’s literally a demon? And that’s just barely?”
Ishmael opens her mouth to retort, but Dante jumps in. “Let’s just… Let’s get outta here first!”
A Midspring Night’s Dream ft. A Demon Who Regrets Their Life - AKA They Swap Bodies and the MC Wants to Jump Off a Bridge
Yandere!Limbus Company x Reader
Warnings: Obsession and other general yandere behaviors; ts is lowkey unserious as fuck, even the violence is kinda goofy; swearing
Note: Body swap shenanigans. I love this stupid event.
I’ll also try to avoid any massive spoilers in general for the series, and this chapter technically isn’t canon. Some spoilers for events that happen in later Cantos though, but nothing insane. This takes place before Canto 8 but after Canto 7.
Extra Note: mfw I try to fix a grammar mistake and accidentally POST THE THING EARLY. Please pretend that never happened before I crawl into a hole and die of cringe
It was just a normal day. Specifically April first. You didn’t expect much though, considering the holiday didn’t exist in the City. A relief to learn, in all honesty, because of the tension rapidly building between the Sinners.
You’d rather not see whatever violent pranks break out between them.
You idly stared at the fight next to Dante, idly tapping on your Gasharpoon as you watch them fight a Distortion. You haven’t been joining in on fights much recently, not that it seemed to bother anyone. Leaning against one of the sides of Mephistopheles, you can’t help but grimace at the scene.
“Right! I said RIGHT, not left! I'm sorry, is this a hard concept for everyone? Am I the weird one for being able to tell left from right?” Ishmael exasperatedly asks, staring daggers at the others.
“I am… left-handed…” Yi Sang admits in response.
“What…? I mean, what does that have to do with any—?! Aagh!!” The ginger screeches in panic as Gregor, very purposefully, bumps into her.
“Oof… oh man, sorry about that… Looks like I tripped over my own feet. I can tell left from right, by the way.” He says with a shrug.
“Guys~ I thought you meant 'right' from that Distortion's perspective!” Rodya adds with a strained smile.
Dante sighs, frustrated no one seems inclined to listen to their orders. “O-kay. Guys, everyone…? Let's pull back for now, regroup, and-”
“Oi, enough of that nonsense! Charge 'em on three!” Heathcliff barks out, readying his bat.
“…regroup, and…”
“… Three!”
Sinclair blinks. “… I wonder if he forgot the first two. Oh, or maybe he meant to skip them?”
“The satiation of that curiosity may hardly be worth the effort of inquiry…” Yi Sang murmurs.
“Perhaps, in the inevitable event of a second attempt, it would be advisable to place Heathcliff as a backup unit and place a more level-headed individual in his place.” Faust notes.
“This is horrifying.” Franz notes to you, and you nod in acknowledgement. Not the worst Ghost to pop out at a time like this… better than Dongrang or Kromer, at least.
“… Hey, Faust. Can you check if the contract's still linked? I don't think any of them can hear my voice.” Dante calls out to the 2nd Sinner, clearly annoyed.
“Executive Manager! I beg of you to forgive my insolence, for I must make an urgent request!” Outis yells over.
“Ooh…! I knew Outis still had my back…!”
“Your tick-tocking noise is proving to be a rather significant distraction to strategizing! Will you please be quiet for a moment?!”
At Outis’ words, Dante almost visibly deflates. With a sigh, they reach out and take your free hand in theirs.
…after what happened a few days ago, you’re surprised they still cling to you as much as they do. You did kind of blow up at them when the truth came out about the contract…
…why don’t they hate you?
“Outta my way, C.H.” Ryōshū snaps at them, and they shake their head and lean against you.
“Haah… I wonder if they'll finally learn to work with me once I force them to walk in each other's shoes.” They murmur, resting their- oddly warm- clock on your shoulder. “Or if you were the one giving orders. You’re pretty good at strategy, you know. You don’t have to let what happened the other day… ruin… this.”
“...It got ruined the moment you found out I was lying.” You dryly reply, “Any friendship we had is ruined, Dante.”
“...I wish I had a way to prove to you how wrong you are when you say that.” They gently tell you.
You sigh, glancing over to ensure Franz has left so you don’t have to be lectured about your life choices again before flinching as Charon stares into your soul. When did she get off the bus?!
“Eh!? Charon?” Dante yelps out, just as startled as you. They glance at them still holding your hand, and yank their hand away from yours in panic. Probably not wanting any more death glares from Verg…
“When making wishes…” Her gaze narrows slightly, “No take backsies.”
“…?” Dante blinks with their nonexistent eyes, visibly confused.
…oh god. This event.
You nervously look back over at the fight, only for-
“Watch out over there! Aw crap, manager bud!” Gregor calls out, before realizing you are literally directly next to Dante and in the line of fire. “SHIT-! [NAME]!!”
The echoing pain of a chunk of metal bouncing off your skull and the sound of the same piece of metal colliding into Dante’s prosthetic head resonates in you. You let out a vague sound of pain as Dante makes a confused grunting sound, and you think you fall over?
Black swirls your vision as the world around you ebbs and flows. You can’t tell if you’re standing or if you’re laying down.
“[N- …te! A… ou… kay…?” You think you hear Ishmael ask.
“…ou! How dar… … spea… to the Exec…!” You hear Outis start to lecture.
“[Name]...” You hear Dante murmur, the only voice that's clear, “I think I'm fading…”
“...oh…” You wheeze out, feeling pain.
“… oom. First…” You hear Meursault say.
The Sinners start to appear in your vision, frantically checking on Dante and (mostly) you.
“A star, huh…” Dante murmurs as you think you see a small flash of white in your vision.
And then the darkness consumed you.
–★★★–
“Oi, Clockhead. Get up.” You hear Heathcliff say. “Mate, get up.”
Eh..?
“Mate, this ain't the time for a kip, get up…!”
Gah… what the fuck is Heathcliff on about..? But… huh… his voice is higher pitched… at least he still sounds British…
“Oi, Clockhead! Get off your bloody arse!” You hear him order, before being lightly punched.
“GAH?! MY HEAD ISN’T A CLOCK!!” You yelp out, only to hear ticking.
What.
Your eyes- wait you don’t have eyes- open, and you frantically look around, only to see Heathcliff and Sinclair standing over you.
This is… Dante’s room? And you’re…
You’re Dante.
“Eh- EH?! EH?!?!” You panic, frantically feeling around your body. It’s more human, sure, but now you’re Dante. YOU’RE LITERALLY DANTE!?
“Wait a minute…” Sinclair- or more specifically Heathcliff in Sinclair’s body- mutters, “GAH- [NAME]?! BLOODY HELL, YOU TOO??”
You shriek, even if the only sound that comes out is the blaring of a foghorn, and clutch your clock-head.
“Oh no- NO!” Sinclair, in Heathcliff’s body, immediately comes up to you and practically collapses into your arms, “N- not you too…”
Seeing any version of Heathcliff crying is terrifying…
“What’s happening?!” You sputter out, naturally freaking out. “Why- WHY AM I DANTE?!”
“We got the exact same question…” Heathcliff- look even if he’s in Sinclair’s body you’re calling him Heathcliff- mutters, “It’s why we came ‘ere. Shame you’re as fucked over as us.”
“I…” You murmur, “Talking feels… weird. Really weird.”
“I- I get that…” Sinclair murmurs, burying his face into your shoulder. Him doing this in Heathcliff’s body is really fucking weird- “I kind of miss your voice… is- is that weird to say? Oh no- Dante’s g- going to be speaking in your voice.”
“G- GUYS! ANYONE?! HELP!” You hear your voice call out from the hallway. Trippy…
“AH! DANTE!!” You call out, frantically pushing Sinclair off of you and running- so much easier without a giant tail- out into the hallway, only to collide with your body being puppeted by Dante.
They land on top of you, and you let out a grunt of pain that sounds like a tick.
“Huh..? [Name]..? [NAME]!!” Dante grabs you, accidentally scratching you too, with their hands, staring in horror at you in their body. “You- You’re- in-”
“In your body? Yeah, I know…” You tell them, “Please watch the claws.”
They drop you as if you’re on fire when you say that last part, horrified. “I’m sorry- I’m so sorry-”
“It’s okay, it’s okay…” You gently tell them.
Dante lets out a noise of pure emotional pain, before grabbing your- their- what words do you even use for this- uh - tail. They grab the tail attached to the body that’s usually yours and shakes it. “How do you walk with this?”
“Practice, mostly.” You admit.
“...you deserve so much better.” They tell you, and you shrug. They manage to stand up, pulling you up with them. Their hands rest on your shoulders, and they just stare at their head with you inside their body. “How- what-?”
“Last I remember… we got concussed, and now this.” You tell them. “It feels weird talking like… this…”
“We can fix this.” They reassure you, “Did-”
“Hm.” The noise of acknowledgement makes you both pause, and you two slowly look over to see Ryōshū staring at you two. But… she isn’t smoking.
Also, she’s smiling.
“Aha, [Name]~ Dante~ Are you alright?” She- as Hong Lu in Ryōshū’s body- asks, “Did you guys get bodyswapped too? I’m still getting used to my new one, so-”
You let out a scream akin to a foghorn as Dante- in your body- starts screaming too. Dante’s hands snag yours and they drag you- both still screaming- away from the horror that is a cheerful Ryōshū.
“Huh? Where are you going?” He- she- what pronouns do you even use for this?!- calls after you, “...don’t just steal [Name]!”
Dante and you burst out into the front of the bus, and your chest heaves as you both stop screaming.
“Oh my god, that was terrifying…” You mutter, still shaking. It’s so much worse in person.
“I am so sorry you had to suffer by seeing that, [Name].” Dante tells you, “You- we need to get out of here- this situation is a-”
“Awwww~ You too, Squishy~?” A smiling Meursault asks in a familiar Russian accent, eyes sparkling in disappointment, “Well, at least you two will believe it when I tell you our bodies were switched all over the place when we woke up! Hehe~”
You start screaming again. THIS IS WORSE THAN THE SMILING RYŌSHŪ!!! THIS IS SO MUCH WORSE!!!
“Woah- woah!!” Rodya in Meursault’s body waves her- his?- hands, reaching out to take the clock-head you now unfortunately have. “Easy there, Squishy~ Haa… usually I don’t see you as spooked as this… it’s kinda cute~”
As she starts lamenting that your nickname isn’t as fitting when you're in Dante’s body, Meursault- now making Rodya’s body look uncharacteristically serious- speaks up. “It can be surmised that the minds of the Sinners have been interchanged with one another due to a cause that is yet to be determined, managers. The suspected time of occurrence: last night-”
“Pfftahahaha! L-look at that! Look at that face! Holy crap, this is the funniest thing ever! Right, Squishy?” Rodya asks, “‘The suspected time of occurrence: last night-’ Pffft, I can't. I just can't! How does he do that with a straight face?!”
You are about to cry.
“...Faust.” Dante suddenly says, “We need to find Faust.”
“Faust is located on the frontmost row of the bus, second seat from the left.” Meursault instructs.
“Th…ank you, but can you point it out for me? I… I can't think straight right now, hearing your voice talking like…” Dante admits, grimacing. That’s what you look like when you grimace..?
“It will be done, manager.”
“Oh boy…” Dante mumbles, before dragging your half-catatonic ass over to ‘Faust’.
“Oh.” She says, looking over with a deceptively passive expression, “Manager…”
“Faust…! Oh, what a relief. S- so you're okay, huh?” Dante asks, relieved.
You shrink back, “...Dante, Faust doesn’t call you ‘Manager’-”
“ESQUIRE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Faust- now with Don puppetting her body- eagerly squeals out, perking up shockingly fast and tightly hugging you.
She knows she’s Sancho now, by the way. And yet she still acts like this…
“Oh.” Dante says, clearly devastated. “Of all people… It had to be Don Quixote. Of all people…”
“‘Of all people’?! 'Tis quite rude of thee to speak thusly!” Don pipes up, pulling away slightly to prod at Dante’s chest in frustration, “Especially when thou is puppeting fair [Name]’s body! Ack, 'tis of no concern! Manager Esquire and fair [Name], forsooth, I have been overcome with quite the odd sensation upon my possession of this body!”
She pulls back from you completely. “I am… awash with a sense of… imbuement by an immense and unparalleled genius! 'Tis as though my eyes have been opened for the first time! Ah, a clear vision of the future lieth before me—the brave white—ahem, golden-haired one, returning from a most splendid adventure, welcomed by the praise and cheer of the citizentry… and granted love from-”
“That is unlikely.” Faust- in Don Quixote’s body- interjects. “Knowledge and certain authorizations beyond thereafter for those in the original body are not transferred to the other merely because their consciousnesses have been switched. In other words, what you have seen is not the vision of the future, but a display of your vivid imagination.”
Don’s smile falters for a moment, and the one she plasters on is a lot more strained. “Ooho! Much have I searched for thee, young Fau—uh, Don Quixote…? Perchance? Ooh, pray tell, what is this voice in mine head? "Access denied"? Prithee, let it not be a sickness of some sort!!!”
“… Please, take a seat. This will not be a brief discussion.” Faust says, visibly tired.
“...Dante, I’m going to stab myself.” You tell them.
“[Name], please no-” Dante feebly asks you.
“Dante, this shit is so bad even the Blades are hiding from this.” You tell them, “Do you see them? No? That’s because- like me- they are reasonably afraid! I AM AFRAID OF THIS SITUATION, DANTE. I DON’T WANT TO BE IN YOUR BODY!!”
“...is there something wrong with it..?” They ask.
“MY HEAD IS A CLOCK!! I WANT TO TALK AND HAVE EVERYONE UNDERSTAND ME!!!” You frantically tell them. “IF I HAD EYES I WOULD BE CRYING!”
You bury the face of the clock in your hands, regretting everything. This is worse than when you got caught in your lies. This is worse than when people you cared about died. This is worse-
Wait. Death…
Your head snaps up. Can Dante see the Ghosts?! Because if they can… shit…
“Ahm, hm.” ‘Outis’ clears her throat, and you realize she’s moved over to stand next to you.
“Outis…?” Dante asks, before shaking their head, “Wait, no… who… are you…?”
You flinch as- for the first time ever- Outis legitimately hugs you. Arms wrapped around your- Dante’s- body and head pressed into the crook of your neck.
Yi Sang has never looked more enraged in his life.
“Worry not, my dear [Name]...” Outis murmurs to you, as you have no idea how to react. “Though the bizarre situation is unideal, we must maintain a calm mind. Rest assured, you-”
“YOU DARE!!!” Yi Sang bellows, yelling for the first time in his life, and he- well- she, this is Outis in Yi Sang’s body- rips Yi Sang in her body off of you- who is in Dante’s body. “How dare you assume my form and use this opportunity to place your hands upon the Assistant Manager?! Is this an attempt to usurp my position as the right-hand to the Managers? Another thing! When using my voice, you will address the Assistant Manager by their full title, and not their name like some ignorant fool!”
“Th- that is not-” Yi Sang starts to stutter back, “I was merely trying to calm them-”
“Pah!” She sneers, “You did not need to place any hands upon them to ‘calm them down’! How long have you been planning this treachery?!”
“S- stop…” Dante weakly orders.
“Dante, Dante! Greg's not looking so good… Can ya ask how he's doing?” Rodya pipes up. Smiling Meursault is still terrifying.
“Ask him yourself, why don't you?” Outis barks at her, hands on her hips.
“Ah, ya know~ I know we're not like, strangers anymore, but y'know… know what I mean?” Rodya hums, “That funny feeling where when ya bite into one of those special chocolates with something in 'em, but ya don't really know what that something is or where that something is, so ya can't help but feel slightly iffy about giving it a full bite…? I think? Does that make sense?”
“Fellas… let's stop being so crass for a sec here.” Ishmael, being controlled by Gregor, pipes up, smoking a cigarette.
“Make it stop…” Dante pleads, burying their face in their hands.
“Hey, manager bud… yeah. Welp, somehow, this happened. I haven't a clue as to what's going on, either.” Gregor says with a sigh, “Woke up from a nap and… saw myself over there, looking at my own arm with that same glum look.”
“That's…” Gregor- being controlled by Ishmael- grimaces, actively trying to be as far from the bug arm as she can. “Look, I'm… a seawoman, alright? And… insect parts just don't… mesh well with the sea, right…?”
Gregor takes a breath. “Yeah~ you'll get used to it. Man, this takes me back. I nearly threw up when I saw that in the mirror the first time.”
Ishmael winces, miserable. “Not the same thing… And like, I was trying to be roundabout about it, okay? Didn't have to just say that outright, making things awkward as hell…”
“You utter, useless imbeciles! How could any of you let this minor issue of switched bodies bring you all to such disarray?!” Outis asks, infuriated.
Yi Sang frowns. ‘A- apologies, all… the voice and the appearance are mine indeed, yet the words are not… hm? Where are you going, [Name]?”
Everyone looks over at you, halfway out of the bus.
“I’m finding a bridge to jump off of because I AM IN SEVERE EMOTIONAL PAIN!!” You cry out, tossing your hands in the air.
The chaos that breaks out as people try to stop you would be entertaining if your clock wasn’t painfully throbbing.
If that was written someone totally misread “clock” as “cock”. You know you did when you saw this story for the first time…
…this shit is agonizing as hell.
–★★★–
You are being held against your will by both Meursault and Rodya to prevent you from flinging yourself into a pit. Curse Dante’s twink ass body making escape almost impossible. At least you know what gender they biologically are now… makes some of your theories to who they were before more solid.
“So, Faust. What do you believe is the cause of this phenomenon?” Yi Sang- no, Outis- asks, causing the abomination that is whimsical Faust to perk up.
“Hm…” She thinks for a moment, before laughing at how mostly everyone looks her way, “Agh, 'tis quite the bashful occasion! To have so many eyes gaze upon me! Ha ha…”
Outis scowls. “Dammit, I wasn't talking to you! Fine, then… Don Quixote…”
“Aha! Hast thou summoned me?!” Don asks, grinning. Smiling Faust may be real, but she can’t hurt you. She cannot hurt you. You are safe.
“You little…!”
“Hah- this is fun, isn’t it Squishy?” Meursault- Rodya- asks you, poking you in the face of the clock.
Smiling Meursault can hurt you though and you are in unbridled amounts of emotional pain.
“Ha. It's a real dog's dinner, innit.” Heathcliff mutters, crossing his arms. You haven’t seen Sinclair this mad since Canto 3.
“Everyone, one at a time. Please… I think I might actually go insane if I hear more than three of you talking at once.” Dante tells everyone, “And I think [Name] already has…”
You are honestly this close to Distorting in Dante’s body. You swear you are. Carmen is about to speak to you in five… four… three…
“… There is a possible explanation for this.” Faust suddenly says, “A meteor which was speculated to shoot over the City on day 250401, dubbed 'W15H', has crossed the City skylines last night. And there is a rumor that… making a wish upon this particular meteor has a slim chance of bringing it to reality.”
You slowly turn your head to stare daggers at Dante, who visibly winces.
“Uh… I had no idea that was even a thing…?” Sinclair murmurs, surprised.
“Wow! That's some impressive coincidence, isn't it? How so romantic~” Hong Lu coos, “Ah~ I wish I got [Name]’s body. I think it’d be fun to be them for a while. Aren’t you lucky, Dante?”
The looks Dante gets at that makes them look really uncomfortable.
“Actually… I feel kind of bad for [Name] having to live in a body like this…” Dante admits, “It’s really uncomfortable to do a lot of things, honestly.”
“It’s not that bad-!” You interject, before Ryōshū- in Hong Lu’s body- cuts you off.
“S.Y.B.A.U.A.M.” She tells you, puffing on a cigarette.
“Listen up, culprit, whoever you are! I will give you a chance to give yourself up.” Outis orders the bodyswapped Sinners, “What kind of brainless moron among you made such a ludicrous wish?!”
“I must apologize for this unideal display…” Yi Sang laments, giving you a sopping wet look you’ve only seen Sinclair make.
“Give yourself up now, and I will let you off with a light sentencing of three consecutive executions.” Outis snaps, glowering.
You silently look at Dante, who sighs. “Uh… So um… I think I'm the one who made the wish, Yi Sang… I mean, Outis.”
Outis lets out a gasp, an expression of horror on Yi Sang’s- her?- face. “Executive Manager? I- It was you?!”
“I kinda muttered to myself about how I wished you guys would learn how to be in each other's shoes because… everyone just refused to listen to me during our last hunt…” Dante glances at you, but seemingly chooses not to mention mending the relationship between you two.
“Pfft…” Ishmael snickers, “What now, Outis? Are you going to cut off your Executive Manager's head?”
Gregor snorts. “Nah~ She wouldn't, right? Besides, what's to say that there's not some other reason out there? Anyways, manager bud… got any bright ideas?”
Ishmael flinches as she notices Gregor- in her body- holding a cigarette in his mouth. “Huh? Excuse me, Gregor! Don't smoke that! You're in my body!”
He, in response, holds his hands up. “Hey- it’s not lit, okay..? I just need to hold something between my teeth to calm down.”
Hong Lu shrugs. “Hehe, what's happened's happened. I think it could be pretty nice to just live on like thi-”
“Oi, no way, nope. I ain't living in some sheltered lad's scrawny body.” Heathcliff interjects.
Sinclair visibly deflates. “But… I've been working out…”
“...why? You have plenty of combat skills without working out…” You tell him, confused. Sinclair just flushes and looks away, mumbling some clearly fake reason to you.
“… Too bad.” Ryōshū mutters, on her eleventh cigarette since you saw her like this, “Let's K.E and turn the clock.”
“Do I… have to go through the pain of reviving you guys..?” You nervously ask.
“No- no absolutely not!” Dante interjects, “I can barely handle the pain as is. Don’t make [Name] go through it too…”
“Yeah, uh- death is firmly off the table.” Gregor adds, giving Ryōshū a look. She just shrugs in response.
“There has to be some other solution, right?” Dante asks, looking around, before pausing at the sight of Hong Lu’s body smoking. “How are you so comfortable with chainsmoking in someone else's body…?”
‘Hehe, I don't mind.” Hong Lu says with a laugh.
“Mm~ I'll go with Ryōshū.” Rodya suddenly says, raising her hand.
“I have a feeling I know the answer to this already, but… which one?” Ishmael asks, raising an eyebrow.
“The one who's Ryōshū right now, 'course~ Can't we just stay like this for a little longer? Kinda feels like a breath of fresh air, don't it…?”
You slowly look at the smiling Meursault in horror, even if you don’t have a face you can change the expression of.
“… Huh, weird. I thought I had her figured out.” Ishmael murmurs, surprised.
“That suggestion requires a mutually collaborative understanding and consent with the switched individual.” Meursault notes.
“Huh? What, don'tcha like my body, Meur?” Rodya asks, tilting her head. “Ooh~ Or do I call ya Rodya? Gosh, this is so much fun!”
Meursault tenses. “… This discussion is not a matter of whether it is 'fun'. It is simply a matter of inappropriate-”
Rodya just rolls her eyes. “Yeah, whatevs. Is it fun~ or is it not~?”
“...how are you so comfortable with waking up and realizing you have a dick?” You ask her, only to cause her to snort. Laughing Meursault is worse than smiling Meursault. So much worse.
You glance over to see Dante and Faust- in your and Don Quixote’s body respectively- talking. If you remember right, it’s about Faust being unable to access the Gesellschaft.
A few minutes seem to pass- that feel like hours with the Meursault-Rodya yapping at you- the door to the back gets kicked open. You peer over, only to watch a visibly annoyed Vergilius and frustrated Charon walk out and to the front of the bus. Dante hesitates, before standing up, reaching out to take your hand, free you from where you’re trapped between Rodya and Meursault, and lead you over to where Vergilius sits, slumped over in his usual seat.
“Uh… Vergilius. I don't know if you're aware, but… I'll be real and to the point. Something really bad's happened. It's, uh… man, it's a real mess out here, it's really, really, bad…” They glance at you, “Y- you see what I'm talking about, right?! Like- [Name] and I swapped bodies! And- and Meursault and Ryōshū are smiling! And there aren't any dead bodies around-!”
“...” Vergilius stares at Dante and you in silence, blank faced. Charon, however, looks gradually more pissed. …you’re so fucked. Actually, Dante is so fucked. Or both of you are.
“So, uh, where to begin… I- it's kinda my fault, maybe, kind of. In a fit of frustration, I thought some stupid wish, or… said some wish, it doesn't matter.” They stutter a bit, fiddling with their hands, “And uh… a W-something… uh, a meteor fell and, the meteor was two-hundred-fifty-thousand…something… and, uhm…”
“I’m going to jump.” You admit to yourself aloud, glad Vergilius and Charon can’t understand you.
Vergilius looks into Dante’s eyes, expression blank now. And Dante visibly pales.
“Can…” He mumbles, “Candy… when?”
“Oh.” Dante grimaces, shaking their head, “No. No, no, no. No. Why are you doing this to me? Don't do this to me!”
“Bus driver needs sweets.” Vergilius- no, Charon- mutters, “No vroom-vroom without candy.”
Charon- actually, Vergilius- glares holes into Dante. You swear her eyes are glowing red right now… “Dante… What the hell kind of ridiculous wish did you make on the star to put us in this mess…?”
A thud rings out through the bus as Dante falls over unconscious. You feel like you’re about to join them…
–★★★–
You wish you were the one who went unconscious instead of Dante. Because, at least that way, you wouldn’t have to deal with this nightmare.
You thought the bickering the Sinners were having about you before was bad… but it’s honestly worse now. It’s way worse.
You glance over at the beaten up Heathcliff in Sinclair’s body, who just got into a fight with Ryōshū in Hong Lu’s body when she tried to kill Hong Lu and herself to see if reviving will fix this, even if it’d cause you unbearable pain. He did win the fight, but it wasn’t pretty.
You hate it here.
Your head snaps up as Dante lets out a faint groan and blinks awake, slowly sitting up with bleary eyes as they seem to forget what happened.
“Ooh, they're back up again. Oi, get any visions during your beauty sleep? Find a way to put us back?” Heathcliff asks, sitting up.
“Dante~ Gosh, Hong Lu kept insisting that we employ the 'D.R.D.R.' method, so it took us some effort to hold 'em back~” Rodya muses, glancing at Ryōshū with a slightly tense look.
“Heh. This polearm'll do. Can't promise O.H.K.O, though.” She muses, on her 34th cigarette so far.
“Manager Esquire!!! Behold this mane as white as snow; dost thou recall mine ill-fortuned Princess of the North Snow Plains cosplay attempt?!” Don has the widest grin you will ever see on Faust’s face. “Verily, 'tis an opportunity most apt for a second attempt at a high qually-tee cosplay!”
This is Sancho, by the way. She is fully aware she is Sancho and is willingly choosing to act like this.
“Denied.” Faust calmly says, causing Don to look disappointed.
“No, no! Still so weak! Puff out your chest and be bold! Push the voice out straight from your gut, go!” Outis orders, still trying to make Yi Sang- in her body- behave like how she does.
“Y-you pathetic wimps…!”
“LOUDER!”
“Y- you pathet… I… can no longer…” He looks over at you, silently begging for help.
“Really? You're gonna do this… now?” Ishmael dryly asks, staring at the scene in annoyance.
“Outis, that’s enough. Lighten up on him.” You tell her, in unbridled emotional pain.
“Assistant Manager, I am simply-” She starts to sputter out, but quiets down when you raise a hand.
“I said enough. Yi Sang, come here.” You order, and watch as an unusually weak-willed Outis quickly walks over and practically squishes into the same seat as you.
“Thank you, my love…” He whispers into your currently non-existent ears, almost nuzzling into you, “I don’t know what someone like me would do without you.”
Ishmael scowls at the sight of Yi Sang and you, but scoffs and looks at Dante. “Dante. What'd Vergilius say anyway? I didn't hear the conversation thanks to all the ruckus. I'm gonna guess he said something about making a report to the higher-ups and asking them to resolve this asap, right?”
Dante just stares blankly at her, a haunted look in their eyes.
“That does not appear to be a feasible solution.” Meursault adds.
Gregor raises an eyebrow. “Huh? Why? Bud, you gotta elaborate-”
“Ah… Kkomi.” Vergilius murmurs. When everyone stares at him in shock, probably expecting Charon to be in her own body, he sighs. “… Charon's favorite plush. She really treasures it.”
“That’s… really cute, actually.” You say, before remembering he can’t understand you when he gives you a confused look.
The Sinners, meanwhile, stare at the scene in silent horror. All of them.
“Kkomi won't stand no candy. Kkomi said so.” Charon mutters, “[Name] has candy, yes?”
You shake your head, and Charon frowns, her grip on the red bear toy tightening.
“What the hell does that even mean? Won't stand no candy…?” Outis asks, visibly annoyed.
“Miss Outis… it seems hardly wise to practice such an inquisition toward miss Charon at the moment…” Yi Sang points out.
“Pray tell, who is this ‘Kkomi’?! A villain, from a book?!” Don eagerly asks, curious.
“Oh, you're not gonna stand it, huh? Oi, don't talk to us like that!” Heathcliff snaps, “If you ain't gonna stand it, what are you gonna do, huh?”
“S- stop antagonizing her! We might have to fight V- v- v- Vergilius at this rate…!” Sinclair yelps, visibly shaking.
Heathcliff-Sinclair almost growls in anger. You thought he got over the Distortion… “Lad! I hear three more stutters, and I'll bash my head in!”
“Heeugh…!” Sinclair recoils, and you decide to stare at the terrified Heathcliff being controlled by Sinclair for another moment. Soon, this will be over. It will be over soon. This nightmare will be over. And you’ll look back on it and find it funny.
“M- Manager Esquire, 'twould be most wise to avoid battling a Color Fixer…!” Don suddenly says, shaking. Probably remembering the things Vergilius has done to her…
“The main components comprising Kkomi are 7% cotton fiber, 3% synthetic fiber, and 90% cotton wool. However, considering the force behind it, its physical damage is non-negligible.” Meursault notes, “The existence of several stitch marks indicate serious combat experience.”
“Kinda reminds me of my own stuffed animal…” You murmur to yourself, causing Yi Sang to stare at you with a curious look, clearly having heard you.
“My my my~ Verg! You're so cute like this~” Rodya coos, giving Charon a teasing look. Vergilius just glares at her.
“K.E.E.L.A.” Ryōshū mutters, glancing at Sinclair when people seem confused. “… Translate.”
“Kill Everyone, Everyone Lucid Again… she says.” Sinclair mumbles.
“FIEEEE ONNNN THEEEE!!!” Don screeches, causing everyone to look her way in shock, “Wherefore art thou tearing off mine most precious badges?!”
“… They are distractions.” Faust doesn’t stop taking off the badges with swift and apathetic motions.
“Hoyday, a most ridiculous notion…! P-prithee, take care, for they mustn't be scratched…!” Don sputters out, “DO NOT TOUCH THAT ONE!!”
“Ha ha.” Dante mumbles, leaning back as they seem to give up, “Holy shit.”
Hong Lu stares at Dante in wide-eyed shock. “Wow! Did everyone just hear that? I don't think Dante's ever said anything like-”
Yi Sang looks concerned. “Dante, are you well…?”
“… No candy?” Charon mutters, looking frustrated.
“Dammit…! Looks like she's getting ready to engage us in battle!” Outis yelps, caught off guard.
“… What can we do…?” Dante asks, uneasy.
“Die, probably.” You add, “We are all dead. All of us. Even you and me, Dante. We dead.”
“… Haaah. [Name] seems certain… of our deaths…” Faust says with hesitance, “What can we do, Ver…gilius.”
“… As you must be aware…” He responds, “… Charon does not know how to utilize the gladius. She has zero fighting knowledge or experience. This will be the greatest advantage you have, even if you must contend with my body. It will not be easy… but not impossible. However, if I ever hear even a toot of any foolishness like…” His gaze narrows and seems to glow red for a moment, “… "I beat the Red Gaze" anywhere within this bus… I will make you pay for every letter of every word in your witless boast.”
The air on the bus seems to thicken with the tension now raised.
“… Damn.” Heathcliff mutters, and someone seems to indignantly click their tongue.
“‘When my eyes turn red, run’ ahh…” You sarcastically mutter to yourself. “...do not translate that. Lemme take advantage of the chance to shit-talk him without him understanding and killing me.”
You think you hear someone snort in amusement at that. Maybe more than one person.
“W- wait. Why are we even fighting a Color right now?! We have zero reason to believe that this'll change anything…!” Ishmael yelps.
Gregor grits his teeth. “Fellas… it doesn't seem to me that we have much in the way of options…!”
“All of you…” She orders, “Off. The. Bus.”
–★–
You stand next to Dante, the scene mirroring what happened right before you two got whacked across the head and knocked out. This time, however, it’s them ordering the Sinners to fight the Red Gaze, all of whom got bodyswapped, including you two.
For a moment between orders, they glance at you.
“...your body is- uh- beautiful. Even moreso now that I’m in it.” They tell you.
“Uh… thanks..?” You hesitantly reply.
“But it’s kind of… hell,” They continue, “I get why you want to return to normal again.”
You nod, waiting for them to continue.
“...honestly, [Name]- I really care about you.” They admit, “I’m… mad that you lied to me for so long. Well- more hurt, really. I thought there was something special between us, but… there isn’t. But… I guess now that I had time to think about it, it doesn’t hurt as much.”
You tilt your head. “...why? I spent months lying to you- spouting barely believable bullshit you blindly trusted- how can you care about me?”
“Because, despite everything, you chose to stay.” They admit, “You had so many chances to leave, but… you didn’t. And back in La Manchaland… that was a one time thing you tried out of fear. But you had so many chances to flee over the last few days and stayed… I guess, even if I don’t really trust you anymore, I still care.”
You glance away.
“You’re… amazing, [Name]. I’m so glad I met you.” They admit, “I love you.”
“You… what?”
“I love you.” They repeat, taking your hands in their own. “You are beautiful and kind and wonderful. You're ignorant and terrified, but you’re loving. You put others before yourself in most situations and help anyone you can. How can’t I love you?”
They lean in close, causing you to unconsciously lean back as their hands drift from your hands to your hips. “I’m sorry I have to use your body to do this, but I need to kiss you. I need you. I have no idea what I’ll do without you.”
“I can’t lose you. I can never lose you.”
“I’m not letting anyone ever take you away from me.”
“I love you so, so much…”
You can’t force them off as they kiss you. All you do is hear as the bus sparks to life and comes charging at everyone.
Oh god.
–★★★–
You start with a gasp, sitting up and slamming forehead first into Gregor’s head.
“Fuck-” He yelps, covering his forehead with a wince, before giving you a weak smile. “Haa… glad you’re okay, bud. No injuries or..?”
You flinch as Sinclair tightly hugs you, snot and tears staining your shirt as he shakes against you. “I- I thought you dieeedddd… [Name]- [Naaaammmeeeeee]...”
“Glad you and the clockhead ain’t dead.” Heathcliff tells you.
Wait-
WAIT IT’S OVER!!!
YOU’RE ON THE BUS AND IN YOUR ORIGINAL BODY!!!
Not your human one, unfortunately, BUT A BODY YOU’RE FAMILIAR WITH!!
“Heathcliff…!” Dante yelps out, coming to the same realization as you. “Heathcliff… it's you, right?!”
Heathcliff flinches as Dante shoots up and seems to practically hug Heathcliff. “Agh…! The hell, mate?! Get off me! Gah!”
“He is Heathcliff…!” Dante practically squeals.
Sinclair freezes when you hug him back, literally crying too. “We’re free… WE’RE FREE!!!”
“[N- [Name]..?” Sinclair stutters out, and you fail to notice how beet red his face is.
“Hmph. A.L.A.T.C.T.” Ryōshū says, taking a drag of her cigarette.
You never thought you’d wake up and be happy to be in this body…
“Much worries were had by all afore miss Faust informed us of your safety.” Yi Sang admits.
“Yeah, same! I thought you wouldn't ever wake up again or something~” Rodya muses.
“Uh… looks like your hour hand's trembling, Dante! Are you alright?” Hong Lu curiously asks, “Oh! [Name], I didn’t know your tears were green. They’re pretty~”
“Should we call Hohenheim to run some tests on them?” Ishmael asks.
Faust shakes her head. “Faust has already taken all necessary measures. This does not appear to be something that requires his assistance.”
“Manager Esquire… 'twas all mine wrongdoing… I had failed to expect that thou wert still within the range of shrapnels… 'twas my carelessness…” Don says with tears in her eyes, before tightly hugging you as well with a loud sob, “FORGIVE ME!!!”
“You’re forgiven, just never become Faust again.” You tell her, hugging her as well.
Ishmael silently mouths “what the fuck” to herself, and many other Sinners look equally as confused.
“Extending the distance between the manager and the battlefield in future battles would be an effective means of minimizing certain risk factors.” Meursault notes.
“Yeah, bud. I appreciate the fervor, but don't try so hard that you'll hurt yourself. Take it easy, alright?” Gregor tells you and Dante with a slight tilt of his head.
Outis grits her teeth. “Dammit… I, Outis, shall take responsibility for this incident. Allow me to bow before you in hopes of seeking-”
“Guys…” Dante says, “I think… I like us… exactly as we are right now…”
“… Hm.” Vergilius raises an eyebrow. “Going by the tick-tocking noises you're making… you sound moved, Dante. I, for one, am also glad that I wouldn't have to remove your clock hands. It would not have been pleasant.”
Once everyone who was crying finally stopped, Dante stepped off the bus for a moment to “stretch their legs”. Meanwhile, you sat alone in a seat, staring out the window at Dante and Charon talking as you thought about Dante’s confession.
This isn’t the first time someone in the City confessed to loving you, but…
Every time someone has, their “love” was more like a damaging obsession that made everything worse. It happened in the Pallid Whale… at Wuthering Heights… at La Manchaland… and so many other places.
You knew everyone on this bus held an inkling of that fucked-up version of love, but Dante saying it so plainly makes you feel… unnerved, honestly.
Your gaze falls up to the stars in the night sky.
The bus is like a pot being slowly heated up the longer you spend here. You’ve been here long enough you’re definitely in hot water. And you need to escape. But Dante said it themselves, they aren’t willing to lose you.
Warnings: Obsession and other general yandere behaviors; violence; blood; gore; swearing; Kromer; VERY SUGGESTIVE (Kromer and Sinclair HEAVILY either debate or think about getting a hit of that dussy (demon bussy)); partial nudity (reproductive parts remain covered); dubcon touching (not particularly explicit just suggestive); Kromer again; implications of Sinclair x Demian but not confirmed just vaguely implied for like 5 seconds; Kromer AGAIN (she needs to be stopped); main character harm (pretty grevious harm too)
Note: I’m like 60% sure no one reads these notes so I’m gonna explain why I gave Rewind time travel powers, as seen in the last post.
It’s because of the fucking Erlking.
I wanted to make him yandere but couldn’t find any genuine excuses for it without it being “love at first sight” (which, no, he is NOT a character who would do that). So I said “FUCK IT, TIME TRAVEL” and now lil ol Rewind will travel back in time and accidentally pull past Heathcliff. We are SO ready.
Anyways now I await no one replying to this <3
Extra Note: Ts is gonna be the longest chapter yet. Also!! Is gonna be unique because I said “FUCK IT LETS TRY SOMETHING NEW!!!” Hope yall like what I did!!
Extra Extra Note: I made Kromer WAY more of a freak that I initially planned too, but I feel like it fits her more. It gets pretty bad so I just wanna say either MDNI or skip the second scene with Kromer. Don't really care which, but just know I don't condone any of the shit she does she's just a true freak. And not a freak like I am for Ahab oh she is so much worse
Probably won't mark this as mature content as when I was 16 I consumed WAYYY worse things because I was stupid but just like... yeahhhh. No regrets making Kromer literal pond scum though I hope she dies again
Your name had quietly flown from my lips when I watched her carry you into that house.
I couldn’t move for a moment there, couldn’t stop her. Couldn’t do anything but helplessly watch you get carried away before…
You were gone.
I just… I couldn’t think straight, all I felt was a blinding, unyielding rage. First she took my family, and now you..?
The scream that tore from my throat hurt, but didn’t even compare too… I- all I could feel was anger, and hate, and Wings I just wanted her dead.
I don’t know if anyone tried to stop me as I charged after her- after you. But I didn’t care. I just needed to get to you, to save you. Anything. Anything for you.
You’re the only one here that’s kind, the only one who understands why I hate her. If I lost you… what would I even do?
When the Inquisitors got in my way, I didn’t care. When I got grabbed by one, I didn’t care. When I cracked their skull in half and watched blood and gray matter fall from their split head and hood, I didn’t care.
“…What the-? The hell have you been dawdling in the back for if you could do that?” Heathcliff asked me, but I didn’t respond as I continued to maim any Inquisitor who tried to stop me. I needed to get to you, I needed to save you-!
You saved me so much, just by sitting there and listening and encouraging me you did so much. I couldn’t let her hurt you.
“I remember with clarity that I had ended your lives. I undoubtedly witnessed torn brain tissue spill through the cracks in your skulls.” The bastard had said, standing before my burning home with weapon drawn, ready to stop me from trying to save you. “And yet, here you heretics are, before me on your feet.”
“You’re not the one to complain about miraculous recoveries…” Gregor dryly muttered. I don’t understand why you seem to like him and his comments, but… you look at me with a sparkle in your eyes he doesn’t get. So… Surely you like me more, right? Maybe even… love me more? Right?
Why do you cling to him and not me not someone like Dante? Is it because you’re both different from normal people? That- that doesn’t matter to me! You’re everything. Everything.
Do you know how pretty you are? Not pretty like how a human is, no, but the way your nose wrinkles when you're amused or annoyed. The way your head tilts as you think. The way your wings curl when you get unnerved and fluff out when you're startled. You're pretty.
Maybe adorable is the right word, though. You seem more adorable than pretty, but both can be true at once, right?
I should get back on topic instead of talking about my thoughts for you.
Guido stared holes into Dante, who seems too caught up with you being kidnapped. I mean- I get it. Your kidnapping devastated all of us, I’m sure. But… It especially hurt me. Because she did it.
When he nods, I wanted to scream because he was in my way from saving you.
I’m not sure why I felt like I needed to do this. Maybe because you felt like you saved me, like you took my hand and dragged me out of a pit of fear that would’ve made it impossible for me to face her again. You saved me and tried to save me again and again. Saving you was the least I could do.
“You there, the one possessing the head of a heretic.” Guido said to Dante, “You must be the false shepherd enticing this herd into blasphemy.”
When he nodded at the nailed corpses, I wanted to slaughter him.
I think I'm doing it again. Sorry. I'll try to focus.
“They committed the grave sin of entering the site of hallowed rites with their unclean bodies. Thus, they have been punished with the same penalty as heretics receive.” He said, “They have also been subjected to the humiliation of bodily mechanical intrusions being installed against their will. But you are different.”
He took a singular step towards everyone, but I could not charge at him. All I could do is try to fight off the hordes of Inquisitors that surrounded me.
“The sin of worshipping a heretic is less severe than indulging in heresy oneself.” He told the Sinners- all of them, including me. “Therefore, as long as you are willing to repent and cleanse your minds of sin… We, the Hammer, are willing to demonstrate forgiveness.”
He spread out his arms, as if offering a blessing. A really evil blessing. “So I implore you, ye pitiable foolish sinners, led astray by temptation. Shake off the allure of that false miracle, and kneel before me.”
I staggered back as the Inquisitors abruptly cease their onslaught, but I couldn’t get through them all. I couldn’t get to you…
Dante was silent, staring at where you once were with a blank sort of look. I may have been wrong, though. They don’t have a face for me to see expressions on. Then, they spook. <Are they alive?>
“If Kromer really wanted [Name] dead… she would’ve just outright killed them.” Ishmael pointed out, “But she took care to bind and take them. She doesn’t want them dead, but… what would she want with them?”
How did Ishmael know that? She didn’t know anything about that bitch. She didn’t know, and still doesn’t. You should be able to understand that- you had to suffer under her, while she didn’t.
“...” I had a few guesses to what she wanted with you. I should’ve known something was off with the way she looked at you that day… Why couldn’t I remember until today? Why couldn’t I warn you? Why couldn’t I stop her?
I failed you. And I kept doing it over and over again.
“So you think throwing some fancy words around will be enough to persuade us, eh…” Heathcliff muttered, glaring at Guido, “Listen up, Faceplate: You’re the one who needs a little shaking off. Seems to me your human brain’s just as defective.”
“……” Guido stood upright, “You were given ample opportunity. You are no different from those we hung and nailed after all.”
He drew his weapon. “I am a Hammer. I am a tool for the One Who Grips, tasked with the great mission of piercing the false flesh of heretics. I shall bind thee to a nail, and lay thee down furthest from soil. For he who shan’t repent…”
“Oi, when are you gonna finish your stupidly long taunt?” Heathcliff shouted, readying his bat. He was angry, but that’s usual for him. I’ve lost track of the times he cracked my skull open for upsetting him.
No one on this bus is like you. You’re the only genuinely kind one. Maybe Dante is too, but it’s not the same. You’re gentle and patient. I’d do anything for you.
Guido dips his head slightly, glaring at us with nothing but malice. “…is not granted rest beneath the earth.”
–★★★–
How is she this strong..?
You squirm helplessly in her arms, unable to move any one of your limbs. Your wings press against her, trying to push yourself away as you try to free your legs or arms. You aren’t successful.
“Aww… look at you~!” Kromer coos in that fake, overly saccharine tone. “Trying so hard to get away… didn’t you miss me?”
You still, to give her the most deadpan look you can muster. “No.”
She cackles, grip on you tightening as she carries you like a baby. Or a rug… depends on how you carry rugs… ah- fuck- why are you like this..?
“There’s no need to lie because you’re mad at me, my [Name]. After all, I’m not the one who killed him. Your friends were, weren’t they?”
It’s like she twisted the knife she stabbed you with.
Your chest heaves, heat from the flames diminishing as she carries you down, and through an empty yet bloodstained tunnel. She’s taking you into the Lobcorp facility linked to Sinclair’s house.
The only things you hear are your heavy breaths and Kromer’s whistle. It’s loud and piercing and frustrating, yet haunting and faint at the same time. You don’t like it. You don’t like this at all.
So what do you plan to do about it?
You… don’t know. You don’t. What can you do? Even if you hurt her, you’re chained and bound and are stuck on what’s as good as her turf.
You’re as good as dead if you try to hurt her. She’ll just laugh, mock you, and do… who knows what.
But looking at her face… her stupid, dumb smirk… God, you hate seeing it. Hate seeing it knowing everything she’s done.
You squint when the space suddenly grows to a massive size, and you realize you have been quite literally carried straight into the facility. It’s being used as a temporary base for the Nagel und Hammer, the space bustling with Inquisitors and torture equipment and poor people being brutalized and killed in the name of “purity”. It makes you want to vomit.
Kromer seems to relish in the awed attention she receives from each Inquisitor when they notice her, but you do all you can to ignore it all. You instead look for someone else, and…
“SAUDE!!”
Kromer flinches at your sudden lunge, one hand snaking into your hair to help hold you back as the woman, laying on the ground in a bloody heap, tries to lift her head to stare at you.
“Oh~ another one of your friends?” Kromer coos, and you wince as she tugs your head up by the hair. “And look at her, on the brink of death.”
“So… do you want to keep her alive?” She asks you, moving her head to rest it on your shoulder. “Because I have many people here who are willing to kill her. But… maybe I’ll let her live. But, only if you promise me something.”
Your breath hitches, and you glare at her from the corner of your eye.
“Well~?”
“...What?”
She doesn’t even try to hide her grin. “Let me do whatever I want to you.”
You give her a disgusted look.
“Nothing sexual, silly.” Kromer teases, “Well, not particularly so. Just one little thing. Nothing more. And that way, I promise she gets to live.”
You don’t want her to do anything to you. But…
You look at Saude breathing weakly on the ground.
…
You swallow a lump in your throat, and give a firm nod.
“Words, [Name], I want to hear you speak.”
You glower at her in response.
“With one order, I can kill her~”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes… you can do… anything you want to me. Only if she gets to live.”
“Awh~ Good!” Kromer coos, and you give her a look of disdain. She turns to say something to the Inquisitors, but all you can do is seethe.
Are you doing this because of Effie?
He would want this. You can’t think of any world where Effie would want Saude to die.
Plus… you already failed him. The least you can do is guarantee she lives.
Then you realize Kromer is moving again. And you didn’t even get to…
“SAUDE!!!” You screech, trying to call out to her in desperation, “I’M SORRY- I- FUCK- I’M SORRY!!! PLEASE!! EFFIE IS- I- I COULDN’T- I’M SO, SO SORRY, PLEASE-!”
Kromer slaps a hand over your snout, squeezing it tightly. Your voice dies almost immediately, and all you can do is let out a choked whisper.
“Forgive me…”
–★★★–
The ground shook when Guido fell, but I couldn’t care. All I could do was stab an Inquisitor with the point of my halberd over and over again.
How dare she take you. How dare she.
Blood spurted from their corpse, organs tumbling out of their increasingly mangled body.
Are you even alive? These people… they stopped me from getting to you. How dare they.
Rodion said something to me, but I ignored it. I know it wasn’t the right thing to do, but…
Wings… if you aren’t okay when I find you, I’ll…
“I’ll… kill… them all…”
I choked out, stabbing them over, and over, and over again. My thoughts were an endless mantra of only you. [Name], I swear I’ll find you. I’ll kill anyone who gets in my way. I’m not strong enough to carry you, but I’ll lead you out and let you rest in my room. I’ll take care of Orbi as you recover and will do anything you need me to. All I want is just your safety and a single smile.
I’ll make sure you’ll be okay. I’ll-
I gasped when I was knocked to the ground, halberd falling from my hands and clattered to the ground. I lifted my head, caught a glimpse of blonde hair, before stars filled my vision as Don Quixote beat me senseless.
It really, really hurt, but I was too dazed to fight back and get her off of me. I thought I heard my nose crack as her onslaught continued. If anyone else said anything, I couldn’t hear it. The only sounds that filled my ears are the ones of me being beaten halfway to a bloody pulp.
When she abruptly stoped, the tears and swelling in my eyes made it hard to see her jovial face leer down at me. “Pray tell, how dost thou feel now?”
I just let out a noise of pain, hoping Dante is willing to fix this mess before I go to save you. They were, thankfully, but I didn’t know it at the time.
“Pardon my rash action. Oft I would find myself overcome by fervor, rampaging much the same as a riderless horse.” Don Quixote told me chipperly, helping me to my feet, “At such moments, mine old friends helped me to come to myself- by beating me senseless. ‘Twas, at times, the only remedy to the fever that had overtaken me.”
“Aha, so in that sense, Vergilius must be a good friend of yours too, right?” Ishmael sarcastically asked, earning a snicker from Rodion and a blush from Don Quixote.
“Well- I…!”
“Hic… Huhk…” I felt tears run down my bruised cheeks, and rubbed my injured face with a hand as all I think about is you and that night and how that bitch ruined it all. “I’ll get her for this…”
I feel myself shake again, feeling so pathetic and weak and- “I’ll go to my home… and skewer that bitch… I’ll skewer her with a stake…! And then-”
My voice collapsed into pained sobs, and I felt small and helpless. I won’t let her hurt you. I’ll find you, and- and…
Thinking about it, it's almost weird how quickly you consumed my thoughts. I met you years ago, sure, but only really knew you for roughly a week.
I think it might be because you care about me. And I’d like you to continue caring.
But I still hate her. First she took my family. Then she took my home. Then she took you. But at least I had a chance to save one of these things.
Sometimes I wonder, if I had a chance to save you or my family, which one I would pick. I don’t even really know. It’s not something I like to think about.
Do you have things you don’t like to think about? You seem nervous so often, but you continue on in silence and stand strong. I wish I could be like you. You don’t freeze up like I do. You take action.
Even if sometimes those actions fail.
“I… lost everything overnight…” I choked out between sniffles, “Back then… they didn’t parade their ‘Nagel und Hammer’ name around. You didn’t see large groups like that in the open. But, at some point…”
“People calling themselves ‘Hammers’ started showing up in town, one by one, and…” I broke into sobs once more, “Eagh, hic…”
“It’s okay, kiddo. No need to push yourself…” Rodion tells me, patting me on the back.
“No!” I cry out, “No- I need to- need-”
But I just devolved into sobs again. She gently pats me on the back, but it fixes nothing.
“I still think that sometimes…” I let out a hiccup, “This is all just a bad dream and I’m having trouble waking up…”
“It always comes… Every morning, before I open my eyes…” My voice cracks, “Maybe this time… I’ll wake up and see my familiar ceiling… Just maybe.”
And I just broke down again. Pathetic as always.
—
I don’t really know how I managed to gather or compose myself. After the tears stopped, I just… felt almost numb. The rage that flew through me dying down enough that I almost appeared composed.
But my hands still shook. Especially when I desperately gathered up the Ampules you dropped. What if you’re hurt when I find you? She has no qualms about killing and maiming… What if she does it to you?
I need- need- need…
I need you.
I have a confession I need to make.
I’ve snuck into Dante’s room to watch you sleep before. Well, into may be an overstatement. I just crack the door and can see you. I don’t know why you sleep in that chair. Is it really comfortable? Or is it because you don’t want the bed. Or Dante won’t let you have the bed-
No, no. I see Dante around you. They would let you have the bed.
So why don’t you take the offer? I don’t really understand it, but… you do look peaceful when you sleep. Your wings wrap around your body and you hold your tail close.
Sometimes I want to open the door and go all the way in. Go to your sleeping body and watch closely. See the way your chest rises and falls with each breath, each twitch as you dream, and maybe even crawl into your arms.
But that’s not the worst thing I want to do to you. I…
I don’t know how to put it into words but it isn’t good. But I shouldn’t talk about that right now. You’re probably disgusted enough by my confession, not that I’ll ever let you learn about it, but…
Anyways.
I wasn’t the only one who grabbed something of your’s. Your swords- Abnormality swords?- were left still stabbed into the earth. On closer inspection, they were dug so far into the ground they couldn’t pull themselves out. Probably was why they didn’t turn her into mincemeat the moment she touched you.
But Dante pulled them out, and they floated behind them and made little movement. I’d almost say they looked dismayed with your absence, but…
It was my intuition that led us down to the Lobotomy Corporation Branch. That, or the pull of the Golden Bough. Maybe it was your pull, though. No. No, I’m being delusional.
Faust as good as confirmed it anyways, with her silence and all that.
Do you like Faust? You seem rather uncomfortable around her… Is it because of the many things she won’t tell us? She also seems pretty skeptical of you, but I can’t understand why. You’re almost like an open book, even going as far to tell us about that woman you loved.
Well, you still love her, I guess.
Is it wrong I hope you stop? Because she may not even love you back. You’re plenty loveable, yes, but… what if she doesn’t?
I don’t understand love. I don’t think I've ever been in love before. Is it a warm, fuzzy feeling like some people described it to me as? Well, “people” being my parents. I get that feeling around you, but that can’t be love, right?
I gotten it for Demian once, but I don’t love him. He kind of intimidates me, to be honest. And when I first met Kromer, I got it for her, but that feeling has been gone for years.
I can’t love you… right?
—
I don’t want to think about the tortured people I saw in the Lobotomy Corporation branch. I understand what you told me and that I should reflect on it, but I don’t want to write out what I remember the people- people I once knew- said while they were being tortured by the hands of N Corp Inquisitors. I’m sorry.
Miss Rodion took charge, though. She was the first one to move and initiate the fight in this first part.
Then we saw Miss Saude. This is what I remember from the conversation, because this is one of the most blurry parts with how unfocused I was:
“Well I’ll be… You’ve all… gotten better at fighting, haven’t you…?” Miss Saude had weakly croaked out, and we saw her, injured but alive, resting against the wall. Covered in bites and wounds, she tried to push herself up in vain.
“Are you alright? Can you get up easily?” Ishmael had asked, and Saude weakly shook her head.
Then she asked about him.
“Effie… How is he…?” Her voice was desperate, and I didn’t know how to tell her it was our fault he died, with how you… well, you already know. “Alive, yeah? You… must’ve met outside…”
I still regret not speaking up on your behalf. But I must confess, my main worry was that you wouldn’t forgive me. I wasn’t as upset at Effie’s death as I thought I would be. I know it’s wrong, but I think a small part of me is relieved he’s dead.
But Hong Lu had spoken up. “Yes, he’s doing fine now.”
No one else, not me or anyone, said anything more regarding him.
“That’s enough chatter.” Outis said when she changed the topic, “It seems more of those oddities are crawling our way."
Then we were attacked by a horde of Peccatula. It was a relatively tough fight, but nothing much crazier than what we faced before. I mean, sure, some of us died, but that was normal in fights. No, the most important thing came after.
Because then we heard a nail being dragged across the ground. During that time, I almost heard you letting out an audible groan. That would be something you did, right?
But Outis said something about “checking if foes are dead,” as Guido approached us.
“Ye Heretics… must be exterminated.” Guido had told us, approaching with a slow yet steady gait.
“How long have you been…” Dante slowly started to ask, but Guido just kept talking during that time.
“And… the rest… shall be purified.”
I saw Dante start to panic. They were already fidgety since you were kidnapped, but now all the Sinners were dead or injured due to the fight. I was barely standing myself during that time, but just seethed in anger. I knew Dante was about to rewind, as usual, but then Saude spoke.
“Please stop…” She had said, lifting a gun to point at them. “I need you… to keep still… The moment you try to turn that clock, my gun… will blow off your head…”
I couldn’t say anything. I wanted to move to stop her, but I was too worried she would kill Dante. And without Dante to heal or revive me, I had no chance of rescuing you.
Looking back, it would seem like I didn’t care about Dante. But I do! It’s just, in that moment, you were in more danger. I’ve seen first-hand what Kromer can do. You were the priority, simple as that.
Dante croaked out Saude’s name, sounding almost betrayed. I wonder, in that moment, did they wear the same expression you did when Effie died?
“Don’t look at me… like that… I can’t hear you. But, I can tell you this.” She told us, “They promised… to let Effie go… if I helped to get rid of you…”
At that moment, I wished I told her a version of what happened. You would’ve. You would’ve told her the truth and avoided this mess. You would’ve ensured Guido was dead and gave Saude some of those ampules to heal.
“I let too much time pass.” Guido grabbed Dante by the neck, lifting them above the ground with a hand, the other moving to grasp their head and crush it slowly. Your weapons didn’t even move to defend them, just continuing to idly hover. Their loyalty clearly only was for you, and no one else.
But your weapons weren’t my main focus. In that moment, Dante was. I heard their noises of agony, and panicked.
So I moved. Forced myself to rush forward, grabbing Guido’s discarded nail, and impaled it into his back. I drove it though his spine and out his abdomen.
He let out a hiss of pain, and I stood there heaving. That movement really, really hurt. But I knew I would ultimately be okay. As long as Dante is alive, I will always be okay.
Guido staggered, dropping Dante, but didn’t collapse. He stayed standing, slowly turning to face me. “…I see. You, too, are a filthy heretic…”
“You’re… all insane… out of your minds…” I told him, almost falling over.
“The One Who Grips had once said…” Guido told me, and I seethed, “That you could have become the One as well.”
“Fuck her.” I remember spitting out, “And fuck everything… she stands for…”
I think if you were there, I wouldn’t say that. But I do a lot of things because of you. And I clearly think about you a lot. Do you think about me a lot?
“What a shame…” Guido told me, readying himself to kill me. “You grip with the wrong direction.”
<Sinclair… run away… I can’t… help you…> Dante told me, raising a hand to desperately urge me to go.
But I didn’t.
“No… I’m not running anymore.” I said, “I’m not running… from the person in my way..!”
“…I like that answer, Sinclair.” Saude told me, and fired the gun a dozen times at least.
Square at Guido’s head.
He was silent, the bullets digging through the bloody metal helmet he wore, and was silent for a moment, before weakly speaking. “You, who bring ruination upon yourselves… The Hammer shall continue to pursue you…”
Then he collapsed with a thud. And, shortly after, so did Saude’s gun.
<…Saude.> Dante said softly, turning to face her.
“Effie, he’s… he’s dead, isn’t he?” Our silence made her smile, almost mockingly and miserably. “[Name]... they spoke about him when they were dragged through here. And… You’re all terrible liars. At least try to make it somewhat believable.”
<[Name]’s alive?> Dante asked, perking up slightly. Saude gave them a weak look, and I translated their words.
“Haa… yep. Kicking and screaming too.” She said, “Never seen them so… terrified.”
Everyone still alive tensed at that.
“…C’mon Saude, let’s get out of here. You’ll be okay… Just gotta stop the bleeding, and… get you patched up.” Gregor said, approaching her with relative uncertainty.
“Right. I’ll get a tourniquet…” Ishmael murmured, but all Saude did was let out a bitter laugh.
“Don’t be stupid. I can hardly lift a finger.” She told those still alive, “Besides, those Inquisitors will keep on coming, won’t they? You guys need to keep moving down. I’ll hold them off here. You should go.”
“You can’t- You can’t do that…” I choked out. I already didn’t want Saude to die, but I know that if you both lost Effie and Saude in one day, well… you’d be even deeper into a pit of misery you just dragged yourself out of after Yuri’s death.
“You said yourself that you can hardly lift a finger. I can’t let you watch our backs when you’re in such a mess… Please?” Ishmael said, sounding weaker than usual. I wonder if she had the same thought process I did.
“You know… in moments like this… you’re supposed to just nod at me and be on your way.” Saude murmured, “Why do you care so much about the one who volunteered to stay behind?”
Gregor stilled, before speaking in a faint voice I could barely hear. “[Name] would.”
Saude falls silent at that, before letting out a chuckle. “I can almost hear their pleading now… They already begged for my life before. I think they’d hate me forever if I died now, yeah..?”
Then I approached her, hands shaking, and I pulled out the ampules you dropped and dumped them into her hands.
“Live.” I told her as my voice cracked. “...Please.”
She took them, giving me a slight smile. “Just… make sure they get out alright, will you?”
I nodded, but I felt tears welling in my eyes.
“Aw… You’re making this pretty awkward, you know that? Here I thought I could have a cool farewell.” Saude murmured, grinning faintly, “Faust, please take these absolute dorks out of here. I don’t think I’m going to be meeting up with you for a bit…”
“I’ll make sure to give Vergilius your regards.” Faust told her simply.
“No need.” Saude said, “Just… tell them I’m okay, will you?”
“……” Faust nodded only once. “Of course.”
Dante revived the dead and healed those who remained alive, and then we continued on, leaving Saude with her fate hanging in the air, but pointing in a path I hoped you would be glad for.
–★★★–
You were left collapsed on a hill of the dead. By Kromer’s command, all Inquisitors were sent out of the room where she resonated with the Bough. Blood from their bodies stained your clothes, and Kromer was at work forcing you to fulfill your end of the bargain for Saude’s life.
Hands tangled in the feathers of your wings, slowly stretching one out as she almost salivated at the sight of the cool gray feathers. Her nails dragged along them, and this was only one of the many ways she examined every bit of your body.
She’s sitting atop your stomach, straddling your partially exposed body with a look of pleasure adorned her face.
“Oh, how long I waited for this day~!” She cooed to herself, peeling your opened shirt back further. She didn’t touch much else beside the mouth that trailed along your collarbone, and you stared at her in silent hatred.
Carmen hasn’t said a word since you arrived in this room. Perhaps she’s left you here alone to suffer at the hands of this maniac.
“Don’t look at me like that.” She tells you, “Maybe, if you behave enough, I’ll let you out of these binds~”
You don’t believe a word she says as you indignantly turn your head away. Kromer lets out a chuckle, as she roughly grabs your snout with her hand, turning your head to face hers as she leans close.
“If you continue to act like this, you will regret it.” She tells you, voice both mirthful and dangerous, “After all, you agreed to this, didn’t you?”
Since she started to examine you, she shed much of her armor and outfit. Not enough to necessarily flash you, yet enough for you to see much of her body. That, at the very least, is something to be slightly relieved over. If you get free, she’ll be easier to fight off while vulnerable.
“Well?” She asks, grip tightening. You choke out a vague noise of agreement, which seems to satisfy her momentarily as she releases her hold on your face and moves it to the wings on the side of your head.
“Do you know how long I’ve been searching for you?” She asks, “Day and night… yet went so long without a sign I swore I almost forgot you!”
She laughs as you let out a squawk of pain as she tugs at the wings on your head. “But I didn’t, now did I? And here you are, exactly where I want you. Right in my grip. Where you belong.”
You don’t like how she’s talking.
“Oh, look at you~” She muses, a finger slowly rubbing circles against your temple. “The way your face scrunches up and you squirm under me… If you only asked, I could make you squirm so much more~ And make you feel wonderful things~ Wouldn’t you like that?”
Her rightmost hand dips, trailing along your cheek and to your collar, pausing on your shoulder. She smiles at you expectantly.
“I would rather die…” You mutter to her, and she laughs.
“Well then, take your time. I’m far more patient than you think, [Name].” Kromer almost sneers at you, “It’s inevitable some day I shall enjoy this perfect body of yours in every way I please.”
This… she… fuck her. And not in the way she wants. Never in the way she wants.
“Why take me..?” You croak out, “Why not… him?”
“Oh? Sinclair?” She asks, sitting up from where she sits atop your abdomen with a mocking grin. “My [Name]... how can you be so oblivious? Can’t you see how he stares at you? Desperate for an ounce of your affection for any moment you can spare him a drop? How angry he was the moment I got close to you… anywhere you’re taken, he’ll follow.”
“And, if your friends were here…” She says, voice oozing with an unnerving venom, “Then I couldn’t have this little moment with you~”
“Do you know how desperately I wanted a single day with only you? Sinclair too, perhaps, but you. Not with Demian, or that heretic you follow around, or any distractions in your way…” She asks, warm breath drifting across your scarlet skin. “But you and me.”
“You can’t understand how long I’ve waited to embrace you.” She says, moving to lay down atop your body and rest her chin atop your chest. Compared to the corpses beneath you and hazy air, she’s warm. “And I don’t mind how desperately you try to resist me. I am now the hand that feeds you…”
A hand snakes up to grab one of your horns and drag your head towards hers. “So don’t bite at it~”
“And if I do?” You ask through gritted teeth.
She hums. Her hand lets go of your horn, drifting down to the mouth on your shoulder slowly. A finger ghosts the lips, coaxing the mouth open and tongue out. She guides it to her cheek, forcing the green muscle to her skin. Then her grin widens, and her eyes vaguely reflect the light of the Bough.
“Then I’ll bite you. Just as I did before.”
–★★★–
Something that haunted me is what I saw what Kromer was willing to do to the Inquisitors.
I knew she was depraved, and heartless and evil and-
I should just get to the point.
“You hear beasts crawling around somewhere?” Heathcliff had asked all of a sudden when we were almost to the Bough. I knew it, I felt it, and I had hoped that is where you would be.
But he spoke up for a valid reason. There was the sound of something animalistic making choked sounds as something both metallic and wet dragged across the floor.
Then we saw it.
I’m not adept enough to truly describe what it looked like. It was an Inquisitor, but… wrong. Warped and rendered a beast-like shell of what once was a person. An evil person, yes, one who willingly did horrible things. But…
As they made choked noises of pain, I almost pitied them.
“Are those Abnormalities?” Gregor wondered aloud, but Ishmael shook her head.
“Take a closer look- They aren’t Abnormalities. See that emblem…”
And everyone else came to the same realization I had.
“E.G.O Corrosion has wrested them.” Faust explained, looking unphased as ever.
“You mean that nauseating state…?” Gregor started to wonder aloud, looking unsettled.
“I think it happened to me in battle once when I was on the verge of a breakdown… It was like I was being devoured.” Ishmael confessed.
I’m lucky I never had to deal with that yet.
“Although it’s not quite like consumption in the conventional sense… I do suppose that it is a serviceable analogy, seeing as it eats away at your essence.” Faust had acknowledged with a nod, “…And in observation, unlike the last floor, this place does not seem to be exclusively for torturing prosthesis users. It would be fair to say that its purpose is to induce Corrosion unto oneself.”
Looking ahead, we saw more corroded Inquisitors, and I wanted to vomit. Dante merely sighed, and all I did was worry about you.
<...Sinclair.> They said, looking square at me.
“Yes..?” I quietly asked, looking back at them.
<I have something that could help us…> They trailed off, <It’s an ID. I’ve been a little hesitant to put it on you since I saw what happened when I uptied it, but…>
“Is it… strong?” I questioned.
<Yes. It seems to be.> They said with a slight nod, <But I think you might have some issues with it… because it’s you as an Inquisitor.>
That gave me pause. You hated N Corp as much as I did, Kromer as much as I did-! How would you look at me if I came to save you wearing an ID of the faction you despised?
But I needed strength. And I knew any ID of mine would fight for Dante, even against her.
So I said yes.
–★★★–
Kromer had left you alone. Even was “kind” enough to redo your binds so your hands were tied in front of your body instead of behind. Your clothes were also redone to be neat, but she did speak about plans to put you in an outfit similar to hers soon enough.
Did she really think you’d just agree to join N Corp after everything she did? Psychotic…
You were sitting up, golden light reflecting off the blood red corpses beneath you as you waited for when the Sinners would inevitably come.
Even if they didn’t care enough to save you, the Golden Bough is here. They’ll be here soon enough.
You lifted your arms slightly, staring at the bite wound still on your hand. It made you grit your teeth and want to scream and thrash, but you were honestly exhausted. All you did for a long time was scream and thrash, and you earnestly just wanted to go back to the bus and sleep.
But you can’t.
The sound of metal moving made your head snapped up, horrified Kromer was approaching you as she was preparing for Sinclair’s arrival. She wouldn’t make a show of you to him, would she? Well, of course she would, but-!
But it wasn’t Kromer who stood before you.
It was Guido.
“No… no..!” You choked out, trying to move back- away- anything. “No no NO-! You are the second to last person I want to see-! FUCK OFF!”
Your ranting turned belligerent, spewing rage-filled words at the ghost of the man who stood before you. He said nothing until your words died down, and turned to muffled begging for him to leave.
“Go away- just- leave. Leave me alone.” You pleaded, curling in on yourself, “Just- get away from me… please.”
“...” Guido is silent, and you can’t bring yourself to stare at his impaled body that stands, almost alive, before your bound body. “You deny the honor of being wielded by the One Who Grips, even as she fawns for you. Why is that so?”
“...” You just slowly raised your head to stare at him. “Why do you die for the sake of a heartless monster? Why do you kill people just because you deem them as 'heretics'? Why do you stand before me now, as if you have any right to speak to me?”
“I hate you and everything you and her stand for. If there was a list of everyone I wished to never see, your name would be second on that list.” You spit at him, “I hope your death hurt. Now… LEAVE. ME. ALONE!”
Your voice broke into crumbling sobs as you collapsed down onto the gory mountain you were trapped upon, tears burning your cheeks as you wanted to melt into nothingness so all this suffering may end.
You wish she just killed you.
“Am I on the list?” A familiar voice asked, causing your sobs to abruptly cease as you scrambled to sit up. “Or do you want to see me?”
“Ef…fie..?” Your voice was wobbly, green tears blurring the edges of your vision as the ghost of the man stood over you with a faint grin. Seeing the hole through his torso where a nail once impaled him made you queasy, but it was undeniably him. “Effie…”
“Yep. That’s me.” He says, smiling slowly softening at your- admittedly pitiful- appearance.
“Effie…” Your voice cracked as you sobbed out his name, blazing tears streaming down your cheeks as you weakly tried to reach out. “I’m so- so- sorry-! I’m so sorry..!”
You sound like a broken record as you choke out apologies to the dead man, who crouches down to your level while holding his hands up.
“Hey, hey-! You didn’t- you didn’t kill me, you dork.” He tells you, gently placing his hands on your shoulders, “You… gah- Why did it have to be me? I can’t comfort people…”
He shakes his head, arms wrapping around your shaking body as he hugs you gently. “It’s alright. Really, it is. You did all you could, it isn’t your fault.”
Yes it is. You could’ve done more. But you didn’t. You failed him. You failed him. You-
“He’s right. You didn’t fail anyone.” Yuri tells you, causing Effie to pull back and stare in confusion at the pink haired woman, as she crouches down and sits by your left with a tender smile. “If anything, you did more than anyone else did.”
“Who..?” Effie starts to ask, before nodding slightly when you almost collapse into Yuri, spewing out choked, muffled wails. “Oh. You and her..? Okay, I get it…”
He moves to your right, and you’re sandwiched between the two. Two people you failed who are claiming you didn’t. Why do they comfort someone like you?
“I’m Yuri.” She says as a polite introduction, giving Effie a simple smile.
“Effie.” He says in response with a nod, and the two look at your quaking, hunched form. “...[Name], it’s not your fault I’m dead. If anything, it’s because of you I’m still here.”
But he never should’ve died. What you did… you should’ve been able to save him. So why couldn’t you?
Their words almost seem like meaningless chatter, ungenuine attempts of comfort. But their faces, their warm smiles… those are genuine, so why don’t their words feel the same?
What are you even doing? Why do you even try..?
Another meaningless drabble fills your ears, but sounds almost like the buzzing of a radio. To you, it’s incomprehensible. And yet…
…
It feels almost like someone trying to offer advice. But you don’t welcome it. Why would you?
“Who are you talking to?”
Kromer’s voice, sickeningly saccharine and threatening all at one, cuts through any chatter like a razor. Your head snaps up so swiftly you nearly hear a crack, and both ghosts beside you look tense. Especially Effie.
“You were yelling at someone to leave.” Kromer elaborates upon your silence, creeping closer over the bloody ground with each step making a faint squish. “Who dared?”
“...Wouldn’t you like to know.” You almost hissed at her, earning a slight smirk.
“Oh, [Name]... my dear, beautiful, stupid [Name]...” You wince as her hands grab your face with a grip like iron, leaning in close. Her nose brushes against your snout, and she looks like she is going to kill you. You’re going to die. “I did not give permission for anyone to approach you. So who dared defy my…”
She trails off, voice dying on her tongue as she pulls back, staring blankly at Effie. Her hands release you, and she tenses. Her hands slowly creep towards and touch your face again, and a sick, twisted smile starts to bloom.
“...You can see the dead.” There is no uncertainty in her voice. Just a corrupt amusement. “You see the dead..!”
She lets out a roaring laugh, almost collapsing into your chest as she squeezes your face so tightly you fear your eyes will pop out of your skull.
Then she falls silent, resting her head against your chest.
“...Who did you see?” Her tone is sharp. And, startled, you stutter out an answer.
“G- Guido.” You sputter out, “He’s… dead.”
She stills, before starting to giggle again. Her laughter spirals into a bellowing thing, and she reels back. “Really now? HA! Oh… Sinclair… my Sinclair…”
“He’s going to kill you.” You snap at her, “And I can’t wait to see him do it. I can’t wait to help him do it.”
“You? Him? Kill me?” She wheezes, eyes sparkling as if you said the silliest thing to her. “Look at you… acting as if you have any power here…”
She sits up, shoving you down to the ground as both ghosts flinch back, Effie looking defensive and Yuri looking horrified. Both start talking at the same time, both trying to order her away from you, but Kromer merely smiles.
“You’re in my hand, [Name]. And so is he. You always will be.”
–★★★–
The mountain of corpses reached the sky. Blood red with bodies I almost felt like I recognized, yet were so misshapen I couldn’t.
And before it, dozens of Inquisitors stood with arms raised to her. Standing on the peak, arms raised to the Bough, was Kromer.
I must confess, I was even more terrified to see you absent from her side. I expected to see her making a show of you, some sort of mockery, and yet… nothing. Not even a glimpse of you.
But you would’ve blended into the red of the corpses. I was afraid that you…
Well, that you were dead and a part of that mountain.
Of course, Kromer wouldn’t. If she had killed you, she would’ve undoubtedly made a show of this. Something to haunt me specifically. So you were alive. And that honestly relieved me.
“The fathoms of the ego are already open. I see someone has resonated with the Bough before us.” Faust had said, stating the obvious.
“The hell are they up to? What’re they raising their hands for?” Gregor asked, startled.
Faust had taken a deep breath, looking solemn. “…Prayer.”
“…What is this sound?” Ishmael asked at a painfully familiar sound ringing in the background. I knew what it was, but I couldn’t talk.
“This feels awfully familiar… Somehow annoyingly tingly… and unpleasant…” Heathcliff had remarked.
“…It’s a school bell.” Gregor said, before giving me a grin. “Our boy hated school that much, eh.”
The other Sinners had looked more cheerful after that, but I…
I was doing even worse. I wasn’t ready to confront my past. Not entirely.
I couldn’t even utter a word as Kromer started speaking again.
“Alright, everyone! Listen up!”
“The One Who Grips so declares.” Rippled through the brainwashed idiots who followed her every order. I wanted to scream.
“Not only are those heretics disturbing our sacred rite, they are now after the offering that is rightfully ours to consecrate!”
“Disgraceful and defiled are they.”
“Go forth and die! Do not fear your end!” Her voice was raising in octaves, and I wanted nothing more than to strike her down. “As long as the offering of gold is with us, you shall be brought back to life again and again!”
“We shall fear not, for the One Who Grips is with us.”
“And even if not…” She said, before tugging on something and dragging you into view. “In their eyes you shall remain!”
Her followers cheered and I watched helplessly as you collapsed before her, looking weak. You were bound in chains, yet you still raised your head to stare down at us. I couldn’t see your expression, but…
“And… Sinclair. Hurry over. You belong in my hands.” I saw your mouth snap open when she grabbed you by the horns and tugged you upwards. “Just as they do!”
“No greater joy exists than to be wielded by the One Who Grips.”
I couldn’t say anything. I couldn’t hear the outraged mutters from some of the Sinners, I couldn’t hear your noises of pain, I couldn’t…
All I heard was her voice, staring at her grinning face and your squirming form, horns still in her grip as you struggled to either stand or escape.
“Sinclair.” She called down to me, “Did you bring the coin?”
Then I watched you lunge at her face, mouth wide open and razor sharp teeth in view.
—
…The breaks between classes are always lively since everyone gathers around to talk.
The adults would often watch us from afar and take this as a heartwarming sight.
But there’s something they don’t realize.
And… that is?
[Name]? [Name], how do I-?
Don’t… ask. I don’t know myself. Just… continue.
Continue?
Reflecting.
Please. I find reflecting on things helps me learn how to comprehend what happened to me. Maybe it’ll do the same for you.
…
Okay.
When you take a closer look, these merry interactions are brimming with envy, vainglory, pride, and guile.
Children are crafty creatures.
“I heard Rahul from the next class over’s getting surgery on both arms by his father. Gonna be with some new tech that’s never been shown before. How cool is that?” One of my classmates had said with an eager grin.
“You know this actor on all the magazine covers? Did I ever mention they’re getting an eye transplant at my mom’s clinic? The waitlist was so long, they personally begged to be moved up.” Another classmate had mused and I grew more anxious with each boastful story my classmates told.
What can I share? Their expecting eyes pointed at me felt like they could turn into scoffing leers at any moment.
“T- This is a secret, but…” I swallowed nervously. Maybe they weren’t asking me for a story after all. But I had to keep their curious eyes on me. I knew for sure that I’d become an outcast the moment they looked away. “My dad… signed a contract with P Corp. They saw the technology he was working on and agreed to give their full support.”
My goodness, just what was I thinking when I spilled that?
Out of the fear that I’d be isolated from my peers, I carelessly spelled my own ruin.
Maybe I was compelled by some childish urge, or an inherent desire to be recognized by the other students.
“Now Emil, this is a confidential agreement for our business. You mustn’t tell another soul.” His insistent reminder echoed in my head—I could see his face.
Emil?
My first name…
You go by your last name? Why?
It’s… a long story.
Ah, okay.
But, you can call me Emil. If you want.
I… I’ll think about it.
You don’t have too, of course-! I just thought that you’d like to call me…
…
…[Name]?
I’m still here. Just thinking.
Please, continue.
“Whoa… Is that for real, Sinclair?”
“P Corp? Like that Wing?! Wow… I’m jealous.”
I became the center of conversation in a split second. I can feel the stimulated eyes of the other kids in class drawn to me. Superiority was pretty damn sweet.
I guess I was driven by a depraved craving for attention.
Do you still have that?
I don’t think I do, but…
…
“Oh right, Sinclair! Your procedure’s soon, isn’t it? Y’know, the prosthetics.”
“Y- Yeah, of course. They told me I’ll get the… newest model.”
If they paid just a bit of attention to my face… They’d have noticed the reluctance in my expression.
Fortunately, no one ever pointed it out.
…
A massive wave of guilt eventually washed over me after our break was over and I was finally left alone. I was supposed to keep that a secret… What if Father finds out?
Ah…
Blood was leaking from my fingertip.
The bad habit of biting my nails whenever I felt anxious ended up hurting me.
I tried clipping them as short as I could to work on breaking it… But I never considered that I might bite into my skin instead.
…
Watching blood droplets fall on the desk, I thought of something.
Once I graduate, I’ll get a prosthetic replacement…
And then I’ll never get hurt or see my blood ever again.
But… Is that really…
But that didn’t happen.
Yeah. It didn’t.
…
“You’re… bleeding.”
Someone casts a shadow over my desk with a whimsical whistle. She was a classmate I rarely talked to, so I could barely remember her name. But you know who she is.
Flustered, I stuttered out my response awkwardly. “Wuh… What… was that?”
“Listen, what you said earlier… Is it legit?”
“Um, y- yeah… It’s legit.”
“I see. Your father must be a real big deal, isn’t he?”
“Yeah, uhm… I guess.”
Her unexpected flattery has me embarrassed. As if my father’s greatness were somehow my own.
“Though… Why did you make that face?”
“H- Huh?”
“You know… You were thinking it to yourself.” Then she lowers her head and whispers for only me to hear. “That it’s filthy.”
..!
My eyes widened. Not just because I was surprised by how she knew what I was thinking…
But the fact that a total stranger like her had been able to figure out exactly what I’d been hiding.
“H- How did you know?”
I could’ve gotten away with it if I’d just denied her accusations, but tactlessly, I asked her that with a dumbfounded look on my face.
“Pffh… Because… I agree with you on that.”
“You… You agree?”
“You can see a lot from those who are on the same wavelength as you.” She had told me as she extended a hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Kromer.”
Ever since then… Kromer and I became friends who’d talk often.
…
You’re being quiet.
I don’t have much to say.
Why not..?
…
Sinclair, what do you think about me?
About you?
Yes. About me.
I think…
You’re kind. Honest. Patient- you’re so unbelievably patient. And…
You care.
…
I’m sorry about Effie.
It wasn’t your fault.
I could’ve-
You couldn’t have done anything. That’s just a fact.
I…
Continue. Just… please.
…Okay.
As a household rule, my family used to have breakfast at the same table every morning.
It was a pleasant time when our whole family would share stories and encouraging words.
I liked those mornings, that rule was ever so kind and gentle to my heart.
A natural and unchanging world that belonged to me. My world.
That world began to feel alienating one day…
…
The day when my sister sat at that table after her prosthetic transformation was complete.
My world had begun to change when my father’s head was replaced with an unfamiliar contraption of steel, circuits, and wires.
Our family breakfast no longer provided warmth and connection. It became an occasion of detachment where I talked less and less.
Ah… I had started to feel an inherent abhorrence for prostheses.
‘That’s filthy…’
My heart couldn’t accept the idea of replacing one’s flesh and bones with something else, let alone the need for it.
Why do we use prosthetic bodies?
I carefully asked for an explanation, and the reply was simple: The human body, in its unmodified state, is too ‘old-fashioned’. It needs to be sustained with food, revitalized with sleep lest it should fail from fatigue, and injuries take a long time to heal. All this makes the human body incredibly inefficient.
…
He concluded that prostheses will grow more commonplace as time goes on, and ultimately become a regular part of our daily lives.
I thought to myself: ‘Why don’t I just fall behind the times then if that’s what the mainstream will be?’
…Though that wasn’t an argument rooted in logic.
Was that the only reason you hated prosthetics?
…
…
Continue.
“Yo, Sinclair… You don’t actually wanna take the replacement procedure, do you?” Kromer had asked me one day in class.
I nodded without a word.
“But your parents sure wouldn’t like it if you confessed that.” She said, “Isn’t it frustrating that there’s nothing you can do about it?”
I nodded again.
"What if I helped you out? You could live a free life with no worries about any of that junk.”
"B- But, how?"
"That, you’ll find out next time. In exchange…" She had leaned over my desk with a sly grin. "In return for helping you with your problem, you’ll help me deal with a grudge of my own too."
…
…
Is this helping you at all?
What do you mean?
Is thinking about your past helping you at all? In any way, shape, or form?
A little…
…
Sinclair, I want to offer you some advice.
After we return to the bus, grab a piece of paper, maybe two, and write. Write about your feelings and thoughts when what happened to you took place. Just write out everything you remember, as detailed as you can. Go on random rants that seem unconnected, but just write.
I've been told it helps people process things.
Have you ever..?
No. I never tried it myself. In all honesty, I forgot about when she told me that.
…
But just try. It might help you move on.
…
Do you love her?
Hm?
Do you love that woman you mentioned? Back on the bus.
Of course I do.
…
I'll continue.
Sinclair?
I'll be done talking soon.
…Okay.
…
One day, a new transfer student named Demian was placed in the class next to mine.
He was surrounded by a crowd every time I saw him. But I got the sensation that he didn’t feel attached to anyone around him.
To me, he seemed as if he were almost floating in the air; he was aloof like that. Likewise, he didn’t seem too interested in me, either. That’s how it was at first, at least.
It happened during a boring engineering class. My eyes kept drifting away from the board, and before I knew it, they were looking out the window instead.
Through that window, I saw him taking a walk. Like usual, he was surrounded by his fellow students, wearing a faint smile.
Even his expression felt different from the kind someone his age should make; that smile carried a mature yet solitary aura. Basking in the sunlight, he stroked his hair.
"Huh?"
I thought I caught a glimpse of some weird red thing on his forehead. Was I mistaken? Maybe it was the blinding sunlight reflecting off his skin. And then…
I had the feeling I made eye contact with him.
"……"
Some students were still chatting outside.
As soon as I felt his gaze, I quickly averted my eyes and looked down at my desk. Ever since that strange incident, Demian started to talk to me in a friendly manner.
Oddly enough, on the days when Demian approached me, Kromer didn’t come to greet me. Except for… well, you already know that day. Nevertheless, whenever she had a chance to, she’d come and make sure that I remembered our promise.
"I often have this dream, Sinclair." Demian had told me once, "In it, I climb an endlessly long ladder. Then everything down below comes into view. The Nest, the Backstreets, the Outskirts, all of it. And when I look beneath my feet, all the lights are out in the City, as if the end of all things had come."
"Fallen into silent death, empty of any motion. Indeed, it’s the state of death itself."
"Demian, have you been to the Outskirts?" I whispered to him, frightened. He was talking about a forbidden place where no one could or should go.
"Sinclair, the world as people want to define it can’t be divided into places of where you should and shouldn’t go." He had told me, "Do you think love and freedom can be found within the confines of this Nest? Compared to here, life is much richer in the Outskirts. There’s something I’ve been pondering for a long time, and I thought that maybe that’s where I could find the answer."
The day later was when he took me to meet you. You already know that day.
Indeed, I do.
Whenever I spoke with Demian, I could feel my soul mature a little. But I never mentioned my fears about the upcoming prosthetic procedure or my peculiar relationship with Kromer. Even though he wanted to know more about me, I was hesitant to share my secrets.
I was too ashamed to bear my deeply hidden fears before him.
…I can understand why.
But now you see my fears.
Clear as day.
Do you think lesser of me for it?
Why would I?
It's just…
Everyone is afraid, Sinclair. Me, you, and probably Demian too. Everyone has at least one thing that haunts them. It's okay to be scared to talk. You will when you're ready.
…
You sound like him sometimes.
Do I now?
Yeah… You do.
…hm.
I'll continue now…
Thank you, Sinny.
…
And finally… The promised day had come.
"Yo, Sinclair, can you show me your basement?" Her words struck me out of nowhere, yet they were as light as a feather.
She asked me that as though it were something as simple as picking up an eraser, and I almost caught myself agreeing to it.
"W- Why our basement, exactly?"
"If the rumor I just so happened to hear is right, your house is connected to a scandalous place. There’s something I’ve got to check."
"But my parents…"
'…won’t like it.'
I couldn’t even bring myself to finish this humiliating sentence.
"If you let me check it out, Sinclair… I swear I’ll keep that promise with you, cross my heart." She leaned in closer, smile almost sickeningly sweet, "Just sneak me the basement key and I can navigate just fine…"
Unable to detect the faint, familiar feeling hidden in her words, I slowly nodded… Thus, the world of evil began there, right in the middle of our house.
…
I wish I listened to your words.
You can't alter the past, Sinclair.
No one can…
…
After stealing the key without my parents noticing, I took Kromer to the basement of my estate as I had promised. From there, she led me to a dirty air vent. Crawling in the unlit vent for a while, a dank, grimy odor and the sounds of small critters scuttling about assaulted my senses.
My clothes were stained with filth, my throat was parched, and I was overcome with the desire to go back. That’s when I noticed that the smell my nose picked up had just changed from the stench so far.
"Can you feel it?" Kromer whispered to me. "There’s something up ahead…!"
This might have been the last chance I had to turn back. It might have been better to dissuade her with all kinds of sweet placations to leave and come back later.Even if I knew that empty flattery wouldn’t work on her.
But before I could try, a vile curiosity came over me. I was entering a world where villains belonged for the first time. And for some reason…
I gave up turning back. All while knowing in my heart that I was squandering my last chance.
Oh, the loathsome sight I had to witness; it was something I couldn’t think to behold twice. Could “monstrosity” be an apt description for what I saw?
It seemed too sentient for that, yet it also seemed decidedly wrong to say that it was even remotely human.
Like me?
No. Not like you. Nothing like you.
Nothing is like you.
…
"Huk… Guhgh…" Shuddering in fear, I started to regret stepping into this world.
Sinclair, you idiot, look at yourself. Hoping by some miracle to get another chance right after you’ve wasted it.
Along with my regret, I had the feeling that I’d never forget what I saw that day until the moment I die.
"K—Kro…mer… I… I’ve gotta go back…"
On the other hand, Kromer was enraptured. She was mesmerized by the scene, watching intently as though she had made a discovery of a lifetime.
"……"
Leaving Kromer all enamored to herself, I crawled backward for the exit. Why is my basement connected to such a horrid place? How did Kromer know this? Why isn’t she scared, either? Why did she stare at it with just as much awe on her face when she saw you?
Maybe she views you as something like that.
You don't know half of it…
I could almost hear Kromer’s spine-chilling whistles with the wind blowing from behind. The very next day, Kromer came to school as if nothing had happened.
"Sinclair, thank you so much more for showing me precious things. Take these as my thanks." She handed two mysterious coins to me. "Always keep them at your side. Got it?"
All I could do was nod.
Since then, the things I saw in that vent constantly haunted my mind. And I began to consciously avoid Kromer.
…
I could picture myself involuntarily trembling in terror just by looking at her. But there was something I needed to take back from her.
The basement key.
My parents could find out at any moment. One minute of sorting the keys is all it would take. For the first time, I betrayed my parents living in a world of warmth…
I was afraid that my deviation from their world would end up becoming an irrefutable fact.
"Kromer… Won’t you give it back now?"
"Give back what?"
"The… basement key…"
"…Pft."
I mustered the courage to ask one day. Kromer burst into laughter, as though she didn’t expect this from me. Intimidated, I slowly stepped back.
"Pwahahaha!!! Oh, and here I was wondering what you were struggling so hard to say… Fine, you can have it, Sinclair. We don’t need the key anymore." My hands fumbled when I caught it. "And besides…"
"Your grudge will most certainly bear fruit, Sinclair. You didn’t want to get your procedure, right? You remember our promise? You fulfilled my grudge, so it’s only fair that I pay you back."
I was too absorbed in the relief of getting my key back to realize what Kromer was really talking about, and I curse my ignorance for it.
About what Kromer’s "we” really meant. About why she said it’s not needed any more, and how she was going to fulfill my grudge…
I didn’t think to question a single thing, and for that… I regret my inaction; I curse my foolishness.
You couldn't have known…
But what does that mean when I made such a mistake?
I…
"So you ended up giving Kromer the key." Demian had told me one day. It was one of the first times he had spoken to me since you had disappeared from that alleyway without a trace.
"How do you know that?"
Demian had this ability to get a grip on things I’d never mentioned to him. When I asked him about it, he just said it's “something you learn by carefully observing others”, and didn’t elaborate further.
"Sinclair, a series of much more painful events may await you in the future. But you mustn’t give up. That pain will foster your growth into a beautiful being."
No matter how complicated and perplexing those statements seemed, Demian’s mystic charm made them all sound convincing. Listening to his speech gave me the hope that I could really grow. I was hopeful that I could become a worthy being.
"Yeah… But I don’t really get it though, Demian."
"It’s up to you to find out. Make sure to tell me your answer when you do." His voice was soft, and his eyes imparted pleasantness, but I still felt compelled to do as he said.
His eyes must have held some kind of power. Disarming those who make eye contact with him, sapping them of mental strength.
But… If that’s the case, why didn’t he warn me? It’s something I still ask myself to this day.
Would you had believed him if he did?
…
How do you look upon me so kindly if all I've done is make mistakes time and time again?
There's just a part of me that cares for you, Sinny. It's as simple as that.
And because I do the same thing. Over and over again. Constant mistakes. Again and again and again.
…
It was Christmas Eve, and the whole town was filled with jingles and joy. Under the blessing of the holy night, I was planning to confess my sin to my family.
I wanted to tell them that I made the foolish mistake of stealing the basement key and that I’d go back to being a good son. That the short time I spent away from the right path was agonizing. That I learned how peaceful and fulfilling the world I’d been living in truly was.
My family might be surprised at first, but I was sure they’d welcome me back into their paradise. That was how it should’ve been. However…
"Huh…?"
I was supposed to hear a robot dog greet me when I stood at the gate, but my home was covered in silence and darkness. When I walked inside, I was confronted with a fallen paradise.
"Sinclair… Run…" The mangled body of my sister had begged me.
"Si… Sincl… S-S-Sisisi―" Someone smashes my father’s head.
It’s a disturbing individual wearing rusty silver armor.
"How unsightly of these non-humans to still admire humanity and display false emotion."
"Let those impure things be, Guido. It’s their survival instincts kicking in." Kromer had said calmly, covered in the remains of what once was my family. "Or should I say… they’re scared of shutting down? Haha!"
Pieces of metal, flesh, and blood fly into the air before hitting the floor.
"Sinclair! You’re here!!!"
The thrill in her voice made me want to vomit.
"Ah… Ahh…"
Kromer approaches, carrying a hammer stained with blood and flesh. When she caught me eyeing it, she simply cocked her head. "Oh, this thing?"
"Ever since I was little, I couldn’t stand being involved with filthy affronts to humanity like these. Because I’m a humanitarian who loves all things human!"
"Now imagine how it feels to face the son of a pack of those affronts to humanity… Just what should I do with you, Sinclair? Hmm?"
My legs have long given up. My mouth couldn’t move. It was as if my whole body refused to cooperate.
I saw Kromer standing right before me. I couldn’t dare look up. Terror kicked in with the realization that she was so close to me, and my eyes shut themselves tight. The thought that the same hammer that crushed my father, mother, and sister would now come for me was unbearable.
"……"
But nothing happened.
Confused, I carefully opened my eyes and lifted my head. Kromer was watching me.
Making a perfect smile just like the one she’d made when she first came to my desk and told me her name.
"Well, you are my hero, Sinclair." She then reaches into the pocket on my school shirt and takes out a coin. It’s one of the two she handed me the other day.
"From now on… You’ll doubt everything, be anxious of everything… and live in ever-constant terror as your memories of me haunt you."
"Nhh… Ungh…"
"And, when the time comes… I will call for you." She had stood up, looking over her shoulder. "Hey! Someone take this kid to safety! Lay a finger on him and I’ll make you regret it."
Amidst the piercing noise, storms of heavy footsteps, and disorientation… I lost consciousness.
…
I'm sorry for what happened.
I wished I listened to you.
…
When I came to my senses, I found myself in an alleyway at midday, heated by the sun. I stayed there on the ground, dazed and confused. I could see a haze rise from the surface.
"Sinclair. A crack has been made in your world."
I felt like I was starting to understand what the strange feeling I often got from Demian was. I always found it weird how I never heard his footsteps.
Why does everything arrive in desolate silence as if it belongs to no world at all? The loss of my family, the world of evil, all this despair… And you, too.
What does that mean?
I… don't really know.
…
"Are you scared, Sinclair?" He spoke to me.
He had the eyes of a person who saw through everything, and the attitude of someone who predicted this series of events. He didn’t even wait for me to reply, like he knew what I was going to say.
"One day, you’ll break it altogether and soar. And I… wish to see you completely bare."
He responded as if he already knew the answer I was hesitating on. Although his words seemed to radiate warmth…
I felt a certain chill, like biting into the cold insides of a half-cooked turkey…
I couldn’t help but fall unconscious again.
–—
What happened next felt more like a blur than anything. I caught a glimpse of you and her fighting atop that mountain, and started to tear through the Inquisitors. They weren't even people in that moment, just things in my way.
Dante didn't even have time to equip an ID on me by the time I was halfway done dragging myself up the mountain, other Sinners seeming so far behind. I heard faint sounds of the struggle between you and Kromer, until I heard a shriek and watched you come tumbling down over the side.
You collided straight into me, grunting in pain, and I barely kept myself upright as I caught you. Your face was contorted in pain, you barely lifted your head to stare at me in the eyes before I saw it.
A nail pierced straight through one of the wings on your back and stabbing into your tail. The appendage was limp, twitching slightly as green blood oozed from your wound. Each twitch had made you grimace, but you forced your lips apart to smile at me.
"Right on time." I remember you croaking out, but what you said next was an inaudible whisper. All I could do was look up from you to Kromer standing on the peak. She was illuminated by the Golden Bough, and small yet deep gashes gushed blood from her face.
But the worst part about it was her silence. She stared down at us with an unreadable expression, before she started to laugh. Not the usual giggle I heard from her in my youth or her maniacal laughter I heard as she watched us suffer…
No. Her laugh was a slow, intense thing. She just stared down at us, before turning and disappearing beyond the corpses in our view. You and I simply glanced at each other after, and I wanted to speak to you, but then your swords came to ruin the moment.
They flew up, slamming together and spinning around you. I don't know how you tolerated them, with how chaotic and bothersome they could be, but… You're just kind enough to tolerate them. You had greeted them with a smile, and they almost seemed angry when they saw your injury. I wanted to say something, but the others had caught up too.
My moment with you was ruined.
–★★★–
You were sore, in pain, covered in blood both yours and not, and exhausted. It was not a pleasant mix of emotions and sensations. Especially when you had to drag your weakened body to the top of a mountain of corpses that were still wet with eternally fresh blood.
At least by the time the Sinners had rolled around, they were able to help you reach the peak. This time, free from the arms of any deranged women. And speaking of her…
The way Kromer stands is opposite of how it was in game. Hell, of how she was earlier. She's slouched, body slightly limp with the largest grin plastered on her face. One of her eyes was lidded with the wound along it and the blood dripping along its crease. Her eyes though, with pupils mere pinpricks, fixated on the sight of you and Sinclair standing next to one another. Then her gaze fell to the nail still in your wing, and she let out a deep chuckle.
"I warned you~" She coos, rising up slightly as she now wields yet another nail. "And yet you still chose to bite me. You should've just-"
"Shut up." Sinclair snapped at her, moving between the two of you. "I won't allow you to say another word to them."
"Ah! Look who finally grew a spine!" She laughs, tilting back her head. "And for the [Name] they love oh so much! Well? Sinclair? Were you able to find an answer in your heart’s path?"
"…Kromer." He hissed through gritted teeth.
"Ahaha, don’t give me that look. It’s not even time yet…" She abruptly stilled, "You’re making me want to kill you."
You draw back slightly as her smile softens. "Ahu… No, no. I should abstain… I can’t let immediate entertainment distract me from the more important things."
Faust leaned towards the 11th Sinner, expression almost inching towards grim. "Sinclair, the only way to retrieve a Golden Bough that’s begun to resonate is…"
"I know." His voice is grave as he tightens his hold on his halberd. "Even if it weren’t for our mission… I’d still tear that bitch to pieces… and drink up her remains."
"Pfh… Ahahaha!!" Kromer roared in a twisted delight, a hand smearing the blood running down her face as she wiped a tear off her cheek. "Kuhuu… Oh, Sinclair…! When did you learn to act so tough? That’s not like you at all… What a riot… Pfft."
"Still… Well, I guess you’ve made some friends since then." She tilted her head, raising her nail slightly, "You won’t run away this time, will you?"
She stills, as do you, when you realize the ID equipped on him is The One Who Shall Grip. How the hell did Dante get him to agree to this..? She says something about it, but you're rather focused on other matters.
Especially when you're tossed to the back, held onto tightly by Dante and kept squarely out of conflict. You have very few qualms, having stayed awake since almost six in the morning and having been effectively tortured by an actual maniac. How late is it even..?
You're unable to peer into your own eye, though, and Dante's head doesn't serve to tell accurate times. So you'll have to go a little longer without knowing the time. Oh well.
And the fight was… going partially in the Sinners' favor? Some were most certainly dead within a few turns, yes, and they were rather beaten to a pulp, but they remained standing. Any IDs equipped were stripped off with how weakened they were, but they remained upright.
Yet so did Kromer. And she was standing over a collapsed Sinclair. She chuckles, then reaches into his coat.
"Now then, it’s time, Sinclair." She mused, "I’ll be taking the second coin… your last chance."
"Why are you… doing this to me…" He grunted, trying to push her away and resist, "Why… me…"
"Sinclair, do you wanna know why I gave you back the basement key when you asked?" She asked, leaning close to his face until their foreheads touched. "Listen close. It’s not because I’d made my discovery or baked a copy of it. It’s because you were my key. You see, I happen to know of a way to take a peek at the futures that might come true."
"I saw one among them where you and I travel from Nest to Nest, slaughtering heretics together all around the City. Even though you were raised by heretics bearing revolting metal bodies… Part of you still felt disgusted by them. Funny, isn’t it?"
"You would stab them in the head with your halberd!"
You don't want to just stand here weakly. There has to be something you can do.
"D- Don’t you lie to me…" He tried to hiss out.
Your gaze falls to the nail in your wing.
"While I smash their heads with a hammer!"
You have an idea. A stupid idea, yes, but you've always had rather stupid ideas.
"Stop it…!"
"[Name], don't." Dante pleaded when you tried to move towards the scene, "I'll get someone else to step in-! You don't have to hurt yourself further…"
"Ahaha… In that world, you looked like the freest person in the universe, transcending everything."
"I'm not letting you hold me back again." You told them, watching them flinch and let you go. You turn your head away, and move to Kromer as fast as you can with your quaking legs.
"No…" Sinclair's voice rose, "You’re lying!!!"
The wound burned as you dragged the nail out of it.
"Whether I’m lying or not…" She cracked a wry laugh as you raised the weapon and drove it straight into her leg with as much force as you could muster. She gasped, collapsing to the ground as Sinclair pushed himself away.
Her head snapped up towards yours, expression clouded by the hair fallen into her face. She doesn't even laugh, merely smiles as her hands reach up, balling the cloth of your stained jacket into small lumps. Her eyes glimmer with adoration, and the light from the Bough grows more intense.
Her string shakes and writhes like a snake. Her pupils blow as her string bundles into a knot.
"You… you..! You… are truly the most beautiful human I've ever seen-!"
Everyone is blown away as a mass of flesh engulfs her lower half. You're collapsed into the bloody ground beneath you, hacking and gasping for air as you slowly look at the abomination she has become.
"Come…" She beckoned to you and Sinclair, hair billowing up like flames. "Rip me up and chew me down. If you can, that is… Keheh."
–—
The ground was burning. It snapped at your flesh and tore through your uniform, weakening your legs until you tumbled straight onto the ground.
You are not alone in this. Everyone other than Kromer is melting. She instead looms above, maniacally laughing as she relishes in this sight.
All other Sinners appear to have given up. But Sinclair crawls towards Kromer even as he melts, teeth bared as he's overtaken with the sheer determination to strike her down.
"Yes! That’s it! It hurts, doesn’t it? You’re filled with rage, aren’t you? Accept it all! Welcome it with open arms!" She spread out her arms, "And watch me! Watch my glorious body, closer to the purest form of humanity than ever before! This flesh here! The sheer, unmatched strength of purity!"
"Ahh, Sinclair… Look at how human you are! You can become like me too!" She coos, before her gaze falls to you. Dante feebly tries to interfere and your Blades are trying to help lift you off the acidic ground, and you feel a fleshy hand ensnare your waist as she lifts you into the air. "And like them!"
"I’ll… You’re…" Sinclair attempts to shout, yet his voice is weak.
"You're evil…" You hiss at her, "And I hope your death hurts..!"
"Shhh…" She tells you, before she looks down at the 11th Sinner once more. "Sinclair, you were scared all along, weren’t you? You lost your family, and you had to ride a bus with these strangers, forced to do things you didn’t want, forced to watch [Name] suffer! You knew in your heart that you didn’t belong there, right? Didn’t you want to run? Didn’t you want to quit it all? Am I wrong?"
"I swear, I…" He tries to choke out, starting to tremble.
"Join me, Sinclair! Don’t avoid this, embrace it! Complete my grudge!" Sinclair was growing weaker by the second-! "You must accept the pain! Only when we have transcended suffering itself can we be reborn!"
"Bloat the flesh, spill the blood! Adding on the most human things each second! To the purest world where the impurities plaguing the city of all folks have been filtered out!"
"Mama… Papa… Sis…" Sinclair choked out, and Dante took a breath.
"Sinclair! Listen to me!"
You do what you can to give them an approving smile.
"I know you think a lot! I know there’s a lot going on in your head that you can’t share with others!"
"My family died because of me…" Sinclair murmured, "I said stuff I really shouldn’t have…"
"Exactly! It’s all your fault- so embrace it! That’s the way to become wholly reborn!" Kromer shouts, "Follow me… and rest in my grip! Just as they do!"
As if you're willing in any of this-!
"Don’t listen to her! You have to see! Look at her! Observe her carefully!"
"Ah…" But Sinclair didn't seem to hear Dante anymore. Not as his halberd clattered to the ground. He collapsed, accepting his fate just as the others did.
"Sinclair…" Dante murmurs, and you take a breath.
"HEY! Sinny!" You shout down at him causing him to twitch, "What happened to the plan?"
He lifts his head slightly at that.
"You know- where I shank her! Slice her ankle and watch her fall… Cheer you on as you beat her to a pulp! She may got more ankles now, but I can achieve something-!"
"You got goals, don't you? So please just-" The tears in your eyes burn and her grip on you is so tight you can barely breathe- "Keep going! Even when it hurts!"
Kromer opens her mouth to speak again, glaring at you from the corner of her eye. "Why won't you relent to me?" She silently asks, "Why won't you give in?"
"They're right!" Dante agrees, "Look, look closely! Sinclair! Not with your eyes, but with your heart! Only then… will you see what matters most."
"Only then… will you see what matters most." A certain voice echoes, and you gasp as you're stripped from Kromer's grip and lowered towards the ground gently.
"And when you can see the things that matter most…" Demian murmurs as he floats down from the heavens, blue scarf billowing behind him, "You won’t have to stifle yourself with shallow threats or cheap tricks. Isn’t that right, Sinclair?"
He smiled at the sight of the boy, even if weakened. He landed next to where you were, set delicately upon the acidic ground with your Blades hovering close to hold you out of it. You cling to the weapons, and they strain to keep you free of being melted to an incomprehensible pile of flesh.
He glanced at Kromer, and waved his right arm, and you watched as Kromer's upper half was severed. And, before she could react, she was gone.
There was no string that remained.
"D… Demian…" Sinclair choked out, trying to rise with melting limbs.
Demian spared you a glance, before approaching the 11th Sinner.
You’ve changed your own fate, Sinclair. Right now, you’re neither a coward nor a hero. But you’ve still yet to let go of your fears completely." He blinked, sign on his forehead almost glimmering, "I’ve said it before, haven’t I? 'When you fear someone…'"
"'That’s because… you gave them the power to have control over you…'" Sinclair murmurs.
"That’s right. And I… don’t want anyone else to domineer over you. Which is why I got rid of that Kromer." He walked with light, airy steps, never quite making contact with the ground. "The world is about to head for a new birth. And, only a few individuals can get there."
"Sinclair, you’re one of them." Demian watched as Sinclair finally fell unconscious, and simply nodded as he moved to Dante with a slow, methodical pace.
"Kromer… attempted to become a god, like those which people of the past were said to believe in. Sinclair almost became her stepping stone. In the end, though, one has to break an egg on their own." He glanced toward her ruined lower half, "Kromer put in quite a bit of effort, doing this and that to create a throwback to the time when Sinclair lost his first coin."
"Irregardless of the fact that Christmas is still a while away… It’s ironic that they resorted to creating false imagery, something they loathed so deeply. Don’t you think so?"
"What are you talking about? Who are you?"
"A pleasure to meet you, Dante." Demian murmured, "So, you’re the adult who will condition Sinclair at the moment. As for who I am… And for what I was talking about; you’ll see in due time."
Dante drew back slightly, startled.
"When Sinclair takes flight with unshakable faith in the power of the heart… Right. When he becomes one with beautiful stars…" He looks back out at the scene, "…That is when I’ll return. Take good care of Sinclair until then, Dante. I'd ask the same for [Name], yet that is not something they need help with achieving."
"You… You can hear me?" Dante asks slowly, amazed.
"I can hear all sorts of chirps and trills, Dante. It’s only natural that I hear your voice." Demian said with an almost-smile ghosting his face. "As always… What matters most is something you can’t see or hear. Or, perhaps, something you can't bring yourself to see or hear."
He approached you as Dante crawled towards Sinclair, saying some words to the now dead man as Demian's eyes almost seemed to sparkle when he approached.
"Haa… about time I ran into you again…" You choked out, "Shame it couldn't be under a better time…"
"Time is something you value greatly, is it not?" Demian muses, walking around you. "Even as it changes you."
"Yeah, yeah… poetic language." You mutter, turning your head away. "I know. You can spare me it now, though. I'm honestly… exhausted."
"I can tell." He says quietly, reaching out to rest a hand on your head with an almost sympathetic look. You allow it.
"…I still you an ice cream date." You comment, eyes closing. "Let's say we make it up sooner than later, m'kay?"
Demian lets out a whisper of a laugh. "Very well. I shall come see you when the time comes."
And then he vanished without a trace. You opened your eyes, and the Blades trembled as they seemed to give into the melting space, and you fell to the ground. Your head rung, and darkness crept into your vision. Dante was now moving towards you, half reduced to goop, and you shut your eyes and allowed sleep to consume you. You weren't awake for when the LCCA arrived.
–★★★–
I'm honestly glad I listened to your advice. Writing out the events of what happened felt like a complete and utter relief. I feel almost lighter, in a sense.
But when I read over what I wrote… I realize I am an evil man. I am an evil, horrible man who's grown consumed by the thoughts of you. That isn't right. I'm not…
But a part of me doesn't care. I want your love, and as long as you never find out about the horrible things I want to do to you… You never need to find out I watch you sleep. You never need to find out how I want to approach your sleeping body and do horrible things to it. You never need to know how jealous I am that Dante gets to share a room with you and that you seem closer with Rodion and Gregor than you are with me.
I can get you to love me. I can get you to love me as long as you never realize my desires for you are as bad as hers. I'm a monster of a person, but as long as I get you I don't care.
I'm going to try and convince you to alter the contract. To form one with me and spend the rest of your life in me. I can't keep you safe, but I'll charge headfirst into any situation where your at risk and fight till I die. I will do anything for you. All I want is you to look at me like how I look at you.
Elena doesn't matter. Your past life doesn't matter. Just please tell me you love me. Please. Please. Please Please Please please please please please please please please pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseple
–★★★–
You awoke with a splitting headache. You tried to sit up, only to grunt in pain and fall back to a laying position.
Slowly now, you don't want to overexert yourself.
Oh, so now she's back?
I wasn't the one who could dictate when I could speak with you. I believe the resonating Bough prevented me, perhaps.
…
You sit up slowly, taking care not to press too hard into the mattress you were left on. Looking around, you realize you're in Dante's room, on Dante's bed, and all your injuries are carefully wrapped up. The door is open and the lights are dim, and you can faintly hear noise coming from the front of the bus.
Orbi is napping on the windowsill, and no one else is in the room with you.
The Blades drag against the ground as they rise to met you, circling you twice before their handles lightly nudge you.
"I'm okay…" You tell them, "I'll rest in a few minutes. I just want to check on the others…"
They nudge you again, and follow behind you by a few meters as you slowly, you drag yourself out of bed, carefully rising to stand.
Relieved, you find walking seems easier than sitting up, and you head to the main cabin of Mephistopheles. All the Sinners seem rather chipper, Charon's humming a Christmas song, and everyone is eating…
"Chicken kebabs?"
Your voice makes everyone pause for a moment, staring at you, before Dante rushes over.
"What are you doing out of bed? You're still injured-!" They frantically ask, trying to turn you around and make you rest again. "You need to lay down and rest-!"
"I'll be fine being up for a few minutes…" You protest, pushing away their hands with a gentle shove. "Anyways, did you get preferential treatment or something..? 'Cus you look fine and I look…" Like you just crawled out of a hospital.
Not one trace of being melted remains on their body. Meanwhile, your legs are still killing you from when they were partially reduced to goop. Good thing you were kept out of most of it.
"Oh- uh-" Dante stutters, flames on their head dimming slightly. "I'm not sure I can…"
"Faust has acquired information, from the LCCA, that you are unaffected by K Corp ampules. There is no evident explanation for this phenomenon, it is simply the case." The 2nd Sinner calmly explained, more focused on something related to her work than eating kebabs like the others. "It is simply the case that you are incapable of instantaneous regeneration."
"Ah, well…" Shit. "…okay then."
You look around slowly, rubbing the back of your neck. "Glad to see everyone's doing alright after… Gah… How long has it been since we all got back?"
"Like four hours, bud." Gregor answers with a puff of his cigarette, "You should head back to bed soon."
"May take you up on that offer…" You mumble, stifling a yawn that dared to creep up.
"Hm. First." Vergilius held up a kebab in the air, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.
"Got me one?" You ask, slowly creeping forward to take it.
"Well, you are a member of the LCB." Ishmael points out, as if it's the most matter of fact thing. There's a few murmurs of agreement from the other Sinners.
Do they really think of you as one of them..? Are you even one of them..?
It's your choice if you want to risk growing comfortable here.
She's right… you need to keep your guard up and find a way home. And out of this body.
"…Yeah, I guess your right."
You take the kebab, still warm, as Vergilius gives you a slight nod. You take a deep breath, turning on your heel. "Well! You all get some rest soon too. I'm going to go be unconscious for the next dozen or so hours, so if you need a dopey idiot for anything, I am not your guy. Night—or, morning, I guess…"
You push past the Sinners, moving to head back to the room. No one stops you, even if Sinclair seems to fidget as you go. You pay it no mind, just stepping back to the more silent space as you return to your resting spot. You usher the Blades in first, ready to step in and flop onto the bed.
"Assistant Manager."
You look over to see Outis standing back where you entered from, expression serious.
"I must speak with you."
"Can it wait..?" You ask, "I'm kind of injured and sleep deprived, Outis…"
She isn't someone you want to talk to…
Is it because she killed Effie?
Well, you're at fault for it. You should've spoken up about the ampules, been competent enough to pull them out in time, and he wouldn't be…
But she was the one to do the killing.
…
Kromer tortured him to near death. Dante gave the orders to hold you back and kill him. Outis was the one who proposed and took the action. All three had a role to play, in my eyes. And, judging from how you perceive them, your eyes too.
Do you hate them because of this?
…Carmen. Now isn't the time.
I'm merely asking what you think.
Is this what you asked when Enoch died? Who's fault it was?
…
Do not talk to me about this.
I understand your anger, but you need to settle on who you believe is Effie's murderer. Because you must understand this wasn't your fault to any degree, [Name].
I'll leave you for now. You need space, and time to process. I just ask for an answer when I return.
"-Assistant Manager!" You realize Outis is closer now, looking frustrated. "Hmph. How could someone as incompetent as you land a spot such as this? You let yourself be kidnapped!"
"Outis, now isn't the time…"
"I am making a valid point! You constantly make foolish and rush actions without discussing with the Executive Manager! How did you even acquire those ampules in the first place? You didn't move from Vergilius' side."
"Outis, just let me rest-"
"Answer my questions! What are you playing at, you vile demon?"
"Outis-"
"Do not attempt to-"
"Outis-!"
"I want answers-"
"Now isn't-"
"Now is the perfect-!"
"Please just let me-"
"I will not 'just let you'! I want you to-"
"Oh my- Do you ever shut up, Odysseus?!"
The name makes Outis shut her mouth quickly, eyes widening in shock as she reels back. Regret for spewing out what you believe to be her true name leaves you with instant regret, but it's too late to backtrack now. You cannot answer her questions without being utterly fucked over.
"I…" You sigh, "I'm sorry, I just want to go to bed. I'm not interested in an interrogation right now. I'm starting to regret even bothering to come check on you lot…"
"How do you know that name?" Outis' voice is tense, and her eyes glimmer with anger.
"…" You draw your head up, staring at the string above her head. It's entirely still. "There's a lot of things I know that I shouldn't, Outis. But if I answer what you want to know, I'm going to die. And I'd prefer being beaten than dead."
You look back down at her blank face. At the confusion and rage behind her eyes. "Rest soon, Outis. Sleep well."
And you go into the room and shut the door behind you, going to sleep with regrets rather than being slaughtered at her hands.
You've made so many mistakes already… what's one more?
Warnings: Obsession and other general yandere behaviors; violence; blood; gore; swearing; Kromer; death; kidnapping; MC harm; angst; allusions to birth; Kromer is told to “kys”; genocide; sort of bondage
Note: A scene in this is inspired by a piece of fanart I found by scrolling Sinclair images. Link to OG post of it here: https://www.reddit.com/r/limbuscompany/comments/1hl8ej6/a_collection_of_sinclair_art_by_yono_neie/
Oh also a LOT happens in this chapter. Please come screech to be in my inbox or dms about it I love hearing your opinions and theories (comments are peak too!!)
Also note from Editingdri (Editing Endri): I realized I didn’t add any ghost scenes during the editing. Don’t worry, I plan to make this up next chapter
The bus comes to life with a hiss. The wheels drag on the smooth pavement and Mephistopheles starts gliding along the road with an unusual slow smoothness. As if, now that she’s in a Nest, Charon is finally obeying the road laws.
You, luckily, managed to excuse yourself to your room for a few minutes. Played it off as getting something you realized you forgot. Which, yeah, you did forget to grab Yuri’s sword. But mostly…
It was an excuse to pet Orbital Missile Launcher, and get away from all the Sinners. Back home, you just could laugh at their stupidity from the safety of your bed. But here…
“Mewo?”
A quiet chuckle escapes your lips as your talons rake Orbi’s soft fur. She purrs loudly, small claws digging into your pants as her tail slaps your arm, mismatched eyes squeezed shut as she squirms and rolls about in your lap.
Your gaze falls to your own claws. Large, black, sharp, and almost looking like a pen tip. They almost horrify you, in a way. With how inhuman they are. With how they’re a part of this body. This body you hate.
Hate… hate… hate.
You scoop up the kitten, who let’s out a confused “mrrp?” as you do so. You hold her under the shoulders, and her little paws rest on your snout as she looks pleased to see you.
“You don’t even care I’m a freak…” You murmur, and she purrs in response. “You don’t even seem to understand I’m a human in a body that isn’t, do you? No, you don’t even know your name’s Orbital Missile Launcher, hm?”
She tilts her head, tiny ears twitching.
“You’re just a dumb little baby. But you’re my dumb little baby.” You coddle her in your arms, “I’ll do what I can to take you home with me. You like other cats, right? I think you’ll get along fine with mine.”
She wriggles in your arms. “Mewo! Me mow mew! Me mow mew!”
You shush her, laughing under your breath. She’s a precious little thing… fat, smells kind of bad, and very loud and stupid…. But precious.
A knock at the door startles you up. Your head snaps over, and you watch in horror as the door opens. You start to move Orbi behind you, but Sinclair nervously peeks his head into the room.
“[Name]? You almost…” He trails off when he sees the kitten you're holding, eyes widening as his mouth gapes.
“Wait- wait-!” You squeak, trying to turn your body away to shield Orbi from any passerby, “Get in- shut the door, dammit!”
He shakes slightly as he comes in, closing the door behind him. “Is that..?”
“Yes, yes. Fine, yes.” You sigh, “It’s a kitten.”
“Why..?” He stands, back pressed against the door, “Why do you..?”
“I… I found her on the streets.” You admit, “Back in the Backstreets..? I snuck her onboard, okay?”
“How didn’t…” He hesitates, “How has no one found her?”
“Well…” You click your tongue, “Dante knows. So do Rodya and Gregor. They’re the only ones. Well, outside of me. And you now, I guess.”
He just stares at you- specifically the cat- in wide-eyed silence.
You squint at him. “...dude, don’t just stand there. C’mere. Wanna pet her?”
He grimaces. “...are you..?”
“She doesn’t bite.” You quickly tell him, “Well, outside of my feathers, that is. But she doesn’t bite hard… And she’s just a really cute little thing. C’mon.” You pat the spot on the bed next to you, giving him an expectant look.
He glances at the door behind him, thinking. Slowly, he looks back to you, yellow eyes shining in anxiety. “...Vergilius is going to kill you when he finds out.”
“If.” You correct, “If he finds out. Which he won’t.”
He clearly does not believe you. But, nonetheless, he creeps over, slowly sitting next to you and eyeing Orbi like she’s about to kill him. You just roll your eyes, and plop the cat in his lap.
He flinches when you do, hands drawn back, and stares at the mud brown kitten. Orbi blinks, confused, before circling and kneading his pantlegs.
Sinclair nervously glances at you, silently asking for instruction. You sigh, and gesture to him to pet her. He frowns, looking down at her, and slowly lowers his hands. A gloved hand falls onto her back, and slowly drags down.
Orbi meows again, pleased, before licking his finger.
You see him almost melt right then and there.
“What’s got you so on edge? Just worried about getting in trouble?” You ask him, bemused.
“...I’ve never done this before.” He shyly tells you.
“Eh? You never pet a cat?”
“...No. I never really had any pets growing up. And my family…” He trails off, “...I don’t know if they were the kind of people to like animals. They never really talked about it, so…”
“Oh- oh, I- I didn’t…” You trail off. “...Well, first time for everything, okay?”
“Mhm.” He nods slightly, a faint smile on his face. You look back at the door, but from the corner of your eye you don’t miss the giant grin on his face when Orbi nudges his hands.
“Haa… Didn’t know you were a cat-guy, Sinny.” His face flushes at your comment, and you giggle. “Hey, you’re in the know now, okay?”
“O…kay?” He echoes, unsure of what you mean.
“So… you gotta help keep Orbi secret, okay?”
He pales. “Are you sure…?”
“What? I can’t delete your memory.” You tell him, “Just keep quiet about her, m’kay?”
“I… uh… alright. I will.”
“Thank you.” You tell him. “...Hey, why’dya even come here?”
He chokes. “Oh- uh- Dante was wondering what took you so long, so I… I got told to come check on you.”
Really..?
“Oh- yeah, haha…” You laugh softly, “Guess I should head back, eh?”
“...yeah. Guess you should.”
But neither of you move. He’s just petting the cat in his lap, and you're watching him. The way his hair shakes as his head bobs, shining gold in the bits of light. His smile at the cat, the way he slouches when relaxed, and…
That golden string sticking out of the center of his head and poking up. Unlike usual, it’s twitching. Almost faintly vibrating, like the strings on a guitar when you strum it.
Your cheek rests in your palm as you watch it, curious. What does it do..? Why do people have it? Is it like a person’s life force? No… why would it appear to resonate with Boughs if it was just life force?
You don’t even realize your hands are moving until you strum it yourself.
And you’re sent plunging down into nothing.
–★★★–
You cannot move.
You’re trapped in that nothing, like a fetus in a womb. You can’t move, you can’t see, you can’t scream. You can’t do anything.
Breathing is both impossible and burns your lungs, but you inhale nothing. Your eyes burn but you cannot cry. But you struggle. And you continue to struggle.
And, somehow, the nothing that traps you feels thinner, like stretched fabric. So a spark of hope burns within you, and you push. And you push, and push, and push.
And it tears, and you’re left blinded by golden light. A scream tears from your lungs, and you tumble to the ground in a wet heap. You lay there, gasping for air and crying. Hot tears stream down your cheeks and your fingers dig at the tiled ground you’re left on.
There is no one to hug you, there is no one to comfort you, and you’re left alone and helpless.
Your cries die down slowly, blinking desperately in the sunlight streaming into your eyes, and try to understand where you are.
You’re alone on a street made of paved tile. It’s smooth, and generally clean.
Well, excusing the patch of unidentifiable black liquid slowly spreading into a gradually thinning puddle. It smells weird, really weird. Like paper and ink… and water and earth… and the foul, piercing stench of blood and rot.
It coats you in a thin film, slimy to touch and clinging to your clothes and flesh. You push yourself to your unsteady feet, taking in the lush green bushes and neat black iron gates, the towering pale brick buildings that seem empty, and the rising sun on the horizon. It’s early in the morning, judging from the wisps of orange in the blue sky that reflect upon the clouds.
Is this… a school ground? Or maybe…
You don’t know where you are, but you aren’t stupid enough to stand in one place and wait for potential threats to kill you. With heavy feet, you start walking, half delirious. Did you hit your head when you fell..? You may have a concussion…
You rub your face, head stinging. What’s even going on? All you did was give into some stupid curiosity…
Gah… you’re the cat who’s going to get killed.
But… something’s wrong.
For one, there are no ghosts. You cannot hear Carmen. It’s just you.
And secondly…
You can’t feel your snout.
You press your hands to your face, feeling nothing there but a human face. Normal nose, mouth, lips, everything. Save for the gold on your face, it feels… normal.
Your hands move up, feeling your smaller horns. Your hair is the same, and your skin is still red. The wings are still there too. But your tail is thinner, your claws look more like sharp fingernails, and you’re closer to being human than you ever were before.
What the..?
You’re both scared and relieved, unsure of how this even happened. Shouldn’t it be impossible? How are you more normal now..?
Are the changes..?
You pull back the collar of your uncomfortably wet shirt, but the mouth isn’t there anymore. There isn’t even a trace of it.
…None of this should be possible. How is this happening?
But there’s no one to answer you.
With a shake of your head, you keep moving, eventually stumbling your way into a pathetic alley between three buildings, dragging yourself into the shadows in an attempt to hide from whoever will eventually come. You want to see what these people look like before revealing yourself…
You rest on the cold ground, feeling effectively hidden in the space.
And so you wait. Lounging for what feels like hours, alone outside of your own thoughts. You contemplate, hypothesize, and study what little you can see. But you don’t leave.
For a bit, you think no one will come. And then you hear the voices, and see hordes of relatively young but identically dressed people walk by. All wear the same long-sleeved, button-up white shirts, and same green vests and shorts, and you uneasily recognize where these outfits originate from.
Is this Sinclair’s school..?
You swallow a lump in your throat, shrinking back into the darkness. No one seems to notice you, nor does anyone glance your way. You just sit there, and watch. Silently, nervously watch.
You feel like an outsider again. Someone looking in on these tight-knit groups, alone and longing. But there’s no one to offer you their hand and welcome you in. Not this time…
You sigh, head tilting back as you see a glimpse of the sky above. It’s darker now, a sign of time wearing on.
You wonder if anyone on the bus noticed if you were gone yet. You wonder if anyone would recognize you with the way you looked more human. You wondered if they could find you, if they would bother.
Slowly, you look back down. There’s another group now, a small clique of boys jabbering amongst one another. They keep moving, like all who came before, save for one…
He’s young, skin almost gray with how pale it is, like a corpse. Hair short, neatly styled, and a dim brown. He stands, almost seeming to float a singular centimeter off the ground. Hands in his pockets, eyes dark blue and unnaturally clear, he stares directly at you. Seeing you in the dark.
Upon you finally noticing him, he nods slightly. That’s his only movement, outside of his eyes. They scan you top to bottom, almost looking through you, before his gaze pauses on your forehead.
What point in the timeline are you in..?
Your hands move to shield the Mark you supposedly have, grimacing at Demian. He just blinks, slowly, and starts methodically approaching you.
You shrink back further, his steps silent, and he stops before you, staring down at where you sit on the ground. You feel small, pathetic, weak… and you hate it.
“...” He stares at you in silence, and you do the same. “You’re far worse at hiding than you think you are.”
“I think I was doing just fine until you showed up…” You softly his back, relieved at how quiet he’s being. As if he knows you don’t want attention drawn to yourself. Shit, stop being stupid. Of course he knows.
“I’m simply the only one who bothered to look.” He idly tells you.
“Of course you did…” You mumble, “You’re Demian. Of course you see things other people don’t.”
His expression remains mostly impassive, though he quirks a brow. “How do you know my name?”
You let out a weak laugh. “Because we’re alike, in the sense we both know things we really shouldn’t.”
He silently watches you, and you sink back down into the earth, knowing fully well he won’t bother telling people about you. “I think you should move on. There’s someone else here more worthy of your attention than I am.”
“And what makes you not?”
“Because I’m no one special. I’ve never been. Not… until now, and I’d like to go back to before.”
He doesn’t move for a minute, before turning on his heel and walking away.
“I have a feeling this isn’t the last time we’ll speak.” He tells you as he goes, “But until then…”
But you can’t hear what he says after.
Is there a way to leave this place?
You wrack your brain but find no answers. Maybe you should just rest… especially if you’ll be here for a long time, which you potentially may. You should focus on moving under the cover of darkness, especially with how you stick out.
You sigh, lay on the ground, shut your eyes, and try to sleep.
It comes quicker than you expect.
–★★★–
“[Name]?”
You blink, feeling Sinclair lightly shake your shoulder. When you look at him, he seems relieved.
“Oh- sorry, you just looked like you were out of it for a second…”
“Wha..?” You gape, realizing you’re back in Dante’s room, Sinclair is next to you, and Orbi’s chewing on your tail. “Wait- OH-!”
How..?
You nervously giggle, looking back at your hands. Claws don’t look like they did before… you’re back to the original body.
“Uh… sorry… got kinda lost…” You trail off for a moment, “...in my thoughts, that is. Got lost in my thoughts. You know, like one does.”
Oh god, the German boy’s eyeing you warily…
“...look.” You sigh, “I’m tired. And… I think out of the two of us, you’re doing worse off. So don’t worry about me, we should worry about you.”
Sinclair tenses, averting his gaze.
“What… happened in K Corp that left you so terrified?” You ask, and Sinclair opens his mouth, before shutting it with a dull snap. “You… you don’t have to talk about it if it-”
“She’s there.”
“Eh..?” You get your best confused look on your face, “...Sinny… who’s ‘she’?”
“...”
“Uh- You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t-”
“...Kromer.”
“..?” You sigh, “Who..? I’m not from here, dude… who’s Kromer?”
Sinclair grimaces, looking away. And, in the weakest voice: “The woman who killed my family.”
You tense. “Oh.”
“...I- I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have talked-”
“No. No.” You hold a hand out to him, “No, don’t say that. It’s good to talk about things like this. Thank you.”
“Thank… you?”
“For telling me.” You answer, “Because now I know the name of the bitch I need to kill.”
He chokes, gaping at you. “What?”
“Look, Sinny, my boy.” You clasp your hands together, “You’re one of my favorite people on this bus. You just… are a little guy. Like Orbi! Orbi’s a little guy. And I don’t tolerate people who hurt little guys.”
He just stares at you blankly. “So I’ll shank her when she least expects it and you can come in and kick her downed body. Did you know that, if someone were to sever another’s Achilles heel, that person wouldn’t be able to walk? So I’ll do that and you can get deserved revenge.”
You smile warmly at him, and he stares at you blankly. Then you notice how red his face is.
“...uh… dude? Your face is kinda…” You trail off, gesturing at your own face, “You almost look like me.”
“...oh- would- would you look at the time-” He suddenly blurts out, “We should go! Before someone else comes into check on us and-”
He grabs your hand, freezes, and pulls away like he was shocked. You can’t stop him from patting Orbi on the head, quickly getting up, and rushing his way to the door, swinging it open only to reveal Ishmael is standing right there.
“...” She gives him an incredulous sneer, before peering over the flustered guy’s shoulder and laying her eyes square on you. Then on Orbi.
“Is that a cat?”
–★★★–
Orbi is now the worst kept secret on this bus. In the span of one day, four Sinners plus Dante learned of her existence. That is a third of the people on this bus. You’re fucked.
At least the five seem willing to keep her a secret…
I fear it’s most likely inevitable everyone on this bus will soon come to figure out there’s a cat on board.
You hope they don’t kick her out…
While I can’t be certain, I think none of these children are heartless enough to throw a cat onto the streets.
They willingly let you onto the bus when you all first met, didn’t they?
But… even Outis..? She seems to hate your very existence… What would she do to Orbi?
Hm… yes, now that I think of it, it’s likely that only a majority of the people you work with will be willing to tolerate the cat.
A part of you wants to cry. A very large, very loud part.
You let out a muffled sigh, leaning back in your seat. Your tail thumps against the ground, feathers brushing the wood and metal. Wings twitch where they brush against Dante, and- if they care- they don’t mention it. There’s bits of chatter amongst the Sinners on the bus, but otherwise quiet. Notably, because Don isn’t daring to speak.
You glance her way. She doesn’t react, staring at the signature on her lance and shaking slightly. You can’t tell if it’s out of thrill at getting a signature from such a famous Fixer, or terror of Vergilius’ threat.
Speaking of him…
He’s focused on something else right now. Didn’t do much besides glance up when you returned with Sinclair and Ishmael and give a hum of acknowledgement. You don’t think you’ll ever like him much. At least he seems tolerant of you and him bickering.
“Check out those people, they look like they haven’t a care in the world…” Rodya says with a low whistle, taking you by the cheek from where she sits behind you and directing your attention out the window. There’s hundreds of people on the bustling streets. None bother approaching the bus, too caught up in their idle shopping and touring and peace. Compared to the Backstreets, it’s like brilliant daylight shining onto a lush park compared to a dingy streetlamp illuminating a dead bush.
You wonder… glancing at Rodya’s string, you brush it quickly, wondering if you’ll be whisked away to what you can only presume is the past.
But nothing happens beyond a confused glance from Rodya and a sheepish smile from you.
Only works on Sinclair, for some reason… Maybe it needs to be a Sinner’s Canto for it to work?
“This is way different from the roads we’ve been through.” Dante says, leaning closer to the window. They haven’t said anything to you since you got back. Are they upset at you..?
“Aha, I guess this is our manager bud’s first time traveling in the middle of a Nest.” Gregor says, “How about you, bud?”
“Eh?” You glance over at him behind you, wondering what he’s asking you.
“I mean- you don’t seem particularly surprised by all this.” He tells you, “Is this a normal sight for you, or..?”
“Well, back home, this was a common thing to see.” You tell him, “Well, in most places. Cities back home were… generally peaceful. Compared to what I usually see, places like the Backstreets are an uncommon sight.”
You shrug slightly, very aware that your origins are completely opposite of the lives of everyone on this bus. Growing up for you was average. Friends, family, everything almost stereotypical. Good grades, but not great. Good partners, but not great. Good job, but not great.
Not until… until…
…
…what was her name again? Why can’t you remember it?
“There’s a world of difference between the Nests and the Backstreets. Besides, each Nest has its own cultural heritage.” Ishmael says, helping you pull back to focusing on the present moment. But you still try to remember her name. She did so much for you… you love her. How could you just..?
“Hey, uh, [Name]?” Dante says to you, looking you way. You look into their nonexistent eyes as they tug on one of their sleeves. “...can you stop wandering off?”
Their voice is hushed, clearly not wanting this to be a conversation for everyone to hear.
At your confused look, they elaborate. “You just… leave. Wandering off to do your own thing. Didn’t I bring you here? Shouldn’t you stay by my side instead of just… disappearing?”
They have no idea… “Oh- right. Right, you have a point. It’s just… well… I am a person, you know.”
Your volume is identical to theirs, merely a hushed whisper. “I like being able to have freedom. So… how about I just let you know a bit before I go? Plus, I never go far…”
“...There was the other night.”
“Save for that.” You confess, “Look, I swear it was a one time thing and will not happen again. But like… it’s not like I’ll leave. Not until my job’s complete, that is. But until then…”
You try to smile. “Only person who’s side I’ll do all I can to stick by is yours.”
They seem to relax at that, nodding slightly. “Okay. Thank you.”
The silence between you remains a bit awkward, but you relax a bit more. Okay, Dante still has no clue you’re lying to them. If anyone else knows, they aren’t telling them. Not sure why they care about you wandering off, but you are their “bodyguard” of sorts. You’d also be uneasy if one of your only defenses just roamed away sometimes.
“Attention, all.” Vergilius’ voice rings out, causing any chattering Sinners to quiet and look his way where he stands at the front of the bus. “Our destination is the town of Calw, situated in Nest K. Investigation revealed that a passage connected to a Lobotomy Corp. branch exists somewhere in that village.”
Sinclair’s breath hitches, and he starts to shake. He sits directly in front of you, so you simply lean in close and whisper in his ear. “We’ll get the jump on her. I promise.”
He barely relaxes, but nods. He seems to trust you on this…
Well, you aren’t concerned. In fact, you’re relatively confident. Effie will be saved, and you can probably stab Kromer a good few times before letting Sinclair get his justified kill.
“But, as you have told me, a third party has occupied the area surrounding that branch facility. That’s why I requested an additional recon operation from Clearance.” Vergilius continues, unaware or ignoring you comforting Sinclair. But the others notice. They just don’t say anything.
“Preliminary Observation Unit 3 from the Before Team has been dispatched. Mr. Effie and Ms. Saude should be with them by now.” Faust adds.
“Well, glad we got two pretty darn capable people on the job.” You murmur, pleased. Sure, they’ll be maimed, but the ampules in your pocket will save them. You know they will.
“Mhm.” Vergilius dryly hums at your comment, which you realize you probably said a little louder than you’d like, and continues, “We’ll receive a report from them once they get a good grasp of the situation.”
After that, the bus resumes as normal. But Sinclair looks significantly more uneasy. Conversations resume, and Rodya slings her arms around your shoulders. “Hey~! Squishy, who’ve you dated before?”
“HUH-?!” You screech, “What- what kinda question is that to suddenly sling on someone-?”
“Hey, hey! Calm down.” She teases, pinching your cheeks, “I’m askin’ everyone, m’kay? You just get special Squishy privileges and get asked first~”
You die internally as she leans in close. “C’mon~ spill the beans! We’re friends now, aren’t we?”
“It’s just- gah…” You try to squirm away, “Dante! Tell her she’s being crazy, because she’s being crazy.”
“I mean…” They shrug, “I kinda would like to know too.”
“Dante-!” You whine, “Am I not allowed to have privacy? Like the rest of you people?”
You groan at your cheeks being poked relentlessly. “Fine, fine! Just lemme go… dammit people… Not enough curses in the English language to send your way…”
Everyone in your immediate vicinity leans in close, and you start talking.
“My love life’s borin’. Sure, had some partners here and there, a good few flings, but no crazy exes or things like that. Nothing incredibly long-term either. So there, happy?”
“No special crushes or anything?” Dante probes, curious.
“Well… there was… her…”
“Ooh, ooh!” Rodya squeals, nudging you, “C’mon, don’t just leave us with that! What’s her name?”
Her name… it was…
Perhaps some things are best left buried. Maybe this is something you leave behind.
Leave… leave…
Oh! That’s right!
“...Elena.” You breathe out, “Her name is Elena. And she’s the most beautiful woman I ever met. And I can’t wait to get back to her.”
How could you forget? Forget the woman who picked up your mediocre life and helped make it wonderful? The one you’ve been wanting to kiss for years. The one you don’t even know if she…
“Jeez, you must really love this woman, eh bud?” Gregor murmurs, leaning back where he sits next to Rodya.
“What’s she like?” The 9th Sinner asks, tilting her head.
“Opposite of me in almost every way. Loud, free-spirited, energetic, optimistic… full of so many ideas and dreams and love for the world. She makes a room so much brighter when she smiles.” You sigh, “Shame none of you will ever meet her.”
“So, how long have you two…” Dante trails off for a moment, “Known each other?”
“Oh, hm… about… six years now?” You murmur, “Yeah, five or six years. Solid few, I suppose. There, happy?”
“If she’s just a crush, that means you never..?” Gregor raises a brow.
“Dated? No. I… don’t think she feels the same way about me.” You laugh weakly, “Anyways, there! My love life, handed to you on a silver platter. Now, if this is really an ‘asking everyone’ thing… who’s next?”
Rodya giggles, before turning her attention to her seat partner. “Greg?”
“Seriously..?” He says with a sigh, “Okay, okay… had some flings back when I was poster boy for the war, but nothing since then.”
“Anything that stuck out?” You ask.
“Nope. Not like you.” He says with a drag of his cigarette as his gaze flicks to the 9th Sinner. “Now, are you going to go, or make some other poor sap answer the question?”
She merely gives him a coy smile, before reaching over you to poke Sinclair on the cheek. “What about you, kiddo?”
“Me- me..?” He stutters.
“Yep~” Rodya muses, “C’mon! Surely there’s someone you dated.”
“Uh- no…”
“No?” You echo, “Really?”
No Demian and Sinclair yaoi..? Really?
“No… never really had a crush either…” He confesses, shyly looking away.
“Well then…” You sit up, “I’m sure you’ll find a nice partner sometime soon. Be it a girl, boy, or someone else.”
“Uh… yeah.” He squeaks out, “Probably not a boy…”
Oh the Demian x Sinclair truthers are going to be devastated. Surely he kisses men. Maybe he’s just in denial.
“Yep, mhm, whatever you say.” You idly reply, watching him flush. Oh yeah, he’s definitely a boykisser.
“Well then, Rodya.” You look her way, “It’s your turn.”
“Hmm…” She grins slightly, “What do you think my love life’s like?”
“Probably involves that Sonya guy.” Gregor murmurs, causing Rodya to yelp.
“Oh, yep, there’s some romantic tension there. Old stuff, but very real.” You agree with a nod, and Rodya groans.
“Are you two blind? What could possibly have been between us?” She asks, giving you two a scoff. “Anyways, he’s not my type.”
“Then what is your type?” You ask, raising a brow.
“People who actually do things instead of just sitting around saying pretty words.” She answers, probing your temple with a finger. “Kinda like you.”
You give her a look, wondering what she’s possibly getting at. No way in hell is she flirting… right? Who’d flirt with you when you look like this?
“...well, I’m sure you all will find someone to kiss soon.” You quickly add, trying to wrap up the conversation, “You all seem like likeable enough people. There’s definitely people out there who’d put up with your antics, I’m sure.”
“Wait… aren’t you guys going to ask me..?” You and the three Sinners slowly look at them. “...oh, right…”
You chuckle. “Dante, you’re one of the funniest people I’ve met. I mean that as a compliment.”
They nervously laugh. “Thanks… and I’m glad you’re the Sectator I ended up summoning. You’re wonderful.”
“Aw… thanks…” You mumble, sinking into the plush seating of the seat. You glance Sinclair’s way, who looks much more relaxed now, as if he forgot you all are going to the Calw. Then, you look at the string at his head. It’s vibrating more now…
You wonder… what would happen if you touch it again?
And, giving into to your gnawing curiosity, you do just that. And, once more, you’re sent into nothing.
–★★★–
This time, you tumble straight out onto the tile. There’s almost none of the black goop beyond bits that stick to you and a darker stain on the shaded ground.
You look at your claws. More fingernail-like… you’re back in that more human body.
Then, your attention rises to the sky. Painted in streaks of yellow, red, and orange, it looks akin to a gradually darkening oil painting. The top of the sky is a familiar muted blue, and clouds are vibrant splashes of peach. The flaming ball of light that illuminates the world gradually sinks, bit by bit, and you watch it do so.
The streets are barren again, and you’re in the same place you left. An alleyway in the school Sinclair went to. But now, the day has passed.
What do you even do now? Where did you go? Maybe find answers to how this happened? But how would you..?
“Ahem.” You look towards the entrance of your hiding spot, where a familiar figure stands. With what looks like a paper bag in one hand, Demian casually approaches.
“Ah… you.” You mumble, lowering your hands until they rest on the cool tile. “Wondered if I would see you again.” Not entirely a lie, but…
“I brought you a meal.” He tells you, unresponsive to your comment, as he sets the bag down before you. And, hesitantly, you open it.
Inside, you see what looks like a sandwich.
“Not sure what you can and can’t eat… so I estimated based on what little I knew about you.” He tells you, staring down at you with those empty eyes of his…
“...” You meet his gaze, “Why would you do this?”
“...” He’s silent, looking at your forehead once more. “Because I’m curious, to put it simply. I suppose I thought of this as the best excuse to talk to you once more.”
“Why?” You ask.
His gaze focuses slightly, and he crouches down. Even as you reel back, he merely reaches out to push some of your misty hair from your forehead. “...hm. Your’s is more vibrant than any I’ve seen before…”
“My what-?” You sputter out, drawing away.
“Either you’re playing dumb…” He muses, “Or you genuinely can’t see it, despite having it.”
“What are you even talking about..?” You question, scooching away.
“The Sign.” He calmly tells you, standing up methodically. “And you have it.”
You warily eye him. “...Unironically, if you talked about me to anyone else later, you’d still sound like less of a lunatic than you do right now.”
Demian stares at you blankly, and you worry you pissed him off. Then, his lips quirk, and a quiet “Pfft-” escapes his mouth, before he softly laughs.
He can laugh?
He shakes his head, trying to calm himself, and he looks back at you. But his eyes aren’t dull anymore. In fact, they almost seem to be shining. “You’re far funnier than I thought you’d be.”
“...You look uncertain.” You note, “Did I really shatter any expectations you had?”
“Yes.” His answer is immediate, but calm. “You’re something I can’t predict. There’s nothing about you I understand. How is that so?”
“...I wish I knew.” You earnestly tell him, “I really did. But I can’t answer this. I can’t answer many things like this.”
“I know.” He tells you, “You know much but remain ignorant at the same time. Not like an adult… No, more like a wise child.”
You quirk a brow. “I’m not a child.”
“I’m well aware.” He tells you. “Yet you view the world as one.”
He thinks that about your jaded, anxious ass..?
Demian smiles faintly at that, hands casually resting in his pockets. “You should learn to quiet your thoughts.”
Quiet your what.
He chuckles faintly again. “...I’m afraid I need to leave now. I’m not sure if you’ll stay or leave, but I wouldn’t be upset if I saw you again.”
He turns to leave. “I hope I’ll see you again tomorrow.”
“I’m certain I won’t go anywhere.” You tell him.
You can’t see his face, but you think he smiles. “Enjoy your meal.”
“I will.” You’ll try.
And he’s gone by the time you look towards the food again. You pull it from the bag, finding the thing half-wrapped in paper. And there is some writing on this paper. Hamhampangpang… Demian Limbus Company got you Hamhampangpang?
Well, you won’t complain. This is your chance to try it!
So you take a bite. And… Fuck! This is great! You see why Roland was lowkey obsessed with them. This is the best sandwich you had in your life.
You scarf it down, before crawling into a corner and trying to sleep, more than ready to return to what- you think- is the present world. You think sleeping is what brings you back? You still don’t know how this all works… but you won’t get your answers by wandering around. But maybe Demian…
Well, maybe he has answers.
–★★★–
You blink when you come too, realizing the bus has left the city-like parts of the Nest and is now in a blissful looking woodland, illuminated by the sunset. The green of the trees and orange of the light mingle like stars in the night sky.
If anyone noticed you blank out, they don’t comment. Mostly, because they’re focused on the smoke.
Billowing above the trees, a blanket of black and gray blots out the sky. Darkness encroaching on a forest in a blazing, fiery death.
“Sinclair…?” Rodya asks, glancing his way in concern. He’s just staring in horror out the bus window. In fact, almost everyone is.
Not Vergilius, though. He stands at the bus, staring straight ahead. “Charon, turn.”
“Evasive maneuver. Rumble-tumble.” She replies, before sharply turning the wheel as the bus spins to the left. A cacophony of yelps from the Sinners ring out, and you groan as you’re sent flying into Dante who’s squished against the window.
Then a window shatters as a nail comes flying through, digging itself into one of the empty seats in the back.
“Wha… Who the hell was that?! I almost kicked it!” Heathcliff snaps, sitting right before the seat with the nail in it. He grabs it, holding the bloody thing in his hands with a grimace.
“Hmm… Though I hadn’t run a test with a projectile at such velocity, this does suggest that the windows need to be reinforced a little.” Faust notes, casually examining the glass.
“Was that… the only nail?” You ask, disliking the scent of smoke sneaking into the bus.
“As of now, yes.” Faust tells you, causing you to sigh with relief. Orbi will be fine… Thank god.
“That was aimed directly at us.” Outis says with a sneer, “They must be the faction the Before Team warned us about… The Employees of N Corp.”
“Verg, Mephi got hurt. Charon’s sad.” The driver of the bus laments.
“Doesn’t look like they’ll stop anytime soon.” The Red Gaze mutters, “Off the bus, all.”
When you get up, you rummage around for the small medkit you carry around thanks to your little knack for being beaten to a pulp regularly, and pull out a bandaid to place on the cracked glass that remains of the window.
Charon gives you an approving nod because of this, but you’re ushered off before you can say anything else.
The ground beneath your feet is soft, and the forest is hot as waves of heat fly off the flames. It blazes orange and is dark at the same time, and smells like iron and blood and smoke. And before you, clad head to toe in faded white garments, are the N Corp. Inquisitors.
“Halt. You may not use this road.” One says, stepping out of the group to approach the one you belong to.
“You should’ve said so in the first place, ‘cause what about our windshield? Ah, bugger…” Gregor mumbles, scowling.
“You’re rather rude for someone who attacked without warning.” Outis tells them, “Isn’t it at least common courtesy to state your affiliations?”
“We are Inquisitors. We are the nail that fixes the blasphemous, and the hammer that strikes down the sinful.” They announce, ignoring the two Sinners who spoke.
“So, N Corp… That’s one convoluted way to tell someone that you’re an employee of Nagel und Hammer.” Ishmael says bitterly.
Faust nods slightly. “…Also known as ‘Nail and Hammer’.”
“You shall not proceed as we are in the midst of cleansing heretical dissidents.” The Inquisitor tells you all.
“Heretics? Hey now, we just want to pass through, not looking for any trouble. We’re on the, uh…” Gregor trails off, eyes scanning the crowd of varying people. “A tour…! That’s right, and this is a tour bus.”
Everyone slowly looks at Gregor in silence, then amongst one another. “......”
Gregor doesn’t look back, trying to give the Inquisitors a harmless smile.
Rodya pokes him on the shoulder, gently. “Greg, I’ve been thunkin’ this since the job at the mine, but… are you that into these kinds of bits…?”
His smile quivers. “That’s not exactly it…”
The Inquisitor, appearing to be unphased, doesn’t move. Nor do the ones behind them. “In that case, you shall prove yourselves to be untainted.”
Gregor sighs. “Fine, tell us how so we can get on with it.”
The Inquisitor, with a methodical but swift movement, points at Dante. “Behead that blasphemous traveler.”
“M… Me?!” Dante yelps, taking a step back as you move between them and the Inquisitor’s, your blades clashing once as a warning and Yuri’s blade hissing to life as you draw it.
“And kneel before our hammer as you consecrate their head to us.” The Inquisitor continues, unphased by the startled reaction from a majority of the Sinners and your defensive one, “Such will prove that you are untainted ones, and your journey shall continue without hindrance. You will, of course, have to part with the defiled vehicle as well.”
“Love to spew on, don’t you blokes?” Heathcliff asks, raising his bat. “Oi, I don’t know who you think we are, but do we look daft enough to do as you say?”
Dante seems to smile, flattered one of the Sinners is willing to defend them like this. “Heathcliff… You didn’t have to…”
“Proper trifling twits, tch. Who are you telling me to kneel?”
The Inquisitor simply nods, and you care to let them finish speaking. “Understood. Then I declare all of you to be he-”
The Blades move before they’re done. With a single point, their head is cleaved off in a swift but clean slash. Their corpse falls to the ground, head taking a second to follow, and you raise Yuri’s weapon.
“[N- [Name]?”
“I have two jobs.” You say, “Find your head, and keep you alive. And if I need to get blood on my hands to achieve it…”
You stare at the corpse, Inquisitors all around moving to attack. You despise violence… and yet…
“So be it.”
—
You’re the first one back on the bus, stumbling back on as Vergilius simply raises a hand in greeting, idly watching you move to a seat and the others that follow. “Weren’t they a little trickier to deal with than your usual foes?”
“I keep saying we could be done with ‘em a lot faster if you lent a hand~” A bloody Rodya tells him with a bitter smile.
“And as I always answer, there won’t be any point to this if I help you.” He reminds her, unbothered.
“Those people… They labelled us as heretics. Just what is their judgement based on?” Ishmael asks, grimacing.
“I think they were targeting me.” Dante murmurs.
“Isn’t it obvious?” You ask, head tilting down, “They’re after prosthetics.”
“Prosthetics..?”
“Nagel und Hammer… The Wing that values experience above all else.” Meursault vaguely adds, and you sigh.
“Experience?”
“Humans are made to have experiences and actions appropriate for their worth… That is what they say of it.” He simply explains.
“They told us to offer up the severed head of our manager.” Outis mumbles, “That means the Assistant Manager is correct, and…”
“…They’re back.” Sinclair chokes, tears streaming down his cheeks, “They didn’t forget. Coming back like that, to-”
Shit. “Sinny… c’mere.”
You stand up, pulling him into your arms and returning to the seat. He doesn’t resist, merely crying into your chest as he quivers in terror. He’s quiet and cold, and his hands are balling up bits of your jacket. But at least he knows you’re there.
Rodya gives you a slight nod of approval. No one else seems to bother to be looking.
“Verg-verg, the sound box is being noisy.” Charon pipes up, gesturing at the sound box on the dashboard with a nod.
“…Looks like the advance team has words for us.” He murmurs in response, standing up and pressing a button.
It frizzles, and you hear Efflie. “This is… Pzzz… Zzzt pzzzt… Saude is… Pzzz…”
“Effie?!” You yelp, hearing panic in his voice.
“Gimme that.” Gregor tells Vergilius, fussing with the thing himself, “Effie, this is the bus. How are things over there?”
The voice that comes out isn’t Effie’s. Just a mockery of it. “‘…You shall bear here your every sin and be purified..”
“Effie?” Gregor asks, before looking back at the others. His stunned expression meets your horrified gaze, and all he can do is look and stare blankly at the sound box.
“Was that… Effie’s voice? Or something else?” Ishmael asks, before grimacing, “No, actually… Was that even a human voice at all?”
“Whistles…” Sinclair chokes, slowly pulling his head out of your chest. Snot and tears stain his face, and his cheeks are red.
“Sinclair, what are you talking about?” Rodya asks, concerned.
“You heard the whistles! Right at the end… Faintly…” He trails off, eyes blanking slightly.
“Was there now…?” Gregor asks, uncertain.
“It’s her! That wretch is there!” He cries out, voice rising, “After all this time… To destroy the rest of our town…”
“Calm down, Sinclair. What do you mean by whistles, and who is this ‘wretched’ woman?”
“Kromer…” You mumble. “Her name is Kromer.”
“And how do you know this information?” Outis skeptically asks.
“He told me..?” You reply, “How else?”
She sputters for a reply, before Sinclair howls. “She’s waiting for me. That was a message calling for me!”
He rambles borderline nonsensical things, and Ishmael takes a sharp breath, looking out the windshield.
“Hang on, there are people like the ones we met on the road up ahead…”
“We should go back…” Sinclair murmurs weakly.
“What?” Dante asks, startled.
“Can’t we… just head back? I don’t wanna go-” He smiles desperately, “Let’s just turn around. Just tip the steering wheel and…”
“Kiddo… What’s wrong? What’re you so worried you’ll walk into?” Rodya asks, approaching.
“We shouldn’t go. We’ll all die- we need to go back.”
“Emil Sinclair. Don’t be absurd…” Vergilius warns, standing up slowly.
Then Outis storms over. “Assistant Manager, hand me him.”
You barely react as she tugs Sinclair out of your arms, slapping him in the stomach. He chokes as he slouches over, unconscious.
She calmly shakes off her hand as she returns him to you. “I delivered a light blow to the stomach to knock him unconscious for a short while, nothing more. There is no need to be concerned.”
You glower at her, but don’t say anything.
“We’re in agreement for once, it seems. I was this close to stepping in.” Vergilius murmurs.
“I don’t need cowards on my battlefield. Can’t I throw him out of the bus?”
“No.” You coldly say as Dante shakes their head. “That… might be a bit too far.”
Outis scowls at Sinclair’s comatose state. “…If you say so, Manager.”
“I’ll… stay on the bus with him.” You decide, “While the fighting inevitably goes on. I’ll bring him out when he comes too.”
Vergilius nods slightly, before ordering the others off the bus. You just look at the trembling string, and go back to the past with nary a second thought.
–★★★–
According to Demian, he’s known you for almost a month. But you weren’t here for two days. False memories, perhaps..? But…
But your main focus right now was on the “friend” Demian said he wanted to introduce you to. You had a solid guess who it was, but still…
He merely stood at the entrance to the alley, and you waited in the back, awaiting whoever would come.
You sit up when Demian moves, giving a nod to whoever is approaching. The sun was high in the sky, but you were still mostly hidden, no one bothering to glance your way. But now, Demian would show you to a new person, and you didn’t move as they entered your field of view.
Sinclair…
His smile is nervous, shy, as he speaks to Demian with soft words. You can’t hear what the two say, but Demian nods in your direction and Sinclair looks.
Almost immediately, he pales. You give him a slight wave, and Demian nudges him forward. He stumbles, before slowly approaching.
“Nervous?” You call out, causing him to flinch, “Ha… don’t worry. My teeth may look sharp, but I don’t bite.”
“Are you… sure?” He asks, stopping a couple meters away from you.
“Why would I bother to bite you anyways?” You ask, rising to your feet as you flutter your wings. “I look weird, sure, but I’m not dangerous. What’s your name?”
“Don’t you… know?” He asks nervously.
“No, because someone didn’t tell me.” You say, giving Demian a look. He merely gives you a slight smile in response.
“I’m… Sinclair.” He stutters out, “You’re… [Name], right?”
“Mhm.” You say with a nod, offering your hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“Uhm… nice to meet you too…” He says, slowly approaching to take your hand. His are warm, soft, almost like touching a baby chick. He stares at your hand when he eventually pulls away, fingers lightly gliding over your claws as he does so.
“So, how long have you known Demian?” You ask, angling your head to look down at him.
“Oh… a while… and you?” He asks.
“A month, give or take a few days.” You confess(?). This entire situation is strange. “Though… our interactions are moreso just conversations as I hide in this alleyway.”
“Which is enough, I believe.” Demian cooly adds.
“This is where you have been living?” He asks, looking around you. “There’s not even a bed…”
“Floor is comfy enough.” You answer, “Why? Is it hard to imagine someone with nothing?”
“I…” He trails off, “Is it because of your..?”
“Appearance? Yeah…” You confess, “Let’s just say… no one really takes it well. But so be it.”
He stares at you silently, looking confused.
Then you hear her. At first, a faint whistle, and then…
“Oh Sinclair~!”
You flinch, instinctively moving him behind you, staring out at wherever she’ll come. You don’t have your blades- hell, you don’t have a single weapon! Maybe you can scratch her..? But…
And you glare as Kromer rounds a corner and comes into view, idly peering around.
“I saw you come over here, and I wanted to see what you were up to!”
“[Name], what are you?” Sinclair asks, peering out from behind you. “Oh… that’s just Kromer! You can relax, she’s one of my friends…”
“Friends?” You ask, looking back at him.
Then, Kromer looks right your way. “Oh! There you are! What are you doing in…”
And when she sees you, she trails off. Grey eyes widen, body stills. And then, she approaches. You draw back as she does, Sinclair trying to ease you and Demian being silent.
Her hands grip your cheeks, thumbs trailing down your cheekbones to your chin, eyes sparkling in awe as her mouth contorts to a slight grin.
You grab her wrists, moving her hands away, glancing away from her. “Sinclair, why are all your friends wackos?”
“Eh?” Sinclair sputters out, and Kromer giggles.
“I mean, he’s wack in the head,” You gesture at Demian, who smiles faintly, “She’s very wack, clearly,” You say with a gesture to Kromer, who looks weirdly flattered, “And we just met, but if you consider me a friend, I’m also very wack. Because I look like this.”
“I- well…” Sinclair sighs, before giving you a sheepish look.
“...Have you ever left the alleyway?” His voice is shy, quiet, as if he thought about a lot of things all at once and doesn’t know what question to pick, so just threw one out.
The question catches you off guard. “I- well…”
“No.” Demian answers for you.
“Well, you shouldn’t just stay here!” Kromer tells you, taking your hands in hers. Can she comprehend personal space? “Why don’t you come with me? I was just about to invite Sinclair for ice cream!”
“Ice cream..?” You murmur, as Sinclair also seems startled. “Uh- sure? But… I’d like Demian to come too. He’s the only one out of you three I… know. And-! And lemme find something to cover myself up, so I don’t… well… freak people out.”
“No.” Kromer says immediately, before flashing you a sweet grin, “I mean… I’m sure no one will be that bothered, right?”
You give her a blank look. “...Are you potentially blind?”
“I mean… you do… kind of look human…” Sinclair admits.
“I wouldn’t mind ice cream.” Demian adds. “And it’s alright, [Name]. Showing yourself to the world won’t hurt anyone.”
“...” With a sigh, you nod, “Fine, ice cream it is. But I’m not paying! Not that I… have money to pay with anyways.”
Kromer laughs, spouting a meaningless compliment at you, before dragging you out. The sun blinds you for a moment, but Demian’s hand on your shoulder helps steady you, and off the three you go to get ice cream.
—
“I really think I should’ve hid myself…” You mumble, tail coiling around the legs of your chair as you glance at another passerby who stares at you. Why do they stare at you when most of them look like robots or cyborgs? Why are you the different one?
“Oh, don’t care about them!” Kromer tells you, stirring her milkshake with the straw. “They must just be jealous, I think.”
“Jealous of what?” Sinclair asks, curious. He looks up from his own ice cream, a cacophony of rainbow scoops you aren’t entirely certain of the origins of.
“Humans are often jealous of many things.” Demian murmurs, taking a bite of his vanilla.
You look at yours. “What’s there to be jealous of? I have wings that can’t fly and stupid oversized horns that get caught on doorways.”
“But you have pretty eyes!” Kromer tells you, “Say… are both of them natural?”
“As natural as my body is.” You reply. To say, not at all.
She smiles, satisfied with that answer. “Say, we should do this more!”
“We?” You ask, curious.
“All… four of us.” Kromer explains, “I mean, this is fun, isn’t it?”
“Yeah…” Sinclair quietly agrees. “I’d like to do this again…”
“Really?” You ask, stunned. Say… when was the last time you got ice cream? You say it was with…
With… Elena and the others.
…
You hope they’re okay.
“Okay! So how does tomorrow sound?” Kromer asks with a grin. “Sinclair, [Name], me… and Demian.”
You don’t miss the tension these two seem to have, as Kromer gives Demian a very strained smile.
“...why not?” You muse. “If I’m still around by that point, anyways.”
“Great, it’s a date then.” She says with a smile.
“Date…” You murmur, before returning to your treat. It’s starting to melt.
—
You have never been more relieved to see someone leave when Kromer waved you farewell and left. Then, Demian was soon to follow. Soon enough, it was just you and Sinclair standing before the alleyway you hid in while here.
“So… uh… this is goodbye.” He murmurs softly, having avoided looking at you.
“...are you scared of how I look?” You ask.
“No!” He quickly yelps, “Well… not entirely.”
You chuckle, shaking your head. “I don’t blame you. You aren’t alone in thinking I look like a freak.”
“I…” He trails off, “You aren’t…”
“It’s alright. Really.” You ruffle his hair slightly. “I don’t mind at all, Sinny.”
“Sin…ny..?”
“Yeah. You’re a cute guy, you deserve a cute nickname.” You chuckle when his face flushes. “...bye, Sinny. See you around.”
You start to head in, before pausing. “And… don’t trust her.”
Sinclair pauses. “What..?”
“Kromer. Don’t trust her.” You warn him, “It’s not really in my place to say this as someone you just met… but there’s something wrong with her. Her eyes are… empty, and her smile seems faked. There’s just… something about her makes me feel off. Please just… be careful.”
Sinclair doesn’t respond, just blinking at you, before quickly nodding. “Uhm- Goodbye.”
“Bye.” You watch him go, before sighing and returning to rest on the ground. No answers… Maybe here isn’t the best place to look.
You don’t plan to come back.
–★★★–
You blink, taking in the orange light of the setting sun and flames, and angle your head to stare out the window. Sinclair comes too soon after that, staring out alongside you with a vacant look.
“...they’re out fighting.” You murmur. He makes a noise of acknowledgement.
“...you were right.”
“Hm?” You look down at him, “About what?”
“Her.” He hisses, “I don’t know how, but… I didn’t remember your words until now. You warned me, and I ignored you. I… I wish I didn’t.”
What did you..? “Hey, hey… it’s not your fault.”
“...if it’s really true that this is your first job… how did I meet you?” He asks.
You sigh. “I… think there’s some amnesia involved in this. On both our parts.”
Either that, or…
“...” Sinclair is silent.
“If you aren’t ready to fight, you can stay here. I don’t mind.”
It seems to dawn on him he’s sitting in your lap when his face flushes. “I’m… sorry. I’ll go join them.”
“You sure?” You ask, giving him a concerned look.
“I can’t keep dragging others down.” Is all he says. “I… I can’t keep failing you.”
“But you never…” But he’s already pushed himself off you, grabbed his halberd, and left.
Vergilius just sits up with a sigh, warily eyeing you. You just shake your head, and look out the window.
“You have a lot to explain.” He tells you.
“I can’t explain what I don’t understand.” You reply. He just hums in response and doesn’t say anything more.
—
The smoke is even worse in town. Any light from the sun is blotted out. All that remains is the light from the bus interior… and the fire. The blazing, undying fire.
“Ugh… What a mess this is, huh.” Ishmael mutters, staring out the window at the empty, burning buildings and remains of… metallic bodies. “By the way… Don’t you hear a familiar song from somewhere?”
Your ears perk up, and you swear you hear… Christmas music? Oh god.
“Oh, yeah, I know this one. Used to hear this tune an awful lot on snowy days…” Heathcliff mutters.
Gregor grimaces. “They played it a bunch during wartime to raise our spirits. Did the exact opposite for me.”
Everyone else mutters how the tune’s familiar to them, even Dante has some recognition in their non-existent expression. But Sinclair… he has the most familiarity of all.
“Right… That day…” He hollowly mumbles, “It was snowy like this… and that song was playing…”
When everyone is finally ushered off the bus for a final time, the air is heavy. Moral is low and everyone is at the very least uneasy. And it doesn’t help when you come across “Christmas” trees.
Towering, dark, and one of the only things not burning. They’re covered in organs and mechanical pieces, remnants of the people of the Calw torn to bits and then strung up for all to see. Or, specifically for Sinclair to see.
“Bleck… Isn’t this going too far?” Rodya asks, eyes widening in horror when she sees the piles of dead corpses.
“A classic… but, more kitschy than anything.” Ryōshū hums, looking rather indifferent to the trees.
“…There are no survivors nearby.” Meursault notes.
You place a hand on Sinclair’s shoulder, as he shakes and looks ill. Compared to what you just saw of a peaceful Calw… it’s like you walked straight into hell.
Then, a sharp hiss and ring of a loudspeaker rings out, causing you and the Sinners to cover their ears.
“Ah~ Ahh~! Mic test, mic test!!” Kromer’s loud, cheerful voice rings out. It’s nothing like the false, overly sweet tone she used on you. No. It’s the voice of someone taking glee in this. “Enjoying your Noel, everyone? The night isn’t really silent, but it sure is holy.”
“…?” Dante warily glances around, “Isn’t Christmas still a fair way off?”
“You’re right, it’s not any time soon.” Ishmael agrees.
“My name is Kromer. I’m a humanitarian who loves purity, and the one who grips the hammer.” She continues over the speaker, “I don’t know how you managed to get here, but you’re trespassing on private property. As you can see… this hallowed ground is undergoing our nailing judgement. I hope you like the decorations I set up!”
“Well, let’s just say that you got lost… Turn back now and a fine will be all you have to pay. I’m feeling generous… Today is the Nativity after all! Oh, before that. Is Guido there?”
“Here I stand.” A towering, masked man announces in an empty voice, almost like Meursault’s. He stands a fair distance, and you’re tired of hearing her speak.
“Good. Just in case, do you see any heretics over-”
“God, YOU NEVER SHUT UP!” You snap out, feeling your tail thump the ground in anger. “You killed so many people- HOW COULD YOU KILL SO MANY PEOPLE?!”
You stand there, chest heaving, realizing everyone is staring at you. But Kromer is silent, and that’s what you’re relieved of.
“...Guido, describe who just spoke.” She suddenly says, much to your discomfort.
“A being with red skin and large horns, and wings that cannot fly.” He says, and you and everyone else are paralyzed by his analytic glare. “And with them, an impure one and their followers. And… the child you spoke of.”
Kromer is silent, before a small wheeze escapes the speakers, and then her bellowing laughter. “Hahahah!! Really? My Sinclair is back? And with him, my sweet, pathetic [Name]?”
“...how does she..?” Dante starts to ask.
“Okay so, apparently I was wrong when I said this was my first time here..?” You quickly confess, any anger in your tone thanks to Kromer dying at the Manager’s question, “There’s some sort of amnesia involved but… I’ve been here before..? I think?”
“And I don’t know how or why- but we met. And I don’t like that's apparently a fact.” You place your hand on Dante’s shoulders and lean in close, “I want her in a ditch with broken legs, Dante.”
“What did she even do..?” They ask, causing you to take a sharp breath and step back, spreading out your arms.
“Dante, Dante, my dear Dante… LOOK AROUND YOU!! LOOK AT THE TREES, THE PILES OF CORPSES, THAT FUCK!! WE’RE DEALING WITH A GENOCIDAL MANIAC, DANTE!!!”
“And the worst part is… SHE TRAUMATIZED HIM!” You gesture at Sinclair, who flinches, almost snapping out of his rage, “HOW COULD ANYONE DO THAT?! DO THAT TO HIM!?”
“When did you get so protective of him..?” Gregor asks.
“Since I realized how much of a little guy he was!” You snap back. “And when I realized she deadass is committing genocide!!”
“HAHAHAHA~!!” Kromer cackles, “Oh, where was this spirit when we met? If only… HA!”
“KILL YOURSELF!!” You screech at her, and she only cackles in response.
“Oh! Sinclair~ Take [Name] with you to that familiar spot. They won’t know where it is. I’ll be waiting!”
“Gr…hrrrkh… Kro…mer…” Sinclair grinds his teeth, making an inhuman noise of hatred and fear all at once.
“Take out the rest, Guido. Or should I myself? I wouldn’t mind.”
“I urge you to focus on hammering the impure, O One Who Grips.” Guido simply responds.
“Hahahahaha! Good, good!! Let’s keep up the purification!” Kromer giggles, “It’s been too long since I’ve last seen you, [Name]. Oh how I can’t wait to see you once more! Remember, Sinclair, bring them right to me! Now then, everyone. Merry Christmas!”
The speakers fizz as they turn off, and a number of Inquisitors gather around Guido. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t need to. The aura of hostility around him is as intimidating as is.
You grit your teeth as you raise your weapons. You want him, and her, and every single Inquisitor dead.
Hm… this isn’t like you.
…
…what’s… happening to you?
Please, do me a favor. Don’t let this hate be what guides you. You’re better than that, and you and I both know that.
…
–★★★–
The metal rings and the flesh squishes as you stab it, twisting the Blades inside Guido in an attempt to down him long-term. Will it work? You don’t know, this man seems to regularly flip off death.
“…That was a tough opponent. We should move before they come back to their senses.” Ishmael warns, looking around at the horde of Inquisitors, some somehow still alive.
“What a shameful thing to say. A soldier does not retreat before the enemy when victory is in sight.” Outis snaps back, scoffing.
“Can’t you save the military drill for a better time?” Ishmael asks.
“Ishmael is right. That’s not someone we can beat easily.” Dante adds.
“I want to save my energy for the maniac.” You add, wings twitching.
“You… alright? You look mad…” Dante murmurs, concerned.
“My anger at her cannot be said in words.” You admit, shaking your head. “I just really hate her.”
“…We will fall back.” Outis relents, and everyone retreats down further into the town.
You peer around for any more Inquisitors, only seeing corpses. You grimace, and hear Dante speak.
“Sinclair, do you know what that Kromer meant by ‘that familiar spot’?” They ask, as Sinclair merely shakes in response, continuing to grind his teeth and try to hold back tears.
“That’s… well…”
“You need to talk, Sinclair.” Dante says, approaching. Sinclair merely flinches back, “Tell us what you know, and you’ll prevent half the deaths we might suffer.”
“It’ll also raise the likelihood of our success. I’m looking forward to hearing something useful.” Outis adds.
Sinclair grimaces, mouth quivering as he wipes the tears from his eyes. He glances your way, and you nod. And, he takes a deep breath, opens his mouth, and lets out a croak. “…My house. That’s where Kromer must be.”
“So, you know that bird?” Heathcliff asks, raising a brow, “Bollocks, my head is still pounding thanks to her shrill laugh.”
“…I met her at school.” Sinclair adds.
“Oh yeah, [Name] mentioned her earlier…” Rodya murmurs, “Oh boy, she’s a friend of yours? Whatever’s going on, sure hope you can talk it out…”
Sinclair gives Rodya a horrified look. “She’s not my friend. Kromer killed my family.”
Rodya silently covers her mouth, horrified, before grinning sheepishly. “My bad.”
A buzzing sound causes you to look over, seeing a prosthetic head hanging from a tree. Lights and sparks flicker within it, and soon others come to notice it.
“Sin…cl…a…ir… Bzt… Pzzt…” They stutter out, “Why… did you… return…”
Sinclair just stares at them in silent horror, unmoving outside of slight shaking.
“…Sinclair, are those your neighbors?” Rodya quietly asks.
“It looks like they were… I really hope that isn’t the case, though…” Sinclair mumbles, swallowing a lump in his throat. He quickly looks away, only to freeze once again. You follow where he looks, and see… Oh.
It’s the ice cream parlor Kromer took you two to with Demian… but now…
Right where the four of you once sat is four dead corpses placed in positions you once had. Empty cups for ice cream as a mockery of that day. “Welcome home, Sinclair.” Kromer must’ve thought when she left this… “And welcome back, [Name].”
“...” You sigh, “Don’t let her ruin ice cream.”
Sinclair quietly looks at you as you continue. “Don’t let her ruin something as great as ice cream. Tomorrow, what do you say about us going to get some? Just you and me, so one experience with her doesn’t ruin the thing forever.”
He thinks, gritting his teeth, before nodding. “Yes. Yes, I want… I want to get ice cream with you. P- please.”
You smile. “Great. I’ll see if I can find a nice little place.”
Sinclair nods, and you both tense when a song starts to play. Silent Night..?
And it’s coming from the heads on trees and vocal pieces scattered around on the ground. …she really ruins everything.
“It’s clearer than ever now…” Ishmael mumbles “[Name] was right. Prosthetic body parts are ‘heresy’ to them.”
You just take and hold Sinclair’s hand, giving it a squeeze. He squeezes back, but he’s grinding his teeth again.
“Though it has been quite a while since prostheses were first introduced to the City…” Faust says, “Many people still find them foreign and alienating.”
“…Our town.” Sinclair speaks up. “Our town was called… ‘The Holy Site of Nest K’s Prosthetic Industry’. Most of the residents worked in manufacturing high-end prosthesis components.” He grimaces, “Kromer has been keeping an eye on our town for a long time.”
Gregor frowns. “So, was your family…”
“Yeah, my father was the owner of a fledgling prosthetics company too. Is that why…”
“No.” Ishmael pipes up. “The way I see it, attributing it to a high-flown cause of any kind is giving them too much credit. They’re… just lunatics, consumed by madness and violence.”
“People like to justify shitty actions.” You add, “They like to take a ‘greater than thou’ sorta worldview. Kromer’s just like that. ‘Humans without prosthetics are greater than those with them. Thus, those with prosthetics are heretics and must die.’”
“And the worst part? It always leads to them hurting innocents. Every time.” You slowly let go of his hand, looking up at the smoking sky.
Sinclair silently stares at you, the Christmas music almost a mockery of this nightmare, before he turns to Dante.
“Manager, I have a question if it’s alright with you.”
“What is it?”
“Well… How does it feel?”
”Feel?”
“Yeah. I mean, how does it feel to have a prosthetic replacement for your head?”
Dante flinches, taken aback. ”Uhm… That’s…”
Sinclair blinks, seeming to realize how strange his question was. Especially with how he phrased it. “Oh! It’s- um… I’m not trying to argue with you or anything. T- That was probably rude of me. I apologize.”
”No need, it’s alright.” Dante says with a calm shake of their head. ”I’m afraid I can’t answer that… I don’t remember a single thing about my life before this clock.”
“I see…” Sinclair murmurs, “I’ve always wondered what it feels like when there’s something sitting where your head should be… My family said it’s no different from wearing a hat or a watch… But I just couldn’t picture it well no matter how I approached it.” His gaze becomes downcast, “And now, I’m the only survivor thanks to that.”
Dante nods, understanding. ”I’m sure the procedure seemed terrifying at such a young age. You don’t have to feel guilty about that.”
But they don’t understand the right thing.
“That’s not it…” Sinclair says with a pained look, “It’s nothing like that… I’m afraid I’m not as innocent as you might think, Dante…”
He quietly hangs his head, glancing at you from the corner of his eyes. You look at him, and you have a solid guess he’s staring at your clock-eye. The one you don’t even know if it’s natural or artificial. You wonder if you’ll ever know.
And the singing comes to an end, and all you hear is the crackling of fire.
–★★★–
Compared to the trees and small piles of corpses, this is a trash heap of them. Some were even still alive, letting out pained noises that gnaw at your mind.
What really haunts you, though, is how the Inquisitors don’t care, instead stabbing these people with nails. In the head, the chest… everywhere.
“I’ve surely pierced their heart, yet still a pulse remains in their body.” One Inquisitor says.
“It must be patched with steel. Even the core of their humanity has been tainted by heresy.” Another notes. “How filthy. A disgrace to flesh and bone.”
You watch them pour a liquid of sorts over the person, the scent of oil clawing at your nostrils. Oh god.
Dante turns your head away as you hear the Inquisitors preach.
“Imbibe the oil of humanity, ye heretical soma.”
“Those who cannot return to the earth, find solace in scattering to smoke.”
You know from the sudden crackle a lit match was thrown onto the flames. You glance back, to see the pile of people- innocents in your eyes- being burned to crisps of metal. But there’s another smell. One you aren’t entirely familiar with.
Burning flesh.
“If this hellscape is their idea of purification, I’d rather stay unclean.” Ishmael murmurs.
“Nagel und Hammer has always been devoted to scrutinizing the idea of humanity.” Meursault explains, unphased, “Some criticized prosthetic use, as they believed that pain is a necessary component of the human experience. However, it never escalated to the extent of direct action that we are witnessing now.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask… How do you know so much about N Corp?” Gregor asks, raising a brow.
Meursault is quiet for a moment. “…I was once employed by N Corp.”
You take in a sharp breath, but don’t comment. You just give Ryōshū a disgusted look when you see her use one of the burning bodies to light a cigarette. She merely gives you a disinterested shrug in response, taking a deep drag of the thing.
“Wha…? You used to work with those people?” Gregor sputters, startled.
“I have never worked with those specific individuals, but in terms of affiliation, you can say that I did.” Meursault answers.
“Why didn’t you tell us that earlier? You carry one of those freaky weapons then?” Gregor asks.
“Am I obligated to elaborate?” Meursault dryly asks.
You quietly look over at him, and he looks at you. Neither say anything, because Heathcliff pipes up.
“The hell… Why don’t you explain what makes you different from those nutters, then?” He asks, getting up close and personal with Meursault, “Listen, mate… As much as I like to call our daft manager clockface, I don’t think they deserve by any means to be on the stake or chopping block. Those buggers talk big about purifying and all that, but all I see are a bunch of loonies who just needed an excuse to kill, eh?”
He jabs Meursault’s chest, who doesn’t even blink. “Speak up, then. Are you like those screwloose bucketheads?”
“There was a time when I thought about such things.” Meursault says, “Though I did not come to a conclusion.”
“I want that damn conclusion now! Are you gonna up and butcher all the townsfolk if your manager just says so?” Heathcliff snaps.
“Must I give an answer? That does not aid us in handling our work.” Meursault asks.
“Please.” You quietly request, and Meursault merely nods.
“An employee must follow their employer’s orders. The terms Vergilius presented state as much.” He explains, “If the manager or assistant manager orders me to do such a thing, I will do it. I may provide my input if I am told that it is necessary, but I do not have a habit of rambling my thoughts unprompted.”
Heathcliff scowls. “…Pardon? Are you ‘round the twist? Do you got a chunk of metal for your brains like the folks here?”
“I am 16% proteins, 60% water, 7% minerals, and so forth; I am clearly different in terms of composition.” Meursault cooly answers, “Moreover, unnecessary heavy metals do not comprise any portion of my body. That is another difference.”
Heathcliff’s face is one of unbridled rage. “How in the bloody hell do they make more sense than you do?!” He asks, pointing at you.
“Now that you mention it, there’s something I’ve been wondering.” Hong Lu speaks up, curious. “I’ve been thinking on whether Manager Dante should be seen as a ‘human’.”
Almost everyone gives Hong Lu a blank look.
“What do you mean?” Outis asks, defensive.
“What if…” Hong Lu hums, giving Dante a slight smile, “When dear Dante is speaking… it’s actually the clock and not the person we know as ‘Dante’ behind those words?”
“Eh? You trying to tell me we were being led by an actual clock?” Heathcliff asks, bewildered.
“Good grief…” Ishmael sighs, “You’re reaching uncharted depths of idiocy with your theories. I can’t even be bothered to refute them.”
“Don’t misunderstand, I do like our Dante with their clock-headedness.” Hong Lu chipperly says.
“Honestly, same. Why don’t you just give up finding your old head and stick with that one?” Rodya asks, “I know it’s prob not gonna be the case, but what if Dante’s real head turned out to be super evil or something?”
“...did you forget one of my two jobs is finding their head?” You ask, raising a brow. “I kinda need to do it to go home..?”
Gregor speaks before Rodya has a chance to respond, swiftly changing the topic. “Well, there’s only one of us who’d know about our manager bud’s past…”
And he looks to Faust.
She merely hums in response. “…That’s confidential information. Its access is restricted to the highest security level.”
“…And I get the feeling I won’t be able to read it for myself.” Dante says with a dismayed look.
You sigh. “No answers are this easy.”
“Who knows, maybe I’ll mount this thing on the wall if I find my real head.” Dante jokingly says.
You smile. “Maybe mount a picture of me by it, if you enjoyed me working for you.”
“Yeah…” Dante says quietly, “...but maybe-”
“Okay, what should we do now?” Ishmael quickly pipes up, “If we move quietly, we might be able to pass by the other Inquisitors unnoticed.”
Heathcliff then proceeds to be the opposite. Lovely man, you see why Catherine loves him.
“Dante… I… I’d like to apologize in advance.” Sinclair chokes out, “As you know… I’m not as experienced with fighting like the others… Our foes might jab me in the heart over and over for that… Will you… bear that for me?”
He looks so pathetic and small, you love him.
“Are you scared, Sinclair?” Dante asks, curious.
“…!” Sinclair flinches, giving Dante a wide-eyed look.
“Hmm? Did I say something weird?”
“No, it’s just… I was reminded of a friend who asked me the same question.” He confesses, glancing your way. Demian. You nod, understanding who he’s referring to, and Sinclair takes a deep breath.
“…I agree with what Heathcliff said. Prosthetic head or not, you would’ve been the same person regardless, Dante.” He glances away, “I guess the same could be said for my family.”
“Thanks, Sinclair.”
“Not really my conversation to join in on…” You murmur, “But… I’m glad you’re doing better, Sinny. I really am.”
“…Hoo.” Sinclair lets out a faint laugh. “Thank you, [Name]. And… Dante. It’s nothing. I can’t have you be too thankful when I’m about to make you suffer by throwing my life away. Haha.”
Dante raises a hand, but Sinclair already is charging into the fray.
“Ha… look at him, growing up.” You murmur with a smile.
“Mhm…” They agree, “Can’t wait to see Orbi do the same.”
“What? Have an epiphany?” You tease, “Dante, cats can’t do that.”
“Who says they can’t?” They ask back, giving you a tilt of their head.
You just roll your eyes. “Oh, c’mon you dork. We got foes to fight. Playful banter can wait.”
You take their hand and lead them into the fray. Sinclair’s grown, you feel more at home with the Sinners, your new abilities involving time travel could potentially be a key home, you have a cat, and Effie and Saude will both be okay. This Canto’s going to be wonderful.
You always have had a lot of hope…
You just want to be like her.
But that’s not you, [Name].
Oh Carmen… there is no “you”. Just a person who wants to be enough.
–★★★–
You stand before the blazing mansion in awe. It’s huge… dwarfing any house you’ve seen before. Towering, but without the flames it wouldn’t be imposing. You wonder if you were still in that past… Would Sinclair invite you to visit his home? Would he consider you a friend on that level? Are you even his friend?
You glance at him, his expression one of rage and fear. Maybe you’re just a source of comfort. And that is good enough.
Are you sure?
…you want to be.
“This is… awful, to say the least…” Ishmael whispers, and you also can just stare. In the courtyard, once full of life, is now crowded in giant, towering nails. Upon which people were erected and impaled for all to see.
“The graves, they’re… dug up…?”
Sinclair’s voice drags everyone's attention, to see three graves violated, with what you can only presume are their inhabitants left pierced by the flat-headed spikes. And Sinclair’s horrified, enraged expression was all the confirmation you needed to the identity of these victims.
Following his gaze, I could see three graves that were violated.
“…To execute the dead- this is nothing short of a devil’s work.” Yi Sang softly utters, gripping his blade tightly.
A soft whistling coaxes you to look away from the sight, and to a certain woman who strides out of the blazing building with confident steps.
“Halt… One Uniform, straight ahead.” Outis warns, raising a hand.
“That whistling…” Sinclair whispers, before his gaze follows you. And, standing side by side, both of you face down Kromer.
“Kehehe. I mean, it’s just too funny when you think about it.” She muses, white and yellow hair falling over her eyes, “Why put so much effort into burying bodies that can’t even rot… Am I right?”
“Kromer…” Sinclair almost hisses out, hands so tight on his halberd they’re probably white beneath the gloves.
“I’m sure you’ll find ‘em around somewhere if you look hard enough. I do remember nailing those three.” She muses, crazed gray eyes drifting about with not a care in the world, before locking on Sinclair. “Since you were a good boy for bringing them here, I might just tell you where they are…”
“What’s wrong with you?” You ask her, “Desecrating the dead..? How could anyone, even you, do that?”
Kromer just gives you a wide, unnerving grin, her eyes locking onto you with that same awe. “You really don’t like to listen to what you don’t want to hear, do you?”
You draw back slightly, grabbing the Blades by their handles and trying to spot the best method of approach to slash her to ribbons, as Kromer continues to speak in that grating voice.
“Well, Sinclair? You’ve grown a spine, coming all the way here. Enough of one to look at a few dead bodies too, right?”
“Why… Just… Why all this…?” He asks, voice shaking in both rage and terror.
Sinclair couldn’t even speak properly.
“Where did our Before Team get off to? They’ve got to turn up at this point…” Outis suddenly questions to the group, looking… uneasy..?
“Ah~ Sinclair’s got some buddies!” Kromer coos, expression one of twisted glee, “Looking for the other filthy ratlets that snuck in here?”
“Okay, okay. Watch closely. I’ll turn on the lights, so open your eyes wide!” She quickly says, before waving a hand and a spotlight illuminates Effie’s impaled body. She grins wide, wide enough to show bits of her gums, and snickers. “Tadaa!”
Effie makes a pained noise, blinking in the light as he tries to raise his head. Limbs are all torn off, crude prosthetics forced onto the stumps and blood oozing slowly from where a nail goes through his abdomen.
“EFFIE!!” You screech, and he tries to look at you, looking in absolute agony. Don’t… panic. It’s okay. You have the ampules. You can fix this.
Even as he seems to be struggling to breathe, you try to remain calm. You can heal him. He’ll be alright.
“……” Everyone is silent, stunned, until Faust lets out a breath. “In his current state, it will take around two days for him to completely die. And the pole piercing through him will only amplify his suffering.”
“Who says he needs to die?” You quickly ask, “Back- back in- I-”
You can’t talk right.
“I can- Just let me-”
Why can’t you talk right..?
“[Name]...” Dante says gently, “I’m sorry, I know you cared about him.”
“What are you apologizing for?! Just- just give me-” You start rummaging in your pockets, desperately trying to find the ampules. Fuck- too many pockets. Which one did you stick them in again?
“Manager, I happen to know of a method to end a life with as little pain as possible.” Outis quickly interjects, “It’s one that saw many uses, in fact… May I ask you to give me the order?”
“WHAT-?!” You bark, Kromer’s giggles and Outis’ words only putting you more on edge. “NO! Just- give me a second-!”
You scamper to Effie’s side, halfway done with searching each pocket. “It- just give me a minute-! I can save him, okay?! Just trust me, I can-!”
Where are they? You have them, you know you do.
“...[Name]. I’m so sorry-”
“STOP APOLOGIZING AND GIVE ME TIME!” You bark back, managing to find them.
Footsteps approach, and you whirl around, pointing one of the Blades square at Outis, who halts her approach. “WHY WON’T ANY OF YOU JUST LISTEN TO ME-?!”
“[Na-”
“I HAVE K CORP AMPULES!” You finally get out, “I stole them back during the chaos! I- I can use them and save him! Just-”
You drop your weapons, taking Effie’s face in your hands. “I’ll save you, I promise I can save you.”
He gives you a weak smile, and lets out a weak noise of agony.
“I promise.” You choke out.
“...” Dante sighs, “Meursault, please restrain them. Just for this,”
“..?” You give Dante a look of horror, “NO- WAIT- WAIT PLEASE-!”
Meursault doesn’t say a word as he grabs you by the horns, dragging you away from Effie. You desperately search your pockets, fighting to get out of his grip, desperate to find proof, to show them. So they won’t do it-
The Blades twitch where they lay on the ground. Maybe they’ll move, maybe they’ll stop her-
You just need a second-!
“…Rest in peace.” Outis murmurs to the man, and then you find them. THERE THEY ARE!!
“WAIT, DON’T-” You cry out, pulling out the handful of ampules as the faint sound of metal on skin echoes in your ears. The wind howls, the flames crackle, but it’s silent.
Effie’s dead body is silent.
“No- NO!!” You howl, the ampules in your hands falling to the ground with dull thuds. Your ears ring, you feel Meursault let go, and with the few ampules still in your hands to run to his side. “No, no. No no no. No! No, I- I can fix this- Effie-!”
You vaguely see Outis stumble back, but you can’t see your face. You just crack every ampule you have over Effie’s body, hoping that some shred of life remains that will cause him to heal and perk right back up. That the string staying behind for that moment will be enough for him to be able to recover.
But he doesn’t. Because you can’t heal the dead.
“Effie- EFFIE-!!” You shout at him, shaking him desperately, “No- NO! Please-! Please…”
Your whispers die on your tongue, and your eyes burn. You wipe your face with your sleeve, staring at the vibrant green liquid that now stains that bit of your clothes. It’s not unlike the liquid that now clings to Effie’s corpse.
Slowly, you look back at them. You’re angry, you’re sad, and you’re hurt. All you feel right now is a burning, searing pain. “Why couldn’t you just wait?”
You failed. You failed again. Even after everything you did, you just…
It isn’t your fault. You did all you could.
But it wasn’t enough. Because he’s dead.
You fall to the ground with a dull thump, staring at the bloodstained earth and bits of cracked glass from the opened ampules that litter it. You can’t hear anything beyond the flames and her shrill, roaring laugh.
“Pfh… Pwahahahaha!!”
Your gaze slowly reaches up to meet hers, and she approaches you slowly. Her steps are certain and determined. Like, right now, you’re the only goal she wants to reach.
You don’t give her the right to see you look away from her. You just stare at her head on. You don’t see or hear anyone else’s reaction. Right now, it’s just you and her.
I don’t think you should let hate guide you… but you shouldn’t let others into your heart like this. Can’t you see how it hurts you?
And her…
You rise to your feet slowly, fingers ensnaring the handles of the Blades. The tips dig into the softened earth, and there’s nothing you want more than to kill her right now.
Do you even stand a chance?
You don’t. But you don’t really care right now.
“Do you actually think you can kill me?” Kromer asks. Your ears are ringing. You think you hear someone else calling out to you, but…
They aren’t really on your side. If they were, they would’ve waited.
I believe you’re correct.
Does it hurt you?
Why wouldn’t it?
“They didn’t even listen to you when you begged and pleaded… some friends they are!” Kromer laughs to herself, before her head snaps to you once more. “Really, it’s hilarious to see how much you care about people who clearly don’t care about you.”
You think you hear Sinclair make a sound, but you can’t tell what it is.
You want to raise the Blades. You want to cleave off her head. You want to make her suffer as she’s made so many do so before. But you can’t move.
“You want me dead, and yet…”
You can’t even move as she takes your face in her hands in a brutal mockery. Her smile is both insane and sweet, and her eyes sparkle with something you can’t understand.
“You can’t even bring yourself to hurt me.”
You just stare at her, seething in your anger, but you cannot move. You cannot even twitch as one of her hands trails from your cheek to your neck, then to your shoulder, then arm, then wrist. She raises your hand to her lips, pressing a tender kiss to the scarlet flesh.
Her tongue, warm, drifts along your skin, coming to a pause at the hypothenor. Her teeth graze it, and then-
You hiss in pain as they sink into the meat of your palm. They don’t remain in long, as she gives you a coy smile and laps at the neon green blood that oozes out.
She pulls away, dragging you closer. You still can’t move. But from the corner of your eye, you spot someone else do what you cannot.
You gasp, air dragged from your lungs as Kromer sidesteps Sinclair’s blow, taking you with her, and you realize the clamor from the Sinners.
“You have to die.” Sinclair tells her, and all she does is smile at him. “Yeah, I think that’s the right way.”
“You know… this brings you back, doesn’t it, Sinclair?” Kromer muses, “Your face back then was real priceless.”
Sinclair grits his teeth. “You’ll die by my-!”
Your weapons fall from your grip, and you stand erect at the sound of something being dragged. Something hard. Something by someone who just won’t die.
“…It’s Guido.” You think you hear Outis say. You aren’t sure.
You can’t even look back as he approaches with eased, heavy steps. You can’t move. Why can’t you-?
Because you’re having an panic attack, [Name].
…but you’re in danger.
Not as much as you think. She won’t kill you, isn’t it obvious?
She bit you.
But she won’t kill you.
“Guido, why couldn’t you take out the others?” Kromer asks him, her voice a mix of frustrated and sweet.
Guido comes into view from the corner of your eye, and you see him bow his head. “Forgive my ineptitude, O One Who Grips. My incompetence allowed them to escape.”
“You have to stay alert.” “You never know what’s hidden under those cursed steel craniums.”
“I shall keep your word at heart, O One Who Grips.”
“Since the reunion is over, I’ll be heading back.” Kromer says, and then you realize she’s trying to pull you along.
Are you going to fight back?
…
And finally, you force yourself to move.
You tug yourself from her grip, shoving her back as you reach for weapons that aren’t there. The heat blasts at your eyes, illuminating the now stunned woman before you.
Guido starts to move, but stops when Kromer raises a hand and almost doubles over laughing.
You fumble, trying to pull out Yuri’s sword when she approaches you with swift yet measured steps. You aren’t quick enough when she slaps you square across the temple, and you fall to the ground in a heap.
You think you hear someone scream your name, maybe several, but the blood rushing in your ears makes it impossible to hear almost anything. Your head stings, but the feeling of something cold being wrapped around your wrists helps snap you back to your senses.
Chains..?
Your tail is tied to your legs and your wrists are bound behind your back. By the time you realize you’re trapped, it’s already too late to escape.
“Wuh..?” You choke out, struggling desperately. It’s all in vain, though. You’re not getting out of this one that easily.
“Stop fighting~” Kromer coos, lightly pinching your cheek as she scoops you up into her arms. “Unless you want me to bind your mouth shut too.”
Sinclair screaming your name gets you to peer back, watching Guido easily fend off the Sinners from saving you from this crazed woman.
His hand is reached out for you, and he starts screeching obscenities at Kromer.
“GET BACK HERE! I’ll… I swear, you-! I’LL GRAB YOU WITH MY HAND AND-!”
“Nope, Sinclair.” Kromer says with a smirk, “It’s always been the other way around…”
She grabs your chin with a hand, squeezing you cheeks as she stares deeply into your eyes with an intense look. Then her gray gaze snaps to a shaking Sinclair.
“I am the one who grips.”
And then she carries you straight into the blazing house.
Warnings: Obsession and other general yandere behaviors; violence; blood; gore; swearing; death; vomit; MC gets incredibly embarrassed
Note: Sorry if this chapter is kinda ass, I’m genuinely struggling to be happy with it cus of what I’m doing in the next two chapters :[
Extra Note: Sorry if this is kinda bad, I wasn’t able to lock in enough. However, I promise to lock in entirely for the next two chapters!!! Next chapter will come out either next weekend or the weekend after, hehe
With a grumble, you drag yourself out of the chair, already too awake to even bother falling back asleep before it’s time to wake up. Maybe you can go on a short walk, that’d be nice.
You don’t bother trying to gather clothes and get dressed, fully aware if you did, you’d wake up Dante. You just grab your shoes, and the blades (leaving behind Yuri’s sword, you don’t expect any massive fights), scribbling a note out and leaving it on Dante’s face in case they wake up before you come back and heading out for a short minute.
The door to the bus opens with no complaint, and no one bothers to stop you. Primarily because the cabin of the bus was entirely empty, but that’s not the point. The air is fresh and cool, a crisp feeling as you walk along the small forest the bus is parked beside.
It’s been… what, roughly three days since Canto 2? You know Canto 3 is going to inevitably happen soon, but the last three days have been nothing short of peaceful bliss. No one appears to suspect you of much anymore save for three, you’ve been able to fully recover from your miscellaneous injuries, been able to hide the changes to your body, and able to deepen your shallow friendships with Rodya and Gregor. The two with unfinished Cantos… well, Sinclair as well, you suppose, but those two were always more notable for you. Primarily for their lack of MILI songs. Dang it, you want Rodion and Gregor MILI songs…
Your gaze drifts up to the cloudy sky, the light of dawn glimmering in the hidden horizon. The breeze on your face is a welcome sensation, and you almost forget you’re in the City. Stuck riding on a man-eating bus with a group of insane folk with your primary weapons being Abnormalities and you being forced to be able to see and speak to certain dead folk.
That is, until you open your eyes and see an all-too familiar shit-eating grin.
You take a sharp breath. “What is it, Aida..?”
“Just wanted to see you all peaceful.” She says cheekily, nudging you with her elbow. “Ha! You should see your face- somehow, now I’m dead, it’s easier to tell when you’re getting pissed.”
She says something in Spanish you don’t understand, and you just sigh. “Look, can I just have a minute to myself?”
“Ah~ yeah, yeah. I know for certain you wouldn’t be complaining if that pink-haired chick were here. I see you playing favorites, cariño. I know what you are~”
You wave her off with a huff, continuing on her walk as she keeps jabbering in your ear.
“You totally love her, don’t you? You and your little doomed romance… ha!” Aida cackles to herself, and you tug down her sombrero over her face with a roll of your eyes. “Ack- cariño, you’re a heartless one. Fine, I’ll let you be. But don’t be as cruel to that kitten as you’re cruel to me~!”
“Kitten?!” You yelp, but Aida’s already gone and you’re left wildly looking around until your gaze lands on a muddy brown kitten trailing after you, gaze fixated on the feathers of your tail. The same one you saw at the Lobotomy Corp where Yuri…
…
How did it even get here?
“Uh- hey there, kitty.” You coo, turning around and crouching down, gently picking it up. It’s big for a kitten, pretty heavy too. Little fatty…
“Mewo.” It says, letting out a strange, squeaky meow as it stares at you with giant, mismatched eyes. One is green and the other is blue. Huh, you could’ve sworn it had similarly colored eyes… plus, why do they kinda look like..?
It starts purring as you hold it underneath it’s armpits, tiny tail waving slightly as you rub it’s cheeks with your thumbs, careful to not scratch it with your claws.
Yeah, no. Nothing There possesses people. Plus, if it was this cat, it would’ve killed you already. You know how this works. You suffered through its suppression in Lobcorp.
“You know, you’re a little weirdo.” You tell it, “How’d you even find me here, little guy..?”
It is a guy, right?
You quickly double check.
Nope, it’s a girl. Your bad.
“Mewo.” It meows again, trying to rub against your hands. It’s so stupid and adorable- but is a murder bus really a good place to keep a kitten..? How would you feed her? Are pets even allowed? But you can’t just leave her on the streets…
What do you do..?
I would like to offer my opinion.
Dammit… what, Carmen?
I say you keep the kitten.
Actually… you didn’t expect that.
I’m not heartless, [Name]. And you already care too much about her. Go on, take her back to the bus.
…
With a sigh, you turn and start heading back to the bus, with now a little companion in the form of this pathetic cat. Carmen’s right. You do care too much, and you’re not going to just leave her here… she’ll die.
We really are alike, aren't we?
—
“You went on a morning walk to feel refreshed.” Dante repeats, “During which, you found this cat. And you didn‘t have the heart to just leave her on the street?”
“Yep.” You answer, sitting in your chair with the kitten still in your lap.
“[Name], how are we supposed to take care of a cat..?” Dante asks you, peering at the scruffy animal. “Especially if you plan to hide this from Vergilius and Faust…”
“I’m sure I can get the proper materials. We have a short stop today, don’t we? I can go look then.” You answer, rubbing the kitten’s fluffy little cheeks. “Plus, she’s so cute! I can’t just leave her starving…”
“Does she even have a name..?” Dante asks you, and you pause. You forgot to do that. Uh- what do you call her? You have so many options, but what’s the best one..?
You stare into her mismatched eyes for a long moment. “...Orbital Missile Launcher. Orbi for short.”
Dante chokes on their nonexistent saliva, staring at you in a mix of shock and horror. “What kind of name is that-?!”
“Orbi’s name, clearly. See, she loves it?” You hold up the creature, who’s purring like the engine of Mephi. Loud and unrelenting. “This is the happiest animal I’ve ever seen. Not a bone of sorrow in her. She’s so baby.”
Dante sighs. “She is cute, but is this a good idea..?”
“Oh, absolutely not, but when have I ever had one?” You ask, standing up as you stand up and start trying to count out how much cash to take with you. Okay, ahn is related to won… so grab like… maybe 20000 ahn? Would that be enough?
“Don’t say that, you have plenty of good ideas.”
“I attempted to cause a distraction and instead caused a riot, I attempted to keep you and Don out of trouble and got concussed, I tried to save Yuri and she still died brutally…” You’re lying about almost everything regarding you past and decided to tell fucking Rodion of all people that you were once a human. “...I can go on if you’d like.”
“No need…” Dante says with a sigh. “So, the cat-”
“Orbi.”
“I’m not calling the cat ‘Orbital Missile Launcher’.”
“Then what do you think we should name her?”
“Uh…”
“Exactly.” You wish it was easier to move your face. “Plus, Orbi’s a cute nickname. Kinda sounds like Arby. Which reminds me of this fast food restaurant near my house… had good fries, but that kinda was the only good thing ‘bout ‘em.”
“...I like your accent.”
“Eh?”
“Your accent.” They repeat, sitting on the bed, “It makes your voice sound nice. Not that your voice didn’t already sound nice! It’s just that- well- it sounds… unique. I like that.”
You blink. Dante Limbus Company just complimented your accent. This was something that, if you were told like a week ago, you’d laugh it off as a weird joke. “Uhm… thank you..?”
Then a knock rings out on the door, and you yelp as you frantically try to find a place to hide Orbi. Dante lifts up a corner of the bed’s blanket, and you stuff her under there and sit next to them, both of you trying to hide the loudly purring, cat-shaped lump on the bed.
Vergilius slides the door open with a long, drawn-out sigh. “How long are you two going to…”
He pauses, and you realize Dante’s arm is awkwardly around your shoulder and the scene looks… really weird. “...What are you two doing?”
“...it’s not what it looks like-!” You blurt out. Vergilius stares at you with a look of “I don’t believe a word you’re saying”. You almost shrink into a miserable pile of flesh right then and there. Please don’t find the cat please don’t find the cat please don’t-
“What’s that sound?” He asks, taking a step into the room.
“What sound..?” You weakly ask.
“The rumbling one. You hear it, don’t you?” He asks, taking another step. Any more steps and he’s gonna see the weird lump and find out about the cat and throw her off the bus himself.
“Them! It’s them!” Dante blurts out, pointing at you.
“...[Name] is making the sound?” Vergilius says skeptically, “Really now?”
“I… I can purr.” You lie, “Not consciously, sure, but when I’m like… really happy or content I can.”
Vergilius gives you two an unamused look, before sighing and heading out. “You two keep your romantic relations outside of work now, will you?”
“Our what-?!” You start to screech, as Dante seems to practically short-circut, but stupid Vergie’s already left and shut the door. You just sit on the bed, as Orbi squirms out from the blanket, makes her stupid little meow, and promptly clambers into your lap and lays down with a purr. You just scritch her belly before giving Dante a look of horror. “He thinks we’re in love. Oh god-”
“It’s- it’s okay-!” Dante sputters, “He doesn’t seem to care, does he? And better him thinking this than finding out about Orbi…”
“...” You just groan, accepting this entire situation is your fault. Do you regret it? Not really, because now you have a cat. “Okay, now we gotta just… inconspicuously sneak cat things onto the bus.”
“How are we supposed to do that if it’s just you and I..?”
“...”
—
“Awh… isn’t she just the cutest~?” Rodya coos, holding Orbi up in the air. “I can’t believe ya found this kitty, Squishy~ she’s such an adorable little thing~”
“So you recruited us into helping you hide and take care of this kitten?” Gregor asks, raising a brow. He’s standing by the door. “To make sure no one walks in,” he said, but you don’t entirely believe him.
“Well, yeah. Clearly.” You answer, “And she’ll be out of your hair once the contract ends. I plan to take her back with me when I go.”
“I didn’t know you were allowed to bring back pets at the end of a contract…” Dante murmurs.
“Oh, we aren’t. But I think you can tell I can be rather rebellious, y’know?” You answer with a chuckle. “Plus… I couldn’t just leave her starving on the streets, can I?”
“Your heart’s gonna get you killed.” Gregor mumbles, before sighing. “Welp, guess it’s too late to back out now.”
“All I need is for two of you to distract Vergilius enough for me and probably someone else to smuggle in the supplies.” You explain sheepishly, “Dante and I made room in the closet to hide half of the stuff, and I don’t think anyone’s prone to just… walking in here and snooping around when we’re all gone, so I think I can hide her easily.”
“And if you get caught..?”
“Plead and beg to keep her.” You answer Gregor.
“Well, I’ll help you out if we get to that point.” Rodya tells you, “Just lemme come in here to pet this precious little thing, hehe~”
“Of course!” You squawk at her, fluffing your wings unconsciously. “Jeez, whaddya think I am? Heartless?”
“Yep. Heartless little Squishy~ not coming to tell me about their new kitten first thing~” Rodya teases, before nuzzling Orbi. “Planning to keep me away from this little one~”
“Mewo mew.” Orbi yowls softly, pawing lightly at Rodya’s cheek.
She giggles in response. “Hey, Greg~ c’mon over here and pet her! She’s a sweet lil’ thing, just look at her~”
“Uh- I’ll pass…”
“Really?” You ask, looking over, “Why?”
He gestures to his arm, expression one of discomfort.
“...you’re not going to hurt her. I know you won’t.”
“...” With a sigh, he approaches. The bed dips as he takes a seat next to you, and take Orbi from Rodya, putting the kitten in between the two of you. Hesitiantly, he pets her.
“...she’s soft…” He notes quietly, relaxing slightly. But his head is angled away.
“...why do you seem scared of her-?”
Then he sneezes. And not in the “aw, cute” way. In the “is this 30 year old war veteran dying from sudden heart failure” kinda way. In the way his bug-arm spasms when he sneezes.
“...oh…” Dante realizes something, “You’re allergic to cats… aren’t you?”
“Haa… yep.” He answers back, sheepishly looking away, doing what he can to move his arm as far back as he can. You catch it, and he tenses as he stares at you with watery eyes.
“Why- didn’t you just say it initially?” You ask, “I wouldn’t have encouraged you if I knew it’d make you sneeze…”
“Nah, it’s fine.” Gregor tells you quickly, attempting to stifle a sneeze with his hand, “She is cute, after all. I can handle some sneezing…” His gaze falls to his arm, your fingers resting on the warm cartilage lightly, “...sorta.”
“Welp, guess poor Greg can’t snuggle Orbi…” Rodya says with a sigh, shoving herself between you two to pet the cat, “Aww… look! She likes belly rubs.”
And Orbi is, in fact, purring her little head off in her gargled, car engine-like way as Rodya gives her belly scritches.
“Honestly, I gotta wonder why she looks so healthy.” Gregor points out, “You found her in the Backstreets wandering the streets. And she honestly looks fat, doesn’t she?”
“Yeah, okay, her being overweight is a little weird, but we’re near a Nest, aren’t we? Maybe she snuck out from there?” When Orbi starts squirming, you gently move her away from a dismayed Rodya and set her on the bed behind you, half expecting her to trot over to Dante, only for the mud-brown kitten to start trying to chew on your wing feathers. “Gah- watch it-! Yi Sang spent an hour preening them for me yesterday… don’t ruin his hard work, baby.”
“...didn’t know you’d let him of all people touch them.” Gregor says after a moment of a weird silence.
You shrug. “He knows a lot about birds. And it’s not like wing preening is some precious, delicate process for me. It’s just sometimes taking help when offered is nice.”
“Uh… right, yeah.” Dante nods quickly, “Hey, we should be nearing our stop. Let’s start trying to keep an eye out for any pet stores and the like.”
Is it just you, or are they acting kinda weird about Yi Sang..?
Not just you. Strange, isn’t it? Maybe if you-
Oh, shut up, will you? You just started to get comfortable here. Don’t ruin this.
…please.
…I don’t intend to.
–★★★–
The day had been long, but- in the end- all of Orbi’s new things have been safely snuck onto the bus, with no one else so much as suspecting a hint of a cat hidden safely in your room. Everything had been nestled into hidden but accessible places, and last you checked the kitten was asleep on the windowsill.
“Just to double-check, we are putting you-know-who on a diet, right?” Dante asks, and you nod in response, careful not to say a word. “Okay, says… one second, need to scroll past all the ads… ah! Says here we should consult a vet, but it’s going to be tough to find one… I think we can just try what we’re already doing. Should work, right?”
You shrug. The cats you raised usually were a healthy weight, so this isn’t a topic you’re familiar with. You just hope she loses some weight. Little beast is already heavy. Round little creature.
Charon’s soft humming is one of the only sounds in the bus. The setting sun illuminates the cabin in orange, and the Sinners excitedly jabbering with one another. But on the topic of the song… You held no familiarity with the tune, but Dante seemed at ease because of it, despite their focus on researching things on caring for a cat on the tablet they borrowed from Faust. Just hope they remember to delete the search history.
Speaking of Faust… you glance over at her, only to find her still staring at you with that unbothered by intense expression. You shudder, before looking away again, tip of your tail sweeping across the floor at your feet.
“...I think Faust may suspect the kitten…” You whisper to you clock-headed companion, who seems to pale.
“Oh no.”
“The most beautiful of performances are born from broken and ruined things. Ironic, the way the world works.” Vergilius suddenly speaks up, causing both you managers to flinch, glancing Dante’s way, “Alas, they have not the privilege to fully appreciate the glee of their own music… Oh, how unjust that is.”
Dante glances over, confused.
Vergilius seems to smile for a moment, before looking over at the driver. “Charon, you look like you’re in a good mood today.”
Charon nods. “Mhm, joy brings out singing.”
“I see. Although…” Vergilius raises a brow, “As far as I remember, you would often hum that song when you felt down.”
“Charon has no such memories.” She responds, not even looking over from the road, “Charon sings when she’s happy.”
Vergilius’ gaze darkens for a moment as he sighs, and moves to stand next to you and Dante, who- thankfully- tries to cover the tablet.
“…The world Charon hums now is one that lacks sound and color.” He says, seemingly unaware as his gaze relaxes, “She’s going through a long tunnel with no exit in sight.”
Dante’s head lowers slightly. You can tell they relate to this far more than you ever could.
“Ah, pardon me. I believe that’s enough of personal stories.” Vergilius smiles slightly, returning back to his seat. “Your work is to manage your crew, not befriend this old guide.”
Dante nods, before looking back at the Sinners. You look back as well, running a hand through your misty hair absentmindedly. It’s against your will, but you’re starting to get used to this stupid body you’re stuck in. Oh well, guess it could be worse, all things considered. You could’ve wound up at Lobotomy Corporation instead of here.
“You should’ve seen me show that card right there. Seriously, that was a real highlight~” Rodya coos, talking about the exploits at J Corp. Again. She really likes to talk about the poker game. Well, you don’t blame her. It really was interesting to watch.
Gregor sighs, shaking his head. “…I’m starting to get sick of hearing the same story for the seventh time in a row, so let me change the subject: Where are we going this time?”
You already know. Both because you played through Canto 3, and because apparently “assistant manager” means “you get like 80% of the paperwork”... thankfully it’s mostly just reviewing, organizing, and signing things.
“This time…” Vergilius answers, “We’re headed to K Corp’s Nest.”
“Dramatic pause wasn’t necessary, Vergie.” You tell him with a twitch of the wings on your head, ignoring whatever look he gives you in response.
“District 11, eh?” Heathcliff whistles. “Job’s taking me to all sorts of places I’d never have thought to visit.”
“‘Tis home to another great individual! And you are certain to find a souvenir shop there! I’ve always yearned for a limited-edition figurine set!” Don says with a euphoric squeal.
“Ooo~ Didn’t it also have a restaurant chain famous for its hamburg steak?” Rodya asks, eyes sparkling.
“Huff… Life has gotten much easier these days, hasn’t it? Back in my marching days, all I had was a pinch of salt in my mouth.” Outis mutters.
“I know, right? The only food I could swallow during my voyage was canned soup that tasted like iron.” Ishmael laments.
Rodya grimaces, before changing who she tries to talk to. “…C-Can’t wait to try the steak~ Right, Ryōshū?”
“Well, imagining the variances in blood-color by region does make me salivate.” The 4th Sinner admits, still smoking as always.
You groan. “Okay, when everyone is all cheerful on the bus, can we not be hit with scornful ‘back in my day’s and ominous ‘blood-color’? Assistant Manager’s orders. Let joy and whimsy live, will ya?”
You aren’t particularly bothered by the glares the two send your way.
“Ha~! If I was told a few days ago you were this sassy when you’re relaxed, I would’ve laughed at whoever told me.” Rodya says, relieved someone seems to be normal about this topic, “Now all we gotta do is see if the kiddo has the same snark hidden under his worry~”
Sinclair doesn’t respond. He’s just sitting in his seat, staring into his lap with a distant and haunted look. He’s also as white as a sheet and is violently shaking.
“Now that I think about it…” Dante looks over at the 2nd Sinner, who breaks her line of staring into your soul to grant her attention to the hapless manager, “Faust, I’m noticing a trend where one of us has visceral reactions to the destinations that Vergilius reveals. Additionally, when we arrive, it turns out that the place does have a history with the person in question. Does that have something to do with the reason we joined the company?”
Faust quirks a brow. “…You just referred to the team as ‘we’.”
“Huh?”
“It’s a part of my mission to detect the slightest of changes.” Faust murmurs, “As for your question, while I can’t tell you the reasons for recruiting the Sinners in detail… There’d be no point in denying that our destinations and the backgrounds of each Sinner are indeed related to a degree.”
“And-”
“No, no destinations exist for the Assistant Manager. They are not a Sinner.”
“Yeah, figured…” You add, giving Dante a bewildered glance.
“…Do all uppish snobs have some condition that makes them yap on and on about things that can be answered with a plain yes or no?” Heathcliff mutters, eyeing Faust with scorn.
“Hysteron proteron isn’t always correct. Faust simply adopts the most effective mode of communication for the given situation.”
“Hyst… Hysterowhat?”
“…It means that you’re struggling to understand Faust because you’re too uneducated, not that Faust is overeducated.”
Heathcliff scowls, baring his teeth as he rises to his feet immediately at that. “Why you…!”
Sinclair lets out a choked, “Euhgk…” before vomiting right onto the floor, serving as the perfect interruption for a Heathcliff who was just about to beat Faust to a bloody pulp. At that, the bus went silent. Even Charon stopped singing.
The poor guy is hacking up the last traces of the stuff, and everyone is eyeing him in concern.
“Gah- kiddo, you okay?” Rodya asks, but she stays firmly at her seat and away from the vomit, eyeing it in disgust.
“Jeez-” Gregor starts, but you’re kinda ticked off and you also want to get this poor German boy out of this situation.
“Okay! OKAY!” You stand up, “‘scuse me Dante- ALRIGHTY EVERYONE! You-” You point at Heathcliff, “stop trying to kill everyone over every single slight against you. You-” Your attention shifts to Faust, “stop being an arrogant dick with your explanations of sentences you purposefully overcomplicate. And you-” Sinclair shivers when you look at him, “C’mon, let’s go get you some water, vomit probably tastes bad and you probably don’t feel great.”
He just weakly nods in response and lets you help him.
—
Thankfully, the vomit got cleaned up pretty quickly, and now you’re able to safely sit next to Sinclair as he munches on a box of crackers you found in the kitchen when you grabbed him water. He looks like a hamster with the way he nibbles on them, heh.
I don’t understand how you can have such faith in these people when you know all their flaws and failures. How you witnessed them kill each other and those you deemed “innocent”.
Can she just shut up..? Right when your life is starting to improve in this situation, she sounds like an unyielding alarm clock.
Haha… you’re precious. You know that, right?
You just try to drown out the woman, hoping a Sinner speaks up to get you to focus on something- anything else.
“By the way, you meant the Backstreets of District 11 when you said K Corp’s Nest, yeah?” Gregor pipes up, dragging back the focus of the bus to the next destination, “Missed pointing it out earlier since everyone got a bit excited there…”
Sinclair nervously adverts his gaze. You just pat him on the shoulder as a form of comfort. Or as close as you can get it.
“I rarely misspeak, if ever.” Vergilius replies dryly, “I know what I said, Gregor. K Corp’s Nest is where we’re going.”
“Huh, alright, but if we’re entering a Nest…”
The Guide responds with a solemn nod. “Indeed, there’s the immigration process.”
Rodya raises a brow. “I don’t have a K Corp. visa. Y’ain’t about to tell me everyone else got one, right?”
Heathcliff blinks when Rodya’s flickering gaze pauses on him for a long moment. “What. Why’re you lookin’ at me?”
“The solution is simple: C. I. And keep on D. E. R. ‘til we’ve breached the defense.” Ryōshū doesn’t bother hiding her malicious sneer, “In short, C.I.D.E.R. Huhu…”
Outside of the concerned glances you and Sinclair send her way, everyone seems to politely ignore her. Well, as politely someone can get in the City. Save for Ishmael.
“A company as big as ours might get a free pass.” Ishmael points out, “Not to mention, breaking through using the method dear Ryōshū suggested will take ages. How badly must you underestimate a Nest actively governed by a Wing to say that?”
“Oh, I see, no one’s gonna take into account how much I’ll suffer for that C.I.D.E.R., huh?” Dante asks, as all the Sinners seem to ignore them.
“Uh- Dante has a point. We don’t want unnecessary suffering.” You pipe up, “Plus… what am I supposed to do? Stand outside in the backstreets until you guys inevitably come out?”
“Squishy? What are you talking about?” Rodya asks you, “It’s not like you’re… oh.” She sheepishly looks away, grimacing as she remembers your origins.
“...right.” Gregor says with a tense expression, “You have no documents.”
“...” Heathcliff huffs, looking over at Faust. “Well? What are you goin’ to do about them?”
“Faust has already come up with a solution regarding the situation.” She cooly responds, “[Name] has been classified as an Abnormality.”
“WHAT?!” You screech, sitting up. “I- but I’m not an Abnormality!! I’m nothing like one! Why- eh-?!”
You frantically look about. “Do- eh?! Please tell me she’s just being crazy… I don’t look like an Abnormality… do I?”
No one is looking you in the eyes.
“Seriously..? Uh- Rodya! You’re a smart woman… You didn’t think I was an Abnormality… right?”
“Eh…” She waves her hands slightly, grimacing as she seems to try to think up an excuse.
“...seriously..?” You croak out, visibly drooping.
“Well… you don’t look human.” Ishmael points out, “What did you really expect?”
Any composure or comfort you had died away as you let out a pathetic, miserable whine. What does this even mean? If you were an Abnormality, you’d remember nothing about your human life. And you remember everything!! Your childhood, your teenagehood, your adulthood… everything to when you were shot and sent here.
But… There are some gaps. But not enough to make you genuinely think you aren’t an Abno. You’re a human. Well, as close as a human as you can get to, in your body.
“Faust merely classified you as one.” She tells you, “Due to this, entrance into Nests is possible for you.”
“So… I’m basically classified as a monster?” You sputter out, “Is- is it wrong that I take issue with this?”
Gregor averts his gaze, the expression on his face one of uncomfortable sympathy. The others have reactions too, but his is what stands out. Because he understands. He understands your situation better than you do.
“Uh- what’s wrong?” Dante asks, sitting up.
“Think back to the Peccatula.” You tell them, “They were kept in cages. I do not want to sit in a cage through customs!”
“As Ishmael said, we’ll pass the immigration without needing a visa.” Vergilius suddenly speaks up, “And you won’t be in a cage. Limbus Company has backing from the shareholders of a wide array of fields.”
“Oh, do you happen to know the shareholder of H Corp, then?” Hong Lu asks, “They once personally visited our home because my younger sibling insisted upon having a red passport as a kid.”
“Couldn’t say, I’m merely a humble guide who wouldn’t be in the position to know such a thing.” Vergilius mutters, “Otherwise, the question doesn’t seem like one that’s really worth answering.”
Hong Lu sighs, but doesn’t look as bothered as someone like Heathcliff would be. “How harsh…”
“That leaves the route to the checkpoint as our concern.” Vergilius says, “Thorough inspection means that there are plenty of people looking for an easy way in, including those who’d take the pass by force.”
As if the universe wanted to emphasize his point, yelling starts coming from outside the bus.
“…I hear several interlopers surrounding the bus.” Meursault notes.
“Welp… Have bus—will battle.” Dante says with a sigh, and everyone gets ready to go deal with the threats.
“Wait- “ You quickly approach Vergilius, “If I’m not going to be in a cage, what’s going to happen to me? It’s not bad, is it?”
The Red Gaze just gives you a slight, mocking smile. “You’ll see.”
—
“This is worse than any cage would’ve been.”
You’re in a collar. They actually collared you. With an electric dog collar. Any respect you had fought to earn is dead and being flushed down a drain with every moment you wear this.
“Aw~ c’mon Squishy, you look cute in it~” Rodya’s cheeky grin isn’t phased whatsoever by the death glare you send her way at the comment.
“You get to take it off after we pass inspection.” Vergilius reminds you from where he sits, but you know he’s amused by your suffering. Can’t believe you of all people have beef with the Red Gaze… and it’s not even violent. You two just shit-talk each other.
“Oh shut it-” You snap at him with a low growl, and you grimace at the more inhuman aspects of you. What kind of person growls?? God- please say people in collars isn’t a kink for anyone here. You’d sooner shoot yourself then have to deal with that embarrassment.
“Like- I think I’d take the cage over a collar-” You remark, tugging at the thing. It doesn’t come loose, unfortunately, but you tried. “I look stupid. And I already look stupid. I look significantly more stupid.”
You’re just glad Aida isn’t here. But Yuri is, and even she’s barely maintaining her composure. You asked her here for comfort and she’s just snickering. Betrayal, betrayal of the highest degree.
“Why did this have to happen to me?” You ask aloud, “Out of every contract or opportunity, I’m stuck in the one where I have to wear a collar to get into a Nest. A collar.”
“The collar has been specifically designed with your body in mind.” Faust tells you, “Wearing it-”
“I know! Just- I LOOK LIKE A DOG!! I’m allowed to be rightfully annoyed…” You sigh, “Anyone else would be reacting the same way if they were in my shoes.”
“I mean- it doesn’t look the worst…” Dante tells you as you slowly give them a deadpan look, “It kind of reminds me of a giant necklace- okay shutting up now, sorry…”
“...just- just don’t mention the collar…” You weakly beg, “I already have to go out in public in the thing. Just forget I’m wearing it. Just forget I exist, actually. That sounds preferable. I’ll just lay on the ground and cease to be.”
You ignore the mumbles among the Sinners as you just wish you had a corner to go die in alone, but Charon’s loud voice rings out as the bus comes to an abrupt stop.
“Cock-a-hoop Charon’s cock-a-hoop parking.”
Vergilius sighs, but doesn’t seem too bothered by his kid’s random wacky behavior. “Alright, off the bus. Time to get inspected.” Then he stands, eyes narrowing, “Ah, and let me add this just in case you’re feeling inclined to your usual antics. Don’t go around making a scene expecting things to go your way… Because that will not be how it works in this particular place.”
Everyone, including Vergilius, steps off the bus. Charon, meanwhile, remains on as a few K Corp soldiers come on to inspect it before letting the bus itself pass into the Nest. They warily eye you, but you just give them your most miserable expression as you trail off after the others, grabbing the Blades as you go.
“We welcome all visitors to K Corp’s Nest openheartedly.” A cheery announcement rings out as you step into what feels akin to a clean, large airport check-point, save for the fact it is brimming with K Corp soldiers. “Please form an orderly line as you enter, and stand where the instructions indicate.”
Sinclair occasionally sniffles as all the Sinners are led into a specific line, but when you go to follow them, Vergilius catches your shoulder.
“No.” He tells you, motioning with his head to a small group of very armed soldiers approaching the two of you as you stand in the middle of the room.
You overhead Rodya and Gregor comforting Sinclair, trying to keep him from crying, and Dante asking a few questions only to be ignored as one of the soldiers steps forward and starts speaking.
“Are those the Abnormalities?”
“...” You silently nod, and Vergilius seems uninclined to say a word. “Yeah- uh- me and these things.”
You hold up the blades, only to screech as they suddenly get shot and reduced to the form of eggs in merely a few seconds. “Gah- what was that for-?!”
Then the soldiers point the guns at you, causing you to wince and stick your arms up. Is this K Corp or is this America?
“Wait.” Vergilius cooly speaks up, “They’re already collared. No need to subdue them.”
Your ears are ringing in your panic as you drag the remains of the blades to you with your tail, shaking slightly as Vergilius convinces the soldiers to let you just go through another form of inspection, even hitting them with his Color Fixer status. When they finally back off, you feel as if a weight got dragged off your drowning remains.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” He asks you with a faint smirk.
“They threatened to kill me…” You wheeze, shuddering.
“And they didn’t.” He reminds you, “Go on now.”
You glare at him. “I actually hate you.”
“And?” He asks, apathetic. You just huff, and he leads you back towards the others.
“Look here, how nice it is to see you all stay in line and behave. Like a brood of chicks on an outing.” The Red Gaze dryly remarks, earning a few glares from the Sinners.
“Wait, why’re you out here…” Ishmael asks, confused.
“What made you follow us outside the bus this time…?” Dante asks, and Vergilius also seems to notice their startled reaction.
“Because this is a Nest, Dante.” He answers, “I had to ensure they weren’t subdued, and if one of you were to get into unexpected trouble here… Well, Dante, the responsibility will be a bit too heavy for you to bear alone.”
Dante droops, seeming to understand the hidden meaning in Vergilius’ words.
“Hey, why aren’t you in line with us?” Heathcliff asks, giving you a confused look as Vergilius gestures to a much shorter line much finer dressed people are going through.
“Yeah, yeah. We get it. Mr. ‘Famous Fixer’ over here gets the quick line- wait, why are you bringing me though the rich-person-line?” You blink at him, expression screwing up into confusion.
“Because I have to explain you to them.” He tells you, giving you a deadpan look. “And it’s easier if I do it rather than…”
He trails off, but the slight sneer he directs at the Sinners is all that needs to be said. You just sigh, and the Sinners- despite being annoyed- don’t give much reaction.
“Well… could be worse, I guess.” You mumble. At least if you aren’t in a cage you can grab the Ampules. Plans aren’t ruined, thankfully.
“T.S.P.M.O.” Ryōshū mutters, leering at those surrounding her. Why did you tell her what that means..?
“The line’s moving quickly. It’ll be our turn in about 10 minutes at most.” Ishmael reports, “Will all thirteen of us need to answer immigration questions? They won’t be able to understand Manager Dante, so what should we do?”
Her expression is tense, face screwed up into a faint frown. Her eyes lock with you, and it’s as if she silently asks “why do you get the easy treatment out of all of us?”
To that, you don’t have an answer.
“I was just about to get to that.” Vergilius says, “Listen up. The K Corp. official will only ask very simple questions to the passengers in this line. And your answers will be similarly concise. When the border official asks about the nature of your visit… say: ‘I’m here for business on the behalf of Limbus Company, please refer to my work visa.’”
“Remember this exact phrase so that you can recite it word for word.” He says with a familiar tired, deadpan look, “I’ll take care of the rest, so you just have to prove that you aren’t here to cause trouble.”
“If even memorizing that is too much of a burden for you, I suggest that you keep your mouth shut.” Faust suddenly pipes up, “You can present your employee card instead.”
“Keep quiet and don’t cause trouble. Easiest tasks in the world.” Dante dryly remarks. For this group, it may be…
“Now, next up.” Vergilius says, looking over the Sinners. “If you have a question, make sure to first ask yourself if it’s actually meaningful. Then quietly raise your hand.”
You watched as a solid third of the Sinners raised their hands.
“Rodion.”
“Since this trip is for business, we can carry our weapons, yeah~?”
Vergilius nods slightly. “Correct. Next.”
“Then, Greg’s creepy-crawly arm and Dante’s chichi clockhead’re getting a pass too?” Rodya asks, “I mean, didn’t only Squishy get paperwork done for ‘em?”
“We all got paperwork.” You tell her, “But, yeah, they’re approved.”
“Why do you know that..?” Gregor asks, raising a brow.
“Because I did the paperwork.” You tell him, shaking your head slightly. “Why else?”
“For your reference, our manager’s head counts as a prosthetic rather than a weapon, which means it’d be approved even if what we had were a tourist visa, powers to revive notwithstanding.” Ishmael suddenly adds, nodding slightly.
“She’s right.” You agree, “I think, not familiar with all the laws in the City. I should look into this…”
“I can point you to a few books.” She offers, but she seems slightly tense. As if she wants something else out of this. But what..?
“That would be nice, thanks…” What could she possibly want from you?
“Focus.” Vergilius reminds you two, and you don’t miss how Dante and Gregor lower their hands, “And, Ryōshū. Put out your cigarette before you speak.”
“…I didn’t raise my hand.” She mutters.
Don Quixote lets out a faint squeak, drawing attention to her outstretched hand she eagerly waves. Vergilius sighs, relenting to her stubbornness. “…Fine, Don Quixote. What is it?”
“For what purpose doth that barrier of glass serve?” She asks, pointing at the glass wall in the middle of the building, where, on the other side, were hordes of people waiting in a seemingly endless line.
“That line’s slowed to a crawl, people are sat on the floor waiting for it to move.” Gregor points out, “Looks like they’ve been there for quite some time.”
“There are many armed guards as well. Three times as many compared to this side.” Meursault notes.
“You’d think there’d be more on this side because of…” Ishmael trails off, but you feel her gaze on you.
“…Most of the glass walls you find inside buildings are there for safety reasons.” Vergilius answers with a mumble.
“Well~ Simply put, that line’s for Backstreets folks. Each Nest handles immigration differently, but wherever it may be, it’s super-duper hard to get into another Nest without a proper visa.” Rodya explains to Don, “Why’d you think those bullies jumped us on the way to the checkpoint? They wanted our visa so they could enter the Nest.”
Vergilius gives Don a quick glare. “…A problem we are not in our power to resolve.”
But she doesn’t look away from the wall.
“Manager, it’s our turn now.” Outis suddenly speaks up, dragging away Dante’s- and most of the others’- attention. But not yours, and not Don’s. The two of you just keep staring at the wall.
Don needs to cause the ruckus for you to steal the ampules.
Or… does she? Because you don’t need chaos to freeze time. You could just do it and steal it from one of the guards around. Maybe you can save her the trouble… you don’t want her to suffer.
Vergilius nudges you as he moves along, but you just watch as there seems to be a ruckus on the other side of the glass. Where someone starts to be dragged away from a terrified child.
You hear Don sneak under the barrier when no one looks, clearly trying to beeline to the glass. But you catch her on the shoulder.
“Don’t…” You whisper to her, “Please.”
“Ah- Fair [Name], please release me.” Don says, her chipper voice slightly dulled to a more serious one. You don’t think she remembers anything from her life as Sancho, but you wouldn’t put the idea of her instinctively being protective of families. “I cannot-”
“If you do this, they’re just going to suffer more.” You tell her, “You’ll cause a panic, everyone will freak out, and all you’ll make is trouble. I know you want justice, but what you want to do will only cause suffering. Nothing will change.”
Don’s grip tightens on her lance as she seems to tense. “...fair [Name], you also acted with rashness prior. Pray tell, why do thou now try to prevent me from taking just action?”
“...because I acted rashly. The people in the casino would die no matter what I did. I kinda regret it, but at least they’ll get to see their families again… but this? This will only lead to a lockdown and nothing good. You’ll probably get killed. Maybe even a few times. Maybe you’ll get the others killed to. But either way…”
Her golden eyes stare into yours. Wide, unusually blank, and you almost catch a glimpse of red.
“It’s your choice to listen to me.” You tell her, “But please do. Please.”
Vergilius clears his throat, and you give her a slight nod, motioning for her to return to the others, and you return to the side of the Red Gaze.
“...you know,” He says after a moment, “They’re more likely to listen if you’re harsh.”
“I’d rather be kind.” You tell him, “I’d rather they listen to me because they want to, and not out of fear.”
He hums. “Well, see how that turns out.”
“Look, if she gets into trouble, at least I tried.” You tell him, “Better than threats.”
“...you really know nothing about the City. Stop being ignorant.”
You bite the bitter response you want to spew at him, just opting to turn your head away.
The other Sinners start to take notice of the commotion behind the wall, and now the person being dragged away is cuffed and the child is sobbing, even as the glass stops any sound from leaking through.
“…We shouldn’t bother. I don’t know what happened, but I guess someone broke a taboo.” Ishmael tells everyone, looking away.
“Yeah, sure. Those impoverished vandals and their audacity to break the taboo of not stuffing enough cash in the right people’s pockets, am I right?” Heathcliff says with a scoff.
Ishmael tenses, slowly looking his way with a glower. “…Are you mocking me right now?”
“Huh. What, I thought you didn’t care?” He says with a snide grin, “Guess someone’s knickers are in a twist.”
“Please state your affiliation and purpose of visit.” The K Corp Checkpoint Official calmly orders to a certain blonde who rejoined the group. Dante’s distracted by trying to keep Ishmael from murdering Heathcliff as he mocks her, and Don Quixiote is silent.
She looks to you and your gazes lock. Faintly, you hear the child sob for her father through the glass. You don’t know if Don hears it-, you don’t think she does- but she glances to the glass wall, then to you. You silently beg her not to, but-
“I am come to liberate the weak and powerless!”
The Official pauses, head snapping up to stare at Don in pure shock and utter confusion.
“Don-!” You yelp, but she doesn’t look at you.
Vergilius gives you an “I told you so” look, and you want to cringe and die. She didn’t listen to a word you said…
“Release them at once!” She orders, pointing to the wall with her lance, “Can you not see that they are suffering?”
The Official intakes a sharp breath, trying to maintain composure. “…Please state your affiliation and purpose of visit.”
Don scowls, “If you are unwilling to take action, then I shall myself!”
“Don- no-!” You screech, only for the girl to sprint with more speed than she should have and stab straight through the glass with her lance.
“…Hoo.” The Official sighs, then grabs a radio. “Code purple. Code purple. Violation of Taboo K185 on site. Requesting Thrombocyte units. Repeat, requesting Thrombocyte…”
With a buzz, every light in the check-point flickers to red, and you just glower at Vergilius. The speakers flare to life as the announcer barks out orders. “Attention all personnel: Code purple. Code purple. Circulation Hall 2, Inspection Booth 14. Thrombocyte, Leukocyte.”
Sirens flare to life as guards start approaching the Sinners menacingly and escorting other people away quickly. You wince at the clanging of metal gates slamming shut, and you just wish Don fucking listened.
“…Should’ve smashed her skull in and carried her in a body sack.” Heathcliff mutters.
Ishmael sighs, and all of you watch a sheepish Don get ganged up on by a solid twenty or so soldiers. “I doubt that would’ve made much of a difference.”
“...next time, put her in the collar instead of me.” You mumble, “Or better yet, a cage.”
“Faust will consider it.” The 2nd Sinner says, but even she looks annoyed at Don’s antics. No one goes to help her as she tries retreating back to you guys.
“Thrombo, Leuko…” Yi Sang thinks, “I believe they refer to platelets and white blood cells respectively.”
Faust nods. “It must be them. Fitting for K Corp, I’d say.”
“I’ve gotten used to this sort of situation, but it looks pretty serious.” Dante says, shrinking back slightly at the dozens of soldiers approaching.
“Indeed. We’ve violated a taboo of the Wing, after all.” Faust says with a nod.
“It’s not like anyone was hurt- can’t we just talk this through?”
Faust just slowly gives Dante a deadpan look. They glance away, seeming to realize that they said a very stupid thing.
“No matter the Wing, infringement of a taboo means-” Faust is cut off by an explosion leaving Don Quixote as small chunks of red- “That lethal measures can be taken against the violator without warning.”
Dante droops, as the situation seems to finally hit them. It also hits you.
“...they bombed her-” You choke out.
“Correct.” Faust says, “However, the correct term would be-”
“…You never cease to surprise me.” Vergilius mutters, interrupting the 2nd Sinner, “You managed to wring out the last drop of expectation I had left for you. I’m keeping out. Pin the whole thing on her, or take responsibility, or whatever.”
“I thought you accompanied us to handle situations that our manager can’t alone?!” Ishmael sputters out.
“I came with you to take care of inevitable problems, not have a pissing session in the wind.” He tells her, before his gaze locks on you. “Come on.”
“...me?” You ask, raising a brow. “I have a job I have to-”
“Your only weapons are now harmless eggs. What do you actually expect to do?”
“...I have the sword…”
“Are you competent with it?”
“...sorta.”
“...not good enough.” He motions you to follow with his head, walking through the guards as they immediately make way for him, knowing better than to fight a Color Fixer.
“Go. Just go.” Dante encourages you, “I’d rather you’d not get hurt.”
“But-” You sigh, “...fine. Please don’t die…”
The guards let you through- thankfully- and you take place next to Vergilius, who leans against the wall and watches the Sinners try to fend off swarms of guards. You tap the remains of the blades, waiting for their inevitable regeneration after the action’s over with. Of course, not that you’re particularly involved with this one, but…
You don’t miss him glancing at you.
“If you tell me ‘I told you so’, I think I will actually bite you.” You tell him.
“Really now?” He asks, giving you a rather pointed look.
“Yeah, okay? You were right. She didn’t listen. But at least she considered my words…” You sigh, “...I just wished she did more than just considering.”
“You have too much faith in people.” He tells you, “Though, unlike them, you actually have a brain in that head of yours. Take this as a lesson, will you?”
“...” You sigh, “I’d say, ‘I want to fight you’, but I know I don’t have a chance.”
“Hm… you prove my points a lot.”
“...next time we drive over a bridge, please jump off it.”
“Unfortunately for you, my job keeps me from doing that.”
“Really just gonna watch from there?” Dante calls over, scowling at Vergilius, before they remember you’re next to him. “That wasn’t directed at you, [Name]! You’re fine- it’s just-”
They sigh when you give them a slightly bemused look, as Vergilius lets out a faint scoff.
“You won’t sway me with that look, Manager. I’m nothing more than a guide that none pay heed to; it would be impertinent of me to brandish my weapon.” You give him a look, and he continues, “Well, to meddle one final time: K Corp’s Singularity takes the form of healing bullets that restore most wounds in the blink of an eye. I suppose it could be compared to that ability of yours.”
“Hey, wait…!” Vergilius resumes ignoring the fight ahead of him as Dante gets distracted, trying to keep the Sinners alive as the soldiers never seem to fall down. You watch, keeping an eye out to see where they grab their ampules, and memorize it as quickly as you can.
Now’s a good time to snag some bullets… especially because- soon enough- this will be over.
It’s easy for time to freeze and you to move to the nearest soldier, hands slipping into their pouch as you grab a large handful of bullets. You slip them into your pockets, doing your best to get them as flat as possible so no one notices, and return to Vergilius. You take the pose you held prior to the freeze, trying to hold back the nausea welling up inside you, and resume time.
If Vergilius notices anything, he doesn’t say it.
“...so… healing bullets.” You suddenly pipe up, “They really can just heal… anything? Even things like lost limbs?”
“I suppose so, yes.” He thinks for a moment, “...why do you ask?”
“Just… curious.” You admit, “We don’t have this sorta thing back home… if we did, they could do a lot of good, though.”
Vergilius just stares at you, until you feel pressured to continue. “...that is, of course, unless major corporations decide to make it near impossible for anyone who’s not insanely rich to get.”
He hums, before returning his gaze back to the fight. You think this is… what, the third time Dante’s received the Sinners?
“...when do you think this will end?” You ask.
“Sooner than you think.” Is all Vergilius tells you. You just opt to listen in and watch the chaos.
“I can’t take it anymore!” Heathcliff bellows, looking close to popping a blood vessel. “This has got to be the most pointless fight in the world! Can’t you see?”
“I told you. Entering into conflict with a Wing is an exercise in futility.” Faust cooly responds, as if she’s not in the middle of an endless fight.
Rodya’s smile is strained. “Just didn’t know the futility would hit us right away~”
“The flesh regrows as soon as it’s removed.” Meursault notes, “It is difficult to continue on with combat.”
Ryōshū grimaces, looking absolutely miserable. “Really… Art can be rubbish like this, huh…”
Right… every time she swings her sheathed sword, all the wounds heal before any blood can even leak out… this must be hell for her.
Which, in itself, is particularly fucked up, because what do you mean there exists a woman who suffers when she can’t cause others to bleed and die.
“Isn’t there anything we can do…?” Dante asks.
“HP, or Helapoiesis, is a bioengineered technology that allows for the continuous repair of damaged or lost cells.” Faust explains, “One dose already lasts considerably long, so imagine what that means for those in the Nest who receive constant supplies… To put it simply, you can’t reasonably defeat them in combat.”
Dante looks horrified at that information, but an echoing laughter stops them before they can make any reply. Vergilius looks more bitter than usual, eyes narrowing slightly.
“Mwahahahahaha!!! In the height of chaos, I have arrived at last!!” The particularly energetic voice calls out, as a man in overly flamboyant clothes reminiscent of a superhero’s outfit comes charging into the fray.
“...let me guess, you know and don’t like him?” Vergilius nods at that, “And he’s a Color Fixer too, isn’t he? Or maybe a Grade 1?”
“Haa… am I not allowed to know common Fixers?” He asks you, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.
“What common Fixer would wear that?” Is all you retort with, only for Vergilius to let out a faint chuckle.
Meanwhile, Dante looks like their head is about to burst into more flames than usual.
“‘Ey, what the… What’s that thing running at us?” Heathcliff sputters out, raising his bat as all the soldiers seem intent to get out of the way rather than keep fighting the Sinners.
Meursault watches with an impassive expression. “ETA is three seconds. Manager, your judgement?”
“I… I dunno, I’m not sure what to…” Dante glances back at Vergilius, silently asking for any sort of answer or help from either him or you.
“Ah, there you are. K Corp’s superstar.” Vergilius dryly calls out.
The man merely chuckles, before calling out to the array of people in the space, be it soldiers, startled people who were moved aside, or even the Sinners. “Greetings one and all! You are free to share stories of the heroic feats you are to witness here, but photographs and more will require permission from K Corp! Alas, I must attend a magazine interview in half an hour, so I cannot overlinger. I pray you to understand!”
“Was wondering when you’d come.” The Red Gaze continues, deadpan and barely masking his annoyance, “I heard you became a wagie serving a Wing, Siegfried.”
“Ahaha! I see your tongue is as sharp as ever, dear fellow!” He laughs in response, “I rushed here at once in response to code purple, and methinks your friends were the perpetrators!”
“Not exactly friends. I hope you understand that I have nothing to do with the commotion.”
“In that case…”
“Yup, I’m counting on you to give them a spicy lesson.” Vergilius says with a slight smirk.
“What are you two muttering about? Don’t bode well.” Heathcliff mumbles, face screwed up into unease.
“Agreed.” Ryōshū says with a scoff, “From under what stone did he come out?”
Siegfried lets out a bellow of laughter. “Hahahah! Well well, it appears that some of you come from faraway lands.” His gaze pauses on you, “Some particularly faraway. Right then, I shall grant you all the privilege of photography for this special occasion!”
Outis grits her teeth. “He treats us like worshippers on the streets. How dare y-”
“OOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”
Don’s thrilled squeal catches every Sinner off guard, all looking towards the short troublemaker as her yellow eyes shine in absolute delight. You, meanwhile, are covering your ears in pain. You did not think her voice could reach that pitch…
“C’mon, spit it out…” You tell her, as she shakes violently in unbridled thrill.
“TH- THE- HH- THAT MAN- HE- HIM- THE MAN HIMSELF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
Vergilius sighs, shaking his head as he sneers at Don. “We’re in a hurry, so get this done within one minute if possible. And keep that clockhead and demon out of this.”
“Hmm… A prosthetic and… Abnormality, is it? Right then, make it 50 seconds!!!”
How dare he.
You frantically wave Dante over, as Siegfried starts to tear through the Sinners. Some try to fight back, only to get near instantly obliterated. Like Heathcliff, who- the moment he tried raising his bat- had his head crushed like a grape.
Dante just blankly stares at the scene, Vergilius casually stares at it, and you’re violently trembling. You’ve seen massacres, like when you first got here, but at least then their bodies were mostly whole. Now they’re just a bunch of bloody pulps…
A chunk of what you think is either Sinclair or Don lands relatively close to you with an audible “splat” of sorts.
Or bloody pieces…
Worst part is? He’s doing to one Sinner at a time.
“Now, look here once more! I’m sure our fans will love it!”
“This blighter… is too damn strong.” Ryōshū hisses out, one of the few left standing.
“Hm? What did you do just now?” Siegfried glances at the small wound she managed to inflict, before chuckling, “Hahahah! Well, isn’t that cute!”
“Gah…!” She chokes as she’s effectively disemboweled in less than a second.
Your mouth is pressed into a thin line as Vergilius is smirking to himself.
“...in their defense,” He and Dante glance your way, “Only Don was the one who made trouble. Everyone else was behaving.”
“This is a valuable lesson for all of them,” Vergilius responds as Dante is silent, “About time they learned what happens if they kick up a ruckus in a Nest thinking they can get away with it.”
You just sigh. Maybe he has a point… they do need violence to listen, at least at this point. But even then, if they don’t want to listen, they just won’t. Like Don.
At least you got the ampules… now Effie is as good as saved.
“…Dante, you may not remember it at the moment, but at one point you used to be something of a bigwig… so to speak.” Vergilius tells Dante, who perks up with a startled look.
“I… I was?”
You always wondered who Dante was. Sure, you had guesses, but no confirmation. And you’d much rather get that confirmation in the safety of your room and not in the City.
You need to find answers as to how you got here and how you get home.
It will take time…
…does she know..?
I do. But I don’t think you’re ready for every answer just yet.
Gah! You little-
And your chance at a nice and simple explanation is gone, just like that…
It has to be bad if even Carmen won’t explain it to you… but why won’t she..? What even are you..?
“However, your memory loss does not wholly excuse all the faults in your performance as the manager. I’m certain you understand what I mean.”
There has to be a way to get answers… doesn’t Yi Sang have some sort of Mirror? Maybe if you get that, you can talk to any other “you”s who are stuck here, and maybe they’ll have answers.
But are there even other “you”s? From what little you’ve seen of the IDs and such, they don’t appear to recognize you…
Maybe it’s that every “you” is stuck around Dante..?
“Taking back my head might not be for the best after all, Vergilius.”
But what if there aren’t any other “you”s? What if you’re the only one..?
But how would that be possible? Mirror Worlds exist, so…
Fuck, this is confusing…
“Well?” Vergilius’ voice makes you flinch, quickly looking over. He motions with his head to Dante. “What did they say?”
“...I- uh-” You swallow a lump in your throat, “They got your point.”
Dante nods quickly, seeming rather thankful you didn’t call them out as you just decide to focus on the current moment and not get all distracted again. At least, not until you were safely back on the bus.
“Hurrah! 46.5 seconds! Another day, another heroic tale of justice written!!” Siegfried cheers, as all of the remains of the Sinners are splattered onto the floor.
Vergilius pushes himself off the wall, arms crossing with a rather satisfied look on his face. “Ah, looks like the curtains have closed. Time to rewind, Dante.”
—
And now you’re left holding a half-catatonic, violently twitching Dante after they just revived twelve bloody pulps back into actual humans. And their screams for this one are still haunting…
And those humans are actually silent. Even Rodya and Don aren’t saying a word. Unfortunately, Vergilius is right again… you really know nothing about the City…
“How’s life been, Red Gaze? We’ve rarely had a chance to meet in recent times. Haven’t shown up to the ‘League of Excellent Nest-dwelling Fixers’ lately, either…” Siegfried cheerily asks, placing a hand on a rather disinterested Vergilius’ shoulder. “Were you unable to read the dozens of invitations I sent you?”
“You okay..?” You ask Dante, who nods slightly and gives you a weak thumbs up.
“Y- yeah. Just hold onto me for a second, will you..?”
They’re starting to recover from this stuff quicker, but they did just drag literal pulps back from the grave so… yeah… you don’t blame them for struggling to stand after it…
“Changed addresses.” Vergilius dryly responds. “And I don’t have the time to lick top-brass boots like you’re doing.”
“I don’t know what happened between these two, but…” Dante raises their head, “Vergilius is a bit hostile here, right?”
“The difference in disposition between them is rather clear, isn’t it, Dante?” Faust asks, her voice so devoid of emotion you can’t tell if she’s annoyed with the question or just gauging Dante’s social awareness. Maybe both.
“In what ways?”
“Simply put, Mr. Siegfried can be described as a pro-Wing Fixer based on the views he’s expressed.” Faust explains, “On the other hand, our guide Vergilius sought independence as a Fixer. He believed that a Fixer loses sight of their core principles the moment they become subordinate to an influential entity. He is someone who is strict towards those with power, after all.”
“I guess pro-Wing and non-WIng Fixers exist…” You murmur, feeling your wings droop. “Glad to see they get along… partially well, at least.”
“Physical violence between the two groups is uncommon.” Faust tells you.
You nod slightly in acknowledgement, glancing around the now on-edge Sinners. Well, save for one…
You watch as Don, on shaking legs, quickly scamper up to Siegfried. Her eyes were still shining with awe, even after he reduced her to a pile of meat chunks.
“F- fe- fa- feh- afa…” She clears her throat, earning his attention, “A fan, I am! I have collected figurines sculpted after you! Though I’ve yet to get my hands on limited editions… I set my heart on becoming a magnificent Fixer such as you!”
“Aha! An aspiring Fixer!” Siegfried notes, smiling as Vergilius rolls his eyes, “I have little time to spare, but more than enough for an autograph!”
“I… Is that true?” She asks, before shyly offering up her lance, “Then would you sign… an autograph… here… Ehehe…”
“Slow breaths, Don Quixote…” Gregor tells her, sighing.
A few Sinners are bitterly mumbling under their breath. And you don’t blame them.
You’re going to keep getting involved, but you’re going to lower your standards dramatically and start punching the Sinners in the face if they’re about to be stupid.
Well, maybe start physically holding them back instead of punching…
“Attention. Code purple, dismissed. Code purple, dismissed. All codes cleared.” The speaker announces with a hiss, and things seem to quickly return to how they were before.
“Huzzah! That’s a job done well!” Siegfried says with a grin, “Now then, until next we meet! Hahahaha!!”
And he’s gone in nearly an instant. Where Vergilius lets out a breath you didn’t know he was holding in, mutters something, and approaches the group.
“[Name], come with me.” He instructs, “And the rest of you go on.”
“Wait… why is [Name] going with you?” Dante asks, startled.
“Because they need to go back to the bus.” He answers simply.
“...don’t tell me they view me as property…” At his expression, you groan, “Oh fuck me sideways… seriously?”
He merely hums in response, turning to leave.
“You know… you don’t have to follow him.” Gregor quietly tells you.
“...I know. But I should.”
And so, you do.
—
Shame you missed meeting up with Saude and Effie… oh well, at least this gave you a chance to check on Orbi. And get out of that fuckass collar. You’re gonna light it on fire later.
Though, sitting alone in the front of the bus with a silent Vergilius and mumbling Charon isn’t the best thing…
“...” Charon scowls, “Still gone.”
“You mean the others?” She nods, “Well, they’re talking so some people in that van over there…”
Maybe though, you can make an excuse to see them.
You move to peer through the window, and feign surprise at the two figures you’re familiar with. “Is that Effie and Saude? They’re not far… mind if I go say hello?”
“Hmmm… no.” Vergilius says, startling you.
“Eh? Why?”
“Because of your little stunt the other day.” He tells you, “No one was particularly pleased when you disappeared like that…”
“It was barely for an hour-” You hiss back, brows furrowing, “You didn’t even say a word.”
“I don’t have much to say about stupidity.”
“Seriously?? Didn’t even say as much as a word to me about any qualms you had about me doing things in my own free time, and now you decide to punish me?”
“I have my-”
A loud groan from Charon makes the both of you shut up. “Noisy, noisy. Too noisy. Charon’s mad.”
“...right, sorry.” You mumble, sighing as you go to sit back down. “Fine, fine. I’m sure I’ll see the two soon enough anyways. I can say hi to them then.”
You don’t even get why he seems to care now… bullshit, honestly.
Gahh, you sound like an angry teenager. It’s fine. Next time you see them, you’ll just use the ampules on them both and end Canto 3 with both alive and well. Simple as that.
“...” You glance rover at Vergilius, who’s still brooding. “...if you’re going to punish Don for her stunt, please don’t put her in pain.”
“Ah, sometimes I forget you’re actually intelligent.” He ignores your glare as he continues, “And why should I listen to you..?”
“In your own words, you’re ‘nothing more than a guide’. It’s in my place as the Assistant Manager, and I know I probably can’t stop you from giving her some words, but just… don’t injure her. She’s been killed enough times today…”
He just silently stares at you. “...very well. I won’t kill her.”
“Yeah, yeah… most I’m tolerating is you striking fear into her heart.” You tell him, before returning to your usual seat. “...speaking of which, they should be back soon.”
He merely hums in response, and Charon opens the door with a quiet hiss, and the Sinners creep onto the bus. The moment they step aboard, it feels as if the air freezes over. Any good mood floating about goes to die, as Charon pipes up.
“You’re late. Charon counted to one hundred and you still didn’t come.” She says with a pout. She opens her mouth to complain some more, but Vergilius places a hand on her shoulder.
“Charon.”
She merely huffs, looking back through the windshield. “Verg, Charon will remember this.”
“Sorry about that. I’ll buy you something sweet later.” At her expectant gaze, Vergilius sighs, “Fine, they can come too.”
She smiles faintly, her expression returning to its usual blank look as she seems to be calmed. Vergie, however… well, his glare at the Sinners sends them going back to their seats quickly, abandoning a shaking Don in the aisle of the bus.
“...What’s going to happen to her..?” Dante asks you.
“Vergie’s gonna teach her a lesson…” You admit, “...don’t worry, no need to revive her.”
Dante seems relieved to hear that, as Vergilius glares down at the 3rd Sinner.
“Let’s hear your excuse, Don Quixote.”
She swallows a lump in her throat, “I… could not turn a blind eye to the weak being persecuted-”
“No, wrong.” In a blink, she’s been pinned to the ground, Vergilius’ heel dug into her shoulder as she grunts in pain.
“Gahgk…! Ghk…”
“I asked for an excuse, not a justification of your views.” He tells her with a sneer.
“Gnnngh…!” She flails slightly, desperately looking around for help. Her eyes lock with yours, “F- Fair…”
You avert your gaze. Honestly, you’re mad at her. And he promised not to hurt her…
Don lets out a weak, pitiful cry, and you can’t bring yourself to look back.
“This isn’t the first time, either, Don Quixote. You’re responsible for three separate incidents already.” Vergilius tells her, “That’s three separate times you’ve jeopardized our work with your deranged behavior. Even when warned against it.” She chokes as he seems to put more pressure on her body, “What do you think? Speak.”
“Wh… While mine own actions did inconvenience my colleagues…” She starts to stutter out, “Hngk… GUAAAH!!!”
“...you agreed not to hurt her.” You remind him, voice raising slightly.
“...” Her cries of pain weaken after that, but Vergilius doesn’t respond to your words. “I was asking for your thoughts. Why do you not understand this?”
“I- I was speaking only to be interrupted!” She sputters back.
“What you should’ve said to me at the get-go was an apology, Don Quixote.” He tells her, “Anything you’d add should be an elaboration on how you plan to improve your conduct.”
“What unjust… Agh! Thou’rt demanding a specific answer out of me…!”
“Don’t you know? A company already has the “correct” answers for its employees. The questions are only asked to see if you can get it right. You’re sorely mistaken if you believe the company is sincerely curious about your input.
“Kagh… If- If the company insists so, then I-!”
“…I’m sick of this.”
Don cries in pain as Vergilius kicks her, and she crumples into a shaking heap, only to be grabbed and dragged up by the collar as the Red Gaze glowers at her. Instinctively, you look back over, watching the scene again.
“Verg-!” You start, but he raises his hand to you in a “be quiet” motion, and you bite your tongue. Goddammit…
“I’m sure you remember what went down when you joined.”
Don Quixote’s breath hitches, eyes widening.
“I hope you haven’t forgotten the deal we struck that day. …Miss. Don. Quixote.”
You watch his eyes shine a vibrant red, almost glowing, and the weak nod Don gives in response, not daring to utter another word.
Satisfied, he drops her. “…That’s all. Back to your seat.”
Don stands up, and silently moves to the back of the bus, crawling into an empty seat where she doesn’t dare look up.
“The same goes for the rest of you.” The Red Gaze announces to the silent bus, “A company isn’t a platform for fulfilling egocentric dreams or preaching big ideas. If you would still go against the terms of your employment contract to act unprompted, consider the consequences before you do. You’ll spend a grueling period of being unable to escape; not through death, nor through struggles at severance.”
“I guess getting help from that guy- who was that again, Mister… Zack Friture, or something- must’ve ruffled his feathers.” Gregor murmurs.
“It’s… Lord Siegfried…” Don hollowly tells him, voice cracking.
“Sheesh, the mission hasn’t even started and we already got a scolding~ Have some tact before you act, ‘kay?” Rodya tells Don, gaze strangely missing any trace of genuine sympathy…
Guess she’s upset too… but anyone would be mad that they got killed a few times because one person made a bad choice.
“Phew… I knew this day would come sooner or later. We should all be careful from now on.” Ishmael murmurs, and both she and Rodya look at Heathcliff.
“Why are you two birds gawking at me? Looking to get stoned?”
Vergilius silently stares at Heathcliff, who tenses.
“…Fine, I got it! Tsk.”
Vergilius, seemingly satisfied, turns to return to his seat, but pauses near you. He leans over Dante, who flinches as they try to lean away, and murmurs in your ear.
“Keep your hopes low.”
You don’t have anything to say in response as he stands back up and sits back down in the front of the bus.
