Viola degenerated into a strangled weeping - at this, Ignace excused himself from the room and allowed the gardevoir time to compose herself.
Johannes pulled her into his chest and laid back into the couch, sighing. "We'll be fine Viola," he said quietly. With an anguished cry, she sobbed harder into his chest and wrapped her arms tightly around his middle. He embraced her and buried his face into the crown of her head.
"Will we really Johannes? You could...you -" The voice in his head degenerated into quavering tones of despair. He felt her arms clutch him tighter as her sobs intensified. He reached down and felt along the sides of her face for one of the unusual spikes that protruded from it and ran his thumb and forefinger along the largest of the three.
"I'm going to provide, you know, information and stuff to them, not actually fight. You heard Ignace, he could use your skills and my own," he explained. He pushed her gently away from him, enough to free her face from his chest and brought a hand down to tilt it up towards his. He wiped tears from her cheeks tenderly and brushed aside her characteristic bangs to reveal her forehead and kissed it, adding, "I'll do what I can to stay safe and alive. I'm not in the business of dying." He rubbed a thumb against her cheek and added, "And you do the same. You're not about to take any risks that'll get you killed for my sake."
Viola pressed past his hands and buried her face in his chest again. Whatever her response was, he couldn't understand it, as she had said something in that peculiar tongue of hers instead of telepathically.
In the adjacent room, Ignace watched the two, his expression unreadable. At last, d'Artagnan spoke, "It would seem the Embrace has made a rather painful decision."
"Yes, but she's decided to help is what matters. So I owe them an explanation about everything that's going on now." He heaved a sigh and peeked through a crack in the door. The two seemed to be sitting up properly and Johannes was speaking to her in hushed tones. He threw the door to the room open, signing to Ricard and d'Artagnan, "I'll know if this was a bad decision or not soon enough I guess."
The detective strode over to the two and stood before them. Johannes and Viola turned their attention to him - Viola's gaze was particularly hard and accented further by her red-rimmed eyes. Ignace rocked on his heels for a minute before he sighed and pulled a pokeball from his belt and began to toss it back and forth between his hands. "First things first, before I explain anything else, you have to know this: Lumiose is nothing like Sinnoh."
"I've noticed," replied the researcher. "What does this have to do-"
"You're not in a place where this sort of thing is common. Or accepted." Ignace paused and considered the ball in his hand before hooking it back onto his belt and then gestured at the couple, pointing back and forth between them. "Not in the way you're used to anyway." He leaned against the back of the armchair and chuckled. "Sinnohans, pokephiles and regular old tourists alike… they all flock to Lumiose, stars in their eyes just like any other. Then reality sets in. Don't walk the rouge." He pointed at Viola. "Bad idea with her around. If we have to walk it, you keep her close and you keep her safe. With any luck we'll only be checking the sewers beneath it." The gardevoir crossed her arms and pouted, the beginnings of protest erupting to life in his head in her cold voice. "Don't gimme that look celery-stalk," he said, cutting across her. "You wanna fit in? Drop the ring and ball. Ball especially. Doesn't mean what you think it means in Illumis."
"I'd appreciate you not calling me a celery-stalk," replied Viola telepathically. A dangerous glow sparked to life in her red-rimmed eyes.
"Duly noted. Either way, you're not going more than ten seconds in the rouge if you're dressed like you belong there. Ball on your waist isn't a sign of freedom. It's a sign that you're for sale."
At this, the glow died, replaced instead with a look of mild worry and faint embarrassment. "I...I see."
Johannes pulled Viola closer to him and threw an arm around her. "What does quartier rouge even mean?" he asked. "I mean literally. I figure it's-"
"Whores." interrupted Ignace. "Quartier rouge - the red light district. The red quarter. Open legs and tangled sheets. The pussy fucking pavilion." He crossed his arms and looked up at the ceiling. With a sigh, Ignace continued, "Or dick if that's your angle. And everything that comes with both of those. Clubs, strip joints, and enough for your stomach, nose and veins to keep you loaded from sundown to sunup. A dream for the sex-starved of every stripe." He got up from the chair and turned around to head to the window. He drew the curtains back and looked out at the city.
"It's one of the reasons Lumiose is such a tourist hot spot. More than good coffee and pastries here. More than art museums and scenic locales. We've got a quartier rouge so degenerate it'd make a Sinnohan blush." He paused and turn back to the couple and gave them a sheepish grin. "Sorry, bad turn of phrase to use there."
Ricard strode into the room and signed, "Perhaps it would have been better to say that Illumis might make a Kantoan blush instead." D'Artagnan relayed the message to Johannes and Viola amid the low throbs of his own wispy laughter.
Viola inclined her head, ignoring the laughter and ribbing. "I see. I shall keep what you've said in mind. Now if you could…?"
Ignace sighed. "Right, right, let's start from the top." From beginning to end, the looks of horror etched upon the couple's faces became deeper and more defined, at times turning to disgust for brief periods in the tale, before settling back into abject fear.
"This...this is what we have to stand against? Some shrouded entity of unknowable power? Why on earth are we throwing ourselves to the mercy of that unknown?" asked Viola. The coldness of her voice in Ignace's head had assumed a wavering, unsure quality for a brief moment. The fear ran deep.
"I'm a gods damned detective, Viola," said Ignace dispassionately, "Mucking about in the unknown and terrifying is requirement number two, right under 'solve mysteries'." What did you really expect, for me to have all the answers we need right away?"
Viola wrung her hands and scooted closer to Ignace. "I am less than confident in my ability to assist in combating this so-called King and the pokemon he has surrounded himself with."
"If he even has," muttered Johannes. "This isn't nearly as much information as I was expecting, I'll be honest." He paused and shivered. "I think that makes it worse. What do you know for sure?"
"The dusknoir is probably not a free agent, but also not working for the king. Far as I can tell it seems pretty interested in showing up wherever these bodies that are missing hearts are, but why, we don't quite know. Based on what I've heard and what you've told me, it doesn't seem too hot on the King, but it makes me wonder why it hasn't done anything to the King to try to stop him unless the dusknoir also had no idea where he is. Which I'm guessing is probably the case. The King also has to be hiding somewhere that's going to be really hard to get to. I doubt he's living the high life but we can't rule it out." He looked to Charles who stared back, before continuing. "We know he's got some strange kind of castle on the other side of the veil, but we're not sure how that relates to the physical world outside of the tower here in Lumiose. Might be hiding in the sewers underneath it, even. We have to check the sewers again for another heart, come to think."
"Across the veil?" asked Ignace.
"The spirit world. That's...that's an entirely different subject. Too in depth until we find another's reaper's cloth. If we even find one," replied Ignace, waving the comment off. "Point is, we have to look around for hearts in the sewers. At the very least." Ignace did his best to push the idea of crawling through still more access tunnels from his mind. In due time he'd face the closing walls again. "But I'd like you two to come with me. If the body can leave a faint aura of negative emotional energy, imagine what the heart can do."
Johannes folded his arms and furrowed his brow. "We had our theories back in Celestic about this stuff, but we didn't really expect a heart to actually act like, you know, the romantic, figurative notion of a heart." He looked at Viola for a moment before turning back to Ignace, and adding, "Are you saying that human hearts really hold emotional energy in them?"
Ignace shrugged. "I'm not saying anything, I'm guessing. For all I know Viola could be about as useful to us down there as tits on a turtwig. But it's worth bringing her along anyway just in case. Same with you." He pointed at Johannes. "If a dusknoir shows up we need to know why the fuck it's doing what it's doing there."
Johannes looked grimly back at Ignace before inclining his head. "Alright. Let me give you my Xtransceiver code so you can give me a ring when you need me."
Ignace jotted the code down and stood. "Let's get going Charles." He turned to Ricard and signed, "Let's leave them be. I've got some preparations to make. We'll be spending quite a bit of time plumbing the sewers in a few days."
Ricard raised an eyebrow and signed back, "A few days? Why the delay?" He glanced at Viola, at her puffy eyes and tear-streaked face. "Unless...don't tell me Ignace, you actually feel sorry for her? I would have imagined you'd be champing at the bit to continue your investigation."
Ignace glanced at Viola as well, and then at Johannes before signing back to Ricard, "I've got my reasons. That's only one of them. They're not properly prepared to fight. And judging from how she's been acting, I don't think she'll be great shakes in a fight anyway. Not without some help."
The deaf-mute crossed his arms and stared back at the detective, pensive.
"You mind putting something on my tab?" signed Ignace.
"I don't know if I like the sound of that one Ignace. What do you have in mind?" replied the accountant.
"Something that'll give them an edge if shit hits the fan. Long enough for us to stabilize the situation anyway. Or go down fighting."
Ricard threw one final glance at Viola and Johannes and then pulled his wallet and a transceiver with a card slide attached to it from his pocket. "How much?"
Johannes interrupted their exchange, and the two men turned to look at him. "What on earth are you two signing to each other?"
Ignace grinned. "I need you to go buy something Johannes. As a show of good faith, we're going to pay for it."
Johannes felt a three fingered hand clutch at his chest and heard an indistinct, worried noise rise in Viola's throat.
Ricard sat down in his office and booted up his computer with a sigh. The demands of his own accounting work did not cease in the wake of this strange case and the odd events that surrounded it. Ignace had been keen to part ways with him on their way back to the apartment complex, mumbling something vague about getting a coffee and perhaps a snack of some kind before returning. At the possible prospect of a liechi berry tart, Charles was altogether too happy to agree to the idea as well.
He drummed his fingers against his desk, reading through an account wearily when a voice broke the silence in his head: "Merchant, I find it altogether puzzling the proclivity you have to spend time on pursuits you have neither the energy nor presence of mind for."
Ricard sighed and pushed his chair away from his desk, spinning about to face d'Artagnan and sign, "There is work to be done, I'm sure you are well aware. Work that I must attend to if I intend to maintain a livelihood."
"A livelihood that leaves you in the lap of relative luxury," replied d'Artagnan, a bite of smugness in the voice resonating in Ricard's head. "Your payment for the work you do alongside the Mortician is not paltry."
The Merchant smiled and laughed - a largely silent, raspy affair. "And while my wages for detective work are indeed not paltry, I am working on half my usual income. You brought me this case d'Artagnan - your case, really - yours and that strange tapestry that has dominated your Sight; I do not charge my closest friends for my services when I find them becoming my clients. Especially not d'Artagnan, the xatu responsible for my ability to communicate more efficiently." Beaming at the approving clicks d'Artagnan made with his beak in response to the statement, Ricard continued, "I am a man of creature comforts and fine clothing," he signed, "consider all that I cannot enjoy given my conditions. Deaf-mutes don't get much in the way of beautiful music to play on fancy gramophones or the pleasure of singing and orating, you must remember."
"I have not forgotten, Merchant, make no mistake. Still, it is always worthwhile to consider times when the spectres of your troubles cloud your mind and make the task at hand a shapeless mass in the mists."
"Who taught you to be so poetic, d'Artagnan? Could it have been a particular accountant that believed in l'importance des classiques?" He folded his arms, a grin as smug as d'Artagnan's tone plastered on his face.
"It was worthwhile to study them. Nevertheless, my own ability to speak is not the topic. You are working while your thoughts live somewhere outside this room. I suggest you remove yourself from your livelihood lest you do more damage in tending to it than you would letting it rest for the day." d'Artagnan ruffled his wings as he said this and made his way over to the horizontal rod set atop a base that acted as a makeshift chair to seat himself at the dining room table.
"What do you propose then, d'Artagnan? Don't tell me you wish you'd gone along with Ignace in hopes of getting a pastry yourself?" replied Ricard.
"Not quite my friend. I was hoping you would indulge me a few sets of Piquet?" A pack of cards laying on the coffee table near him lifted into the air, surrounded by a faint purple glow, and sailed over onto the dining table with a soft thud. "If you insist on working your brain into a fine paste, let it be over a pleasant pastime, not the common drudgery of work."
Ricard smiled and stood, then strode over to the xatu, signing all the while, "Fine, twist my arm why don't you. Honestly, I don't know why it is I play cards with you d'Artagnan. I feel that every win is one you give me and every loss is the result of your own psychic edge."
The low throbs of d'Artagnan's laughter filled the quiet room. "I would expect you to think as much, Ricard." The pack opened and tipped the cards onto the table and began to shuffle. "Whether you believe me when I tell you I have never once cheated is, however, entirely at your discretion."
The cards began to deal themselves and Ricard sighed. "Our work has been one of foggy guesses recently, d'Artagnan…"
"And faded tapestries lit by the flickering flame of the Sight. I am well aware my friend. What is your concern?" asked the bird.
"Do you think that Ignace was right? Has that poor couple become a target of some kind? I didn't believe it, but when in the company of psychics, think as you ought, not as you do."
d'Artagnan watched as the last of the cards were dealt out and clicked his beak. There was a long pause as the two stared at one another. "Do you really desire my answer Merchant? Or do you desire the comfort only ignorance can afford one?"
Ricard sighed and shook his head. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He lit one and took a long drag then stared meaningfully at the xatu.
"Ignace was lying."
The setting sun, reflected in the water, cast the bridge in a blazing orange light. The glittering water of the canal cast a shimmering glow on the buildings far removed on either side of the bridge. Lights within shops began to spring to life in anticipation of the coming darkness.
Ignace stared out from the bridge at the water below them that cut a path for one of the many canals in Lumiose. He pulled the thin cigarette from his mouth and exhaled a small plume of smoke. "We came here to get away from doing plain old underhanded shit Charles. We've worked outside the law before, yeah but...it never felt like this. Like we're on the wrong side of it." He sipped his coffee and chuckled. "Again." It was a self-deprecating sort of laugh. One born of disappointment in himself. It made his coffee taste like bitter irony.
The bisharp took a bite from his liechi berry tart and contemplated the pensive expression on his friend's face. With a swallow and a quiet grunt, Charles turned to face the water as well. His arm came up and gave Ignace a single thump on the back. Firm. Reassuring. The arm came back down to his side and he took another bite of the tart.
"You're probably right. I did the right thing. Now's not the time to grow a heart." A hand seized Ignace's wrist and turned him to face Charles.
The bisharp stared on, his eyes set and his mouth turned down into a frown. Slowly, Charles shook his head and let out a growl dripping in warning.
"Fine, fine. It just seems that everyone with one is ending up without it." Ignace took another drag from his cigarette and exhaled. "We'll keep those two safe as we can, but I had to make a decision. We need them working with us. D'Artagnan isn't exactly built for this kinda shit." He tapped ash from his cigarette and took a sip of coffee. "It wasn't a bad decision."
Charles finished his pastry and then leaned against the railing of the bridge, crossing his arms as he did so. He locked his gaze on Ignace and shook his head again.
"It wasn't, Charles," replied Ignace dismissively. "I made a good decision. If they didn't stay behind to help, we could have been totally fucked by the time we got to the bottom of this normally." He puffed on his cigarette again exhaled a plume of smoke straight up before sighing and dropping the stick onto the ground and crushing it. "Doesn't mean it was the right decision." He looked back at the bisharp, who continued to stare, unfazed.
Ignace scratched his nose. "Alright, maybe they're supposed to be one and the same, but fuck, Charles - I mean, do we let more people die or take a risk? We're trying to do good here. Make up for it all."
The bisharp cast it eyes towards the ground and growled softly.
"I'm not about to risk it all just on them either. I know that this shit is beyond you and me. Maybe it's bigger than us too. But we've got the dowsing rod and her egghead husband, just need…" He paused and leaned against the railing, watching the sun dip completely below the horizon. "Just need to get Ana. We should go get her tonight. The sooner she's here to help the better."
A pause. He checked his watch. "But at this point we won't get there 'til midnight. Fuck." He leaned out over the railing again. "Fuck it. Tomorrow, first thing." He dropped his head into his hand and groaned. "It's all fucked up Charles. Some job I'm doing here. 'Do the right thing' and look at what I've gone and fuckin' done." The justification he'd built for himself had not held up to much scrutiny, especially his own.
Another pat on his pack, this time soft. Sympathetic.
"They die, it's gonna haunt me for fuckin' ever." He shuffled his feet and shook his head as if to clear it. "Too late anyway. Good or bad, they agreed, and that's gonna help us. Can't dwell on it. I'll have afterwards to think this shit through. If there even is an afterwards." He looked up at the sky, the intense light of Lumiose drowning out most of the stars before turning back to look at Charles.
"I'm no good at this occult shit Charles. It's all fucked and doesn't make any fucking sense. It's got us crawling around sewers, stumbling in the dark, and fighting shit we don't understand." He paced back and forth for a bit before finally sighing. He turned to his friend and put a hand on his shoulder with a small smile.
"Thanks for stumbling in the fuckin' dark with me Charles."
The bisharp reciprocated with a rare smirk of his own and nodded.
"For stumbling with me through everything man. Especially through Unova."
The smirk faded from Charles's face, replaced instead with a look of grim determination as he nodded. He growled softly and looked back out over the canal.
Ignace followed suit and lit another cigarette. Their stumbling had let them all shirk death once before, but this time he felt they could not all be so lucky.
"Our best bet will be to lie in wait. I do fear that we risk needlessly exposing ourselves if we pursue anything active," explained Vassal. Across from him sat Karan, who had her head in her hands and seemed bored, and Terrence, whom they had found collapsed against a wall in the sewers from exhaustion. His wound had nearly healed, but his leg still pained him now and again. another round of potions would hopefully be enough; for the moment, he watched Vassal with a hard gaze and a grimace on his face.
"So," Vassal continued, his voice echoing in the damp tunnels of the sewers, "We should spring a proper trap using the assets we have at hand. They know Terrence, but not of you nor I, Karan. We will exploit that. Terrence can bait them towards the Lonely Diggersby and engage them in combat in the many alleyways that surround it - fighting more and more ferociously to keep them from getting close to the establishment. Then, he runs. We have a reputation that I'm sure these fools would find worth investigating, especially after a ghost spends so long trying to keep them away."
"Great, so I get to be live bait. I've already been shot once, Vassal," snarled Terrence, "Why would I risk it again?" He made to get up, but at the twinges of pain in his leg, thought better of it.
"Because your life matters little to the King. Whatever arrangement you have with him is meaningless if his path to ascension is obstructed permanently," explained Vassal plainly. "We must endeavor to prevent such a catastrophe."
"What the fuck are you getting out of this Vassal? The King doesn't care if you die either," shot back Terrence.
"Oui. He does not. But I believe in the vision of the King. Dying for his cause is a demonstration of my own unworthiness. And devotion."
Terrence pulled a face as he stood. The pain in his leg was worth making a point. "You're insane. And I'm working with you only because I have something I need from your King. So if I do this, I do it for my own gains, not for his or yours. I can risk injury for what I want, but if it seems like for even a second I might get killed, I'm bailing and finding a new way to get my own problems sorted."
"Pathetic." A tone like poisoned honey. Karan stood up to move herself between Vassal and Terrence, turning to face the gengar. "You owe the King loyalty." A long, clawed finger traced a line down Terrence's forehead. It was only through great strength of will that he did not shiver.
"Run and I'll kill you myself. The blood of ghosts in my claws and fur." She ran her hands down her body sensually and purred, an evil grin on her face. "I want to taste it."
Terrence settled on fixing his face into an ugly frown. "Had your chance earlier today for a taste. Should've taken it then, you won't get another," he spat.
"Only counts if it's a kill," replied Karan, the grin on her face widening. She stretched and sat back down. "Vassal is scheming. Let him continue."
"Feh," said Terrence shortly. "You heard my terms Vassal. I'll go along with this insane plan. But I won't die on this hill."
"You'll die just the same if you run," replied Vassal, shrugging, "Shot or dismembered. Given the choice, I rather prefer the first option mon ami." Terrence growled and made to stomp off into the shadows. "Three days Terrence. Long enough to fully heal. And then we lay our trap and kill these treasonous fools. Their insistence on preventing his ascension will be their undoing."
Karan rose again and purred. She slipped past Vassal, throwing him a brief nod, and then flicked a claw against the ear-like protrusion atop Terrence's head as she caught up to him. "Sweet dreams tonight if you're hungry. Same room as always."
Terrence stopped in his tracks and groaned. "Whore. They're almost always dead anyway. And the dead don't dream. Frankly, I've gotten a bit weary of finding the naked, bloody mess of a man instead of dinner."
Karan turned about and gave him a lazy wave as she retreated. "Blood and lust. Can't help it. Some from Kanto recently." The chilling sound of her harsh laughter echoed in the tunnel. "Touch you like it's wrong. Taste like shame and fear.
"Delicious."
Johannes looked down at the blinking dot on his map. "This looks like the place Viola," he said, unsure. "Le Théâtre Cruel?"
Viola shrugged. "I suppose they would rather I be prepared for the worst." She wrung her hands. "If only they'd thought to do so for you instead. I am...capable enough."
Johannes took one of her hands in his and led her into the shop. "Nothing to worry about Viola, I can take care of myself. It's you that's going to be in more danger than - whoa." The inside of the shop was laden with vests, scarves, strange trinkets, wristbands, belts, and assorted weapons that seemed too small for practical use.
The gardevoir rubbed her head. "Everything in here is buzzing with energy. You are rather fortunate to be free of this burden, dearest."
"Ah, monsieur, welcome to Le Théâtre Cruel. My name is Leo, how can I be of service to you today?" asked a man that emerged from behind the counter at the end of the store. It was at this time Johannes's noted the immense glass case built into the wall. It held a huge variety of stones, some large and similar to ore, some the size of large marbles.
"Uh, I was asked to come here and give you this," replied the researcher awkwardly, pulling the credit chit and note given to him by Ignace to the shopkeep. "I can't read it since I don't speak the language, so I was hoping you'd tell me…?"
Leo seemed to have become deaf, as he made no response to Johannes's explanation and instead busied himself with reading the note. When he finished reading it, instead of looking to Johannes again, he instead fixed his gaze squarely on Viola. HIs eyes made their way up and down her body several times before he frowned and crossed his arms.
"Your gardevoir...what is her specialty?" he asked at last.
Viola crossed her arms and pouted. "Being his wife."
Johannes laughed nervously - the voice, cold and short, had manifested in his head as well. "Viola's a communications focused gardevoir, she was never intended to really do much in the way of combat save what's necessary when travelling. I'm a researcher you see, we're not exactly in the business of getting into fights frequently."
"Then Ignace had the right idea, the shrewd salaud." He turned about and walked to the display case behind the counter. "You see monsieur, I believe that every battle is a production. An act in a play or film. The scarves and trinkets are for the trained supporting actors to the main attraction; you see what I am saying Johannes?" He gestured to a rack bearing an array of colored scarves and then to a table laden with odd items.
Johannes glanced at Viola with a concerned look on his face. She shrugged back at him.
He reached into his pocket and removed a ring of keys to unlock the case and rummaged about for a sealed box. "Gardevoir...gardevoir… Ah, yes, deux cent quatre-vingt-deux. Here we are." He shut and locked the case and then turned about. "To the counter please, monsieur and madame." He rummaged beneath it and pulled up two thick bracelets. The both bore an empty setting that looked large enough to accommodate something the size of a large marble.
Then, it all clicked for Johannes. "By the gods, he didn't…" he mumbled.
"What is it?" asked Viola.
Leo opened the box, revealing a brilliant stone that shone in white, green and red. "Oui, your friend Ignace knew what he was dealing with. You see Johannes and Viola, these stones are rare and powerful." He lifted it from its box and held it out to Viola, who after a glance at Johannes of concern, took it gingerly from Leo. It was warm to the touch. She felt the tips of the spikes on her face prickle.
"The star of the production my dear, well, they become something more." Leo looked Viola in the eyes, a knowing twinkle in his own. "But for the stage hand that never knew what it meant to stand center stage and be that star. With this...why, they finally get a chance to be."
