Intermission: Blame Game

The inspector that had been questioning Shizuku Sango for the last hour or so was a jott, which was something of a surprise. Jotts generally weren't comfortable with heights, and as such weren't a common sight in Cloudbreak. Most of the ones that did willingly live there were politicians that were there for representative purposes or daredevils and/or artists that simply had to be at the Alliance's center of culture, which admittedly there were an alarmingly high number of. An inspector jott was odd though, as her very job required her to, well, inspect places with sheer drops and little in the way of guardrails.

Perhaps that was why she was here, testing Shizuku's patience with barrage after barrage of questions. At this point, the term "questioning" was starting to lose its innocence and would more accurately be described as "interrogating." Another fifteen minutes and a serious case could be made for "torture."

It wasn't that Shizuku minded cooperating with Cloudbreak Militia. This was a very serious situation, and she intended to be as involved as possible. It was just that she was growing greatly annoyed with answer the same questions over and over and over again.

Inspector Barma watched her with a dour expression, or at least Shizuku guessed that it was a dour expression. Human and jott facial cues did not always line up, and jott eyes were small and beady. However, there was a definite sense of dourness emitting from her, even if her manners had remained impeccable and she had yet to once raise her voice.

"All right ma'am, that is very informative," she said, her stubby hands folded in front of her on the table. "However, there are still a few things I'd like to know, so I'd appreciate it if you were to go back and begin from when you first met Mami and Charlotte Tomoe."

Shizuku had to close her eyes and mentally count to ten before she could trust herself to speak. "This is," she said through clenched teeth, "the fourth time you've asked me to do that."

"I know, and I am sorry," Barma said apologetically but without wavering. "But there are still one or two details I am unclear on."

"And what are those?" Shizuku demanded. "Was there any noticeable discrepancies in the other four times I told this story? Because if I recall, they were all exactly the same!"

Barma's wide mouth lifted in a sympathetic smile. "I know it's annoying, but if we are to find your friends, we need to know as much possible. So please, from the top again."

Shizuku muttered under her breath. Then, after taking a few moments to steady herself, she resigned herself to repeating the same damned story at least ten more times and began anew.

Barma listened as Shizuku explained how she had first encountered Mami and Charlotte while hiking through the woods and had brought her back home with her. "And you volunteered to act as their official sponsors then?"

"Yes," Shizuku deadpanned. "As was evidenced by our letting them live with us."

"So they never officially enrolled with the Freehaven Integration Bureau?"

"They never boarded with the FIB," Shizuku clarified. Again. "They still took the classes and attended the therapy sessions."

"I see," Barma responded. "And during their time with you, did they display any sort of abnormal behavior?"

Shizuku sighed. "You know this part already."

"Still, if you could answer the question…"

"No more than what is considered normal," Shizuku said. "And before you ask, by that I mean they suffered from the usual stuff. Mami often had heavy depression offset by occasional manic fits and frequent nightmares, while Charlotte experienced anxiety attacks. Both also had major guilt complexes, and I do believe all of this is in their permanent record back at Freehaven."

"It is," Barma said, unruffled. "But it helps to get a firsthand account. How often did these manic episodes occur?"

The memory of her and Charlotte desperately trying to restrain their berserking friend while Natsuru screamed for help over the phone again flashed through her mind, as it had the last few times she had related this story. It still made her shiver. "Four. She only had four." And that had been more than enough.

"And how long did they generally last?"

"The longest was three hours," Shizuku said wearily. That time had resulted in a hole in the wall which had later been converted into a picture window. "The shortest around thirty seconds."

"And that would be because-"

"She shot herself in the head, yes."

Barma nodded like a human. Shizuku had been a bit taken back the first time she had done it. The jotts that she knew back in Pinespire tended to stick to their native expressions, which were different from that of humans. However, it did make sense for an inspector to be trained to emulate those of the species she worked with. "And did either of them display any other violent tendencies?"

"No," Shizuku snapped. "They had the normal problems expected from a couple of teenage girls having to deal with their own deaths. We all did. They worked through them and graduated, like we all did."

If the stoic jott was taking any sort of offense at Shizuku's steadily rising hostility, she had yet to display it. "I see. Now, I'd like just a few more details on their time with you, if you don't mind."

Shizuku groaned loudly, but she complied.

Once again, she plowed through the remainder of Mami and Charlotte's rehabilitation, highlighting such points as their close friendship eventually blossoming into romance and the sharp improvement that followed, leading to their eventual "graduation" from therapy and being fully inducted into Freehaven's community. Inspector Barma listened patiently, commenting only when Shizuku reached the part about her and Natsuru leaving for Pinespire and willing the Nautilus Platform into their former wards' hands. "That's quite the gift," she said, calling up a small, holographic readout. "By our estimations, the Nautilus Platform is valued at around seventy-four million talents, to say nothing of the highly lucrative harvesting business that came with it."

"We felt like starting over," Shizuku said in a clipped tone. The business she ran now was actually far more valuable while considerably less costly, so on the whole it had been a net gain. "So we did."

She continued, telling Barma of their continued friendship and holiday visits, taking care to point out how boringly normal everything was. Barma didn't seem that much interested until Shizuku reached the part where she had received a call from Mami, asking her to look after an old friend for an unspecified amount of time.

"So tell me about Kyoko Sakura and Oktavia von Seckendorff," Barma said. "Have you ever met either of them?"

"I have never been within a dozen kilometers of either of them," Shizuku said.

"So…

"No," Shizuku snapped. Then she added,"Obviously."

Barma nodded, and noted something down. Shizuku couldn't help but wonder what she could possibly be adding that had not been made clear the other times. "But you say that Mami had spoken of them?"

"She knew them in life," Shizuku said with a vague wave of her hand. "Kyoko had been her apprentice at one point until they had a falling out, and Oktavia was looking to become one as well up until Mami's death."

"At Charlotte's hands," Barma pointed out.

Shizuku shrugged. It really was a non-issue as far as she was concerned. "Teeth. But yes."

"And this was when Oktavia von Seckendorff was known as-"

Shizuku sighed. She wondered how severe the sentence would be if she were to reach over the table and smack the little troll upside her bloated head. "Sayaka Miki, yes!"

Barma nodded. "So, when Mami Tomoe called you, she offered no explanation as to why she wanted you to look after Oktavia?"

Slumping over the table, Shizuku buried her face in her palms and dug her fingertips into her scalp. She was normally much more composed than this, but with her friends missing and the troubling circumstances surrounding their disappearance, her patience was nearly at an end. "All she said was that they were going somewhere for a while and couldn't take Oktavia with them," she said. "That's it."

"But they were going to bring Kyoko?" Barma said pointedly.

"Well, she has legs," Shizuku said, her tone as dry as the rest of this conversation. "There are places she can go that Oktavia cannot."

"Such as?"

Shizuku threw up her hands in exasperation. "The entirety of dry land? I don't know, I wasn't given any details!"

Barma's expression remained steady, though she did shift a bit in her seat. "And this was immediately following the revelation that Kyoko's sister is a high-ranking Void Walker with a vested interest in her recovery?"

Shizuku's lips thinned out into a straight line. "I wasn't told that at the time. But yes."

"You were unaware that Reibey himself had been interceding in this matter?"

Finally Shizuku's waning patience snapped. "Yes!" Her fist came down onto the table, making it shake. "They didn't tell me! I don't know where they were planning to go or what they were going to do once they got there. They simply asked that I look after Oktavia, and that is it!"

"I see," Barma said evenly. She leaned forward, no mean feat for a being of her squat stature, and placed one claw over the other. Shizuku's hackles raised. Something was new, she could feel it. "Ma'am, who is Victoria?"

Well, Shizuku was right. That was new, and wholly unexpected. "I beg your pardon?"

"Victoria," Barma repeated in that insufferably patient and yet incredibly smug manner of hers. "Who is she?"

"What does that have to do-"

"Please just answer the question, ma'am," Barma said, her tone not changing one iota.

Shizuku stared, but said, "She's the dockmaster that we did business with."

"As did Mami and Charlotte Tomoe after they inherited your business?"

Where did she think she was going with this? "Of course," Shizuku said.

Barma made a show of checking her notes. "She is also, as I understand, a former Void Walker."

Her face wrinkling with distaste, Shizuku said, "So was the lady that ran the theater. What of it?"

"Do you know if this Victoria-"

"I'm going to stop you right there," Shizuku said, holding up a palm. This had gone far enough. "If you're going to insinuate that Vicky has had any dealings with the Void Walkers since her defection, then your mental health must be called into question. No one Oblivion and her little rat more. That's why she left."

"Perhaps," Barma said with a shrug. "Though while examining the affairs of your former protégés, we were surprised to find a time-released document." She raised her beady little eyes meaningfully from her notes. "Specifically a will, declaring that the Nautilus Platform and all of its assets be transferred to her name."

Shizuku started. "What?"

"It was quite specific. Especially the part where the deed was to be transferred after a set amount of time, with nothing specifying that it would be cancelled upon their return. Wherever Kyoko Sakura and the Tomoes were planning on going, it's clear that they were not planning on coming back."

Shizuku had to remember to close her mouth. "I knew nothing of this," she said.

"Clearly." Barma's clawtips clicked at her keyboard. "Further investigation turned up a recent correspondence with a…Do the words 'Trypo Corp' mean anything to you?"

"No," Shizuku said, shaking her head. "Should it?"

"Only in that it seems that Charlotte had been in close contact with them ever since Kyoko Sakura arrived into their care. We're working to decode the messages, but it did seem to concern Kyoko herself."

Shizuku scowled. "If you're going anywhere with this, then I'd appreciate it if you would stop being pointlessly obtuse."

"All right," Barma said. "We now have reason to believe that Reibey's claims of a familial connection between Kyoko Sakura and one of the Void Walkers' number to be a fabrication, that she, in fact, did pose some sort of threat to the Withering Lands." She paused a bit, as if to gauge Shizuku's reaction. Then, apparently satisfied with her disbelief, she continued. "Now, this is mostly speculation at this point, but it is becoming increasingly likely that the Tomoes were in contact with some sort of third party that were seeking to use her against them. If that is the case, then you can understand why would be more than a little concerned."

"I don't believe this," Shizuku said. "Are you honestly suggesting that Mami and Charlotte were planning on breaking the Compact?"

"You tell me. Would they be capable of such a thing?"

Shizuku had to laugh. "This has got to be a joke. My friends were assaulted and kidnapped by Void Walkers in the Alliance capital, and you are saying that it was their fault?"

There was the smallest flutter around Barma's cheeks. Shizuku knew enough about jotts to understand that the inspector was holding back a smirk. "Whoever carried out the attack, they were not Void Walkers. Had any of Oblivion's people attempted to set foot in Cloudbreak, at least twenty different types of alarms would have gone off."

"So they hired mercenaries then," Shizuku shrugged.

"Another possibility, one that is being pursued as well," Barma admitted. "However, given the Tomoes' extremely suspicious behavior leading up to the attack, it has been suggested that the altercation might have actually been carried out by this hypothetical third party."

Shizuku leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. "The one Mami and Charlotte were hypothetically conspiring with? So were they working together or not?"

"We suspect the fight may have been the result of a double-cross."

"Oh? And who exactly crossed who?"

"That has yet to be determined, though it is most likely that this third party were the aggressors," Barma told her.

Shizuku pursed her lips, but didn't say anything. Neither did Barma. The jott inspector simply sat and waited, waiting for Shizuku's reaction.

Finally Shizuku said, "You know, I have had stupider conversations, I'm sure I have. But for the life of me, they're just not coming to mind."

That seemed to amuse the inspector. "Is it? You've already admitted that you found their request to look after Oktavia von Seckendorff to be surprising, and that you were troubled by your recent phone call with Mami. And in light of what we've been uncovering, well, it's difficult not to come to some very unpleasant conclusions. So you tell me: would they be capable of such of thing?"

That took Shizuku off guard. Her initial reaction was to simply deny everything Barma was suggesting, but unfortunately the jott was right. Given the unusual nature of the Tomoes' request, the timing and circumstances involved, and Mami's little breakdown during their last conversation, Shizuku had been entertaining some unpleasant thoughts, ones that were uncomfortably in line with Barma's conclusions. "I…Of course not!" she stammered out.

"Is that right?"

"Yes!" Shizuku swallowed. She knew that she was not making a very convincing case, but what the inspector had told her had admittedly shaken her. Which, she reflected ruefully, was probably very intentional. "I mean, I believe so, but I-"

"I'm glad to hear that, Miss Sango," Barma said. Then she did smile in a way that made Shizuku feel disturbingly like an insect that had just wandered across an unusually sticky thread. Which, given her reputation as a manipulator, was a bit too ironic for her tastes. "In which case, you wouldn't mind going over your history with the Tomoes for me just one more time, would you? You know, just in case we missed anything."

Instead of answer, Shizuku merely sat in her seat and tried to make some sense of what had just been dropped in her lap. She wondered what in the world her friends had gotten themselves mixed up in. Sure, she could see Mami and Charlotte doing something of dubious legality if they felt it was the right thing, but to take part in a long-term conspiracy that threatened to bring everyone they knew and loved into war? It was almost unthinkable.

Then again, neither she nor Barma knew of another conversation that had taken place a couple of days ago.

…

A couple of days ago…

Sometimes, it seemed that the entirety of the Madam's existence had been one long list of performing tasks that were highly unpleasant and yet still necessary because no one else would do them. The world was practically ran on them, and there was always a shortage of people willing to do them. Very few people had the courage to get their hands dirty, but without them everything would fall apart. Her father had taught her that, in more ways than one.

Death had not changed this. If anything, such tasks had only increased in frequency. After all, despite the good intentions that had created it, the afterlife was, if anything, in an even worse shape than the world of the living. It was a place of chaos and madness held together by fantasy, filled with damaged children who relied on a constant stream of lies to remain sane and bitter old women who were only looking for an exit. There were no true adults here, just the deluded and disillusioned. And they were all prisoners.

Oftentimes the Madam felt that the madwomen that made up the covens were the sanest ones here. After all, they saw this strange, alien world for what it really was: an asylum.

However, she saw no reason why it should stay that way.

In order to change things for the better, the girl that would become the Madam knew that she would need power. The only question was what kind.

Becoming a politician would not do. Politicians held no real power and could affect no real change. For all their talk and propositions, they really only served as figureheads or scapegoats, depending on the public's mood. That was another lesson her father had inadvertently taught her. Neither was the path of a revolutionary. More often than not, they amounted to little more than a flash in the pan, and the ones that did manage to strike the right chord only managed to get a single ball rolling before martyrdom claimed them. And really, all it took one misstep for the public to turn against them and cast a shadow over everything they stood for. The Madam's designs were too important to be allow public opinion to hold any sway over them, and for obvious reasons, the route of a martyr was straight out.

No, what she needed was real power. Influence without borders. Respect without deception. Fear without reprisal. She needed the power to enact change without having it be subject to the whims of the ignorant that needed it and having to waste time with widespread public relations.

For this, the Brothel was ideal. As a criminal organization, it operated without caring about such petty things as "law" or "public opinion." And as a mercenary outfit that specialized governmental and corporate takeovers, it had a direct pipeline to those who wielded influence. And thanks to its various "side interests," it held a significant measure of control over the world of vice and sin without being controlled by it.

Joining the Brothel had not been easy though, and had required her to carry out a few more unpleasant tasks. Her unprecedented rise to power had added many, many more, to the point where she sometimes found herself praying to a God that she wasn't sure she believed in that this would be the only afterlife she would need to enter, as there was no way she would be able to wash off that much dirt from her hands and soul. It had been a degrading experience, both for her and those she had been required to sacrifice, and she had made a countless number of enemies along the way, some of which still remained.

However, it had all paid off. She had ascended to the position of Madam in record time. The power she had required was no hers, leaving her free to finally start changing things for the better. And, just as expected, that had required her to take on more unpleasant tasks than ever before. For the greater good.

It was the way of things. She was the necessary evil and in a way always had been. She had done many horrible things to people who did not deserve them simply because they needed to be done. That was just how it was.

But even so, though she set atrocities into motion on a daily basis, though she enabled monsters to remain monsters by virtue of simply remaining in business, there were some tasks that she took a deep, personal dislike toward. Not just because she found them morally repugnant, but because they were just a royal pain in the ass.

Having to deal with Reibey was one of them.

She sat on her couch in her personal quarters housed within the Brothel's subterranean headquarters. Though she had a much larger and more impressive estate in her possession, she was rarely there, preferring to sleep at the office. In accordance with her preferences, it was simplistic in design, elegant in construction, devoid of unnecessary extravagance, and ungodly expensive. She was a woman who didn't much care for unnecessary luxury but still demanded nothing but the best in what she had, and her apartment reflected this. Most people would find it bare and uncomfortable for someone of her wealth, while others would, upon looking at the price tag for that couch alone, turn a shade of white to match the rest of the décor.

If there was one thing that stood out in her little colorless world, it was Margot. Like always, her outfit was loud and tacky, with a red waistcoat trimmed with gold, black breeches, and a ruffled pink shirt. Combined with her stupid hat, she looked like a half-baked circus ringmaster. Those who worked for and with the Madam often wondered why she kept someone as out-of-place as Margot around, as given her unstable nature and general unreliability she seemed to be nothing more than an uncharacteristic liability. But keep her around she did, and those who tried to use her affection for Margot against her were taught better manners.

At the moment, her companion was curled up on the couch next to her, her head lying in the Madam's lap with her hat sitting on her rump. Occasionally she snored.

Reibey's form sat on the table before her, sent via hologram. The Incubator looked quite put out, which wasn't a surprise. In fact, the Madam had anticipated such a conversation as soon as the original arrangements had been made. After all, there really were few others ways that operation could have gone.

Still, she had to be cordial. So she nodded her head and said, "Lord Reibey. Good afternoon. I hope the day has found you well."

Though Reibey's face was as incapable of expression as the rest of his kind, his curly tail more than made up for it. Whenever he was upset and/or agitated, it had a tendency to twist itself into intricate knots. The Madam had to admire the one it was currently constructing for its complexity if nothing else. "Would that it did," he hissed in his scratchy voice. "The Cloudbreak job was a complete and utter disaster, and I've spent the last week having to talk to people I loathe to keep them from showing up at my doorstep with protest signs and loaded guns."

The Madam resisted the urge to sigh. "My lord, while I certainly sympathize, I really must remind you that I did advise you to forego using your second-hand agents to carry out this task and just use my people."

In a way, the Madam was an anomaly among the dead in that she held very little personal disdain for Incubators. Like her, they had a nasty job that needed to be done, and no one else would do it. True, the little guy (or girl, as was the case) was massively screwed over in the process, but that was just the way it was. The Madam bore them no ill will, even if it had cost her her life. She just didn't like Reibey in specific.

And again, it wasn't just because of his notoriously unlikeable personality. In her line of work she had to deal with assholes of all shapes and flavors, many of them with far worse manners than he. No, she disliked him because despite his intelligence, despite his capacity for good manners, and despite his ability to be manipulative, he was so jaw-droppingly stupid in so many ways and yet continued to remain successful in spite of that. The entirety of the Withering Lands was evidence of this. Logically, there was absolutely no reason to model his organization after an evil overlord's empire from a children's fantasy book, but he did it anyway. There was no reason for him to alienate the various heads of government through his constant condescending attitude and the general mockery that came out of his…mind every time he spoke, but he did it anyway. There was no reason for him to go out of his way to hire an organization like the Brothel to outfit a group of special agents for a highly dangerous mission and then waste it all by choosing to send a gaggle of proven screw-ups just to save money, but he did it anyway. By rights he should have been shot dead centuries ago and his head mounted on a spike for the world to see and laugh at, but he continued to plague the afterlife with his presence and remained one of its most powerful individuals, all through the nature of supply and demand. He controlled the only source of the single most valuable resource to be found and nobody dared upset that balance, because nobody knew what destroying him would do to that source. It was more than a little aggravating.

"I know, I know,"the Incubator snapped. "Heists on a budget was a bad idea, you told me so, fine. Does that make you happy?"

The Madam's face matched his for lack of emotion. "I am not known for celebrating in a valued client's distress."

"Don't be ridiculous," was the terse reply. "Everyone likes to be proven right, humans especially. It happens so rarely that it's only natural to savor the moment when it happens." Then he paused, as if realizing that perhaps insulting a valuable ally was probably not the best way to start this conversation. "No offense, of course. You are an exceptional specimen of your kind."

"None taken." And there really wasn't. Speciesism was common in her line of work, and the knowledge that she had done more with nothing than he had done with everything kept her self-esteem strong and her skin thick, even if she found the lack of professionalism irritating. "And I trust my exceptional abilities are the reason that you contacted me today?"

"Right." He closed his beady eyes and sighed. "Let's get down to it: the whole thing's a mess. Those idiots not only botched the whole thing and failed to bring in the goods, they also made a colossal and ridiculously visible mess on their way out, which means the Alliance paranoids have been tying up my communication channels all week to scream at me."

The Madam gently stroked Margot's hair. "Have they found anything that directly ties the incident back to you?"

Reibey shook his head. "No, your precautions did their job. But they don't need solid evidence to blame me."

"In fairness-"

"Yes, yes, I know,"Reibey interrupted, clearly frustrated at having been wrong. "Which is why-What is she doing?"

The Madam blinked. "Beg pardon?"

"Her." Reibey stared down at Margot, who was now giggling softly with her hands clenched tightly to her chest. "Your pet. What she is doing?"

"She is asleep," the Madam calmly explained. "And she isn't a pet."

"She is acting like one."

The Madam's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "Regardless, she is not a pet."

"I see." Reibey continued to stare at the sleeping girl.

Seeing that things were starting to get a little off-track, the Madam cleared her throat. "Have they threatened you with war?"

"It has been brought up," Reibey said. His shoulders twitched in a weak imitation of a shrug. "I'm not all that worried about that, actually."

"Oh?"

The Incubator nodded. "Most of the original veterans from the war have stepped down from their governmental positions, but not before leaving behind entire libraries of horror stories. And while the new breed parrot their predecessor's prejudices, none of them really want another war to break out. Their lives are comfortable and stable, and they know that officially enacting armed hostilities will disrupt that. So they're content to hate us from afar while doing everything they can to prevent that little section of the Compact from ever being used."

The Madam had to admit that he had a point. "All bluster, and no bite?"

"Precisely." Reibey tilted his head to one side and scratched his dangling appendage with his hind leg. "Which is why I'm coming to you. As quick as they are to blame me, they will take any excuse to retract it before they become trapped."

"I believe I see where this is going." The Madam clasped her hands in front of her mouth and nodded. "Unfortunately, Lord Reibey, the number of contacts I have within the Alliance are fewer than most territories. While most of their talk may be hot air, their ideology still holds strong, and securing a strong foothold in their government has proven…complicated. Furthermore, that area is currently undergoing some unrelated civil unrest, which has inconvenienced our operations in Marsters." That was actually what she had been in the middle of dealing with when Reibey had called. The fallout from that coup in the Etherdale had proven volatile in the extreme. They may have to end up abandoning that area entirely until everything had sorted itself out, allowing them to start anew. "I suspect this will blow over in a month or so, but until then we are limited in what we can do."

Reibey glowered at her. "Then what use are you?"

Despite his rudeness, the Madam couldn't help but be amused. It really was classic Reibey: going from making several intelligent, articulate points to acting like a sullen teenager in the space of a minute. "While directly influencing the minds of their politicians would likely be more trouble than it's worth, we do have another option: their law-enforcement and their media. Neither have much personal investment in this case, and the former will seek to have the case closed above all else while the latter will eagerly spread whatever word we wish for the sake of a story. A few words whispered in the right ears, a couple of forged reports and evidence planted in the right places, and they will be more than willing to sow the seeds for us. And once a scapegoat has been provided, those higher on the hierarchy will be more than willing shift the blame."

Reibey brightened at that. "I believe I see what you mean. Who did you have in mind?"

Careful not to upset the sleeping girl on her lap, the Madam leaned over to tap a few keys on the holographic keyboard on the table. Two faces appeared in the air before her, surrounded by a detailed profile. Both were Japanese like her, with one having long, blonde hair and golden eyes while the older had blue eyes; short, pink hair, and a noticeably alabaster complexion. "As it so happens, I have the perfect scapegoats right here."

…

Oi, like I said: short little intermission. Next chapter begins the new episode.

Unfortunately, that won't be until the 19th of next month. Since that's the anniversary and I always update both stories, I need to pace myself this year so I don't end up destroying my health again. Sorry about that.

Until next time, everyone!