Susie stood behind Kris, arms crossed in an act of defiance gone too long, while they chatted with the doctor. Noelle and Ralsei stayed close, just behind her, murmuring to themselves about Kris while they were preoccupied, but she got the feeling they heard every word. They were in a right state, wheezing a little with gas in their lungs, stumbling through the city like they had three toes on one foot and ten on the other. Susie had to hold them up the entire time, stopping them from falling over phantom debris and tripping over leaves of paper. But they were serious now, plotting, planning, and so sure of themself that Susie almost thought they had been replaced, because the fear and human weakness was gone.
Noelle and Ralsei were whispering.
"You're a friend of Kris?" He seemed surprised at the news. Susie wondered why. "A… childhood friend?"
"Heh, yeah, our parents were basically family in college. I'm pretty sure my dad even named Kris. Hehe," Noelle tittered lightly. Susie found herself interested, too. "Krismas. It was more clever than what Mister Asgore wanted."
Kris found themself face-to-face with the doctor. They found her after the conflict, in her office, a place called the House of Remedies. They had some questions, but this was mainly to retaliate against her for her rampant curiosity. They wanted to figure things out about her - if they could do that, then they could protect themself against her later, after a handy-dandy reset to erase her memories.
There are four lines of questioning that should prove fruitful; about her; about her work; the Viceroy; about her fascination with you.
Kris balanced the options on a scale before choosing, simply, to ask about Detter herself.
The doctor hummed in thought, interlocking her floating hands and tilting her book. A few more hands busied themselves behind her, looking through books, signing papers, sharpening pencils.
She looked intrigued by the prospect.
"You want to know more about me? Well, I suppose I can entertain you. I am Doctor Detter Scrubs, the Head of Health and Wellness at our Asylum. My job includes; caring for patients' physical and mental well-being; ensuring the Asylum runs smoothly as a supervisor; facilitating the resources we have left; and recently, solving the plague."
Her hands skittered, "But that is not the answer you were hoping for. You want my dreams, my aspirations, what things keep me up at night. Truly, Kris, I am destined for greater things than patient care. You heard them all; I am a genius. Surely, my intellect is better used in helping the world as a whole, through a holistic view, than helping a few."
"Surely, you understand the notion? You seek to prevent an Inevitable through will and plugging the Fonts of Dark. Am I correct? You focus on the goal rather than the journey, am I correct?"
How wrong she was. In every aspect.
"Am I not?"
Choose another path.
Her work.
"My work? I assume you mean besides handling the patients and running the Asylum. My achievements, perhaps? Yes, I am quite the over-achiever sometimes. First and foremost was the machine I made to cure the plague. Using pure magic from the Fountain, it reverses any effects of the plague within minutes and restores true form."
"As for other creations, I am currently… well, I was recently working on something… that could BECOME important later, depending on how the Viceroy proceeds under us chasing him."
Her book flipped to a smile. "I wish to live up to my creator's standards; she, too, was a marvel! She is my role model. I wonder if I could ever meet her…"
Doctor Remi DeTorrence. The name is familiar.
They didn't remember it. And considering that the other didn't kindly help them by replaying some vague memory of the news playing in the diner, or someone doing a research paper on her, the other was the one who knew her, not them. Odd.
You would not be able to learn of her. The knowledge of her existence is waning.
Why? She seemed like a great scientist.
She is human.
…oh.
That made much more sense.
Now, they had many more questions, and a new option seemed to open up for them. She spoke of her creator with reverence - seemed to idolize her for her prowess. Maybe they could get her to talk some more…
"My creator?" Detter drew back. She blinked the cover of her book (closed and opened), before unlocking her hands and tapping against the desk.
"She was… there is no way to glorify what she did. While she advanced science, beyond any argument, to a much higher echelon, her methods included vastly unethical procedures. I know because she published plenty of… morally ambiguous discoveries within my pages."
Not like she had any room to talk; the Lobotomy would like to say a few words (many of them 'Gorth').
Sacrifice in pursuit of science is neither unethical nor evil. It is simply necessary; morality is decided by instances.
Big shock the computer within their head gave zero shits about… whatever this Doctor DeTorrence did.
"I neither condone nor understand a situation where excess cruelty is a path to needed results."
Contest.
What?
Contest.
With what, the Lobotomy?
Contest.
Okay, jeez, calm down.
"What about the Lobotomy?" They uttered inhumanely. Susie inhaled sharply behind them as Noelle wondered what that was aloud.
"Failure and purposeful evil are not the same. My mistake was made in reckless haste, and I live with it today," she answered calmly, cooly, almost as though rehearsed or - even worse - uncaringly. They had the odd sense that whatever happened provided results to her, and that alone was enough to tide her guilt away. Her warbling voice quivered for a moment, and then they thought differently.
Detter continued. "She brought upon enough evil to the world that the very nature of her advances were muddled in it. Greed, deceit, avarice; all are normal in the world of innovation and creation, but never have I ever seen something so… pure be tainted and consumed by one's drive to be something - no, BECOME something greater."
Kris squinted. She read their face like a book.
"She wanted to ascend, Kris, to the heights of what was humanly possible," the book sighed, "and as ironic as it is, for her, the height was that of an Angel. She wrote about it, and thus, I feel the same way. But what is an Angel without salvation?"
The Angel. Kris wondered what the recent obsession with her was. The church always held congregations to preach to her, and Kris used to join in per Toriel's request, but they never understood what was appealing about putting your life into someone else's hands so willingly.
Predestiny and fate are popular subjects for the ignorant. All control must have a goal for the controller. The operator believes selfless control is redundant and stupid.
Did it not believe in Gods?
The operator has met many claimed to be deities. They are not benevolent. The idea of salvation by higher authority is foolish.
…they couldn't help but agree. It was idiotic to put trust in something that can dictate your every move. Seeing as they had… personal experience, it sure left a bitter taste in their mouth to see people smile, laugh, and sing the praises of some Angel who couldn't give two shits about what was happening downstairs. Why would anyone willingly subject themself to what Kris was going through?
You would be surprised.
There was a sparse moment of reprise where Kris turned away from the doctor to appraise their companions. They were all staring at Detter, just like Kris was, watching, silent, as they talked to her just like they did Seam, Swatch, and Rouxls. Noelle seemed to have a serious case of rictus - like she was groaning through the pain using only her straining, tight face. It looked… surprisingly discontent on her. Ralsei stood nearby, interested in what she had to say, and met Kris's eyes for a moment before they flicked over to Susie; totally wasn't awkward. Kris coughed nervously.
They knew why Noelle seemed frustrated - she was more into religion than Kris was, evident by how much she went to church before her father fell ill. Or, at the very least, how much she went when her father could come with her. Hearing Detter speak about someone like her creator committing sins trying to become someone like the Angel must have agitated her. Her hands curled as they spoke and stayed clenched until her hand was a blob of fur and skin, a few seconds after Kris turned, and then she sighed, patted herself down, pasted a big smile on her face, and laughed.
And then there were two.
Kris decided to continue the sequential countdown.
Detter 'blinked' and rocked in her chair, staring up at the ceiling as she formed the words.
"Viceroy. What is there to say about him that matters to us now?" Her pages flipped, the only sound in the silence of the room; her hands stopped working, floating around listlessly like rocks through dead-space.
"He used… he was a good person before. Enigmatic, eccentric, paranoid. A man with money, fears, and not much else - but a good person. He donated. He advanced. He helped. That was all that mattered."
Her warbling voice calmed for a moment, quieting. Drooping over, she called for a hand to skitter over with a paper, unlocking one of her normal-ish ones to grab a pen from a cup on the far side of the desk. It grabbed it, paused, then released.
"…when the plague first began, he helped fund transportation and costs for the afflicted. He supplied us with resources, helped us- helped me invent the machine."
She sighed heavily, sound not distorted by the magical warble and sounding tired, beaten-down.
"Later, when it was clear that hope was lost, he decided to take the easy way out. He left a suicide note and left us for the Lunatics. He said he was 'too weak for this maddened world' and that trying to help was moronic."
Her pages opened to a scathing smile.
"Imagine our surprise when we saw him next, having clawed his way through the madness with powerful people at his side. I was overjoyed to see him alive, and though he was acting… not himself, not the same meek hermit he was before, I figured the horrors beat something into him - some ambition into him. But I was wrong."
The doctor's hands floated higher, gesturing in strange motions, flinging powerful flicks all around.
"What I mistook for ambition was simply his whimsy. He came back only for a short while and left with more than we could ever imagine. The Director Interim trusted him, still, and he exploited that. The person who once fed this Asylum with lifeblood was the very same who ripped the foundation out from under it. He would find it poetic. I find it horrible."
She averted her book to the wall.
"Now, he does whatever he wants. If it is funny, he will do it, and if it isn't funny, he will not." She faced them again, page-flipping to three symbols, like rhombuses, circling in inky trails on her page. "It's as though he seeks to find as much enjoyment as he can out of our misery. That makes it impossible to ever negotiate with him over the important matters. I wonder what changed him…?"
Determination. Repetition of this world likely sent him into a state of dismay. World without sustenance would drive the strongest will to desperation. Be careful to avoid this scenario.
They didn't plan on following his footsteps; they would rather… stop than go that far, to lose that much. They would hate to live life like that, shambling until eventually, you decide to screw the world over twice as much as it screwed you. It seemed like… too much work. They would rather sleep. As always, Kris would rather avoid a problem. Avoided it so hard, they barely recognized the other continuing to interrogate the doctor.
What is your fascination with me?
"With you? To ask that question is proof enough that you need a second opinion. Kris, it doesn't take a genius psychologist to understand that you are sad, it only takes someone who cares. "
Oh no. Hell no. Was it okay to tell her to go fuck herself yet?
Calm.
"Lightners have different situations than Darkners. It is understandable if someone down here is depressed or anxious. It is un-so for Lightners, from the perspective of hearing how amazing the Light World is. My fascination in you is no more than the accumulation of my duties and my curiosity about these stories."
Detter continued. "Though, clearly… I am mistaken." She paused to shuffle anxiously, then silence. One beat, two.
Kris grimaced.
Then Susie. "It's not like this hellhole; that's for sure. I mean…" she grunted gruffly as she realized, then flipped her hair. "It sucks , I guess, but… it's not horrible or anything."
("I didn't realize you were an optimist!" Ralsei teased.)
("I'M NOT GOING SOFT, OKAY?")
The House of Remedies was a sizeable room, just enough space that Kris believed their house could fit into it, so they figured the expression was adequate. From the door leading into the Asylum halls, you would walk into a small alcove of desks stacked with books, aligned like the perimeter of a square. Some old lamps buzzed blearily onto them, the only light in the dim room, shining away from the middle - directly across from the door - where Detter Scrubs sat hunched over her work before they approached her.
Behind her; a wall of filing cabinets; shelves filled with old, worn books, weathered by use and cared for nicely; a clock with hands pointing at unreadable numbers; and a single picture of what looked to be a scalpel mounted and locked behind glass. Detter followed their eyes and spun to her grinning chapter, explaining quietly that the scalpel was her first, and then promptly reiterated (to the teenagers) that she meant, very clearly, that it was her first scalpel.
And then, on the other desks, some personalized items were present. Some doctors had a name transcribed and engraved into their desks; Dr. P. Cil; Dr. Strawman; Dr. Gauss; and three others. Pictures, souvenirs, tchotchkes. It wasn't very interesting to Kris but the other ate it up. Every picture, every scene, every variable, each cataloged and archived as little red petals. But the book herself had only the picture of the scalpel and a single childish drawing of what appeared to be a butterfly. It was made with red crayon and smudged; they assumed it was Zero's.
"Well. I'm Doctor Scrubs. How may I assist you today?"
You could purchase more items. You have a balance of eight hundred and twenty-two Dark Dollars.
Kris thought it was a good idea. The free items were nice but they wanted to have the best items for the party.
"What do you have?"
Detter smiled, yanked free a few books, a box of gloves, and a stack of neatly folded clothes. Kris took a moment to realize they were the same neck warmers Ralsei wore. They were interested in the magic boost, especially for Noelle. And they felt a little guilty at that fact.
Tome of Defense: +20 DEF. A sturdy book well-worn and time-proven for taking blows. Oddly blank.
Sterile Gloves: +4 DEF. Sterile gloves made out of rubbery material. Would fit well on human hands. Provides increased magical points when defending.
Used Neckwarmer: Boosts magic at the expense of ATK and DEF. Used conservatively by the doctor with no neck. Warm and soft.
Cooked Book: Heals 180 HP. A book filled with recipes for cooking jello in a microwave. The crust is hardened and charred. Edible.
Kris nearly spit out a string of curses followed promptly by an enraged departure from the room, then an incensed return where they would triumphantly demand Detter to lower her prices, because - Angel above! - Kris could barely afford a single item.
Instead, they scoffed haughtily and fished around for their money.
Detter began to explain how she was sure that none of her items would help them greatly, so she wouldn't part with them for free, but would offer some personal things. Upon examination, she answered the critique of her trust in them by saying - so simply that Kris couldn't gather it in them to dispute - that if they could defeat a Sharpcrawler so easily, they must be strong enough already. They clearly weren't.
A glance at Susie showed she had no idea whether or not to reveal that. Or, on second thought, whether or not to brag. It wasn't like she knew the turmoil they went through.
What should they buy? They had adequate healing items, though the 'Cooked Book' was powerful. They hadn't needed to use many items yet, since they avoided conflict with the Lunatics, but the Viceroy could prove… troubling. The armor - well, the neck warmer - seemed the correct choice. They could put it on Noelle and try to pretend she was useful outside of her magic. Not like what they did mattered in the end. They just had to make it to the end.
The armor would be useful if the hits were powerful enough to incapacitate them. So far, that wasn't the case, but they couldn't be too careful, not when someone else could possibly kill them permanently-
Buy the Tome of Defense.
Well, that was quick. It was worried, too? That was concerning but… if it didn't know what to do, what was the point in worrying? They would be lost anyway. No reckless mistakes or random miracles could help if-
Buy.
They forked over the cash and pointed at the book. Detter seemed confused by the gesture somehow but assented and pushed it toward them. With this, Kris would be properly defended-
Give it to Ralsei.
What- why?
Both gesture of concern and logistical reasoning. Ralsei's magic is important and powerful. Make him strong. Make him stronger. Proceed.
Kris gulped down some bile.
Of course, it would go for something like that, peak efficiency, no hesitance.
Hesitation is death.
Oooooookay, then.
They passed the book to Ralsei, ignoring the smile he gave them. Susie growled something about 'damn favoritism' and Noelle chuckled at her joke. Kris wished they could have given them all something but… this doctor, her prices were genuinely insane. Rather fitting, for being a vendor in the Asylum.
Kris blinked. Vendor? Could they sell some stuff? Detter expressed interest in the other Dark Worlds so maybe she would like something from them? Their coat ruffled as they shuffled up to Detter.
And then they also gained a few more ideas for dialogue. They could ask about Rnd.
Not necessary.
Well, Kris wondered about their relationship. Mainly, why did they hate each other? The other crinkled and the smell of burnt paper permeated.
One was born with talent, the other didactfully and ambitiously found his way to his position. Effort against talent. Jealousy.
Reminded them of Berdly. He was jealous of Noelle. At least, on some level.
"Would you like to see what we brought from the other Dark Worlds?" It was blunt. Effective. She frowned for a moment. Then, pages turned. Dollar signs flashed at Kris with a gilded grin.
They left with another neck warmer for Noelle and a Cooked Book. Detter seemed to overpay them, but it didn't seem like she minded.
0-0-0
They had to. It was a ritual.
Endlessly cycling their storage at a save point after buying new gear, debating themself on what had merit staying and what they could part with, and for once, the other let them continue for a few minutes. The others started talking as Kris did so, completely ignoring what they were fiddling with, as though there was some unspoken rule not to talk about it. If they could even see it, that was.
It seemed the other was contemplating.
Kris thought such things were better left to it, anyway, so they didn't think to engage with it. It would be a waste of time; the other was programmed for stuff like this and Kris… the idea of dying was… something new, something scary, but not quite something unwelcome.
They always remembered this one moment from the earlier routes. Card Kingdom, the first time the other expressed any interest in hostility and egged them on to release their frustration onto some random Rudinn. It was wrong, they once thought, and Kris was still above hurting people back then. Like a badly delivered joke, the other just stared through the film between soul and world with a blank face. Then, again. They refused even more adamantly. Then, once more. They refused even harder. The Rudinn was so confused as to why Kris seemed to argue with themself, as was Ralsei, but he didn't question it, and neither did the impure Darkner. But the other was set in its mysterious ways. Kris could not refuse it; not when it first pulled them back there, to the hellish pit they saw in their dreams and glared down at them.
The beast was silent, they remembered, swaying softly in some wind blowing from somewhere in the voided crevasse of the dark thickets. They had gulped at it, then resolved their mettle and refused once more. Back then, Kris thought they had experienced something even remotely close to the worst pain possible - flesh destroyed, nerves firing erratically with convulsions, screams of agony. They thought they could stand it since they only had themself to lose the first time. Then, at that time, the world rested on their choice. Their determination ignited a flame within their chest, one of righteous fury, and they strongly defended their morals. They had yet to learn how little morals affected the other.
There was something… unique about the other's methods of inflicting pain. You had the usual torture, blood, what have you. Sometimes, it used emotions to squash Kris under the claws of bronze. But that time, that one particular time… Kris shivered even thinking about it, retracting their hand and stumbling a step. Their skin was as ridged and bumped as the wall, draped in sheets of goosebumps and watered with sweat, sweat they didn't even realize was building until it dripped all along their arm and seeped into their coat.
With how much the other tolerated Kris's bickering - as though they weren't being purposefully insolent - one could get the premise that the other was a being of patience. It could wait, plan, control, document, catalog, archive, influence, and many other verbs that one could use to describe a robotic mastermind.
Kris knew different, though.
The other was not a patient thing.
And they learned that firsthand.
Typical torture hurt. It was exhausting and hard to stand up afterward. What the other did was worse. Back then: Blood had crusted around their nails from so much scratching along the solid, slate-smooth stone, and their muscles pumped with acid as they roiled, writhing like a seizure, and their breath stuttered for hours afterward, even in their sleep, and the other informed them, they had spent a single hour on the 'highest setting', but that felt wrong, simultaneously too slow and too fast, with how the pain-spikes bled together and muddled, and with how conscious they felt in every moment. They used to mistime steps, drop things they were holding, because for a long while after the newest form of misery, the concept of time congealed and sponged and leaked like water from a slowly tipping water bottle.
That was around the time they realized it was better to shut up and listen than resist and experience hell.
A soft tapping roused them.
"Kris, are you with us? You've been staring at the wall for a few minutes. It's creeping me out! Reminds me of when you snuck in my room and hid in the corner with a sheet over your head." Noelle snickered. Kris almost smiled. "Dad said you were waiting for hours while I was studying at the library!"
A much more pleasant memory to recollect. They pulled plenty of pranks in their younger days. Many backfired hilariously. It was just another part of life they no longer could care about or enjoy. Another thing lost to the strings. But it wasn't like it mattered; pranks were far below their priority list. Now, they would rather sleep than poke fun at their friend.
But for now, it was better to progress than waste time remembering what once was.
Noelle agreed weakly. "Yeah… let's just… get home. Mom and Dad are waiting for me." She smiled faintly. The other crinkled in thought.
"Heh, guess I can take my time." Susie flexed, literally, "and, uh, Ralsei, too."
The Prince giggled. "I suppose I don't have quite as much waiting for me as you three."
Susie grinned. "Shoulda joined me and Lancer when we were evil, dude. The team that thrashes is the team that passes… uh, not the school exams, though. We have a competition for the lowest grade!" Susie roared, laughing. But it was empty without the accompanying instrumental (a triangle) of Lancer.
"It's still so weird that all of this… exists. " Noelle blurted fervently. "I mean… I always wanted an adventure but… this is amazing! Minus, heh, the zombies. That's… not cool when you're actually in danger."
Kris agreed, on some level. Twilight streamed through the windows of the institution, warping the images on the walls like the crinkling plastic of some snack Kris had loved to eat before but had slipped their mind. Between the other two Fountains and this one, it was clear which one they would rank at the bottom, but still; compared to the grasses of the Card Kingdom and the cyberspace of the Cyber World, the Asylum was more on-brand beautiful. The swirls of colorful sky, the light emanating from the Astrowall and Fountain, the wind breezing by uncaringly. It made their heart start pounding- no, it made them listen to their pounding heart and their limbs felt heavy. Looking deeper into themself, they were… tired, still.
It felt… good to be surrounded by allies - maybe not all friends, they weren't that close, but still, it relieved them. The other was silent and Kris took the time to smooth their coat and muffle a cough. There was still the Viceroy and the Fountain between them and proper rest in their own bed. They couldn't feel fully rested anywhere else, even if the other claimed they were. The bags under their eyes told a different story. Deep, deep down below the surface, they wished they could sleep forever.
A good dream. One of candies and soft, quilted sheets. Sunlight would filter through their curtains and Asriel would be across from them, and they would give their goodbyes, their farewells, just like any other day, and then… Kris would leave. No more Hometown, no more family to miss, no more friends to disappoint or make miserable. There would be no more chocolates or excess masses of food gathered under their bed; there would be no more school; there would be no more pranks; there would be no more damage than the town had started with.
The wind would blow and disturb the trees, flower petals exploding upward in a hail of sun-drowned shine. The busy people in the town would continue their lives, working, coming home to their perfect monster families. There would be no more awkward glances through the blinds, no more anxious calls in the middle of night that would rouse the children. Fewer tracks in the earth to slowly cover with leaves every fall. Even fewer ruts in the lake from when they tumbled down the bank and slid down into muddy water. The flowers alongside the bank - the honeysuckles and wild berries - would regrow rapidly and add some color to that particular stretch of grass.
The experiment is in progress. Reverie and contemplation are insignificant until results garnered. Dolorous consideration of future arrangements is redundant. Entropy of circumstance.
Kris decided it was better not to address what they were daydreaming about. The other didn't seem too bothered by their silence. It was probably pleased.
For the remainder of this route, full combat procedures will be commandeered for impregnable defensive measures. Human error must not exist until assurance is found.
So, back to normal soon. No more wandering around by themself, being supervised passively by the computer in their head. Kris thought it was hypocritical to allow them control. The other would probably have been done with whatever the 'experiment' was if it hadn't dallied. Not that Kris said that out loud.
The assault will begin shortly. Prepare.
Kris sighed.
They had returned back to the Asylum to gather up some supplies and manpower (Felin, Rnd, not many else) to finally pin down the Viceroy. Detter had some semblance of a plan, and people began to listen to her more after the first one panned out incredibly well. They knew where he was, now; and where the Astrowall code was. With only a slight cough as a reminder, everything was working out so far. They hoped it stayed that way.
They reached out once more.
Anxiety courses through you at the thought of the siege. The power of organized attack plans shines through you.
0-0-0
Ding. Ding. Ding.
The rattle of equipment and weapons percussed through the small room. Blades, clothes, bottles and healing items, sci-fi weaponry mounted onto a skeletal shoulder.
Kris sharpened their sword's straight, rail-thin blade. Thin clouds of green smog leaked from the blade, wafting upward and filtering odorless into their lungs. The other wanted an immunity; Kris decided it was a good idea, too, after much deliberation.
Susie stood with one leg propped onto a shredded footrest, Devilsknife wrapped around her neck with a threatening glimmer. Noelle sat on the couch next to Ralsei and Detter, hands folded neatly as she pretended to be calm. The Prince looked ready, surprisingly, but he was worried more about the Roaring than what was happening around them.
Detter stood, clicking her hands together. "Alright, everyone. Let me reiterate the plan…"
0-0-0
Ding. Ding. Ding.
It was the ringing of a brass bell on the counter. It mixed sonorously with the clinking of vials and ruffling screech of feathers. The curtains were drawn and doors locked.
Viceroy giggled as he continued to ring the bell. He was as ready as ever, anticipating what fun he would have. His flames grew ever higher, now, brushing nearly up to the ceiling as he shuffled in excitement.
Boyles sat next to him, mixing up the last batch of toxins and tonics he would use for his martyrdom. A rainbow litany of colors dissolved into old, corked glasses. Anaphora stood at the door, massaging her feathers down, preening away in nervousness. She was scared but would sing when the time came.
Growing bored, he stood. "I have a grand plan! Everyone, listen here…!"
0-0-0
The book opened into the plan. "We have located the Viceroy's hideout. He is located just ahead, in a ventricle. These small towns - Lightners - are closed areas. Circular. The plan is to entrap them. Our numbers are our advantage…"
0-0-0
"Let's be candid, here, alright?" The candle addressed. "They have many more people than we do. Yet, we have something they lack! For every person they have, we are more powerful. Numbers are no advantage when you have power… right?"
0-0-0
The book. "Power means nothing against overwhelming forces…"
0-0-0
The candle. "Our Sharpcrawler brigades have moved on! They gather at the Astrowall for the next part. We have a dozen left, here, for our glorious last stand!"
0-0-0
The book. "There is an insignificant congregation of Sharpcrawlers around. We will divide and catch them in a crossfire. Afterward, we proceed…"
0-0-0
The candle. "They will proceed! March! Stupidly right into our array of hilarious traps! They will be humiliated before their untimely, and mutually mirthful, demises. They'll be so focused on the Sharpcrawlers that they… won't notice the bucket."
0-0-0
The book. "Watch your heads. Someone decided it would be a strategically sound idea to prepare a childish prank. A bucket filled with some sort of liquid is… well, you'll see. It's on the outside for some reason."
0-0-0
The candle. "And even if they clear our legions of vaguely suspicious-in-nature creatures…! They still have to pass… the New Guy."
The Viceroy turned to the figure in the corner, who was sitting with a serious, grave expression posted over his face, hidden only by what appeared to be a pirate hat. Next to him was a finely tailored mask, ready for him to wear into grueling battle and inevitable victory. The Viceroy knew… this dude was HILARIOUS. Absolutely pathetic! But that was the irony! Someone so… menacing, just to be laughably easy to beat! Viceroy was weak but at least he knew it!
The 'New Guy' laughed in a deep, rich, barking tone and stood, placing his mask over his face. Dressed like a plague doctor, Boyles' newest apprentice strode forward and bowed.
"Milord," he addressed the Viceroy, "how mayst I serve?"
The candle glimmered.
0-0-0
They finally understood the massive divide between them and the doctors' power level.
They had entered the 'ventricle' - just strolled in with no second thoughts, white coats waving heroically as a glimmer of light shone down from above, a spotlight mounted to a large, metal gate. Rusted slightly, speckles of paint falling from it, but somehow there was still power enough to close; the large barrier began to slide shut, blocking them off from the true mission.
As soon as the motors started to whine and shake, a rumbling of panic spread into the assault group. Doctor Scrubs, of course, in true fashion, did not react or emote even remotely as worriedly as Kris thought she would. In turn, neither did Kris, and the two meet gazes. She wore smugness like a garment over her white coat, as though her profession was observing Kris through the tremor of unease that radiated clearly through the crowd.
" Shit ," Susie hissed and booked it for the gate, fumbling with the scythe to keep it from slowing her down. It scratched against the floor, sending rivets of concrete and blacktop popping like pellets from the ground, making small noises that went unheard underneath the screeching racket of the motors. " Fuck, fuck, fuck. Goddamn it!"
She would make it in time to pass under the gate, as would the others, but Kris, Detter, and Noelle were too slow to make it from as far behind they were. The book-doctor sparkled an expectant simper at them, as though she knew Kris would have an idea, and she was right because the other sprung into action with a single word, a loaded word, a hail of instruction itself.
Freeze.
Kris blinked in surprise. Use Noelle to freeze the motor, stop the gate from lowering, or slow it at least, and then they could all pass through unfettered. They had to applaud the idea; they would have, but they still had to use Noelle like a tool.
Freeze.
No need to repeat it - they weren't stupid enough to let the gate close. Kris began to mouth out the order to Noelle.
This removes invaluable seconds.
The strings attached to Noelle played a sour tune of urgency; a high dulcet of strength and purpose. She slowed to a stop, weaving together an intricate snowflake of brilliant light, face hardened into a resolved, determined fixation onto the gate. Her keen eyes found the motors - a black box with striped, orange tape, slightly weathered and vibrating subtly. She aimed the spell - dodo-wha - and the sparkles of electricity sputtered and shuttered for a second more before the layer of ice clogged itself inside and disrupted the motor.
Susie ducked under the gate, still. Slowing down as she dimly realized the absence of urgency, she blinked, muttered 'what', then checked outside the gate, peering at the motors.
"Huh." She hummed, slightly embarrassed but hiding it behind a refreshed, amazed noise of surprise; it was touching. "Good work… I guess."
Noelle blinked rapidly, staring at her hands with a distant, glazed look. Then, she flipped the switch and stammered back, recovering and taking the credit. "H-Heh, thanks, Susie…"
"Yes, yes." The book giggled, still intently staring at Kris. "You did great, dear."
Ralsei hummed chipperly.
Kris. Move.
The human took a moment to congratulate Noelle (she doubted them for a moment, and then it stung with unexpected strength how utterly terrified she looked as she doubted her doubts).
Detter let one of her hands detach and float just outside of the gate. It swam through the air like jello and planted itself just behind a ridge of rock.
Dr. Rnd and Dr. Felin had a more important job than what the assault team had to do. Dr. Felin had insisted upon a 'reconnaissance' team to stay nearby and watch for any escaping Darkners, so Rnd and him took up the task. They watched through Detter's detachable hands, somehow prepped with a camera strapped into the hole. Somehow, she easily replaced it when they weren't looking.
The five continued into the ventricle, at a slower pace than before. The book seemed to dictate that; there was no urgency in her step.
"Preliminary reconnaissance revealed two gates for entrance into the ventricle." She explained, somehow picking up their silent question intuitively. "The second run of reconnaissance - shockingly - revealed the same. Since they closed the first gate…"
"…they closed the second…" Noelle finished quietly.
"God, it's like they're trying to piss us off. " Susie growled as she kicked at the ground. The scythe gleamed, a pleased smile taking over the reflection of the blade.
Incensing your adversaries before battle remains a prevalent tactic for success. Secondary benefits include squandering precious seconds.
The more time the Viceroy had to set up, the more dangerous it would be to brave this mission. Aside from that, they doubted the other felt anything more than minor annoyance; Kris didn't believe a tiny gate was enough to rub either them or the robotic ball of thread inside their head wrong. If the Viceroy thought they would care, he was dead wrong - they suffer the other already, how much worse can it get? And that wasn't even a sarcastic joke - they genuinely wondered.
"Erm? Perhaps they are convinced we will fight them. Maybe if we-" Ralsei started to spin the idea of peace into everyone's heads, but the crackling of a speaker stopped him.
The ground rumbled for a second, shaking, huge tremors that ended rather anticlimactically as just being the intercom turning on.
"Ladies and gentlemen… and Dr. Scrubs! Welcome, welcome!" The ecstatic voice of the Viceroy blared over the boxy speakers mounted to the corners of the gate. "We've been expecting you, yes. We expect all guests at the Poet's Pirouette!"
Detter sighed, as did Kris, Susie, Ralsei, Noelle, the two doctors behind the camera screen, and even the other. Okay, maybe Kris was exaggerating.
"…hmm. Unfortunately, I'm afraid you neglected to fill out a reservation. Worry not, my meddling murder-hornets, your 'maculate maitre 'd made most certain you are seated in the majestic magnificence of multiple magical implements meant to maim you! As thanks for this gracious act of kindness…" they could just imagine him sipping at a wine glass. A TV screen to their left popped on, but it was too small and too high up to read clearly for human eyes. "YOU CAN JOIN MY KAHOOT (THAT'S TOTALLY NOT ABOUT ME) AND BE HILARIOUSLY THRASHED!"
The code is-
They weren't playing.
"Or, if you so wish, you can continue to be boring," he stretched the word for an impressively long period, "and trapped within the usefully placed security gates! Though, I suppose that's less fun… damn," he whispered frustratedly, in the realization of something. "I should have gone with the quiz show- oh , but that's so played out! Anyway… what was I saying? Oh, yes, indeed- Trapped! Kindly glance behind you!"
No one did.
And they missed the explosion of heat that instantly melted the ice and facilitated the prompt closing of the shutter-gate.
Susie grumbled something about 'more annoying than Berdly' and stormed forward. Kris followed, as did the others.
She does not comprehend the stakes. Proper envisagement of the risks is reserved strictly for those puissant enough to persevere through existential impedance.
"I'm waiting." The Viceroy's voice started to fade. "No one is joining. Are you all leaving- oh, hello, CornOnTheJob9816! Welcome to…!"
They finally made it far enough away.
Detter hummed and owlishly craned her book around, searching lazily for something.
The gate ahead was closed already, to no one's surprise. They barely registered the obstacle, thinking more intently about the Viceroy's promise and how he actually upheld it. And they wondered about what Detter told them earlier, how he had… 'changed' in the time he was gone. Had he really been gone the whole time? Or - like Kris - had he been around, just not in this particular timeline? They wanted desperately to know they weren't alone in the madness; that maybe somebody else had lost their mind; that they weren't weak. Be it the joker card or a glitchy spam email or an obnoxious candle. Everyone was truly alone when it counted. Misery loves company but… no one loves misery.
Glimmers of gray, orange, red, and white stole their attention to a small platform off the side of the shutter gate. There was another speaker and TV mounted just above a raised concrete table where a multitude of blocks were scrambled. A puzzle. Unsurprisingly. They sighed and went forward to solve it, trying to arrange the hundreds of blocks together into whatever picture looked right and unlock the door. The doctor overlooked this process of intense thinking, towering over the table for a moment before hissing out her stress, pawing her book from her shoulders, and stretching her nonexistent body.
"I think I know-"
"Screw it." Susie remarked with some fervor. "Hey, doc? How thick are these walls?"
"Thin."
Susie grinned, then spoke with great joy, standing straight and posing casually with the skull-scythe draped around her neck. She hummed a chuckle beforehand, smiling serenely, all her teeth sparkling. "'Thin.' Yeah, I think I can work with that."
"What… are you doing?" Noelle questioned, intrigued by Susie's mysterious comment.
"Kris knows how much I hate puzzles. They suck. " Never change, Susie. Never change. "Decided I don't want to wait around. Plus, the problem ain't the puzzle, it's this damn wall. So, what's stopping me from just cutting out the middleman?! "
Susie snarled victoriously before flourishing the scythe, spinning Jevil around and around before stepping forward, once, twice, and slamming straight through the metal grate twice, like an upside-down V.
She chuckled arrogantly and replaced the scythe. Noelle gaped in awe and Ralsei looked… incredibly done with the situation.
You will congratulate her.
Kris balked. That was much less a suggestion than a thinly veiled command. "Good work." They muttered it to Susie as they passed. The smugness wore off and she glared at them for a moment before that, too, died.
"Yeah, yeah…"
Further ahead, the road from the city wound through what appeared to be some type of canyon made between two towering sheets of metal ingrained with metal studs the size of Kris. It stretched far up, much further than they thought, as though they would have seen it from the outside. Far ahead, tucked behind some thicket of wires and sparking circuits, they could just make out a glimpse of glass windows.
Glancing backward, they supposed they had plenty of time to talk.
You will engage in pleasant conversation.
Kris gulped down some growing fear; it was in its rare non-negotiable mood for some reason. They didn't waste much time questioning it; they didn't want it to get mad at them.
Uh.
What…?
The weather.
…
Not the weather. You will find something.
Okay, they'll just lie.
"So." They started. Detter, of course, instantly crowded them, a large, bold question mark stamped to her book. "…how's the weather?"
"Come on, Kris. You know you wanted to say something different. Please." Detter tried to soothe and coax. They squinted at her.
They squirmed. Okay. What could they talk about that wouldn't just intrigue her - or worry the listeners? They already crossed their current feelings off the table; they wouldn't understand and if the news spread that Kris had something… alien, then this route would be toast, and them along with it. They supposed something at home; something minor. Something she wouldn't question was a problem but something real so Noelle wouldn't suffer their lies anymore. Something… they wanted to talk about. Or didn't not want to talk about.
"I don't know any other humans." They admitted to the doctor something that used to occupy their dreams. She listened intently, craning her book to watch them better. A slight frown clipped at the corners of her pages, but she ushered them onward with a gentle pat on the shoulder. "I never met my parents. I don't remember them."
After a moment of silence, pure silence, they noticed all eyes were on them, and disgustingly, they began to imagine and plot out how they could use that.
"And how does that make you feel?" Detter leaned in close to Kris, planting her full attention on them. They neurotically glanced around looking for an out, but there was still a long stretch between them and the ventricle proper, and the other was scanning obsessively for enemies.
Bile rose. "Confused, I guess?" It was weak, flimsy. Shuddering.
She waited for a moment. "Go on, Kris. I'm here for you to talk to."
They picked at the sleeves of their coat - it wasn't tattered, yet. Pressing a hand to their face for a moment, they fidgeted, jerked, stared off into the distance more and more. Like a sailor watching land shrink from sight for the first time, or watching a friend move far away.
"It's weird. Being the only human. I don't know what humans are like. I don't know what I'm supposed to be like." It was half-true, they had lost themself somewhere along the way. Every moment at home felt forced, stiff, bent out of shape slightly, and it felt like they could never reconnect the unburned bridge to the unaltered land. "Is that weird?"
"No. No, no, no, not at all. It's understandable- expected, even." Detter gave them honeyed words. The glint of her trembling hands told Kris… something, all they needed to hear. She was here for the puzzle, not them. "You can't fully connect with anyone because you are unsure of what your connections should be. You are unsure even about yourself. This is great news, Kris! A great revelation!"
Oh, was it, now?
"I believe that… oh, unfortunate. Our time for this session has expired." The doctor sounded quite disappointed at the prospect.
There are six entities ahead.
Seems it was finally time for a real battle.
"Ahem!" The crackle of a speaker resounded. "Now, I see that none of you participated in the puzzle (and my Kahoot) but I'm willing to forgive it! Ahead of you, you may notice an oddly appealing line of oscillating Sharpcrawlers! They are patrolling along a single line! This is quite the easy puzzle, and also unavoidable! So, unless you pass, I will be singing… hmm… screw it; FREESTYLE POETRY!"
As promised, there was a single way forward, and around five Sharpcrawlers patrolling back-and-forth, right over the pathway. At the far end, there was a sixth Sharpcrawler staring directly at the path and not moving. They couldn't stealth past that. They would have to fight anyway.
"This is impossible." They stated bluntly.
"I know what you are thinking in those meat slushies of yours, Lightners! 'This is impossible!' You would be correct! However, as I previously stated, I am a most gracious host. Therefore," the bumbling buzz of laughter rang out, "if you… if you- stop that. If you make it past them all without conflict, I will personally… heheh, stop! Sorry, I get ticklish when my opponents are about to suffer hilarious deaths!"
"Don't worry." Detter took the head of the group. "We can handle the Sharpcrawlers."
You will defeat them. In desolation of adversary, they would provide significant resistance in probable escape attempts. Eliminate.
"Kris…" Susie groaned, pleading with them silently. They shook their head.
"Ralsei, Noelle; get ready. You two stay behind. The three of us will attack. Be ready to heal huge damage." Kris yanked their shield out and readied themself. Susie growled and held the scythe over her shoulder, gathering her magic.
The doctor hummed inquisitively for a moment before summoning a couple more hands, a blaze of white fire curling deeply into flowing, flexible paper, winding into hands.
Kris stepped forward, in the middle of the two, resting their blade onto their shield and getting ready; smoky clouds billowed upward as they inhaled. Their heart beat faster, sweat dripped, and then the cool washed in again, along with a wave of strings that attached all along their muscles. Kris mentally sighed, relieved, because it was no longer up to them; the other was out to play.
Ice Shock. Rude Blaster. Defend. Defend.
Noelle sharply inhaled, strings strummed by the other. She focused, concentrated, and the temperature fell as Kris's body tried to shiver. A rocket of crystal-white struck out, stabbing into the first enemy's unaware flank, eliciting an alerted blare of a siren.
Before it could even react and counterattack, a blast of purple-red cut clean through the air and broadsided it, sending the stunned spider sprawling through the air, crashing against the wall with an almighty squeal, making the metal wall groan. The ragged and blemished armor of the spider slowly pulled itself up.
Wrapping himself underneath his cloak and neckwarmer, Ralsei watched the movements of the Sharpcrawler. Sluggishly, it lifted two limbs and threw a loose volley toward the group.
Kris raised their shield and masterfully blocked every needle with the other's assistance. It wasn't as hard as before; they beat the last one many times, so the patterns, tricks, and method was emblazoned onto their mind like a brand.
Detter merely closed her book and sent out a few hands that clung to the Sharpcrawler before it could dodge.
Defend. Attack. Defend. Attack.
Kris hardly realized as they made a bee-line to the first Sharpcrawler, putting away their shield and thrusting their rapier-like sword into the Darkner's armor. It cut cleaner than before, digging some distance inward and startling the beast, rearing up and coming down to slash at Kris before they heard a barked order, and they ducked calmly, the other keeping them from messing up. The scythe slashed horizontally across the thing's helmet-head, lopping it off, the crackling needles spilling out and slowly falling across the ground.
Kris took a moment to stomp on the thing's chest and yank free their sword.
Onward.
The next was much the same; the other used their voice to develop a strategy, with such immovable, intransigent, and firm confidence that the others hung upon their words, like fruit on branches, and followed their movements like a perfect mirror, stepping in-tune and perfectly imitating the other as it helped Kris dispatch the second. And then, the third. Fourth and fifth, together.
Then the sixth stood alone, watching distantly, content to see the other spiders crumble away into dust, but likewise dismayed as the group approached it next. The other began to plan, to plot and jot down orders on the whiteboard of Kris's head, but it paused, allowed the course of events to play out, and as they went to object to the ominous passiveness, the other merely turned their head to watch the doctor next to them.
A fleet of curled, shaking, quivering hands whipped forward, lunging and chomping down onto the limbs of the Sharpcrawler like the metal jaws of a rusted bear trap, forcing a squeal from the disturbed creature and a panicked slink backward on its eight limbs. She pulled back; the creature slipped and tumbled to the floor. It rose; she knocked it down again. It fought, and thrashed, and powered upward with everything it had; she laughed quietly, like it was adorable. It stared up at her and hissed; she pulled every limb off at once.
Even the other was quiet, dumbfounded, though Kris would hesitate to say scared. They were, the other couldn't be.
"Oh, jeez…" Noelle uttered aghast, jarred by the brutal, unfeeling defeat of the Sharpcrawler. ("That was horrifying. ")
Ralsei seemed a little disjointed as he glanced back at the whirlwind of destruction that the group had torn through. They imagined he wanted to lecture or plead for them to be nicer to the enemies, but he seemed so genuinely off-kilter by the recent events that he just readjusted his cloak, crooked his frown, and kept quiet as he inspected the Sharpcrawler again, eyes hidden behind his glasses and his hat.
Susie whistled in awe.
The doctor smoothed her coat and cleared her throat, "Excellent, now the pathway is clear."
As though she didn't just casually rip apart something that had butchered Kris and Susie over and over again, the doctor fiddled with her hands like she was waiting for something interesting to happen; they definitely had their answer. The power difference between her and them was hulking. That made them feel even smaller in comparison to her, besides the obvious difference in height. A genius, ambitious doctor with a penchant for tearing apart dangerous creatures like ripping a paper. Meanwhile, Kris was stuck dancing on the strings of the other and blindly stumbling through life.
Doctor Scrubs' power level is noted. You will continue as planned.
If this was a videogame, they were definitely underleveled, weren't they? They recalled what Detter said earlier about the gear being of little use to them.
Difference in ability is circumvented by circumstance.
"Lightners," the book addressed seriously. Kris came out of their internal stupor, turning to give her their utmost attention. Air stilled as her voice rang out. "The situation ahead of us will determine the fate of this Dark World. Years of suffering and wallowing in despair, locked away, cast aside, and erased by our creator - we still stand today, here and now, as the final line of defense." She let her hands drop to her sides. Kris shuffled around, squeamish at her attempt at a speech, because honestly, they thought it ridiculous. Everyone already knew the stakes, the risks, and it was so much greater than a single Dark World (the other's mysterious ambitions seemed to far outweigh anything else). And even then, Kris was more on the line than anyone. As long as Kris was alive, the Roaring could wait, the plague could wait, and anything in between. "It all ends today, Lightners. So, I implore you deeply," her book opened to a somber frown, "do your best to help this world. Thank you."
Ralsei piped up. "We have to win! Kris, Susie, Noelle; let's make sure we win, okay?"
"Heh, wasn't planning to lose. " Susie replied, rolling her shoulders and stretching.
"I still don't really understand what's happening but…" Noelle started with her scrunched-faced look of suspicion. "I think we have a pretty good team." All smiles as she rocked on her hooves behind Kris.
"This won't be easy."
That was all Detter said before marching forward toward the end goal; the café. Kris thought it was a surprisingly modern and clean place for the ruined city outside the ventricle - the windows were large and spotless, racks of potted plants hanging above and below the glass, colors burgeoning a light in the darkness of the Asylum. If they didn't know better, they would have thought the crepuscular gleam of the Fountain-light onto the windows was the sun blazing down onto a building in Hometown, like the happy, peppy place was sunken straight from the world above.
The weak smell of bread and butter came from across the meadow, leaking from the building, and Kris stood and inhaled the delectable scent of food; they didn't feel quite hungry, oddly enough, and they tasted the phantom of cloying butter and the staleness of the bread. But they did appreciate the memories; remembered Toriel, mainly, and the days they spent with Asgore at the diner.
The café was a large, two-story building with black-iron gates tipped with spearhead spikes. A tall perimeter fence cordoned off the brick walkways, rising in some areas to accommodate the elevated table areas and convenient recreation areas. The main gate was directly ahead from the entrance, covered in embossings and with granite pillars, the semblance of a symbol carved into the sections of the stone supports and fashioned masterfully into the metal of the glistening gate. It was fancier than the Asylum gate, less weathered and rickety, giving Kris the impression that there was a sizable wealth difference between the two groups. They wondered if it sparkled behind the gate. Of course, between them and the answer was a spacious meadow decorated with pristinely tended-to flowerbeds, trees, greenery, berries, and more artificial touches of arches and water spouts. The water circled around in the air and sprayed the flowers and weeds alike with the liquid. It was quite homely for the hideout of the Viceroy; almost ironically so, they thought. But nothing was ever as it first seemed. Nothing that glitters was gold.
They knew firsthand.
The field is clear.
They took a moment more to admire the building, noting some semblance of a tower peeking over the back, striking just below the second floor's peaked roof, like a second, smaller, bronzer needle. Covered in moss and thick, slithering vines, Kris recalled the poisoner, and with the dots connected, assumed they would be there very, very soon. There was also a long balcony stretching along the building and wrapping around, to Kris's right, away from the tower and pushed forward, looping into a glass room lit vibrantly with amber candles and an old brick arch behind both the room and the balcony. The building was lopsided, they realized, in perspective, and was facing away from Kris and their party, facing the far-right border of the ventricle. Quaint, well-kept, albeit vapidly built, it looked like some rich house rather than a restaurant, what with the abnormally tall stories, gardens, and towers. They supposed whatever it was, they would soon know it inside and out - feel it - conquer it - and Kris believed they were as ready as possible for it.
Kris gestured to the party. Everyone padded across the grasslands, eyeing the gardens with varying intensity. Susie glared ahead while Noelle found herself locked with the flowers. And Ralsei walked next to Kris, brushing against the tallest grass with his paw. Kris, after a moment, did the same.
The feeling of grass underneath your hands brings about a sense of longing. The power of soft petals shines through you.
GOODBYE
0-0-0
So, the bucket was very noticeable. Hell, the Viceroy had a sign pointing away from the bucket with neon letters saying- look away and over here to get utterly demolished- so Kris figured it was some stupid whim of the candle.
And their guess was proven as they opened up the doors to the building, dodging the bucket with no trouble. A bit of water lapped coldly against their body, sending a shiv of discomfort into their shin, but they quickly ignored it as they heard the laudatory strumming of a sudden, unexpected song packed with some triumphant melody.
It was a piano.
It reminded Kris of a past time.
They shook their head and approached the front desk, sword drawn at the sight of the candle sitting behind the counter and relaxing into his chair. His jagged, puffy mouth and cheeks contorted into a pleased simper as they approached. The incessant crackling of fire licked ambivalently against the sounds of shuffling fabrics. Kris pointed their sword at him. A scythe was readied and a spell was formed.
The Viceroy held up his gloved hands. "Woe, woe! There's no need for that, I assure you. There's no need for this; I implore you. Come now, Kris, and put the sword down. We can talk and such."
He folded his hands together and rested them gently onto the desk.
You will not listen. You will not kill. Continue past him. He is wasting valuable time. Diminish his resources and weaken him before combat occurs.
"Viceroy." The book greeted politely. "It is time-"
"No," the candle replied, "it isn't, is it, Kris? You're not going to let this be over here." That wasn't a question. He grinned smugly. "Seeing you all squirm while you chase me like rabid dogs is gratifying, I tell you! Now, I could go on about how piquant and lush it is that you are stuck in this stalemate… yet, I wonder… knowing now that I am merely wasting your time…"
He winked, "Would you continue on, leaving me alone to possibly escape, or will you waste even more time trying to capture and-slash-or extract the code from my head?"
Kris remembered what Detter said - the Director Interim trusted the Viceroy - and they realized now what that meant. He didn't just have the code, he had the only code since the 'Director Interim' stopped communicating with the Asylum.
A being of Determination disavowed with cessation of life would be impermeable to threats of demise and pain. Portending torture is redundant and ineffective, therefore inefficient. Ignore him.
But how would they get the code from him?
Fulfill his whimsy. If all else fails, magic inserted speaks volumes.
With walls of smoky, honey-brown wood and floral wallpaper, the Poet's Pirouette vaguely reminded Kris of the shows they saw on the television occasionally. They could just imagine a wide shot of the tiles and beige-cushioned booths, their boots shimmering up from the mirror-like floor and tracing to the distorted image of their face. Purple flower arrangements hung from hooks, simmering under the bloated covering of the ceiling lights. There was the open entranceway, voluminous and vast, with only the long, slightly curved desk that the candle sat behind, and nothing much else. Then, just slightly off to the left, the floor depressed deeply into a squared area of seats and tables draped with elegant, purple-red tablecloths. Light came from the ceiling lights and a fat, hanging chandelier that looked many more times expensive than the building itself, clad in diamonds and dipping ornaments of precious gems that sent dancing shadows over the nearby stage. The whole room was darkened by curtains, lit by lights, and Kris wondered what used to go on within the walls of the establishment.
Speaking of the tables, the food scent was tripled, stabbing into Kris's nose and throat, and their world spun for a moment before they righted themself, nauseous, and unbalanced. The sweet sound of the piano hit like the hilt of a sword against their skull, blood rushing with every note, just pounding and pounding before the cool washed in; it hit Kris exactly what was at stake for them. Death. Not just an error in the universe, not just blades running their typical routes through flesh - permanent death. It was just… unbelievable, to say the least, but worry still leaked in for self-preservation.
They placed their hand onto the smooth, garnished wood and clenched, blowing away the fear.
"Would you all like a pamphlet-map?" The Viceroy mockingly questioned.
"No need." They spoke. To their left, just beyond the enclosed recreation area, a hallway led further into the building. They saw their next path. "We'll take the staircase."
He blinked. Gaped. "Really? I mean, sure, go ahead, but… are you sure you know where it goes?" He averted his eyes. "I mean… not even a little unsure?"
You are sure.
"No." Kris replied dryly. "I'm sure."
Hard not to be when the other already located every remaining person. They were all gathered upstairs.
There are thirty-six variables unaccounted for. Proceed with extreme caution.
They could feel the pit in their stomach grow deeper, wider, and they sucked in a sharp breath.
You will not worry. You will not doubt. You will succeed. You will act with confidence. You will continue the experiment with the operator. Conclusion of success is predestined. Demonstrable, there is no defeat. You will stay objective and unmerciful, without pity. You will meet strenuous odds with unrelenting force. Proceed.
Kris inhaled. Exhaled. Inhaled. Squeezed their muscles and stretched. Stood straight. The other was right, helpful to Kris for once, even comforting in its adamancy. Victory was the only option.
They wouldn't be around long enough to acknowledge defeat.
So, they should operate with the certainty they would emerge victorious.
Worrying didn't matter.
Nothing ever did, did it?
"Hey, you guys are actually leaving?" The candle called after them as they shared a look and began to trek over and ascend the staircase in silence. "Come on, this joke is becoming played-out and unfunny! You can't just conveniently leave! It makes me seem like less of a threatening villain…"
His voice slowly faded.
And they took the first step with gusto.
"This place is beautiful…" Noelle commented, glancing around the windowed stairwell with admiration. "These… paintings are amazing."
Kris felt the walls slowly closing in on them as they stomped up the stairs, their fingers curling, engulfing their arms with a disturbed shiver of fear. But also, something radiated up from the nape of their neck into their skull, a warmth on their scalp, forcing them to fidget with their jaw. Bravery, maybe. Anger was much more likely. And as they hit the second platform, they could hear the ringing voices piercing through the walls, a sense of finality and tense climax hitting them as they slowly, silently drew their needle-sword. A charge dissipated into the air. They hit the next set of stairs, pace hurried and urgent, clasping their hand to the rail, easing themself forward, pulling themself forward, nearly sneering impassionedly. Behind the door, just down the hall at the top of the stairs, a mass of enemies would be waiting, and Kris - and their party - would have to take them all on. They didn't feel confident but they didn't have any choice in the matter, so why not feel ready?
They couldn't stop and gander at the decorations. They couldn't joke around or make light of the situation. This wasn't just life or death as it was to the others. This was something more to Kris, something that weighed even harder than death.
Like losing a job at an interview versus risking your career after years of dutiful work.
The other instructed everyone to stack up on the door.
Kris stood at the forefront of the corridor ahead, composed themself.
The other whispered a phrase- they couldn't hear it.
"Once more unto the breach," Detter said.
And they threw the door wide open.
Screams rang from the conglomerate mass of Darkners hidden just behind the poisoner and the crow. Some sort of hairy, membranous Darkner with a blotch nestled deep inside cyan fluid wearing a chef's hat and an apron that flowed over the hovering being's nonexistent legs; some clocks with faces draped in waiter uniforms; some cloaked figures with masquerade masks slowly bobbing; and a few other unique Darkners - all screeched or jumped and reared away from the Lightners.
Boyles stood in the middle of the dimly-lit corridor. A recording of birds singing sweetly filled the air, and vines stretched over the mesh-netted walls with blossoms growing. The high roof was spiked and gothic, with gray, chiseled stone. The poisoner stepped forward, cloak swishing over the slightly tonic-wetted floor, which bled with red and gold inlays of liquid, and then proceeded to stick a hand out to the crowd and beckon someone forth without breaking eye contact with the five.
The hall was wide enough to fit everyone in a straight, single-file line, which they slowly spread out into, and long enough that it wouldn't be too much of a hassle to cross to attack. And there wasn't much in the way of obstacles, almost an entirely open, suspiciously bland, and flat floor to fight on, leaving them no cover. Besides the liquid draining to the sides until small trenches, it also meant nothing to help their enemies. Kris felt reassured. There were some white-stone pillars, halfway stuck into the smooth-stone walls, measured ruts standing up-and-down their surfaces. Between them all, there were alcoves of waterfalls and aqueducts with some tapestries of plants that floated on them or sat unbothered in the artificial banks made for them, waiting for harvest by the poisoner.
Boyles never even glanced away, drilling them with focused intent.
Kris turned to command Susie and Noelle to attack, readying their own weapon to pierce into the poisoner's bag-like face.
You will not.
Kris blinked. Silently agreed. No questions were asked.
There are bystanders behind the poisoner.
Kris imagined bystanders weren't exactly free from the other's plan. Hell, Kris was almost shocked that it would spare innocents, recalling faintly many-a absent-minded Darkner who had once wandered into their way and were senselessly struck down.
Harming bystanders would garner dissent and mutiny. Equations proposed for probable enemy procedure include using harmless innocents as weapons to sustain internal conflict. Sow roots of betrayal through moral ambiguity. You will ignore them unless provoked.
"Ana," Boyles called as the Darkner he beckoned came forth. Kris scrutinized the figure for a moment, as though they recognized something about them, familiar with the Darkner but unsure of who it was behind the plague mask. "Remove the staff and customers from the café. Begin the exodus. We will take it from here."
The bird squawked and turned to the crowd.
"Come with me, to Fountain,
Come with me, to safety,
Come with me, come,
Come with me, on the exodus!"
The crowd slowly began to migrate away, but Boyles and his apprentice wasted no time approaching. A few flashes of red preceded two Sharpcrawlers falling from the ceiling and landing next to the second figure.
"Now, it is time to end this. The Viceroy tells me your sins, Kris, and I don't even need more reason to resent you, Detter. "
The poisoner split open his cloak and unbuckled his menagerie of belts and bandoliers holding lethal vials; he passed a few to his companion.
"Ruh hoo hoo!" His companion laughed, muffled by the mask, taking the weapons of the poisoner and lacing them onto their chest and neck. And then, they continued to murmur.
Susie growled. "Hey, weirdo! We can barely hear you! Take off that stupid mask!"
The figure flinched, thought it over for a shocked second, then began to remove the mask. Glowing purple skin, an elegant uniform decorated with medals and pins, two shoulder-length flaps of cloth spread over his arms; Kris balked. They did recognize him.
The figure laughed,
"Geh… ha… ha… ha… HA! THOUST FOOLS!"
