The sharp scent of gunpowder hangs in the air. Lengths of the office's gargantuan span smoulder with patches of violet flame. New Meridian's skyline, bright with the colours of the setting sun, warps and shifts through the cracked pane spanning across the back wall. A huddle of spectators collecting behind the desk use this newborn silence as an opportunity to peek their heads over, equal parts eager and terrified to witness the results of the conflict. There, standing nearabout the room's centre, barely stands a younger girl, hunched over in exhaustion. Closer to the desk kneels an indecipherable silhouette, the snowflake-like doily around her neck burnt and flared with embers.
It's clear from any perspective that Squigly has won, if only barely. Instinctively, she clings to her wounded shoulder which seems to neither bleed nor ache, with an expression on her face that wonders if the fight is truly over. Leviathan, ragged breath punctuated with black sparks, continues to stare with contempt at the figure of Black Dahlia, whose ragged breaths are the only indication that she's been beaten at all. And yet, seeing the sole target of her hatred laid out before her in defeat inspires none of the triumph or catharsis that Squigly was expecting. Left to boil for an entire year, the thought of arriving at this point had filled her with a morbid anticipation that somehow, taking her revenge would simply make her troubles disappear. Slowly, she limps towards the assassin, her body unfeeling but heavy, and with a degree of anxiety despite her victory. Dahlia, however, makes no attempt to gamble on a surprise attack, only letting out a dark chuckle as she stares into Squigly's resolute eyes.
"...This is only fitting, after all." She speaks, "What a strange day it's been."
"If only you were alone the first time." Leviathan replies, "Things may have been simpler than this."
"I suppose you're the one to thank?" She turns her attention to Squigly, "For the state of this poor girl?"
"Had you refused to carry out Lorenzo's orders, I would have never jumped to such drastic measures." He answers.
Realising that the conversation is quickly becoming an endless loop, the coy woman lowers her head in exhaustion.
"I know I'm in no position to make requests..." She admits, "But if this is how it is, then please get it over with quickly."
"Allow me to handle this, Squigly!" Leviathan implores, "I wouldn't want you to dirty your hands!"
In this transient way, fate passes her by needing no particular input or decision. Like a black-and-white film, the story plays out without interruption in grainy, unsatisfying scenes. She stands here, ready to claim whatever she decides is 'salvation' without even having to lift a finger, just as she had done after Marie's demise. Had she suffered through defeating not one, but two Skullgirls, to arrive at this conclusive point? Silent and exhausted, watching another death unfold in front of her eyes. Without thinking, the words fly from her lips, seeking purpose to the pointlessness of her mission.
"Please, tell me..." Her voice is shaky, "Why did you murder them?"
Truly, she already knows the answer to that question. Just about everyone in the room knows. So then why is it that she feels the need to ask? Seeking no conclusion or closure, she seeks the answer to something else. This hollow realisation of vengeance's cruel finale spurs her on to seek deeper meaning - to find, for her sake, an answer that satisfies her. Black Dahlia's unreadable veil betrays every semblance of emotion, though her silence speaks of the only natural response.
"...Lorenzo had me carry out a hit, like usual." She explains coldly, "Killing is what I was made to do, little bird."
"I don't believe that!" Squigly yells, "What was it that drove you down such a path!? Where's the line that separates Black Dahlia from the one beneath it all!?"
"Why does it matter to you, if I've become lost in my work?" She coughs briefly, "Knowing won't bring your family back. Nothing will."
Once, long ago, the hatred festering beneath Squigly's skin had been hidden from view by a warped fear of her circumstances. Finally set free from any apprehensions about strength or courage, her anger is laid plainly bare for all to see. Nothing, in this moment, would please her more than to finally put the situation behind her, and yet she continues to suffer by asking pointless questions, expecting no answer that can provide the peace she desires. It's a difficult job for her, to hold back the tears from a year of paining over her family's death, but she refuses to allow her actions to be dictated by the same violence that brought her here.
"...I know." With nowhere else to look, she hangs her head, "I can't live for their sake anymore, no matter how much I want to."
Slowly, her balled fist unclenches, "Is this all it can come to? More bloodshed? For a fifteen-year-old grudge?"
"Squigly..." Leviathan mutters.
"If this is what it will take to avenge my family, then I would rather not avenge them at all." Her words drive her further and further from the possibilities of redemption or salvation, but she continues knowing full-well that there would be no going back on her word, "I'll happily separate myself from these dreams of revenge if it means putting a stop to this pointless cycle of hatred."
She holds out a hand, "So, please... give me just a single reason to believe that things can improve. For both of our sakes."
Dahlia quietly fixates on Squigly's offer. Then, after a moment or two of contemplation, she rises to her feet with what looks like some considerable effort. Both she and Squigly are aware that now would be the perfect time to turn the tables if she do desired, but the idea never fully forms in her tired head. Hot gunsmoke continues to pour from the barrel of the iron weapon grafted to her shoulder. In front of her, what does she see? It's ridiculous to think, even with all of the undeniable evidence, that this girl could possibly be the very same from so long ago. Her eyes gleam with a devotion that sets her aside from the defenseless child she used to be. The long-necked dragon swirling around her body returns Dahlia's gaze with a glimpse of the compassion that Squigly had offered her.
"The labs would still take you back, Dahlia." He offers advice, "This does not have to continue."
"The labs will take anyone." She replies quickly, "Though it seems they still prefer to experiment on children nowadays."
"Then why not struggle against it?" He questions, "Why join Lorenzo?"
"To end the cycle. Why else?" Dahlia answers, "If the Skullgirl can be stopped in some way - any way, what use would there be for the labs?"
She brushes the dust from her dress, "So, until that time comes, I'm willing to make any sacrifice. There's no other way."
"That's wrong!"
Squigly's voice catches the assassin off-guard.
"You can't allow yourself to drift through the motions, expecting some miracle to appear out of nowhere!" She continues, "Perhaps it's ridiculous to imply that one person can make a change, but for what other reason can your struggle be justified? Nothing good can come of simply waiting for the perfect opportunity to present itself! If it wasn't for my friends, I may have never seen the truth myself! For so long, I've dreamt of the day we could finally cross paths again, but only now have I found the courage to seek you out!"
Her normally harmonious voice is strained with choked-down tears, "For anyone's, or whatever's sake - even your own. Isn't that worth struggling for? If you dream of a world free from Skullgirls, from all of the horrible things we resort to, then act on it! I won't allow you to move forward so pointlessly, with so little purpose!"
It's anyone's guess whether Squigly's words are even getting through to Dahlia, but her passion is plainly as real as it gets. The thought occurs to her that, perhaps, she tries to find a route towards Dahlia's redemption because she's too weak of a person to take another life. In that way, it almost seems like she's running away from her problems, leaving her family's legacy in the dust to be forgotten. But, of course, that isn't the case to her at all. Within that intimidating woman, there is a small part that reminds Squigly of herself, as much as she doesn't want to admit it.
With a certain coldness, Black Dahlia pauses for a moment before turning her back to Squigly. The group behind the desk seize up at suddenly being in her line of sight.
"This fight is over." She concludes, "You've beaten me. But I won't thank you for sparing my life."
"It wouldn't feel right accepting thanks from you." Squigly shakes her head, "All I ask is that you take my words to heart."
Somehow, this feels right, she thinks. In a strange kind of way, this unsatisfying farewell shared between them fulfills something deep within her. If the situation weren't so unpredictable, she might have found the time to smile. Black Dahlia limps towards the desk, as defeated as her iron self could possibly look, meeting eyes with Lorenzo as he painfully straightens himself back out.
"Lorenzo." Her head falls slightly, "...I'm sorry, but it looks like you'll have to hear your granddaughter out, just this once."
C had never been arrested in his life. Even before his sudden departure from the Dragon Empire, moving around town without his memories like a lost child, he was at least certain of that. Downtown's dreary precinct seems like the type of place to never see any action - probably why the officer at the desk was asleep when the two of them came in. Something about the Medici Tower being visible from the front windows makes C think it doesn't really add up, but he isn't about to start asking any complicated questions. The building's cramped jail cells feature nothing but harshly-splintered wooden benches to pass the time on. The officers must've gotten a good scare from what Cecil told them, because amidst the panic of the situation, at least one person always seems to have their eyes on the cell.
"I'm the Skullgirl."
What a blunt way of confessing. There were probably a hundred different ways she could've laid it on a little smoother, but what point would there have been in trying to sugarcoat it? The way Cecil mentioned her problem almost made it sound like a joke, and yet they seem to be taking it pretty seriously without much hassle at all. It must be true, then, that the Egrets outside really are looking for her. The situation is dangerous no matter how you look at it, but being found out like that is a lot riskier than just turning yourself in. Those soldiers aren't just carrying guns because it looks cool, after all.
"Do you think..." Cecil stares at the ground in thought, "...this was the right thing to do?"
"I didn't have many other ideas." He replies, "It'd help if we had a few more details, but..."
"Two days."
"Huh?" He sits up.
"It's been two days, since then." She doesn't return his gaze, "I was supposed to come back today. For a 'check-up', I guess."
"So that's why you were on the train..." C pauses, "Good thing our schedules lined up."
"Hm. Were you serious about what you said back then?" She asks, "About being fine with us parting ways?"
"Ah, I guess I did say something like that, huh..." He itches his nose, "Maybe I was getting a little frustrated. But, that friend of mine you met on the way over - she ended up scolding me a little for doing that, so I decided to try and find you again."
"Being an amnesiac doesn't excuse you from being so insensitive." Her feet hover just above the floor, "But saying that, you're still a hundred times better than you used to be."
"Sorry."
"An apology won't work, either. You said that yourself."
"...Yeah, I know." He smirks sadly, "It's kind of a bad habit."
While they speak, a separate set of voices echo down the corridor of back-end jail cells. The officer stationed just outside the door steps aside as two dimorphous shadows bob forward under the buzzing ceiling lights. C is the first to stand up, almost immediately recognising the enormous form coming into view across the bars. A slightly exhausted-looking Big Band rattles the floor with each step he takes, stomping alongside a strange-looking young girl he had never seen before. The former detective seems just as surprised as him peering into the cell, suddenly straightening up and clearing his throat.
"Fancy meetin' you here, kid." He greets casually, "What're you in for?"
C motions to Cecil with his thumb, "Nothing much. I'm just her plus one."
The statement drives home just how unnecessary he is. Certainly, he wants to help Cecil, but how does getting arrested alongside her fix anything? The respirator covering most of Big Band's face makes it difficult to tell what he's thinking about, though the friendliness in his eyes just a second ago quickly disappears as he takes a good look at Cecil, who seems so amazed by the size of the man that she's forgotten to introduce herself. Just as he goes to speak again, an ear-piercing tone forces the three of them to recoil in pain. The noise blares from a small, rectangular device held in the younger girl's cartoonishly large hands, which she's trying to fiddle with unsuccessfully.
"Patricia! Turn that dang thing off before it kills someone!"
"I'm tryin', I'm tryin'! How the heck do you-" Suddenly, the noise stops, although a faint ringing is left in everyone's ears, "...Like that, apparently."
"Hrmph..." Big Band slowly reopens his eyes. C can almost feel his headache, "Sorry about that, folks."
"What was that?" Cecil slowly pulls her palms away from her ears.
"A theonite resonance detector." He repeats the name Dr. Avian had given it, "Never heard it get that loud before."
Most of the exhaustion is clear from his face now. Something about that strange little device had woken him up in a way it hadn't done for C and Cecil. His sigh carries a darker feeling to it that one of simple tiredness - it's the slow, sad breath of realisation, some brief respite practiced heavily by doctors and law enforcement officers. It is a harbinger, C thinks, of nothing good.
"And that can only mean one thing." Big Band looks Cecil up and down once more, "You really are..."
She nods, "The Skullgirl, yes."
"She don't look like a Skullgirl, old man." The sharply-dressed youngster beside him looks a little confused.
"Maybe not, but the timing's too perfect to be a coincidence." He rationalises, "What's your name, girl?"
"Cecil." She nods at C, "And this is Co-"
"Director!"
A fuzzy, muffled voice coming from beneath Big Band's coat interrupts her. With a mechanical sound, some sort of thin, golden appendage pokes out from a gap in his mountainous jacket, clutching in yellowed claws a stocky-looking radio. He puts it to his ear with the kind of motion that says he's been having to do it a lot today, "Leduc, I'm in the middle of somethin' important here."
"Sorry, but I was told to get this to you quickly." The voice speaks, "One of the Egrets dropped by a few minutes ago and said they want you on the phone to Princess Parasoul ASAP."
"Did they tell you what for?"
"Something to do with the Skullgirl, I think. That's my guess."
If he had the arms to do it with, Big Band would probably be pinching his nose right now, "...Tell 'em I'll get around to it."
One clawtip of his long appendage hits what C thinks might be the off switch, "I ain't cut out for this anymore..."
Sighing, he rotates back to the cell, but not before turning his head towards the officer standing just out of sight, "Hey, let these kids outta here."
"Huh?" The light-voiced man seems surprised he's been addressed, "...Uh, with all due respect sir, we were told to-"
"Orders from higher up." He lies in a simple way, like it doesn't really matter, "We're movin' them somewhere with tighter security."
Either worried about denying his superior or just eager to become uninvolved with the whole situation, the guard reaches for his keychain without another word. It's barely a moment later and barely half an hour following their arrest when C and Cecil are as free as birds again. While neither of them share any intentions of running away, they're almost immediately covered by Big Band and the younger girl on both sides as soon as they take two steps out of the cell. Big Band motions for the guard to leave before saying anything else.
"For now, it'd be better if we took you two to Lab 8." He suggests, "Gotta say, we've never dealt with a passive Skullgirl before, but I won't complain about it."
"Will you be able to help me?" Cecil asks, having readied herself for the answer long ago.
"We'll see." In a way, he doesn't really answer the question at all, "And we're definitely gonna try. No way in hell we're passin' up a chance like this."
Despite the curse that's been afflicting the Canopy Kingdom for so long, not much is factually known about the Skullgirl. Attempts have been made in the past to capture the Skull Heart, but with its host still alive and well, it'd be easier to catch lightning in a bottle. Having the opportunity to study the Skullgirl on such cooperative terms is something that even Big Band, whose main purpose is to fight the threat rather than research it, can understand the importance of. Cecil doesn't look very happy being spoken about like some kind of test subject, but with no other options to fall back on, she decides not to push it.
"Well, we'll have more time to talk about it once we're outta here." Big Band continues, "Oh, uh... you wouldn't mind puttin' these on for me, would you?"
From the recess of his unknowable body ejects a small metallic rod alongside a plume of steam. A pair of handcuffs dangle precariously on the balled end, "Gotta keep up appearances, after all."
A number of police cruisers and ambulances have pulled up along the curb. The commotion at Medici Tower has reached the zenith of its public attention, with eager-eyed reporters pushing up against the line of officers forming a half-circle perimeter around the building's entrance, hungry for a bite of the story unfolding at its peak. Most of their attention is shifted away from the tower, however, when a group of girls are seen pushing their way down the alabaster staircase. Any member of the press worth their salt would recognise Cerebella from a mile away, although none of them seem to have the courage to pursue any line of questioning.
"Oh, man..." She clicks her tongue as the group moves further from the forming crowd, "They're gonna have me workin' overtime at the circus for months when this gets out."
"Do you think it was wise to leave Filia behind like that?" Squigly chips in, "She could be in danger."
"She knows what she's doin'." Her reply sounds confident, "Plus, it ain't polite to listen in on someone's personal business."
Their little day trip had gone better than expected, all things considered. The Egrets wandering through New Meridian ended up delaying the kind of unbelievable response they had expected to get after barging into one of the most well-defended places in the kingdom. With his own personal bodyguard on the ropes, Lorenzo seemed to understand pretty quickly that he'd been outplayed, as unintentional as most of it might've been. Though not all of them had left with their agendas accomplished. Nadia follows just behind the group with a sullen, unsatisfied look on her face.
"You don't look too happy." Cerebella notices.
"I'm pawsitively outraged!" She suddenly perks up, "I'll never get another chance like that! You think Lorenzo's ever gonna let something like this happen again?"
"Miss Fortune, do you still feel like you have to take revenge on the Medici?" Squigly asks.
"How can't I?" She answers, "I know it isn't worth anything. Killin' Lorenzo won't bring anyone back. You think it makes me any happier understanding that?"
The two of them may be polar opposites, but their circumstances are impossible similar. Nothing about the events of today had convinced Squigly that the conclusion she yearns for is any closer than it used to be. Coming to terms with that, accepting that it might be time to put those awful memories behind her, even with her family unavenged, doesn't sound like the type of thing anybody would settle for, and yet she's been given no other option. It's tragic almost to the point of absurdity. Whether there's any merit in struggling against that tragedy, like Nadia does, isn't something Squigly can say. Living like that, unable to let go of the past, is a feeling only she can relate to.
"It ain't about being happy anymore." Cerebella points out suddenly, "You just gotta take the good with the bad sometimes."
"Yeah..." Nadia rolls her eyes, "As if mew would understand."
"You're really itchin' for a fight, huh?" She grins, "That's good. I'll take you on anytime."
"P-Please don't say such dangerous things in the middle of the city..." Squigly mutters, "We've caused more than enough trouble for today."
Gradually, either out of boredom or respect for Squigly's words, the electricity between them fades away, and the two turn their backs to one-another. Nadia stretches out her scarred arms and lets out a tired mewl, "Whatever. Sounds like you guys've got your own problems to deal with, so I'm heading back home."
"Don't feel like talkin' to the press?"
She only offers a silent, backhanded wave in response as she crosses the street and disappears into one of the city's many alleyways.
"I've been meaning to ask this entire time, but..." Squigly watches as Nadia leaves, "I was under the impression that the two of you despised one-another?"
"Guess it kinda looks that way, huh?" Cerebella exhales.
"Am I wrong?"
She folds her arms behind her head, "Ah, you wouldn't get it even if I tried to explain."
The inquisitive singer tilts her head in confusion. As Cerebella continues on, she and Carol are left standing side-by-side.
"...How are you feeling, Carol?" She diverts her attention, "It's been a long day, hasn't it?"
The girl sighs quietly, "...But, I'm glad it happened."
"Yes! I feel the same way!" Squigly smiles brightly, "Though, it worries me that we couldn't do anything for your sake..."
She shakes her head, "I wanted to help everyone else."
Squigly closes her eyes, "Filia was certainly quite glad to have you along."
"We promised..." She mumbles, "To move forward together."
On that day, struck by the crimson setting sun, the two of them had broken down in each other's arms. A revelation, bittersweet yet hopeful, had finally enlightened them to the truth of their situations. To have come so far, in such a short time, only reinforced that even back then, their hopes hadn't been founded on an impossibility. Seeing Filia confront her grandfather, the cause of her problems, with such confidence, made her think that a future might still await her. Just as the insurmountable image of that man creeps into her mind, a hand is placed on her shoulder, and she looks up to see Squigly's beaming smile.
"That goes both ways, Carol." She comforts, "When the time comes, we'll also be right behind you."
-These irreplaceable people had brought that light into her life. Watching them change over the past week has inspired her to make the difference she had always waited on someone else to make. Her smile might be some far-flung dream months, or even years away, but the beginning of that long stretch had been closer than she previously thought.
For once, her eyes open wide, and for the briefest of moments, the Carol of one year past can be seen in her face.
"Yeah!"
The Anti-Skullgirl labs are neither as hidden or as impressive as C or Cecil had expected them to be. The closeted whisperings of their names in broad daylight made them seem wondrous and elusive - places where the strange forces of the Canopy Kingdom were probed and explored by the nation's best and brightest. While the entrance to their subterranean facilities is hidden enough, one couldn't help but notice the dreary, run-down atmosphere hanging in its metal halls. Near the unopened crates and packages stacked high beside the heavy-duty iron doors sit cabinets and counters messily adorned with unfinished paperwork, medical supplies and strange, handheld devices. A thin layer of dust seems to be coalescing on every surface.
Despite its almost abandoned appearance, there's no shortage of people dashing through the facility, busy with this and that. Information about the resurgance of a new Skullgirl naturally begins near the top, and so the labs were among the first groups to be notified about it. The complex is large enough that by the time C and Cecil arrive at their destination, they've already forgotten the way back. What looks to be the lab's largest room is decorated with various amenities that set it apart from the cold, sterile spaces they had already seen. Wooden tables and chairs, carpets, a coffee machine resting on the counter connected to a small kitchen huddled in the corner - even a few cheap bedframes pushed to the side topped with what looked to be fresh sheets. The oxymoronic homeliness gave the impression that one wouldn't have to leave this place for a while, if they were so inclined.
"Whew~" Big Band breaks the silence as the doors slide together behind them, "No place like home."
It isn't even near the sort of place you could ever call a home, but the pride in his voice makes the words genuine.
"Sorry, but this is really the best we can do right now." He turns to C and Cecil, "Not like you're gonna be here for that long, anyway."
"I was under the impression that the Anti-Skullgirl labs would be a little more... professional." Cecil rubs her shoulder.
"Don't let any of the whitecoats hear you sayin' that." He replies, "We're paying for this place out of our own pockets nowadays."
"You said that the labs stopped being funded years ago, but..." C pauses, "Why is that? Is it because of the Medici?"
Big Band shakes his head, "Old Renoir canned the whole operation after Queen Nancy made her little mess in No Man's Land. Not even the Princess knows why, but we can't exactly ask him when he's up and disappeared on us."
King Renoir's sudden absence was newsworthy enough to have reached the Dragon Empire. While his rule hadn't been the greatest, some of the country's more outspoken royalists were furious that Princess Parasoul was allowed to assume the position of Queen in his absence. Along with the electrifying tension between the royal family and the Medici, questions of the Canopy Kingdom's stability were beginning to rear up. It's a pot of boiling water that nobody wants to get particularly close to - the announcement that a new Skullgirl is on the loose might just be enough to tip the situation over the edge.
A flood of bright-eyed researchers scramble towards the room in the hour-or-so following their arrival. Many of them are keen to study the effects of the Skull Heart on human physiology in a controlled environment. C watches in pleasant amusement as he discovers that Cecil isn't particularly fond of needles. The two strange-looking lab personnel - Leduc and Peacock, introduce themselves as bonafide Anti-Skullgirl weapons. C can't help but allow his mind to drift towards the day he had shared breakfast with Filia.
"They change people, so that they can fight Skullgirls. People hurt in accidents who can't do anything else."
Leduc seemed barely younger than him, but even with her disproportionate arms and foul mouth, C hazarded a guess that Peacock couldn't be older than fifteen. He's left wondering what use there is in using kids to fight off the country's curse. Is the Skullgirl really so dangerous that measures like this have to be taken? Naturally, his thoughts drift to Cecil, and the guilt of playing a part in setting up this ticking time bomb of a situation. If the labs can't do anything for her, what happens then?
"Hm..." Big Band seems to shrink back a little when C asks him that question, "Nothin' good, that's for sure."
A beat passes between them, as if the full weight of the truth would be too much for either of them to bear.
"The Doc woulda had a field day with this." He continues, "Shame he's not here to see it. Things've been a lot slower without him around."
"Is there anyone else who could help?" C pleads, "Like, a Skullgirl specialist, or something like that?"
"Sorry, kid. There's only one guy around you could give that kinda title to." He answers, "And believe me, it's not gonna be pretty if he gets a whiff of-"
Having left the room some time ago, it comes as a surprise to both of them when Leduc sprints back into the room, panting as he approaches Big Band.
"Director..." He doubles over, hands on his knees, "It's... there's been a... I mean-"
"Hey, slow down, son!" The so-called director replies, "Take a few deep breaths."
Leduc follows his advice and idles for a few moments while he catches his breath. As he calms down, the look of exasperation on his face shifts to something darker. Something fearful.
"Just a few minutes ago, we got a call..." He begins, "...From Lab 0."
-END OF CHAPTER-