Viper hesitated to have their contacts looking into it, as that might just backfire and have the not-yet Arcobaleno follow their trail if they realized anyone poking into them.
Can't be too careful after all, with such titles as 'the greatest seven' (not even considering the things that could change even without effort on their part, it's not as if a memory of an anime was absolute).
So getting into what they're up to was a no go, Viper had to be content by just knowing their area of operations so they could avoid it.
But people with the title 'greatest' probably had a great number of zeroes in their accounts too.
And probably want to know a lot of things.
Viper stilled.
Then shook their head.
No, no.
Money was nice, really, it got you things, and got others to do things, but it wasn't worth courting death. Or millennia old curses.
Viper was hardly in dire need.
They laid out a world map in front of them, a pitcher of hot chocolate on the bedside table as they told themself that this would be the actual last last time for the next few months.
Dragging the blanket off the bed and wrapping themself with it, they bring the armchair by the window to the table via Mist Flames.
After getting settled, Viper took a dip.
It wasn't as easy as posing the question and getting the right answers.
Viper had to be careful with what angle they chose to tackle the matter.
These were essentially memories. Of everything.
The answers were within these memories and the Akashic provide them the exact pieces they wanted.
But Viper had to decide where the memory came from. Or rather, Viper could decide where the memory came from.
They took from the memories of a paved sidewalk and the glance against a pole, a brush between clothes, and the mistletoe above a conversation. The saw through the wood and the fire in the hearth. The rhythm of raps against the door and the tempo of the dance, the tune of a song.
Never the memories of another sentient being.
Not anymore.
Viper, as someone of sentience, would recognise that they were not, in fact, the wind between drapes or the water down the stream. But when the lines were much blurry, keeping their way would be trickier.
Normal people even took their entire lifetimes to discover who they were, would they even be able to find it again once they lost it?
Hence, it was the memories of the halls and rust from the nails, the echo of metal and the thrum of electricity, the flakes of paint from a wall, the creak of the gates, the breathe of a flower, and the squeal of tires.
And it was all nice, but non sentient cannot empathise with sentient, so it was still up to Viper to decipher a sentient's intention.
When they emerged, they hastily gulped down hot chocolate.
A bit flushed as they wiped the corner of their lips, they peered into it, the dark drink swishing inside, only a third left.
It had hardly helped.
Well, it never really helped, not the blankets or the cloaks or the heaters, they could never protect them from something so deep. The cold was inside them.
But it made them feel better.
Viper liked sweets and warmth and the kind of texture only from expensive products and warmth.
Blinking to reorient themself, Viper picked up the pen and began marking.
They had to dig a bit deeper than usual, had to bring up more, and maybe they lost a bit of themself on the way but they got their answers and it wasn't as if they really ever could tell what they even lost.
Viper got their answers.
... Aaaaand, this would be one of the first things they should fix about themselves.
Don't get them wrong, they feared diving into it, feared to lose pieces of themself, but at the same time, they had to admit they had become dependant on it.
They had known it for too long, and it was just too useful.
But that was no excuse and Viper sighed to themself.
What kept a person sane? According to a book they had cracked open once in Mafia Land while waiting to get a cavity dealt with:
Taking breaks from work and stressful news. That was easy, especially since there was no social media right now to blast people with issues from everywhere around the world.
Taking care of yourself and creating good memories, doing fun things. Viper already did that, they never stop themself from enjoying the finer things, food they liked to eat and places they wanted to see. Every down time they could afford they used to spoil themself, watching operas, attending festivals (all in their civilian persona, of course).
Incorporating positivity into their life.
... What kind of positivity, exactly? Did internal snarky humor count?
Relationships. Good, healthy relationships.
... Viper had kept relationships limited to passing conversations with strangers they'd never see again (while the ones they get in regular contact with were kept at arms length). Just because they had no friends didn't mean they weren't friendly. But Viper supposed that didn't count.
They needed friends.
Viper frowned out the window.
Or maybe not.
They would just get a dog.
Yeah, they'd do that.
And engage in other therapeutic activities to inject positivity.
Or something.
"Huh, I'm actually not that bad, am I?" Viper mused, wiggling under the comforters with a sense of satisfaction.
If this was all, they're not in as bad a state as they'd worried.
Yeah. Come to think of it, they hadn't had a mental breakdown in almost a year now.
They were actually doing pretty good, weren't they? Not the best, but at least better than the mafia standard.
XxXxXx
The day after, Viper spread strawberry jam on the loaf.
A good breakfast was the key to a good day, they mentally cheered.
(Was this the right sort of positivity? Or were they just being cringey? Whatever, there were no telepaths around anyway.)
Viper got dressed, opting for something nice and pretty at the last second when they almost fell back on a lacklustre attempt -i.e grabbing the first thing on the very top of the suitcase. They even pushed their hair out of their face with a cute bandanna they didn't know they even owned.
Step by step. Every little thing mattered.
Most of their clothes, save for two to four sets of tops and pants, were dresses. A lot of black, and similar cuts. If they ever needed formal clothes, they preferred to buy and then sell it after.
Viper waved a hand and all the floating pieces of clothing folded theirselves and returned into the suitcase as they put on a coat.
They looked down and caught sight of the map peeking out from under their purse, their thoughts wandering.
Now that they thought about it, they really couldn't like Delta.
They were such a big name, with such a complete domination over the field of science, Viper's information about future appliances brands were made moot. And with Lal and Conrad in the military, would any war and fights ever even go the way like their previous world's?
Doubtful.
Viper clicked their tongue.
What a kill joy. They were initially planning to invest in so much and if worst came to worse, they'd have insurance if they'd have to spend decades as a baby.
Heck, t.v were a thing here, Delta brand and were therefore nothing lame like what 'should be'. They weren't flat screens, and nothing too complicated, but they were compact and useable and very much slowly becoming a thing going around. One in every four houses already had it.
It was just a by product of spreading Hitler's propaganda, they knew that, but Skull de Mort had at least a slot reserved for his shows in some countries in Europe and even over the Americas. Not yet world renowned, but it didn't take a genius to know that he'd get there.
He'd be this decade's star, taking over the entertainment industry, pressed into history books even. Maybe. Probably.
Pouting, Viper noted it down as another industry they wouldn't be able to milk.
They folded the map into the purse, and lifted the suitcase behind them under a cloak of invisibility as they checked out.
They needed to have their things with them at all times in case they had to run. After they had turned ten, they never had to, had become too good at their shtick already for anyone to even hope to track them without their knowing, much less catch up, but it was always better safe than sorry.
It was curious though.
Since there were preceding generations of 'seven strongest' that summarily came to become Arcobaleno eventually, and yet for some reason, the rest of history save for the last few decades had been the same (the title greatest, implied great influence so it couldn't just be some small consequences brushed off under others).
Why were this generation changing history but not the previous ones?
Well, not Viper's business.
They weren't doing such things.
Maybe this generation were just more prone to showing off, and their predecessors had opted for the shadows.
(But every. single. one of them?
That sounded unlikely.)