Things had gotten worse.
Huzzah, incredible, so surprising and shocking. Kris's life? Getting worse? No. No, that couldn't be right. The sarcasm helped them feel a little less trapped as they gazed out over the city view which they could witness on the approach to the checkpoint the other doctors had set up. There was the vast meadow of concrete riddled with holes, the squarish, bland buildings fallen into disrepair, and the looming shadow of the Astrowall, casting a grand, towering shadow over it all, breaking high into the sky, stealing all attention as it blocked all but the slightest, brilliant view of the booming Fountain and the light, lilting radiance that floated over their skin. It was ephemeral and ghostly, vibrating and strumming with power gathering at the base and seeping through the smokestack of darkness, giving Kris something similar to an odd form of equally astonished and perplexed admiration for the bursting stories of void.
They still held wonder for it, unsure if it was their own or whatever messed-up vision they saw before, entracing and mesmerizing, uncontrolled lust for it, but no, it seemed just the normal focus one would give the Fountain.
Dark is beautiful. The depths are home to earthly creature, and to it they shall precipice and return. The Third Hunger that Creates. Beckons all forward.
They didn't bother asking it what it meant; it wasn't like they were getting an answer. Instead, they focused on the open porch leading to the second floor apartment they had taken up as a makeshift hideout. The door was wide open, unveiling a bit of the couch and dusty table, and - also - that it was empty.
Expected scenario.
The other doctors had left, for some reason, either the Viceroy or Snowgrave. Either way, they were gone for the moment, and Kris decided to shoulder into the room, opening the door into a narrow, unswept pathway right next to the glass coffee table and the wall. There were magazines littered around, claw marks shallowly pressed into them, and Kris hummed in thought at the covers of multiple science-focused titles that had varying levels of comprehension. One wrinkled, the plastic sound making them wince, as they stepped inside. And then, far ahead, Kris squinted and saw the slightly ajar door to the kitchen barely open next to the desk.
Investigate the area further.
The gray, cross-addled wallpaper was peeling, and something like the delectable scent of moss began to grow quickly over the air, seemingly stronger than even before. The fusty room was dimly lit, like a smokescreen hovered, a miasma of cloudy filth and grubby, crumbling drywall from behind the wallpaper. Something about the way the plastered images on the walls were scratched away at the top, as though someone tall had drawn a claw over them, seemed particularly purposeful, almost precisely and meticulously measured, like planting nails incrementally along a board, yet despite such intent, the actual damage varied in nature by breadth and width of the scab.
Inhaling, calming down after everything, Kris felt tired and worn, almost tempted to drop down onto the bent couch and kick their feet up to the one shredded footrest next to the coffee table.
"Well, shit." Susie commented as she entered behind them. "Missed them. Alright, guess we're searching. Hey, Kris, what's that over there? Yeah," she pointed toward the desk in the corner. Kris noticed an oddly yellow envelope neatly placed and picked it up. "That thing. An envelope?"
Kris dubiously glanced at her, then fiddled with it and tore it open, unfurling the paper and reading what it said.
"It says that they left to check out the ventricle when Detter's camera went offline. They even recorded the time; it's been about thirty minutes. I think we were frozen for about thirty minutes, and it's been five minutes since we left. I don't think we missed them." Kris crumpled the paper, marching out of the apartment. "That's not good. They're probably in trouble, and with the… the guns, probably in danger, too."
Possibility. The Viceroy utilized civilians to distract the rear-guard. Employing an obfuscation, he may have eluded our grasp.
Well, they couldn't comb the whole damn city, could they?
Susie huffed and stayed back in the apartment, the sounds of her searching marked with a muffled curse. Kris called over the rails to the other three.
Search the apartment. It was previously inhabited by a resident. Something will be clearly disturbed.
They supposed it was a start. After the doctor and the other two gave their acknowledgment, Kris slunk back into the room, admiring it more closely.
Disorganized chaos.
Yeah. It was messy. Between the magazines the doctors brought, the bundles of clothes strewn about recklessly over furniture and lacking any semblance of care or effort, it was hard to extend anything else over it. The other began calculations, testing the waters with programs. Kris could dimly realize red flower petals.
There. The far window. The blinds are scratched and broken.
Past the muted gray wallpaper and wooden inlays, past the divide into the kitchen, nestled just above a brass basin filled to the brim and over with plates, the other had seen such a minute detail as a jagged laceration in a single bar of the blinds.
Indicative of some occurrence outside. Otherwise, the strategic move was hunkering down and awaiting further instruction. The disconnection was not the pulling event.
Something else happened outside, down in the alleyway, and that's where the doctors went. They opened the blinds, saw another dark building hugging close to theirs, and then a rickety fence just to the side that led far out of sight. Something told Kris to focus on the building, something dramatic and reminiscent of old cop shows. They could see faint scorch marks blackening the bricks. The indistinct exchange of attacks, most likely.
Splendid. Go.
Kris let the blinds fall back down. Gesturing to Susie, they motioned purposefully outside. With a small, suspicious frown, she followed close.
The stairs creaked underfoot as they made their way the short distance to the bottom, shaking age-old particles of dirt onto their shoes and calves.
"And where are you going?" Detter questioned instantly. Not far off, in the short distance, they could see Rouxls seated at a park bench quiet giggling to himself, weeds overgrown and tickling around his feet as the Duke struggled to stifle his laughter. Some cobwebs had wrapped around his hands; Kris quirked a squeamish frown.
"I have a lead." Kris stated plaintively. Crossing the gray, ignoble area at the foot of the building, they rounded an overflowing trashcan and went to the side. It was sort of dusky, with a lone streetlamp streaming and flickering onto the darkened, shaded walls.
The operator will scan. Stay relatively still.
Kris huffed, crossed their arms, and pretended - the other helped them - like they were glancing over the alleyway. Some greening plants were peeking through the cracks and waving to Kris.
Unlike the other walkways of the city, the alleyway was almost untouched by debris, with only a few nature-driven damages like the plants, the moss, and some ferns. They almost expected to see the moon, looking up.
Susie stomped forward, smashing one plant under her heel in a breathless attack. She smiled, then frowned, glanced at Kris.
"Now what?"
Kris just stared with a twisted mouth. A tremendous tacturnity fell over the two of them. The other crinkled as it scanned.
There was a dumpster, off to the side, tight to the building, tipped over and spilling a litany of cans, bags, rotten food, and otherwise negligible garbage into the alley. It stunk to high heaven; a mixture of their frosted breath and the rancid, noisome sewage scraps screwed their expression up. They walked slowly over to the shabby, hackneyed fence, one with barbed and rough wood, and leaned their weight into it carefully, waiting for the other to figure something out.
Susie might ask, might not. Didn't really matter, did it, since she technically knew something was wrong anyway, and it wasn't like Kris was outlandishly crossed from ignoring her questions.
"Oh, great, the silent treatment." Susie rolled her eyes, pressed against the opposite brick wall before finding her gaze transfixed to a starved patch of overgrowth, a sickly bottle-green speckled with spots of orange. Her gaze stayed on it for some time. "Hey, at least there's some food."
Kris watched in horror as Susie pivoted, crouched over, and scooped a handful of fungus up into her mouth.
Their visceral, stomach-warping reaction was overwhelmed by the cobbling sound of the other sifting through their brain, something like a swimming pool of vinegar coming to mind.
There was no battle here. The damages indicate short skirmish and the tracks lead further into the city.
So. Was there enough to follow them, at least?
There are two unwieldy possibilities. One: The Viceroy inveigled their disappearance. Two: It was an independent event. The latter presents unfavorable circumstances. The first coincides with the overarching goal.
If the Viceroy had them, he would be going for the Fountain anyway, and that meant they could be found there, couldn't they?
Astute. Operations at this location have ceased. Recrudesce to the Asylum diocese.
What the fuck… nevermind, return to the Asylum, right?
Astute.
They hated this damn thing, so Angel-damned much.
Kris kicked at a can. It clattered loudly. "Let's go. There's nothing here," Susie paused, mouth full of moss, "unless you want… to finish that-" She resumed silently, with a smug smile. "Okay, then. You do that."
Something agnate to a circling chill crept easily underneath their armor. Froze their bones with some heavy emotion they didn't understand. Seeing her feral figure hunched over the alleyway, scarfing down the moss, made it pulse in their chest and scintillate. They squashed it; patted her shoulder, told her it was time to go.
"You just think you're better than me, huh?" She accused bitterly, suddenly. She stood up to her full height, towering over Kris, somehow even more intimidating with the hollow crevice of her mouth filled with orange guck that seemed to bleed out. "Can't just let me have some fun, can you? Or is it that you're…"
She loomed over them, fists scrunched around her scythe or at her waist, glaring into their eyes with the intensity of a wild animal staring at a predator.
Kris didn't even react. She wasn't as scary as some other things.
"…That you're jealous? Come on, Kris," she drawled. Grabbing them by the shoulder, hand right on their frozen spikes, she pulled them toward the moss. "have some fun, you uptight asshole. It tastes real good."
Kris let themself be strung along, harboring an oddly conflicted urge to devour it along with her like the old times, and disgust for the sewer-water fed moss.
There is no time to waste upon trivial matters. Ignore her and leave.
"Nah, I'm fine," they squeaked, exasperated and apprehensive about it all. "I'm not hungry."
"Come on, you know you are, Kris. Come on, just one bite. Take a nibble. It's not bad!"
Enough.
"No." They bluntly stated, pulling away.
Susie simply smiled at them, cracked her knuckles, and approached. "Damn. You really don't like me, huh? Here I thought I could be clever or something - ya know, 'solve the puzzle.' Looks like diplomacy ain't gonna cut it. You didn't talk to Noelle. You don't talk to me. Fine."
She patted their shoulder, leaning over neutrally.
Susie grabbed their shoulder in a death grip, yanking them off their feet and slamming them toward the floor. Off-kilter, Kris couldn't even realize what happened until their metal armor scratched against the concrete.
"Then I'm not asking nicely anymore." She stomped a foot directly onto their spine, sending a bone-ache though them, and held them down, scythe a comfortable distance away from them. She didn't want to hurt them, but she was trying… something.
To befriend you. By force.
Couldn't they just let it happen? Just relax with her if it meant she wouldn't stop them up later? The boot on their back certainly was a good motivator. Her sole was not malleable, and pressed uncomfortably on their coat and vertebrae.
They were locked against the concrete, the acrid moss ahead, Susie behind.
"Well? Don't make me feed it to you?"
She has outlived her usefulness. All she brings has been routed through other subordinates. She presents a mutiny, now. The operator cannot allow it.
What about her damage?
You are capable. Ralsei is capable. Noelle is capable. Susie has only her vitality. It will not suffice if she continues pernicious objections and obstacle-making.
Then what should they do? They could just… eat the moss-
We are still integrated, though much smaller quotient-ways.
And… what exactly does that solve? Having the other rippling under their muscles, skin, and fat, down to the bone, wasn't exactly an approved solution to strained interpersonal relationships.
Irrelevant.
There was a flurry of motion from their body, strings snapping, stretching, as they wormed their way out from under her pinning, pinching foot, then gracefully spun around and swept her off her feet, all without leaving the ground.
She crashed to the floor, head banging against the floor as she uttered a strangled roar through a bloated blockage of moss and shock.
"What-?!" The other simply stood up, dusted their coat off while walking, and left her behind in the wind of the pavement.
That was surprisingly skillful, for a monster made of cloth. They wondered where it learned the skills for it, and the sword, if not the obvious answer of downloading it.
Not your concern.
Looking out over the open area between the dingy apartment building, paved road, and tables, all abandoned and desolate, Kris decided it probably was their concern.
You are worried about abandonment. Worried that the operator discarded previous mortal shell and commenced with you.
Was that an unfounded fear?
No.
Kris blinked. Besides the odd sense of hurt digging into their sternum from the inside, Kris somehow expected that.
They gave themself a shake.
"Have you a hypothesis?" Detter inquired as they approached. Kris shook their head. She appeared to appraise them further, closing her book, hands floating monotonously at her sides; attached, holes filled, they were mercilessly used as tools for when she shrugged noncommittally and frowned.
"That's okay, Kris. You tried your best." Ralsei smiled up at them from his seat on a green picnic bench shoved against the building. It was ratty and discolored, and they really wished they could just all sit around one just like it and laugh one day, no matter how uncomfortable and splintered wood would be.
Noelle peeked around them.
"Susie? What's wrong?" They turned slowly, starting as the monster had somehow stalked up behind them and had been glaring down at them with the fury of one hundred crown-adorned checker Darkners.
Like she wanted to crush Kris.
Yet even as they recognized her muscles tensing underneath her pike-riddled clothes, she paused; they wondered who it was she was worried about getting involved.
"Nothin'." She murmured as she glanced away, face hardened into a snarl, "Let's get out of this shithole, once and for all." She stomped forward, dragging the scythe along the floor with a frightening screech, a sad shriek, fearful, and wailing of metal grinding, like bolts rubbing against each other, disused and mistrusted. "We have to gun it for the Fountain. Might beat those weirdos there," Kris felt surprised that she had the same idea. "And when we get there? Heh… I don't think I have to say it, but… no mercy. Got it, Ralsei? Noelle? Doc?" Ralsei looked resolved to it, now. A distant change. Noelle, however, looked overwhelmed at the very premise of further violence. Detter smiled. "Arright. Let's go, you shits. Got a candle to whack." Looks like she wanted to play leader. Kris started forward to keep up with the turning group. Their coat snapped back and groaned. "And, Kris?" Susie grinned an almost friendly grin. It was unsettling. "Try that again and I will kill you."
It wasn't a threat.
'No mercy.'
That was pointed to them, right? Had to be. The Viceroy couldn't be attacked - what is death to someone who dies often? Nothing but a matter of pain, determination, and will. Not that she knew that, but still, he was off the plate anyway.
"Hell, I never really fucked with you before, did I?" Susie remarked. "Guess that's why you don't actually know how serious I am right now." She patted their shoulder thrice, the movement slow, steady, aching with some laden weight they couldn't quite describe. "Kris." Her voice was almost saddened. "Don't make me beat your ass. I don't care if you talk to fucking Detter - just stop being a fucking shut-in dickhead. Shoulda just ate the fucking moss, freak."
Kris wondered what to think about her. Just a few seconds ago, if you pulled Kris to the side and asked them what they thought Susie was feeling, they would have responded with a serious remark of extreme anger, rage, fury, wrath. Whatever it was that someone feels when people piss them off instead of hollowness, and abstract guilt. Then, they had been taken off-kilter with her just moments later; they wanted to believe she wouldn't follow through, but something told them that she wasn't joking anymore. Noelle had to have something to do with it, they knew it, since Susie had been sticking to her like glue, alone, whenever possible, like they were two gossiping schoolchildren - which they were, but the situation dictated some severity - sneaking around and telling rumors about the weird kid - which they were, but the description was lacking.
Join the group.
Kris felt their legs naturally move them forward, pressing to the front of the group and leading them through the most inconspicuous route back to the Asylum.
They didn't feel comfortable being out in the open without knowledge of what was out there.
The gunshots had stopped for some time, as did the Lunatic howls, and Kris recalled what the poisoner said about the Lobotomy, and then felt some odd pang of sympathy, a stray hope that it would be okay.
It will not. You are aware of the possibilities surmounting negative. Detach from worry, concern, and concentrate on selfish scrutiny.
They headed the group, readying themself for the long walk back to safety, avoiding staring at the monsters. For some reason, Kris didn't feel right meeting their eyes so soon, with Snowgrave again, and then what the other just did. Weak, that's what Kris was, and because of it, both their friends were hurt, or scared, and Kris could do nothing about it. Like it even mattered. Kris decided nothing would help it, and resigned themself to the solemn trudge home with a blank face, and slightly tensed brow, furrows of something intrinsic and grim inside wrinkling their forehead beneath their long hair. It was a perk of lackluster hygiene and self-care.
They paused for a moment, gazing deeply into the Asylum Fountain, watching as it glowed and waved, whirling with colors, depth of hues, and gradients of chaotic cacophony scenes, the faint image of forest leaves, school wallpaper, and something starkly redder than even the other somehow appearing in their mind.
Ahead was the cookie-crumbed street; Kris marched over a pile of rubble with some swollen purpose pressuring their limbs. No time to wait with somewhere to be. They reached out.
Save file updated. The promise of struggling shines through you.
0-0-0
The Transit.
Kris stood in the middle of the train station, awkwardly hovering around the platform and tapping their feet against the polished, cared-for porcelain of the floor. It smelled like roasted iron in the stuffy, pyramid-shaped dome with supports made out of triangles holding up the stone ceiling, bright, modern lamps squeezing in between them. There was a decrepit sort of veneration given to it, somehow, in the empty city, as there were no stains or dirt or grime besides that which had already caked itself on in the far past and refused to leave, such as the slight rusting of the rails, the gradients of chalk-white in the walls. The room was so round and dead that you could hear a strand of hair shift onto the floor.
There were some murals on the walls, just above the rocky, shelf-like outcropping of benches. Some advertised shows, some held inspiring messages of 'work hard, live well.' It almost made it seem lived. It was parched for the same life it must have had back some not so distant days ago, much less the savage rumble of concrete and taking on the more morose and pitiful feeling of height, no more thundering and screeching. The outside was untamed and barren - inside was like the outside.
Speakers crackled silently, the recording of whoever used to narrate the story of the tracks long since deteriorated, and even as the red lights and warning signs begged to 'stay back from tracks', not a single atom of dust responded. The warning was left unattended, the train had been forsaken, and the entirety of it left like a fever dream with how normal the scene would be in the Light World.
Kris inhaled and listened, expecting the distant sound of crickets or flies buzzing around the lamps. Instead, all they received was silence. Eerie silence, as though there was once noise filling the stolid, hunched air. As though there were once people in the edifice of busyness and work life, once streaming from the stairs to the edge of the brim, taking confident steps over and into their shaking, excited cabin and unbothered as the hungry maw slid closed behind them, then stole them away with the ferocity and fervent throat of a triumphant hunt.
Instead, it was now devoid, much like the rest of the city, and Kris decided to sit down, feeling instantly the hair-curling sensation of being observed despite being clearly alone.
They were waiting; the warning lights cycled and clicked off, the signs burnt out and trembled for a moment. Kris gulped and felt desperation fill them, defeat almost, as the station remained inoperative. This was their final chance, their one 'hail-Mary' shot at surviving this, of getting to the Fountain; of beating the Viceroy and going home. They needed to fix this, to regain control, and then, Kris needed to take a break. They felt exhausted and heavy, and almost tried to meld into the uncomfortably dense bench, leaning against the wall, their coat rubbing against the gritty sandpaper and scuffing their dry skin.
Now was the perfect time to plan. They had a set of goals, a few obstacles, and some resources, but they lacked a game plan, and while the others were figuring out the controls of the Transit, Kris was only to watch the tracks and keep lookout for Lunatics, Lobotomies, glinting barrels of guns sticking out like perfectly eroded stalactites dripping orange and black blood. There was nothing but time.
With your posterity in mind, we prepare. Review. Our goal is to survive, above all else.
They could have just stayed quiet and still, hid like they always did from their problems, but something forced them to move, gunshots and starvation, and something more longing on the inside.
The timetable is closing. Deadline approaching.
They had acquired the means to get to the Astrowall safely, with a little bit of turning stones from the book, remembering the daily commute to the 'Brain', which she used to take with the tram. Instead of the Asylum, the group decided they didn't have time to spend.
The tram will attract attention. Our forces should be sufficient enough, should we encounter resistance. Ground battalion of Darkners would be catastrophic. Battling from tramway and moving platform would be operose, juxtaposed with arduous.
Wow, fighting from a train, huh? They could see where that was a risk, vividly imagining Lunatics crawling over the cabin-car, and they suddenly shifted in concern. But the other would be directing this puppet-show, clearly.
Your accomplices are competent. Victory is practicable. Restate the plan.
Kris swallowed dryly, glancing around the station.
First, they would make their way to the Astrowall. They would defend and hopefully shake off the horde, and somehow make it there without sustaining many wounds, and when they arrive, then the hard part would come.
They didn't have the code. Viceroy did. So either they had to convince him - within the remaining save files - or somehow pierce through it, or even worse; climb over the side.
Desperate times. Fashion yourself for demiurgic means, parlous courses of process, and consumptive attempts. This will not be easy for you.
Kris accepted it with a little, beaten-down grimace, taking a moment to puff their collar.
Glancing around, the utter loneliness of the situation hit them.
There was no one to complain to, to voice their regrets over the situation, to sit and jabber on about it and how they would rather be in their bed, or back in Castle Town, but Kris knew that even if there was someone else piping cold and frosty breath into the air, they wouldn't talk about their thoughts anyway. No one could understand what they were going through, nor should they, this was their toil alone. The others would only get hurt trying to help, and Kris didn't want to see that. If they just complied, things wouldn't be unnecessarily bad.
You are within solitude, not loneliness. There is veritable difference. This problem will be untangled at later point. For now, your allies' prowess is the only contributing factor to your survival. Expounding. Your allies are valuable solutes for mental fortitude and physical distribution of damage. Our coffers are nearly full of items.
What was the pot?
Two Dark Burgers, two CD bagels, one Bottle of Accelerants, and a single Cooked Book.
And they were missing a CD bagel, weren't they?
All they received was a short flash of a miserable-looking Kris nibbling at the freezer-burned covered bagel, sitting in the snow and sitting on their haunches like a rat-faced badger imitating some honorable, martial pose. They felt their cheeks heat a little.
Well… that explains that.
That does.
It had been a number of minutes since Kris had sat down, resigned to wait, and by now, they were getting antsy.
That all ended in seconds as the station gave a mighty lurch forward, Kris clinging to the rim of the stone as their Rapier clattered and slid further onto it, holding on for dear life; blood pumped, even as the station settled again, and the distant, blaring screech of metal-on-metal still marched forward. The station seemed to clench up in agony, the deep thrumming of pained grunts, the wheeze of intense misery - bum, bum, bum-bum-bum, ssssk - as something began to move just around them, circling the room, and Kris could almost locate it.
"HELL YEAH!" Susie shouted as the 'cabin' sped through the open entrance to the tracks, the monster holding the lever of the (surprise, because Kris somehow thought the city would have normal things) minecart as it zipped into the station, holding the Devilsknife above her head, glowing with excited magic as she spun it round and round in circles. "NOW THAT'S WHAT I'M FUCKING TALKING ABOUT!"
The cart promptly crashed into the mechanisms interweaving invisibly under the tracks and jettisoned the monster from her spot, sending her flying into the belly of concrete and metal below, scythe slipping from her hands. She cascaded from inside the box and, despite her landing, was up in seconds and roaring in fun.
She guffawed, shaking the world herself. "TALK ABOUT A SPEEDING TICKET! DAMN, I ALWAYS WANTED A GO-KART!"
She yanked herself up the side, still chuckling, struggling. Her grin was filled with riotous glee.
Instantly, to Kris's right, through the wide gate with metal detectors with lights clear of dirt, there was an energetic stampede of feet, three figures rushing around the corner with bated breath and all equally relieved to see Susie there, safe and sound. Kris stood and approached slowly.
"Hehe," Susie remarked in happiness, "See?" She walked toward Kris, words fresh on her lips… and then walked past them, waving to Noelle and the others. Kris paused, stood still as a statue, face blank. Their upper lip tensed some as they wrenched their eyes shut, then opened them, pretending to be renewed and following her.
"Gods above, Lightner," Detter 'cursed' and clutched a hand to her clothes. "when you left, I solemnly swear I believed I wouldn't see you again."
"Nah," Susie waved her off dismissively, "the damn thing was fast, yeah, but leaving you guys behind? Heh, pass!"
Noelle giggled and covered her mouth with her hand, staring at Susie with some admiration and friendly fixation. Kris felt something akin to jealousy rise in their chest. Ralsei, however, slid his gaze over to them and smiled. It helped, somehow.
"It works." Kris commented dryly. Susie gruffly grunted and crouched, facing the tracks and, with a small, running start, leaped the few feet's breadth of them. "Can we all fit into that?"
The cart was much smaller than they expected. Where Kris had expected a train car to comfortably fit their group, they had instead the perhaps too-small diameter of a cramped minecart to deal with; with just the four, maybe, it could have worked, but the picture of the four trapped inside a metal box as Susie and Kris wrestled for the single lever to control the speed (Susie would want to go as fast as possible) gave a bitter, astringent taste in their mouth. Too comical for the serious situation.
"So, I suppose we procure three more carts, then you all may make your journey ahead. I'm afraid I must stay behind," Detter regretfully informed. "as I must step up to lead the Asylum. I have been thinking. I have a plan."
"A plan?" Kris questioned, even without the other's input.
"Someone must operate the Asylum. Furthermore, the noise caused by this expedition will attract much attention." Detter bowed her book in respect to the station.
This will be the last time you see her, for this timeline. Sacrifices extend to herself.
"…so, something shall be done to cushion you all. The Asylum will be activated, with what little we have." The doctor closed her book. The doctor raised her hands. They floated over and extended toward the group.
It is sure.
Kris offered their hand. She continued. "Make no mistake, heroes. I plan to survive, as I plan to keep my doctors and patients alive and well. But there exists chances beyond my control."
Ralsei accepted her hand firmly. "Thank you, for all you have done." He shook her floating hand, blinking and nodding sagely to her. "We can save the world, thanks to you!" The doctor warbled, mumbling.
Susie rocked the paper hand. "Yeah, you've been really cool, doc. If we can, we'll take you home to Castle Town." The doctor sighed, smiled brightly at that, tilted upward to the sky.
The reindeer shook it lightly. She seemed to squint at the book, as though examining. "…thank you, Doctor Scrubs." Her speech slowed for a second as she smiled, the expression shaking. "Be safe."
"Same to you all, Lightners. Be safe," she retracted her hands, letting them dispel into mist. "Kris, I highly suggest you seek further therapy. But, seeing as I prefer happier goodbyes… it was nice to meet you, human."
Reciprocate.
Their expression slumped, drowned out by the other's innate mimicry. "I think we could…" It paused dramatically. "We could have been friends, somewhere else."
Detter nodded, agreed, sweeping her arms and limbs back; "That we could have, Lightner. That we could have…"
The group dallied for a moment, unsure of when to end their goodbyes.
"Goodbye, human," Detter addressed Kris, "monsters," Susie and Noelle, "young Prince." Ralsei hummed in acknowledgement. "Goodbye."
She turned and stood, glanced around again, then silently walked off, gait the same as when they met her.
There was a long moment of silence, the awkwardness and futile grimness laying like stone slabs over Kris's chest. Eventually, they recovered.
Kris turned to their group. "It's time." Susie picked up the scythe, retraced her jump across. The wide station was slowly filled with warmth, everyone around Kris, even though the papery posters seemed like the last hint of casual, normal life; they had a mission, and that grim, starkly dark purpose then replaced the atmosphere. Kris felt their resolve harden. They looped their fingers around their blade and dragged them down, sucked in their cheeks. Gazed toward the tracks.
Noelle stepped behind them. She looked more serious than ever before, hair falling in fringes and neat hedges around her steeled eyes. They were dilated and wide as she shuffled uncomfortably near Kris. She stood stiffly and grasped her robes.
Then, they found out the system Susie used, and gathered four carts for the group; Kris stepped into the one at the front naturally, not allotting Susie the chance to beat them to the punch. They met her shrewd glare with their brows anchored, sloe-eyed and dead inside. She bit back her disagreement and sat down just behind Kris, Noelle behind her, and Ralsei holding the rear. There was a sliver of a different emotion in Susie's eyes, and they wondered what exactly she was thinking; was she truly done with them or merely trying something?
Noelle clasped her hands together in a silent prayer, deep set under her thin eyebrows. Her expression was pleading and wan, pallid. Behind her, Ralsei - instead of the hatred or fear - felt confident, ready, resolved to save the world at all costs.
Inside the front car, after hopping the side, Kris stood in front of a control panel. There were dozens of brightly colored buttons, all with robotic identifications. To the far left, there was the lever, rising about a foot from the console. Kris slowly gripped it, tensing, leaning it forward. The carts began to lurch forward, jerking, eventually settling into a smooth motion. It was exhilarating, feeling the wind in the tunnel begin to whip around them, feeling equally restless and hurried. Kris pushed it forward more.
Slowly, the tunnel began to close, and after a few seconds of darkness, there was a dim, purple light shining brightly from outside.
The four exploded from inside the station tracks, bursting into the large, open field of criss-crossing tracks basking in the muted purple of the sky above, gray metal and rivets shining and reflecting luridly, like a fever dream, or the distant glance of the sun on metal. The sky loomed overhead. It was like a small bowl, the lips on each side just slightly higher than Kris while in the cart, and they could see the towers of some of the larger buildings rising above. The motion hit their face. Kris's hair wrapped backward with the speed, and they crouched, bracing, but nothing happened. The cars sped off forward, under the bridges and nets of pipes and onto the dunes of metal and ties, nails, tracks, and radiant shades of violet that caked into Kris's eyes. The cool wind ripped around them, splitting their coat, and oddly enough, they felt… a laugh bubble up. They always wondered what a rollercoaster felt like. Noelle was smiling broadly, Susie was herself, Ralsei was unbothered, and Kris was…
Kris was smiling, faintly, in the rush and vortex of the winding, flaying air.
The other stayed deliciously quiet, and if Kris didn't know better, it was letting them relive their dream.
Their dream of flying, free and unbound.
And it was soon interrupted anyway.
The grating of metal, the machinery whir of the four carts on the tracks, the rumbling of the wheels; it made noise. Lots and lots of noise.
The energy simmered over the open plain of the tramway, and then, in response, an orchestra of snarls, growls, and murderous whispers returned to them from all sides of the small divot-like valley, droning on and defying the almost-enticing chiming of dangling metal pieces hitting worn metal rails.
"Oh, Kris, be ready!" Ralsei called from the back of the carts, voice faltering slightly in the wind.
They were on the same rail, lined up single-file, all heading forward, even though the track was seven rails wide. The smell of gasoline mixed with the snarl on Kris's face as they observed the next events.
The trainyard was slowly dotted with shapes of white climbing over the walls, a handful for now, and Kris sighed, grasping their sword with one hand and calling to their group to prepare for battle. With their left hand on the lever controlling the speed, their right hand keeping their sword steady, and their face drawn into a mute scowl, Kris watched and waited as the Lunatics climbed over the walls of the bowl and spilled over into the tracks.
One clambered over and fell, slumping down the sloped walls, right into the steel beams, and Kris's heart nearly fell formlessly out of their body as part of the rickety rails caved and broke, dipping like a crater in the supposedly stable rails, sending the Lunatic right back to the depths it came from.
Combined with the small grouping of pill-like projectiles sent hurtling their way, the danger of the situation increased many times, and Kris sent a silent curse up to the heavens they were advancing to, and sent a question to the other who would stay by their side until then.
Focus. Susie should check the ground ahead. Instruct her to use the Bottle of Accelerants and periodically use her magic to reify the integrity of the rails. Tending, Noelle and Ralsei arrange so that no opposition trepasses proximal. We deduce the optimal speed and assist where possible to do so.
"Ah, shit," Susie commented, raising her scythe. "Looks like it's feeding time at the zoo."
Noelle chimed in. There was a lever just ahead, Kris could see, just slightly off the path from the main rail, and even further ahead, more levers stood, arranged oddly and purposefully, "Maybe those levers, umm, split us up? We could use them to dodge, like in Heck of a Ride, when you have to use the buttons to dodge up and down on your ride into the Coal Caverns. K-Kris, can you hit the lever when we get there?"
A few bullets began soaring closer, just ahead, in an oddly intelligent display of a crossfire from the scattered Lunatics. They were seconds from entering it, seconds from having to duck and dodge, as the Darkners slowly figured out how to lead the shots.
"Got it." Kris replied. "Susie, check ahead for any weak parts using your Rude Buster. Pop the pills, first. Noelle, Ralsei, make sure none of the Lunatics get too close. I'll control the speed, so just be mindful and stay by me.
"Who made you-"
"Understood, Kris!" Ralsei insisted, killing Susie's petty complaint on her tongue.
Kris glanced ahead and kept note of their positions.
Around a few hundred yards ahead, a small group of a dozen Lunatics spilled over the side and stood, unwrapping their arms with howls and summoning projectiles.
Nodding to no one, Kris readied themself, slowly easing the speed upward and pulling along the rails faster, and faster, gaining speed.
Ten seconds until you enter the line of fire.
About twice that until the lever came up. The Lunatics began to, instead of letting loose their barrage, congeal many attacks into a single firestorm.
Kris's hand tightened along their blade, the droves of cloth from their poncho and coat whirling.
Five seconds.
The first Rude Buster soared out from their side, Susie leaning around them. It pummeled into the rails just ahead, the structure not even moaning.
Good, they had some track to go.
Now.
Kris ducked as the arching patterns of pills cascaded like a tidal wave over their group. The heat settled overhead, baking the inside of the minecart for a moment.
The fury of one thousand attacks battered against the side of their cart, denting it in, heating the metal. It held, barely.
As the first barrage subsided, Kris peeked above, giving the situation a quick glance. The lever, close. The next hailstorm of bullets, even closer. Far away, there was a bend in the tracks.
Roars of rage and insanity peeled back the thickest skin Kris had, and jammed something primal inside. In turn, Kris pressed further with the controls; faster means less bullets, less bullets meant less damage, and Kris felt their minecart stutter on the tracks.
Five seconds. Two. Duck.
Kris, once again, flattened themself to the bottom of the box, hand still connected to the lever. They closed their eyes.
The thundering whoosh barreled over their head again, mixed with the rangy whirring of the Darkners.
Their lips tasted salty and greasy, soaked with sweat already, and Kris waited for it to fizzle out.
Ascertain their states.
The gasoline smell somehow strengthened. "How are we doing, guys!?"
A chorus of 'good's and a single 'AHH!' returned to Kris.
"Good." Kris blinked, reaching their Rapier out and over the cart.
The other took hold of their muscles as the lever zoomed closer, using precise timing to whap it with the broadside of the frozen blade.
Almost instantly, the tracks rumbled, splitting over to the left, Noelle and Ralsei sent onto the sister track, each holding the same expressions of confusion.
"Huh- wha'?" Susie commented dumbly.
"Focus." Kris called. The next line was approaching.
Three seconds.
Noelle blinked and began knitting together a spell in their peripherals, Kris glancing over and seeing a Lunatic settling down to leap at the caravan.
It launched straight into her spell, freezing and tumbling back, just as the four had to duck under a barrage.
Kris heard the distinct sound of Noelle grunting in pain, something they had become too used to.
Outlast. Reassess. The distance between the Fountain and you is falling rapidly.
Kris waited for the barrage to end, then peeked their head over the side-
Somehow, you all missed the real threat.
It was like all sound stopped, the Lunatics running in fear, clambering over the walls with panic in their animalistic throating.
Kris wondered for a moment where the thought that they missed the 'real threat' came from, then it all faded away, as the true danger showed itself. Just ahead, far, far away, right before the track would begin the bend toward the Astrowall, an old acquaintance decided to join in for family dinner. Salivating boiling acid, white cloth stained a putrid, vengeful brown, Kris watched in abject terror as a significantly more massive Lobotomy rose against the outline of the city head, easily dwarfing the breadth of the trainyard with large, unclipped wings. The acid flecked from the amputation site, soaking against the purple metal; it stared, too, at them, at their group, and seemed to pierce them like the acid tearing through the structure below. And then, it climbed over the side, one towering wing slamming down like a haircomb of jagged spears into the opposite side of the rails, splitting the bark and metal into pieces.
As it began to hover over the tracks, wings slowly taking it above the world, allowing it to glare down at Kris, it spoke no words. Gone was its voice, as though ripped from it, and instead a bubbling frenzy came from inside, much like the Lunatics themselves, and the Lobotomy simply stood still. Kris understood. It had gone mad, somehow, through the removal of whatever caused the wanderlust, and through the sorrow it felt from its brother's death - her brother's death. But the Lobotomy was more monster than person, now.
And it proved that readily, gagging up globs of acid onto the tracks. Kris instantly hit the brakes, the other augmenting their strength, feeling their terror as much as they did, because the Lobotomy chewed through the railway so fast that there was almost instantaneously a cliff's drop to the floor of the city, merely in seconds.
But the surprise came too quickly, and their cart - along with their friends' carts - rocketed toward the Lobotomy. Before they could even fall, though, one building-sized wing smashed them all mercilessly into dust, blood, and everything in-between.
Kris's last sight was one of horror, the Lobotomy raising its death-bringing appendage, slumping slightly, hues of brown bespectacled with the red shavings of bricks, mouth gaped with bright, oozing acid, and then the lightning-fast descent of the thing's wing toward them, and the subsequent darkness of death.
0-0-0
Kris lurched over in the snow, clutching a hand to their chest.
The file outside the apartment was gone, they realized quickly, distorted by their death, but strangely, no taunting voice radiated in their head.
Further evidence of the Viceroy lacking the authority over the save file. Distance may be a factor.
So, he wasn't the one controlling what was happening?
Plausible. True answers will not be found in an optimal scenario.
Yeah. Unless the Champion would magically show up soon and declare that they had control over the save file, Kris believed the other's idea that the question of control would never be solved.
Continue.
"Are you okay?" Ralsei questioned breathlessly.
"Yes," they lied. It was even easier.
"That's good!" He began to recover from the fatigue of melting the ice, the fatigue that he had back then, or now, they supposed they should say. "I feel better now, Kris. You were right."
He stared up at them.
They gazed out over the burning gardens.
"Kris?" His voice poked at them.
Kris reached up and yanked their sword free from the board they had stuck it in before, standing on two legs that felt shakier than when they died and marched back toward the tunnel.
"We have to get moving, Ralsei." They said, voice firm. "I'm sure you know why."
Ralsei blinked, then nodded in understanding. Followed them so easily, so trustingly, and Kris felt something bitter mix with the pumping fear they had.
Things were still bound to be bad, even if they survived it all.
0-0-0
It was an obligation this time to jump down onto the tracks and survey the area.
They felt the other giving it the standard examination, stretching fabric as far as possible to analyze the terrain.
There are two levers. It will split your group into four.
So, what was the plan, then? If the Lobotomy was gonna continue to mess with them, then what did that mean for Kris and the other?
Ralsei's spells will prove useful.
Maybe, but the Lobotomy was much stronger than the Lunatics already, even before it lost what was left of its mind, so would that even do much?
It is the preeminent scenario with the highest chance of success. Par that, evisceration by self.
Well. They felt glad the other had some semblance of an idea: Kris didn't have the energy to think about how superficial it was. They trusted it to be efficient.
Return. Begin.
So they did, waited for Susie to joyride inside. They were still hurt by her ignoring them, still wilting as Detter left them; they wondered if she would get back in time to help them after all.
This time, Kris wasted no time, gunning the lever and being mindful to relay the previous instructions to their group. Things went as well as before, Kris believed, though they caught a few more projectiles to their cart. Par that, they quickly hit the lever, ducked under the field of attacks, and soon enough, the lonesome Lobotomy faced them again, snarling, spitting acid, enraged. Kris inhaled. Exhaled. Focused and ordered.
"Ralsei," they shouted, steady, knowing what they had to do. Determination flowed like mercury through the cracks. "Dual-heal. Noelle, Ice Shock! Susie-"
"On it," she shouted back, sending her Rude Buster forward, barely scratching the body of the Darkner.
The two others reached for its wings; Ralsei's spell scorched along the brown cloth, burning it, the stench of cinder filling the air. Noelle's ice contrasted it with a salty taste.
The resplendence of three different magics funneling toward the Lobotomy was swirly, beautiful and flowing, and hit the Darkner all the same, unbalancing it for a moment. As it recovered, it continued to attack.
The Lobotomy reared up, wings piercing the heaven, coming down onto the melting rails.
Desperate.
Kris felt their limbs be stolen with red string, looping down from above, hoisting them from their kneeling position and sending them toward the back of the cart.
The other sprung from the back, pirouetting in the air, extending the point of the Rapier.
The vessel soared forward, scoring deep into the open pot of bubbling acid.
Kris struck true, sinking their sword far into the viscera of the Lobotomy, it flinching and jerking, colliding them against the thing's wing, then falling as gravity took hold. It roared, swelled with pained tears. They painted the metal, the tears, and Kris fell just past them down, down, deep down into a chilly void of blackness - where was the city floor, the concrete? Where was the rubble and gray? It was a gaping maw of hell, just like… just like the crater, and the void came all the same.
Slowly, gradually, the unseeable bottom of the void was rushing toward them, ripping a scream from their chest, filled with fury, fear, ferocious determination, and pure will. They heard whispers, then, like the soft wind blowing through the thickets. The tangy wound of death had already began to bleed inside, sending scarlet into their vision, pulsing their ears with horrible burns.
As though responding to their intense, mortal suffering, the god inside fumbled and yanked, hands sliding along the chain. Their body caught the sword, eyed it up toward their neck, rotated their wrist.
Precise.
The other had said.
Clean cut.
It had repeated.
And then the eye of the sword pierced their neck, jamming upward into their skull at an angle.
0-0-0
Red.
Twine.
A constellation and thread.
A beast.
A vessel.
Trees, smooth stone. Despair etched into formless being. Chosen.
Forged.
And Kris was apart from it.
And Kris was flayed from it.
And the other saved them again.
And the light twinkled above, a pattern of stars. The other stared fixedly at the constellation.
The world bled back soon enough.
And they sat, right outside the apartment, a stranger in their own body.
Undeniable success. A method acquired, a death subverted. An experiment… continuable.
Kris was just fucking done with everything.
But their last save slot was still gleaming, eager for more, like it saw through them and their plight, saw past the vessel and to the success of the other, and laughed. Offered the services needed, to help, to harm, to repeat. Wind circled. Dust jumped. The world at attention. And the other turned; plotted, planned. Kris reached out for the star, twinkling in their hand, and cuddled next to it, seeping with warmth and soothing laughter, and thanked the heavens. Something smiled down onto them, something warm, but… there was something else they felt insidious below. Something watching.
Someone watching.
Kris felt so done trying to determine who was trying to pull them, to control them. They would stay with the other if they had to choose.
But the other was still staring up at the stars. What. Did. It. Want?
