(Yes, I actually did my research on mental illness, especially on Borderline Personality Disorder. Again, trigger warning is obligatory. Here might be a good time to back out now if this kind of stuff makes you uncomfortable, but I'd have to say then you're missing out.)
A psychopathic priest and a sociopathic bodyguard were sitting next to each other in a bar, although... could it be said for sure, though, whether the latter was actually a sociopath or not?
Psychologically speaking, a psychopath is one who has a literal physical inhibition that doesn't allow them to have empathy. A sociopath is one who still has the physical ability for sympathy or empathy, but suppresses that part of themselves because of trauma. Both still can know right from wrong, good from evil, and have a secure grasp on reality, but for some reason they do not or cannot care about anyone else.
In that case, was the bodyguard not a sociopath? The whole reason he was all but trembling with rage right now was because he cared for somebody other than himself, so perhaps he displays sociopathic tendencies while not being an outright sociopath?
Could it then be Borderline Personality Disorder? Commonly observed symptoms include pattern of unstable intense relationships, such as idealizing someone to an unhealthy extent one moment and then suddenly believing the person doesn't care or actively hates them, as well as rapid changes in self-identity and self-image that include shifting goals and values, seeing oneself as bad or as if one doesn't exist at all. They also consist of periods of stress-related paranoia and loss of contact with reality, lasting from a few minutes to a few hours, as well as impulsive and risky behaviour, and ongoing feelings of emptiness.
If a qualified psychologist were to get the bodyguard to sit down for therapy for multiple prolonged periods of time, they would easily be able to justify a diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder with sociopathic tendencies. That would be a problem, because BPD patients are notoriously challenging to treat - not only because the disorder itself is complicated and often stigmatized, but also because its symptoms reflect ingrained patterns of thinking and behavior that could have been established during one's formative years and would thus be very hard to undo.
However, unlike the priest next to him, there was still something left to save. Again, if a qualified psychologist somehow managed to arrange a session or two with the priest, they would find themselves in the same room as a textbook psychopath who also had both masochistic and sadistic tendencies. Oh, and he was also an unrepentant, psychotic, serial killer.
Indeed, if they had to choose between the two men at the bar, most if not all qualified psychologists who were themselves sane would gladly take the bodyguard. That way, they had an infinitely higher chance of surviving the encounter.
However, while a nuanced comparison between the two men at the bar by a qualified psychologist could be very interesting indeed, their actions and words would prove to be far more exciting.
"How did you get that fucking photo?" Noctis ground out, a tumbler of whiskey gripped tightly in his right hand. Thankfully it was in his right hand - the tumbler would have already been crushed if it was in the grip of his prosthetic hand.
Tyrian shrugged, a smirk on his face. "Oh, I have my sources," he said, before waving at the bartender to get her attention. "The usual, please."
"One Shirley Temple, coming right up," the bartender said. "A pleasure to see you here again, good Father."
"I hope for your sake that the pleasure is solely intellectual," Tyrian replied, coyly raising a single eyebrow. The bartender's cheeks reddened slightly. "My duties to spread the word of God prevent me from reciprocating anything else, of course."
"Shame," the bartender muttered, before sighing wistfully. Noctis couldn't fault her for her obvious attraction - Tyrian was definitely a good-looking man, after all, if a dangerous one.
Noctis sighed himself, taking another sip of his whiskey. The liquor burned as it went down, but did nothing to quell the seething ball of terror in his gut.
"Spit it out," Noctis snarled, turning towards Tyrian. "Tell me, who did you get to take that photo and why?"
"Why spit it out? Might as well savour the mystery, I say," the priest responded, taking a small sip of his own drink.
"Because-"
"Because somebody pointed a sniper rifle at your sister?" Tyrian pointedly asked, ignoring Noctis's reaction of shock at the priest being privy to that knowledge. "Let me ask you this. Would a normal photo have scoped out your attention so fully and completely?
"What…?"
Tyrian laughed. It was a high and clear laugh, the shortness of which failed to conceal exactly how cold it was. "Oh, you don't know the half of it!" The priest chuckled, before snapping his fingers.
Everything… the bar, the club, the building, the street, the city, the country, the kingdom, the continent, the planet… it all became so small, so meaningless. Noctis and the priest were now sitting on two objects, enveloped in a swirling darkness studded with pinpricks of light and a blue-green glow on his peripheral vision.
"What is this?" Noctis hollered, trying to get up from whatever he was sitting on but failing. He found that he was pinned in place on his seat… was it even a barstool anymore, or something else? Something more?
Tyrian continued laughing, pausing only to respond with "The great lake of mud, hidden now, from sight! The cosmos, of course!"
"You're insane!" Noctis screamed, struggling to get out of his seat but still failing.
Tyrian got up from his own seat, starting to circle around the restrained Huntsman. Noctis found his range of movement restricted further, especially his arms - it was as if he were in a straitjacket.
"Ahh, Kos, or some say Kosm…" the false priest mused, pacing round and round. "Do you hear our prayers? As you once did for the vacuous Rom, grant us eyes, grant us eyes…"
The all-consuming darkness, studded with little star-like pinpricks of light, surrounding them started to peel open. That same bioluminescent blue-green glow that tickled at the corner of Noctis's vision began to form little u-shaped lines everywhere… in the sudden light, they seemed to bulge outwards as if there were balls hidden under them, and then separate lines started to rise up from the greater curve to form ellipses.
No, not ellipses… eyelids.
Eyes, closed yet bulging eyes of that blue-green nightmare light fading into existence, then slowly opening… everywhere.
Everywhere.
"What the fuck?" He screamed louder, now finding that he couldn't even thrash around. For all intents and purposes, he was paralysed.
Tyrian continued cackling, stretching his arms outwards and upwards to behold the heavens. "I saw you the moment you set foot in my city! Did you really think that you could hide from me? Me? My prayers have been granted! The eyes on my brain have cleansed me of my beastly idiocy, just as they shall for you!"
"You're insane! Let me out, let me out, let me out!"
"Ahh, Kos, or some say Kosm… Do you hear our prayers?" Tyrian continued praying, seemingly ignoring his captive's pleas and the eyes of light surrounding them. "No, we shall abandon the dream. No one can catch us! No one can stop us now!"
"For fuck's sake, let me out of here!"
"For we see all!" Tyrian exclaimed, turning to stare Noctis down with eyes holding the characteristic glint of madness. "We have been granted eyes, and we shall use them to see! Ah, blessed sight, show us the truth of our reality… new ideas, of the higher plane!"
"What do you mean?"
"When I said that I saw you, I saw you. I saw what makes you tick, the basic components and algorithms that you run on… and I saw how to deconstruct you to the tiniest mechanisms, how to break you apart and put you back together to serve! To serve my Goddess!" The false priest yelled, breaking into new fits of laughter.
"You-"
"But luckily for you… that's all for later. And it won't be my Goddess you'll be serving, no, you'll be the slave of something worse. Far, far worse."
Tyrian stopped laughing and snapped his fingers. The eyes of blue-green light slid shut and lost their arcane glow, while the swirling light-studded darkness around them dissipated.
"You motherfucking-" Noctis began angrily, finally finding that he had gained sufficient mobility to get up from the barstool, but this was cut short by the bartender clearing her throat.
"Is there anything wrong?" The bartender asked pointedly, brushing dirty blonde hair out of her face to better glare at him.
"Ummm… no. Nothing at all, madam."
"That's a good boy," she replied offhandedly, the unspoken warning to not repeat his behaviour proving to be very obvious indeed.
"Come now, friend," Tyrian said, with a smile on his face that seemed more fake than genuine. "Though the pleasures brought by liquor might be denied to me, for it will cloud the words of God, you have not forsaken its propensity to open the heart and calm the mind. Shall we resume our conversation?"
Noctis sighed, returning to his previous seated position. "Fine. But you'd better give me some answers."
"No, not answers. More like pointers or hints, so that you'll be able to answer the questions yourself."
"You're not my goddamn primary school teacher, so don't lead me on a wild goose chase," Noctis snarled, his right hand going towards the hilt of the cane-sword in his left hand.
"I won't. Now, you had some questions."
"Right. First, what the hell was that? The eyes?"
"Oh, those," Tyrian replied coyly, taking another sip of his mocktail. "They're always around, you see. It's just that they're a bit hard to see, if you're not trained to expose them… look behind the bar, for example."
Noctis saw that the priest was pointing, and followed his finger to see exactly what he was referring to. For a second he glimpsed another one of those arcane eyes, slowly forcing its way into existence, crack open behind the bottles of liquor and stare at him before closing to dim back into nothingness.
"Mischievous things, aren't they? Always spying on people without anybody knowing a peep about them."
"You enjoy this, don't you?" Noctis asked, annoyance in his voice. "Creeping people out. It gets you off."
"Maybe it does," Tyrian replied offhandedly, taking another sip of his mocktail. "Maybe it doesn't."
"Just give me a straight answer for once."
"Where's the fun in that?"
"Enough," Noctis snapped, his tone entirely serious. "Now, about the photo."
"Ah, the photo. That little enigma… isn't my responsibility."
"What?"
"I only knew who you were when you entered Argus, no sooner. Do you honestly think that I had the time to deduce your identity, go all the way to Vale, go trekking in the Emerald Forest to find a vantage point somewhere near Beacon Academy, take the perfect shot and print the photo, and then return to Argus just to pass it to you?" Tyrian asked dismissively.
"That doesn't change the fact that you had the photo in the first place!"
"But I wasn't the one who took it!" The false priest snapped back. "I have my own life, after all. I don't even own a gun. It's part of the Ten Commandments, you see; thou shalt not kill."
"Then who took the damn picture in the first place?"
"Ah, now that is why it's such an enigma," Tyrian drawled, finishing off his drink. Passing the empty glass to the bartender, the false priest made to stand up and leave. "Don't worry, I won't spoil the fun for you."
"Where the hell do you think you're going?" Noctis seethed.
"Home. It's getting late, after all."
"Motherfucker."
Tyrian sighed, looking over his shoulder to speak to Noctis. "You want a hint for the picture? Fine... Morgan."
"Very helpful-"
"Custodian Morgan le Fay. That's all I'm willing to disclose, but take heed; she isn't nearly as amiable as I am. If you see her… flee."
"You-" Noctis began, getting up from his own stool.
Tyrian, now ignoring him, began to walk away.
He was about to go after the priest when his comms bead started buzzing. Discreetly raising his left hand to his ear, he switched the comms channel on.
"Ahab," Carmine's voice said curtly. "Front-of-house. Get over here asap."
"Wait-"
"Now!"
"Wilco," Noctis conceded, pulling down the visor of his peaked cap while moving off to exit the club. While exiting, he had the misfortune of bumping into Tyrian by accident.
"What's the rush?" The priest drawled, just out of sight.
"No time for you." Noctis snapped, rushing past him to the front door.
Unfortunately, he didn't turn back. If he had managed to see Tyrian take out his scroll and make a call, he could have seen the impending nightmare coming.
/-/
Carmine, slipping past the cluster of patrons entering the club, managed to retrace her steps to the reception room. Pushing open the heavy wooden doors, the feeling that something was deeply wrong started to dawn upon her.
Firstly, the receptionist was nowhere to be seen. The door to the back room - the doubled-up armoury and office - was ajar, and there was an ever so slight smear of blood on it.
Secondly, Noctis's fighting knife was missing. The sheath was still strapped to the wrist of his coat, yes, but the knife itself was gone. Missing.
Carmine raised her hand to the comms bead in her ear, toggling the switch to open the comms channel. "Ahab," she said hurriedly "Front-of-house. Get over here asap."
"Wait-" Noctis began. A delay would be intolerable, and so they couldn't afford to dawdle.
"Now!" Carmine snapped.
"Wilco."
Assured that support was incoming, Carmine slowly crept into the open office. What she saw made her tainted blood run cold.
The receptionist was slumped against the wall of the back room, surrounded by a small pool of blood that gently trickled from a deep puncture wound at her neck. The cheongsam she was wearing was proving to be rather absorbent, and it was now irreparably soaked with the doorman's lifeblood… silk, perhaps? The wound also seemed to weep some kind of dark purple fluid, and a quick test with a finger proved that the blood was still warm.
There was a large nondescript book in her hand, secured both by the fact that the girl had huddled it to her chest before expiring... and because Noctis's fighting knife had been driven through her hand and into the book to pin it there.
The doorman's dead eyes stared at Carmine with the unblinking, accusing gaze of a corpse. Other than the fact that there was a murder victim in the back room, nothing else seemed to have been disturbed. No, it was as if whoever had done this had left everything else untouched.
"What's going on-" Noctis began, bursting into the room behind her. "What the fuck?"
"Exactly what I wanted to say," Carmine replied solemnly.
"Dammit. She seemed like a nice girl, all things considered," Noctis muttered, striding over to shut the doorman's eyes for the final time. "Give her eternal rest, O Lord God, and may your light shine on her forever…"
"A prayer for the dead?"
"Yes."
"I did not think that you were a religious man."
"I'm not. It just seemed like the right thing to do."
"I see…" Carmine dropped off. "The register?"
"Ah," Noctis said simply. He reached down to the dagger impaling the doorman's hand and gingerly pulled it out, allowing the book to slide out of her embrace. An equally careful hand deftly grasped the book by the spine, picking it up and lifting it up for Carmine to inspect.
"Thanks," Carmine replied, patting the presumed register to remove the worst of the detritus on its unmarked red leather hardcover. She turned to Noctis, only now being able to fully appreciate her partner's presence.
He had somehow managed to throw on his signature black leather greatcoat on the way here, and was currently working on the buttons and belt that were meant to secure the garment. The fighting knife had been returned to its sheath on his left wrist, but a discarded piece of soiled tissue paper off to the side implied that he had managed to clean the blade beforehand.
Noctis audibly sighed. "A real shame… but what sick fuck would do this?"
"What do you mean?"
"Whoever did this stood to gain nothing. They left the register here with the body, stole nothing from the storeroom, and didn't even bother to do anything else. They just killed her, planted the register, and left. Why?"
"There is the matter of the wound, as well," Carmine added on. "The purple fluid… it implies some kind of hypodermically injected substance. Venom, perhaps?"
"But who on Remnant would have venom on them?"
"Wait…" Carmine mulled, managing to draw up some recollections from before. "Icarus said something about the priest we met being a scorpion Faunus. Apparently his aspect was a tail with a stinger."
"Then he's a suspect. The prime suspect, at that. There was something off about him…
Carmine opened her mouth to add on her own opinion of Father Carrow, but was interrupted by a deafening explosion from the front door of the club.
"Go, go, go!" A loud unidentifiable male voice hollered, amidst the sudden cloud of dust and smoke kicked up by what she belatedly realised was a breaching charge.
There were coronas of white light, or rather cones of illuminated dust that bobbed and weaved along with their sources. The green laser sights that pierced the smog, however, wavered far less. Carmine counted five in total.
"What's going on?" Noctis muttered under his breath, more to himself than to anybody else, before continuing with a more audible voice, "Carmine, get back."
"It makes more sense for me to stay in front," Carmine whispered in response, bodily tearing the door of the weapons locker off of its hinges to retrieve her zweihander. "Let the one who has both armour and-"
She was interrupted by two shots to the upper torso that, besides pulverising her heart and lungs, also happened to ruin her dress. A shame… she liked that dress.
Carmine collapsed to the ground of her own free will, reasoning that playing dead would prove to be more strategically useful than just standing around after receiving two presumably fatal shots.
"This is the police!" The first voice shouted.
"Hands on your head and on your knees now!" Another voice shouted, levelling his own weapon at Noctis so that the green laser sight was planted squarely on his forehead.
The dust and smoke, having managed to clear up over time, allowed a better view of their assailants. The three gunmen before them - two had evidently split off to secure the interior of the club - were outfitted with black military-style fatigues almost entirely hidden underneath body armour, with heavy vests covering the entirety of their torsos, while black combat helmets and balaclavas covered everything save for the area around their eyes. In their hands were carbines outfitted with tactical lights and laser sights, as well as being chambered in 5.56mm, which explained the bullet fragments that had caused so much internal damage.
Noctis glanced at Carmine for confirmation, and an ever so subtle nod from her persuaded him to stick with the charade and freeze on the spot. His cane-sword, Carmine realised, was still in his left hand and ready to be drawn at a moment's notice.
"That's our job done," the other voice snarled, pointing the muzzle of his carbine straight at Noctis's head. "Gentlemen, you know the orders we got from the higher-ups. Burn the woman's body."
"Are you sure, sir?"
"We have the Matador right here, sergeant. I'm not taking any chances."
"Understood."
What?
From her position of playing possum, slumped against the wall, Carmine watched with an unblinking stare as one of the armed men splashed some kind of fluid from a red canister onto her.
On the back of his vest, she saw the word "POLICE" embossed in large white letters. So Argus's law enforcement has been set on them, then? That posed some new complications…
Wait… what was that? Gasoline… oh, no...
The only disadvantage of her cursed blood was its inflammability… along with the fact that Vileblood regeneration relied on living biomass. Burned flesh was well and truly dead, and if suddenly there wasn't enough living flesh left to work with…
Well, then she was kind of dead. A consciousness eternally trapped in a ruined body. In fact, it would be worse than death - at least passing on would be peaceful.
"What do we do with the spare?" A third voice asked, sounding slightly more unsure than the other three.
"Arrest him or shoot him, I don't care. He's a murderer either way," one of the figures said dismissively, gesturing towards Noctis with the barrel of his gun. "Doesn't matter, so long as we cremate the other one."
"The other one?"
"The whore," the first voice said, nudging Carmine with his foot.
Noctis's body visibly went stiff. All emotion seemed to be washed out of him as his expression suddenly hardened.
"Excuse me?" He suddenly asked, causing the three armed men to jump slightly before, in unison, all pointing their guns straight at him. "Did I hear that right? You were going to burn my friend's corpse?"
'You. Quiet now," The first voice ordered, his voice low yet still bearing a note of fear.
"And you called her a whore? I see… and you were thinking of doing that, and then killing me, before walking away as if nothing had happened. I guess there's no helping it, then."
"Are you kidding me?" The second voice muttered. "Don't make this harder than it has to be, please. We're just trying to do our jobs-"
Everyone present felt it. All the peripheral noise, from the panicking patrons deeper in the club to the distant sirens outside, fell silent. There was something in the air… something oppressive, like a physical weight blanketing them.
To Carmine, it was as if something were breathing down her neck. It felt like she had gotten sloppy in her training and hadn't been watching her own surroundings, and one of Cainhurst's many restless ghosts was about to stab her in the back.
It felt just like when Noctis had gone berserk in Beacon during the food fight gone almost tragically wrong. It felt just like when she had first met her leader.
Deep down inside, Carmine realised that she had never seen Noctis truly cut loose. Not until now.
This was bloodlust at its finest… and it was coming from her partner.
The metallic rasp of Noctis drawing his cane-sword was almost imperceptible past what he said next. It wasn't even a battle cry, just a statement, but the words that came out of his mouth still managed to give her chills all the same.
"Tonight, I think I'll join the hunt."
Noctis moved with impossible speed, nothing more than a blur of ferocity and blood-frenzy. His first strike cut the leading policeman's gun out of his hands, along with happening to sever both of the man's arms.
"God Almi-"
All Carmine saw was a flash of silver and in the next instant, the officer had been impaled through the throat - effectively silencing whatever he had been about to scream.
The other two policemen opened fire with their carbines, only managing to tear apart the ash clone of her partner's semblance. Noctis's form reappeared behind them, and the blade of his cane-sword punched through one of them from behind so that the blood-soaked blade erupted through the vest covering their chest.
By the time that the first policeman's body had finished sliding down the now blood-streaked wall, the second was already gurgling out his last breaths with a pierced aorta. The third and final policeman didn't try to fight further, instead choosing to turn and run away.
He didn't even make it out of the room. Noctis offhandedly slashed at his lower leg with his sword, and a wet snap could be heard as his Achilles' tendon was fully severed. The man stumbled and faltered, allowing Noctis to bodily pin him to the wall and to slit his throat with the smatchet that had suddenly unfolded into the Hunter's left hand.
To say that his throat had been slit was perhaps an understatement… perhaps it would be more appropriate to say that the man had been nearly beheaded. Practically everything except for the spine itself had been cleanly cut through, meaning that the man's neck had effectively been severed with a single stroke.
Carmine steadily got up to her feet, retrieving her sheathed zweihander. "Efficient work, I must say," she called out.
Noctis reappeared beside her, sheathing his cane-sword and transforming the weapon into its integrally-suppresses submachine gun form. "They insulted you," he replied evenly. "The response was mandated, I'd say."
"Sorry about the dress, though. I know that it was expensive…"
Noctis raised a hand to forestall the oncoming apology, before responding, "It isn't your fault. We didn't expect for… well, this to happen," he said, gesturing at the dead policemen on the floor.
"I know, but…" Carmine dropped off, unsure what to say next. "It was a nice dress," she finished lamely.
"A shame that it got ruined like this," Noctis replied casually, loading one of his magazines - they were basically two normal thirty-round magazines clamped side-by-side to each other to form a combined 'jungle style' sixty-round magazine - into his submachine gun before slapping down the cocking handle. "You looked really nice in it, though that's probably because you look nice in general."
What? Bah, more flattery. Though said flattery didn't go appreciated...
Carmine blushed, even while placing the sheathed zweihander on the ground tip-first in front of her. With a mental command, a single portal of crimson light appeared over her head before descending to sweep down her form. She got a homesickness-inducingly familiar flash of the innards of Cainhurst before a second portal, going up from her feet this time, returned her to her previous place on Remnant. When it was done, she was still standing as before - but in her full war plate instead of the dress that she had been wearing previously.
"Wait, why didn't you do that before?" Noctis asked, turning towards her in mild surprise.
"The process destroys any clothing I am wearing in favour of the armour."
"Then why… oh."
"Exactly," Carmine summarised, securing the sheathed zweihander to her armoured back with a magnetic clack before drawing the blade and hefting it with both hands. "When I say that I liked that dress, I mean that I really liked that dress."
"Then the lien was well spent," Noctis replied earnestly.
"Alpha team to Beta team, please respond," an electronic voice buzzed, from what appeared to be a handheld radio strapped to the collars of the dead policemen. "Beta team, respond asap. Be adviced, the Matador is in the immediate vicinity-"
"We should go," Carmine said. "Before reinforcements arrive."
"Yeah, we should," Noctis replied, already stalking over to the open doorway of the club's back room before raising his left hand behind his shoulder. Three fingers were raised.
Carmine, understanding what he meant, waited as the fingers one by one lowered themselves.
Three.
Two.
One.
And then, as the final finger receded to form a complete fist, she followed her leader as the two of them rushed out into the main reception room.
Noctis spun on the balls of his feet, firing off two three-round bursts just as two more policemen burst out of the club's main doors. Carmine didn't turn to look, but she definitely heard two more bodies crumple to the floor.
"Icarus," she heard Noctis whisper urgently into the comms. "What's going on out there?"
"What the fuck did you two do?" Icarus asked angrily. "The entire place is swarming with cops, and I just saw the SDU bust their way in!"
"The SDU isn't a problem anymore!" Noctis shot back. "How's the situation looking outside?"
"SDU?" Carmine mouthed.
"Special Duties Unit," Noctis mouthed back. "Argus's counter-terrorism unit."
"Wait… you killed them?" Icarus asked, his tone one of dread.
"We were forced to cut our way out, Daedalus," Noctis said monotonously.
Icarus audibly sighed. "Dammit. Alright, here's the situation. There are about five or six police cars and two APCs courtesy of the local SDU outside… for personnel, twenty normal police officers and eleven SDU officers. It's a death trap."
"Not if they're expecting us," Noctis mused.
"What do you mean?"
"Cause a distraction, perhaps? Preferably something that'll really draw their attention."
"I mean, I could cause one of the armoured cars to blow up…"
"Do that. On my signal."
"Alright. Here goes…"
Noctis paused, quickly sidestepping to hunker down behind the fortified wall of the club's main entrance, before risking a peek outside. Carmine did the same, but in the other direction.
Sure enough, the street outside was packed with law enforcement. The patrol cars had been parked in a roughly concave shape, providing cover for the numerous police officers who were keeping an assortment of handguns and the occasional shotgun trained on the ajar club door. The two SDU APCs were placed further behind, presumably to allow the occupants some breathing room to prepare for a second assault.
It was currently nighttime, and a quick glance at the clock tower of the nearby church proved that the time was currently about 8.30pm.
"Remind me again, how exactly are you going to take out an APC?" Noctis asked discreetly into the comms.
"Their armour is only rated to hold up against rifle fire," Icarus's voice replied. "And just so you know, I'm packing 20mm rounds. One shot to the engine block should do them in."
"Anything else that we need to know about the two targets?" Noctis asked again.
"One of the APCs is above a gas main. Blowing that one up would tear open the gas main…"
"Essentially turning the entire street into a fuel-air bomb…" Carmine said slowly, subconsciously inching away from the open door of the club.
"Well, do you have a better idea?" Icarus asked, his voice taking on a somewhat annoyed tone.
"Maybe shooting the other APC?" Carmine asked rhetorically in response.
"Icarus, please, for the love of God, shoot the other APC," Noctis declared uneasily. "I'd like to not blow up the immediate vicinity, especially when we happen to be in the immediate vicinity."
"An unusually wise decision, leader of mine," Carmine remarked snidely, raising an eyebrow behind the concealing presence of her helmet's visor.
"I don't have a death wish…" Noctis began, before realising his self-contraction from earlier during the opera. "Anyhow. As for you, Ishmael, we'll need your shields to cover us from the regular officers."
"Understood. Shall I put up a barrier now, or-"
"Not yet. Wait for Daedalus to take his shot, which means to wait for my signal."
"Daedalus," Carmine said into the comms. "Do you have a clear path of retreat? The police are hardly not going to hear the report of your shot, after all."
"Yeah, I do. I can fly, remember?" Icarus responded. "What about you two?"
"I'll figure something out," Noctis replied, inching closer to the door. "As for the signal…"
Carmine tensed, priming her shield generator to create the necessary barrier. "Our route, dear leader?"
"Just follow me, but make sure to cover us until we reach an alleyway."
"Wilco."
"And the signal…" Noctis dropped off, before snapping his fingers. "Now!"
There was a thunderous bang, and one of the two APCs outside all but disappeared inside the giant orange fireball that had burst into life on the street.
"Forward, now!" Their team leader yelled, gesturing with his free left hand as he dashed out of the club.
Carmine threw up a barrier between them and the panicking policemen, managing to block the remarkably few shots that were sent in their direction, before she followed her leader into the veritable maze of alleyways that Argus seemed to have in abundance.
"What do you have planned next?" Carmine asked, her question coming out in a panicked holler.
"I'm going to cash in a few favours!" Noctis hollered back, his free hand fishing out his scroll from within his greatcoat. "Continue to cover me!"
"What? Are you insane?"
"No, I just know how this city works!"
The alleyways would have proved hard to run through if the two of them weren't Huntsmen; they weren't lit even with the barest of lights, and they were sometimes so cluttered that it proved nearly impossible to avoid tripping over something. Somehow, they still managed to flee through those little paths - with her leader simultaneously making a call on his scroll, no less.
Carmine glanced behind her to check that, yes, none of the policemen from behind had had enough presence of mind to even bother attempting to pursue them. Meanwhile, Noctis had transformed his submachine gun back into its sheathed cane-sword form… which was now attached to his waist while he fumbled with his scroll mid-run and placed it to his left ear.
"Ginseng? Hey, it's been a while!"
And currently her leader was seemingly catching up with some old friends… while fleeing from Mistral's law enforcement. On the off chance that the burgeoning conversation actually led anywhere, she refrained from slapping him on the back of the head.
"Yeah, so remember that favour you owed me? I'm cashing it in."
Perhaps it wasn't as frivolous as she thought. Carmine now listened with new interest, but only managed to catch a few snippets of Noctis's side of the conversation.
"Remember where Madam Lim's congee stall usually is? Yeah, that street stall where there's a little old lady who only sells congee with pork and century egg for, like, two lien per bowl? I'll need you to be just down the road…" Noctis said, dropping off before continuing, "Don't wait there for too long, it'll look suspicious. I'll be there with a plus one in about five minutes."
"Who was that?" Carmine finally asked, watching as Noctis ended the call and shoved the scroll back into his pocket mid-stride.
"Somebody who owes me big. This'll be the only time that he's bound to bail us out, though, so don't get used to it."
"What do you mean?"
"He's our designated driver," Noctis replied, reaching back to allow Carmine to take his hand. She did so without a second thought, allowing him to lead her along through alley after alley until reaching their destination.
She didn't know how long or how far the two of them ran, only that they did. The two of them finally emerged from the dank depths, finding themselves in a dimly lit street framed by nondescript apartment buildings. The only thing of note that was currently present was an ambulance, lights flashing and siren wailing.
The driver himself was another noteworthy figure, being a grizzled man with raggedy dirty-blonde hair and teeth blackened by the habit of chewing betel nuts. Realising that his passengers had arrived, he gave a jaunty wave in Noctis's direction.
"Hey, Ginseng!" Noctis hollered, waving back at the driver as the two of them moved closer. "Long time no see, eh?"
Now that Carmine was closer to the driver - presumably Ginseng - she could fully appreciate the reality of this situation. It was kind of hard to see in the dim light cast by the streetlights, but the ambulance driver's eyes were wide and his face was almost ghostly pale.
"Matador," the other man replied evenly, though not without the characteristic tremulousness that betrayed his fear. "It's been a while as well."
"So, you were saying something about a getaway vehicle?"
"I'll owe you nothing after I do this, right?"
"Yep," Noctis replied, but with false cheer in his voice. "You'd have paid your debt to me by then."
"Good, good," the ambulance driver said, before walking to the back of his vehicle and opening the doors. "Get in, before the cops come."
Carmine moved over to inspect the interior, and sure enough it was the interior of an ambulance. There was a gurney on the right side of the vehicle, and a cushioned seating area on the left. All in all, enough space for two or three people.
Noctis began to follow her but paused when he saw the interior. Then, he yelled, "Oi, Ginseng, there's only one bed!"
"Mate, you asked for a getaway vehicle plus one. That's what I delivered."
"But how the hell are we hiding two people in there?"
Ginseng - the now named ambulance driver - stepped gingerly into the back of his vehicle, rummaging around for a bit before fishing out a large black bag and tossing it at Carmine. She caught it, opening it up to reveal what she realised was a body bag.
Noctis stared at Ginseng for a bit, before exhaling loudly. "Is this your sick idea of a joke? That's a body bag, for fuck's sake!"
"No, no. He has a point," Carmine said.
"What do you mean?"
"I do not require oxygen. If the need arises, I can go without. This would be more like a sleeping bag, if anything."
Noctis stared at her, his expression one of dumbfoundment, before even that slowly gave way to a weird combination of realisation and exasperation.
"Ah, right. There's always… that option."
"Then what about you?"
"Umm… you could stab me? With your boot knife?"
Carmine looked at him blankly, before a gauntleted hand lashed forwards to slap him.
"Are you insane?"
"Hey, cool it cool it cool it!" Noctis replied, his voice panicked. Raising his hand to block any more potential slaps, he continued, "I'm hiding on the gurney. I'll have to look like I need to get to the hospital if the cops stop us for inspection."
"You, the driver!" Carmine suddenly shouted, turning on him with uncommon urgency.
"Yeah?"
"Do you have an IV drip in there?"
"Yes, I do..." the driver replied.
"Then get this man an IV drip!" Carmine shouted again, pointing at Noctis with a levelled index finger.
"But…" Noctis began uneasily. "What if we get stopped for inspections? Is the IV drip gonna cut it?"
Carmine's hand met the forehead of her helmeted head with a loud metallic clang. "We are going to be in an ambulance going away from the immediate scene of a violent crime. Nobody with a brain cell is going to stop us."
"Ah." Noctis said simply, passively allowing Carmine to slowly drag him into the back of the ambulance along with her. He took off his peaked cap, passing it to his partner for safe keeping, before lying down on the gurney and settling himself in.
It was a black leather peaked cap with silver highlights, which at least corresponded with the rest of her partner's current aesthetic. The cap was certainly one of high-quality make, but otherwise would have been inconsequential if not for the cap badge.
Carmine vaguely remembered Noctis's emblem being an Aquila of some sorts, wings outstretched, one head staring out at her, the other blind. Only now, though, did she have a physical example in her hands to scrutinise.
It was a double-headed eagle, with the head on the right being blindfolded while the head on the left had its own eyes exposed. The left-facing sighted side perhaps represented looking back into the past, while the right-facing blinded eagle was then looking into the future. The blinded right side also had barbs jutting out of its talon, maybe representing that, although the future was unforeseen, the blinded side was better prepared learning from the mistakes of the past.
Why read so much into it? Given that this hat and its accompanying outfit had miraculously replaced her partner's own equipment back in Beacon, seemingly by divine intervention, her reading slightly deeper than usual into the symbolism was probably justified.
Why, precisely, was she so scrutinising all of a sudden? Things just seemed… fishy to her. With Lapis's involuntary fratricidal berserkergang the night before, along with tonight's intrusion by Father Callows, a man who positively oozed with the arcane, she could hardly be faulted for thinking that there was some eldritch business afoot.
But now was not the time to fixate on that. Survival was paramount, for now at least.
Carmine watched as Ginseng attached the fake IV to Noctis's arm, noting how the ambulance driver still seemed extremely jittery around them, before settling down into the cushioned seating area and shimmying into the body bag.
"Sorry, Matador…" Ginseng suddenly said, sounding decidedly hesitant to even open his mouth. "I didn't catch where you wanted to go?"
"Ah, that," Noctis replied congenially. "If that's the case, then our destination is Victory Mansions."
"I see…"
"I'd rather that you not look too deeply into it," Noctis said, his voice taking on a subtle edge. "We're only here temporarily, so I wouldn't get used to us being in Argus."
"That's… a relief."
"Yeah, I supposed it would for you."
Ginseng sighed in relief, dragging a hand over his head and slicking his hair back. "Well…" the driver started, "We might as well get moving now, then."
"Yes, we should."
"Alrighty," Ginseng replied, sounding considerably more upbeat now. He started to get out of the back of the ambulance, his hands moving towards the currently open doors at the back. "Get comfortable, yeah? The drive will probably take about half an hour."
"Understood," Noctis said automatically, just as the driver closed the ambulance doors with a decisive thud.
Carmine, finally managing to find a comfortable position to spend the trip in, went ahead to zip up and fully close the body bag. Enveloped in the comforting darkness that the opaque material provided, and reassured by the sudden jolt of the ambulance starting to move, she closed her eyes and began to doze off.
/-/
"So…" Ginseng began, looking over his shoulder for a moment to look at Noctis. "Matador. What brings you back to Argus?"
"Just a personal mission of mine," Noctis replied, not bothering to turn or from his place on the gurney. "Don't worry, I'm not going back full-time."
"That's good."
Surprisingly enough, Carmine's point had proven to be correct. Nobody in their right mind would have stopped an ambulance with its lights on and siren wailing, which proved to be something of a relief.
"A personal mission, you said…" the driver began. "Does that mission happen to involve cult hunting?"
Noctis's head snapped towards Ginseng. The pistol built into his left arm emerged, and the audible sound of the insertion of a fully loaded magazine soon followed.
"Whoa, whoa, chill out man!"
"How did you know?" Noctis asked, his voice going deadly quiet.
"Mate, driving this around is my day job. The giant hole in the Continental and the sudden influx of dead or dying dudes in funny robes was kind of a giveaway…"
"Oh."
"Yep, figures. Did you know that the four of you are viral now?"
"What the fuck?"
Ginseng chuckled, despite himself. "Yeah, somebody managed to film you and that girl in the back fighting that… angel thing from last night."
"How much did they get?"
"Oh, basically everything," Ginseng replied, turning back towards the road. "They even filmed the bit where the big red energy beam took the angel out."
"Oversummarised, but accurate," Noctis replied casually, removing the still-full magazine from his pistol. The handgun itself folded back into her arm soon afterwards.
"What was all that about, anyways? I'm pretty sure that some of the cultist bodies we got out of there looked like they got fucking eaten."
"We were staying in the Continental. Cultists tried to ambush us in our room. They died. An angel killed the cultists and then tried to kill us. We took it down."
"Wait, we?" Ginseng suddenly asked. "As in, a team? A Huntsmen-in-training team?"
"As of the start of this year's term, yes. What else did you think?"
The ambulance driver sighed, shaking his head as he did. "Man, I pity your team. They're either scared shitless of you, or they're just as fucked up as you."
"Definitely the latter," Noctis replied, before breaking out into soft laughter. He raised his now empty left hand within view of the rear-view mirror, bringing up three fingers one by one.
"White Fang," he said, raising his index finger.
"Legion." The middle finger came up next.
"Cainhurst." Finally, the ring finger.
"Wait, you said Cainhurst?" Ginseng suddenly yelled, looking over his shoulder with wide eyes. He pointed with a shaking index finger at the body bag on the seating area. "Which one is she?"
"Oh, you mean my partner? She's from Cainhurst."
"No, nobody's from Cainhurst," Ginseng continued urgently. "Nobody. It's impossible. They're all robots, that's why."
"Wait, robots?"
Ginseng burst out into hysterical laughter, before catching himself. "Ah, I forgot that you haven't been around in a while. You see, Cainhurst sort of allied with Atlas a few months ago. They're helping out with law enforcement, and are generally acting as an auxiliary force to the Atlesian regiment already here."
"And?"
"Remember the Traders? The drug cartel from Vale? Yeah… the day before you arrived, Cainhurst kind of purged them from the city."
"Wait-"
"And guess how they did it? With combat troops, armoured personnel carriers and tanks. Imagine that! Fucking tanks rolling through the streets… it was as if the city had become a war zone!"
"I mean… surely you saw the parade they put on near the start of the year. I don't think that they have any other doctrine other than brute force."
"Gēgē, I've lived ten years in Argus," Ginseng declared. "Ten years in this madhouse, and I ain't seen things be this bad since you went on your killing spree two years ago."
"Gēgē? Wait, you know how to speak Mistralian now?" Noctis asked, his tone one of impressed surprise.
"Only picked up a bit here and there, sadly. And yes, I know that 'gēgē' means brother."
"Good, good. Wouldn't want to be accidentally cussing me out, yes?"
"Well… yeah."
"Wait…" Noctis suddenly interjected. "Do you know any good dust shops on your route?"
"Yeah, there's one. They sell the good shit, yeah? Apparently the SDC is their main supplier."
"Make a pitstop there," Noctis said, his voice firm. "Just give me five minutes. I need to grab some crystals, that's all."
"You sure?" Ginseng replied doubtfully. "I mean, I'm pretty sure that you're a wanted criminal right now. Again."
"It shouldn't be any harm. I mean, the cops aren't actually chasing us or anything like that."
"Alright, then. It's up to you… I'm only the driver, yeah?"
"Thanks."
The ambulance rolled to a stop.
"We're here," Ginseng said from the front. "You gonna take a pit stop?"
"Yep," Noctis replied. "Give me five minutes."
He carefully peeled off the fake IV from his sleeve before getting up from the gurney, slowly pushing the back door open in order to not jolt his partner awake.
They were directly outside a dust shop, which meant that Ginseng had been true to his word. Surprisingly enough, it was open. Noctis jumped out of the back of the ambulance, managing only to surprise himself when he suddenly found himself caught in a deluge of rain.
"Sorry, mate," the driver piped up, a few seconds too late. "I forgot to tell you that it's raining now."
Noctis sighed. "No, it's fine," he responded, drawing his peaked cap down to shelter his face.
Indeed, it was rather inclement weather. Heavy rain combined with chilly winds to remind him somewhat of the typhoons that would occasionally batter Argus during the monsoon season, but it wasn't quite that bad yet. Of course, his hat and greatcoat managed to protect him from the worst of it, but this was the kind of weather that one usually evaded entirely by staying indoors.
On the plus side, his greatcoat was billowing behind him in a manner that Noctis heartily approved of. If there were any benefits whatsoever for such a heavy-duty garment, it was this - it just looked cool.
He slowly pushed open the door of the shop, which caused a chime attached to it to tinkle. The shop itself wasn't anything special, just an average dust shop.
The most noteworthy thing was that Noctis happened to know this shop, namely its location… which was smack in the middle of the International Settlement. He'd even been here before, with Pyrrha, to shop for dust…
He shook his head. Those memories were probably gone now… even the good ones.
"Good evening, young man," The shopkeeper, an older woman with Oriental features and a neat bun of hair that had greyed with age, suddenly said, jolting Noctis out of his funk. "How can I help you?"
"Oh, just looking to buy some dust for a project. Gravity dust, please."
"Sure, coming right up," the old lady said offhandedly in reply, already rummaging through the secure cases of dust crystals behind the counter. "Is there a specific kind you're looking for?"
"Discs, if I recall correctly."
"Ah, for a weapon upgrade then," the shopkeeper muttered, moving over to a different selection of cases. "I'll get you something a bit higher quality then, since you'd probably want the crystals to last."
"That would be nice, thank you very much," Noctis replied, taking off his cap and cradling it in the crook of his right arm.
"Mind the water, my dear," the shopkeeper called out. "I just had the laminate done up for the flooring."
"Oh," Noctis exclaimed apologetically, suddenly realising that his coat was positively dripping with rainwater. "Sorry about that."
"Don't worry about it, dear. I wouldn't dream of chasing after the Matador himself for something as silly as a damaged shop floor."
Noctis froze. "I'm not sure I heard you correctly."
"Oh, how do I know? Word spreads, my dear, and when you're my age you don't have much to do but talk," the shopkeeper said casually. "And your… sudden renovation of the Continental wasn't unnoticed, not at all."
"What do you know?" Noctis mildly snapped, leaning on the shop's counter. "It was-"
"The Order of the Bloated Woman," the old woman snapped back, staring him down. "Yes, that bunch of hooligans. They've only been a problem after the Crown fell, you know?"
"You say that as if it's my fault."
"It actually is, in a way."
Noctis hissed out an annoyed breath through his teeth. "What else did you want me to do? You of all people probably know why I did what I did."
"I understand why you did what you did. I've seen you come in here with your mèimei enough times to understand," the shopkeeper replied, the Mistralian word for 'little sister' casually rolling off of her tongue, before finally finding the correct kind of dust. She took out the transparent containers of gravity dust, six in total, the stacked crystalline discs within glowing with eerie purple light, before placing them into an industrial-grade lockbox that resembled a briefcase. "But that doesn't mean that I agree with what you did."
"Ah, well," he conceded. "You're entitled to your own opinion, and me to mine."
The old woman placed the locked briefcase of gravity dust crystals onto the countertop with a weighty thunk, before saying, "But I have to ask… are you here to stay?"
"No, I'm only visiting."
"Good, good," she drawled in response. "Hunting the Order?"
Noctis huffed in frustration. "You know, you're the second person today to guess that. May I ask how you came to that conclusion?"
"The Order is behaving like a cornered animal… and cornered animals are the most ferocious. But what would scare a big dog like the Order, what would corner it?" The shopkeeper asked rhetorically, smiling gently as she did. "Simple. Something bigger and nastier, like a lion. Or a beastmaster… a matador, as the Valeans say."
Noctis stared at the shopkeeper with some unidentifiable emotion, absentmindedly handing over the sum of lien she demanded before picking up the case of dust. Then, he turned to leave.
"For what it's worth, here's what I know," the old woman spoke up, causing Noctis to turn to look over his shoulder. "The Order people own a yacht called the Hēi'àn Qíngfù, the Dark Mistress. It pulls into the harbor every month, just like clockwork, to take on supplies and other cargo."
"Go on…" he said, waving her on with a free hand.
"They say that the crew isn't normal, and that there's something… off about them. They stay for about a week at a time, before setting off again, only to come back the next month," she continued. "But that's all I know. If you want to know more… the docks. The pit fights. They're bound to know something."
"Ah…" Noctis said, taken aback by the shopkeeper's surprising willingness to help. "Umm… thank you."
"Surprised that I'm not afraid of the Order, my dear?" The old woman asked, before breaking out into soft laughter. "Don't be surprised. The sooner you wipe them out, the sooner the Matador leaves Argus. It's a simple choice, really."
"I see…"
"Now, now, dear. You have a cult to kill," the shopkeeper said, gesturing for him to leave the shop. "But try not to throw Argus into chaos while you're at it, okay?"
"Thank you," Noctis said evenly, placing the peaked cap back onto his head, before continuing on his way to the front door.
Pulling open the door of the shop with a free hand, causing the chime to tinkle again, he calmly made his way out of the dust shop. The door locked behind him immediately afterwards, and soon the lights illuminating the shop from within were shut off. That left him outside a closed shop on a decently well lit street, in the darkness of late night, standing in the middle of a rather sudden downpour.
Noctis strode over to the ambulance outside, rapping on the passenger side window - the left side of the vehicle - with the knuckles of his prosthetic hand. The window rolled down, revealing Ginseng's nervous gaze, before the automatic locks for the back doors disengaged with an audible low click.
"That took longer than expected, mate," the ambulance driver said.
"Just getting some leads for our assignment," he replied, gingerly getting into the back of the ambulance. Placing the briefcase on the floor next to the gurney, he took off his hat again before settling back into the gurney. "Time to get going."
The ambulance jolted itself back into movement. They drove in silence for a few minutes before Noctis sighed loudly.
"Anything wrong back there?"
"How much did this city change when I was gone?" Noctis asked wistfully, finally having enough presence of mind to roll back his right sleeve and reattach the fake IV to his remaining flesh arm.
"What do you mean?"
"I don't remember Argus being like this when I left," he explained, from his place on the gurney. "The people here weren't so… on edge. What changed?"
Ginseng went silent for a bit, before breaking out into hysterical laughter.
"What's so funny?" Noctis snapped.
"No, it's nothing," Ginseng responded from the driver's seat. "It's just… they're not on edge in general. In fact, the city's actually gotten safer while you were gone, what with falling crime rates and all. No, they're afraid of you, mate."
"Wait, why?"
Ginseng broke out into laughter again, before managing to restrain yourself. "Oh, man… Oh, man. You're gonna fucking kill me, mate…"
"Just give me a straight answer, please."
"Fine. There's a reason that your name is famous in this city, Matador, or should I say… infamous?" Ginseng asked, more to himself than to anybody else, before continuing, "I know you've probably heard this before, but…"
"Spit it out."
The ambulance driver sighed. "The bodies you burned that day… laid the foundation of what Argus is now. And I'm not even embellishing it. Matador, when you killed nineteen of the most powerful men in Argus in a span of twenty four hours, you literally changed history."
"Man-"
"And not even in Argus as well. I don't know whether you've so much as looked at a newspaper in the past two years, but what you did had some really fucking far-reaching consequences. Crime rates fell globally after you deposed the Crown in Mistral. Globally."
"I mean-"
"And look at this city now!" Ginseng said, raising his voice slightly. His left hand came off from the steering wheel, and it was now being used to gesture violently. "Argus used to have the most corrupt government in Remnant. Not even Mistral, the entirety of fucking Remnant! And look at it now! Today we're the cleanest city in the kingdom, mostly because our politicians are scared shitless that the fucking Matador will return and kill them all if they so much as piss in the wrong direction!"
"And did I want all of this baggage? What do you think?" Noctis snapped in reply.
It was truly a wonder that Carmine seemed to be sleeping peacefully through all this ruckus, and it would have been more of a surprise had Noctis not known from personal experience that his partner was a very heavy sleeper. The body bag's thick impermeable material was probably helping as well.
"It doesn't matter what you want, because you've already gone and done it! Hell, it's been two fucking years since you've done it!"
"What else did you want me to do? The Crown tried to kidnap my fucking sister!"
The ambulance driver let out a deep and heavy breath, slamming his hand back onto the steering wheel. "Mate, I get ya. I'd be pissed if somebody tried to kidnap my mèimei, too. Anybody with a sister would. It's just… you can't just pretend that what you did never happened."
"The city was in chaos, Ginseng. I did what I had to do in order to keep me and mine safe," Noctis responded, but even to himself his words rang hollow.
"I know. It just seems like you're… running away from your actions. It's as if you're scared of what you did…"
Noctis sighed, the anger draining out of him to leave only a cold emptiness behind. "Who wouldn't be? Hell, I don't even properly remember what I was thinking those twenty four hours… all I remember is this haze of cold rage, but nothing even approaching rational thought… you don't understand, I nearly lost everything that day-"
"Again, if I were in your position, I'd be angry as well. But what you did was beyond anger… some might argue that what you did was the work of a monster," Ginseng said quietly, interrupting Noctis's emotional plummet and stopping it before it got worse.
"Yeah… that makes sense," the boy in the gurney admitted, sounding scared and unsure even to his own ears. "Maybe it was the work of a monster…"
"Maybe," the ambulance driver agreed in a whisper, before going quiet. Noctis couldn't find it in himself to continue.
Nothing else was said. The rest of the trip passed by in silence.
(I promised more murder than normal, but turns out that the chapter wanted to be a low-key thriller rather than the murderfest I was envisioning. This is actually the second half of the previous chapter, so we'll probably be seeing bigger and better things next chapter.)