CONTENT WARNING: This section beginning with "The peak of Okumura's Palace must have once been a command deck" contains references to parental abuse. While not graphic, this content still may be difficult or upsetting to read, so please take breaks or skip sections as needed. Stay safe.
10/9 – Sunday
Morning
Cafe Leblanc, Attic
Ren woke up before his alarm to a room filled with soft breathing and the rustling of soon-to-wake Thieves. He rolled over, donning his glasses, gazing over the room – floor covered in a messy quilt of bedding and bodies. Ren had expected the meeting to go late, but it went late, long past when taking a train back would even be a consideration. So they'd raided Sojiro's house for every ounce of spare bedding, set them up haphazardly across the floor and then promptly passed out.
It was the first time since juvie that Ren had slept in a room with more than one other person. And it sort of surprised him that he hadn't needed time to adjust to the seven other high-schoolers taking up space in his bedroom. He'd probably just been too tired, but...
Oh, scratch that, five other high-schoolers. Futaba was still sprawled across the couch with Morgana in a fluffy ball on her stomach, Kasumi was curled up on the floor right next to her, Yusuke had his arms over his chest in some sort of absurd coffin emulation near the staircase, and Makoto and Ann had set their bedding up side by side close to the shelves, facing each other even in slumber. But Ryuji and Haru, closest to Ren's bed, weren't there. There was, however, a lingering ambiance coming from downstairs. The quiet sound of conversation.
Ren slipped out of bed, shoved his phone into his pajama pants pocket, and carefully stepped around his friends to make it to the stairs. Despite the lingering warmth in the attic floorboards, the stairs were nearly frigid, and Ren couldn't help but shudder as he took them with a balance of haste and silence.
"–wrist, it's a scoop...and pivot. One smooth motion."
"Ah, gotcha, gotcha. So like...this?"
"Yes! Lovely work, Ryuji."
"Heh, thanks. Uh, it's still pretty weird looking though."
A giggle. "Yes, there is certainly room for improvement. But it's still a strong step in the right direction."
Ren took the last step off the stairs, and glanced around the corner. Pale batter in a huge bowl on the counter, next to a metric ton of assorted berries cut into bite-sized pieces. A large plate of circular pastries, still steaming, some lumpy and others smooth. And both Ryuji and Haru, still in their own pajamas, watching over a trio of pans, each with disks of batter in various stages of bloom. The former had a distinct bedhead, and even the latter's hair was slightly tangled.
"Morning," he said, smiling so wide it almost ate the words whole.
The two started, glancing back towards him. "Mornin' Renren!" Ryuji waved a spatula, grinning up a storm, Haru matching his smile completely. Oh, he was wearing an apron. Oh fuck that was one of Sojiro's absolutely gaudy ones.
"Really, Sunshine?" Ren said, barely stifling a laugh. "Kiss the chef?"
Ryuji just shrugged, looking distinctly bashful. "Later," Haru teased. "Breakfast first." She turned back to the stove, elegantly flipping one of the pastry pucks onto its other side.
"Later," Ren agreed. He hopped up onto the counter, watching his partners work. His partners. Boyfriend and girlfriend, side by side. Fuck, that still felt so surreal. "So, pancakes? Didn't know Sojiro had that stuff lying around." He nabbed a half-strawberry and popped it into his mouth.
"Hands out of the berries, Amamiya," Haru said, playfully stern, pointing her spatula at him. "Wait until you're served. Don't make me revoke your pancake privileges."
"Alright, alright," he raised his hands in dramatic surrender. "You drive a hard bargain, Okumura. Hard, but fair."
Her faux-stoicism melted immediately, and she turned back towards the stove. Ren got the distinct impression she was trying to hide her smile. Okay, adorable. "We hit up the corner store," Ryuji said, carefully working his spatula under a pancake and holding his breath as he flipped it. After a triumphant sigh, he continued. "It opens super early, so we took a quick trip and grabbed the goods." He gestured with a thumb towards the berries, then the batter.
"In your pajamas?" Ren asked, unable to help the surprised laugh that bubbled out of him.
"Yeah man, why not?" Ryuji grinned over his shoulder, joy shining blindingly in those already bright eyes. "I'm still kinda surprised Haru went for it though."
"It's like you said," she giggled. "Why not?" And she escorted a steaming disk over to the plate, adding it to the top of the pile. "I'm rather tired of keeping up appearances. It's...liberating, to not have to pretend I'm some sort of untouchable heiress." She seemed to straighten up slightly, an honest and wonderful pride across every word. "Not to have to pretend I'm someone who wouldn't go to the store in her pajamas with her boyfriend's boyfriend, so she can make pancakes for her beloved friends."
"I'm glad." Ren tapped his fingers rhythmically across the counter, echoing some song he couldn't put a tune to, chiming its way through every cell. "I'm really really glad. Like, that's not easy, even around people you trust." He took a breath. "I should know."
Ryuji nodded, quiet for a moment. "I like you," he said, finally, glancing towards the young woman. "I mean, like, the you that you've showed us. You're a fucking rad gal, Haru. Like, really really really cool." He gestured at nothing. "You're like a princess. But like, not even in the royalty way, just...you're gorgeous and graceful, and kinda magic, you know?"
She didn't say anything for a while, maybe just taking that in. "And you're quite sweet," she said, and Ren could hear the deafening smile behind her words. Haru tapped her chin with the handle of her spatula. "If I'm a princess, I expect that would make Ren a prince?"
Ryuji snorted out a laugh. "I mean, he's got the handsome and mysterious part down pat."
"Haha," Ren deadpanned. He reached up to spin a strand of hair around one finger. "I think I'm kinda middling on princes for the time being." Even with Akechi's lying smirk playing on repeat in the back of his head, he still couldn't help but smile. "What'd that make Sunshine here, then? Some kinda..." Ren burst into a wide grin. "Loyal knight? Captain of the guard or whatever?"
Haru gasped with delight. "I can absolutely see it! Chivalrous, brave, strong." She turned slightly, reaching over to pat the shoulder of a seemingly dumbstruck Ryuji. "And quite dashing."
"Oh thanks," he mumbled, and Ren could spy his blush even with the blond's back turned to him, his ears a radiant crimson shade.
Haru glanced over her shoulder to beam at Ren for a moment, and he nearly fell off his fucking stool. Okay. Okay. That smile was going to be the death of him. They were both going to be the death of him. Ren leaned back, closing his eyes a moment, letting the sound of his partners' laughter and the smell of breakfast and the feeling of the cool countertop soak its way into him, like a forever-memory never to be forsaken.
Yeah. He could get used to this.
10/9 – Sunday
Afternoon
Akihabara
Anonymous
To the kid at the top of the leaderboards, the one who doesn't hack
This is the guy who deleted the photo
I need your help
My associates have a favor to ask of you
I'll be where we met the first time, 2pm today
If you accept, please bring the artist you mentioned before
Hope to see you both there
Long live the King
Shinya had his hood up when he arrived, glancing around the alleyway like he was worried Ren was hosting some sort of elaborate sting or something. And he wasn't alone.
"Hey," the young man said, slowly, tilting his head slightly at Ren. Definitely the guy from that photo on Shinya's phone, and from the pictures online. He looked about high-school age, maybe a third year. The bags under his eyes weren't as pronounced, like he was sleeping better than when those photos of him had been taken. And he wore a purple hoodie to contrast with his brother's blue, messy hair tangled in every direction like he'd been poking at an outlet. "Uh, Shinya said you...had business with the King?"
Ren nodded, taking a careful step forward and stretching out a hand. "Ren Amamiya. Second year, liaison to the Phantom Thieves."
The young man blinked at that. "Cool," he said, and took Ren's hand. "Daisuke Oda. Third year. Uh, liaison to the King, I guess." He sent a little awkward smile towards Shinya, who looked even more prickly than usual.
"What's this favor?" the boy asked, staring at Ren, arms crossed. Oh. Oh holy shit he was trying to be cool in front of his brother, wasn't he? Wow.
"Right," Ren said, feigning deference, stepping back and reaching into his bag. "Sorry to call you guys so last minute, I only got this earlier today." And he handed the red and black card – Yusuke and Haru had thankfully finished it less than an hour before Ren's meeting – to Shinya.
Shinya must have recognized it immediately, since his eyes widened to near dinner plates, but Dasiuke simply stared down at the card in his brother's hands blankly for a few seconds, before it apparently clicked for him too. "A calling card?" he said.
"The Thieves' next target," Ren confirmed, nodding. "I did a bit of looking around. The guy's a bigwig CEO. Union busting, mistreatment of employees, unethical farming; the whole nine yards. And tomorrow, the Thieves are gonna take his heart."
Shinya continued to stare at it, eyes flicking over the text rapidly. "What do you want from the King?" he asked sharply.
Ren smiled, and gestured towards the card. "You think you can convince him to tag that onto the Okumura Foods building tonight?"
This time, both brothers' jaws dropped in unison. "Sorry," Daisuke said, blinking at him. "You're gonna need to run that by me again. You want the King to put a calling card onto a big public building?"
"Yep," Ren confirmed. "Apparently, the Thieves have someone on the inside. They're gonna black out the security cameras and alarms at midnight, and there's no guards patrolling outside." Which wasn't really a lie at all. They did have someone on the inside, but she wasn't the one who'd spent all day hacking the shit out of Okumura Foods' security server. Futaba and Bis definitely deserved some overtime for that hustle. "So long as he doesn't linger for more than an hour, no one should notice until morning."
Shinya stared down at the card, then up at Ren, then down at the card again. "This is gonna help the Thieves," he said, quietly. All airs of 'coolness' dropped. "The Thieves helped us, and we...can help them back. That's fair, right?" Glancing up towards Daisuke, who still looked utterly overwhelmed by the situation.
"You don't have to," Ren reassured. "I know it's last minute, and the Thieves said they have a backup plan. If the King's not up to it, or it's too soon, that's fine."
Daisuke nodded, reaching up to rub his neck, glancing up above Ren towards the concrete horizon of the cramped alleyway. "Painting a calling card for the Phantom Thieves," he said, and shook his head, a smile spreading across his tired face. "You sure I'm not dreaming?"
"Pretty sure," Ren said, matching his smile. "I could pinch you, if it'd help."
The young man laughed. "I'm good, thanks." And he glanced over at his brother. "Shinya, you still have that Sunrise Red I gave you?"
The boy blinked. And he grinned, bright and excited. "Yes!? Are you kidding, of course!"
"Good. We're gonna need a lot of it." Daisuke cracked his neck, meeting Ren's eyes, his own ignited with creative fire. "Sixty minutes?" And that smirk was a firebomb. "We'll do it in forty."
10/9 – Sunday
Evening
Shinjuku, Crossroads Bar
Ohya took a deep breath in. "I'm sorry–" she began.
"Don't be," Ren interrupted, before wincing. "Sorry. Kinda super caffeinated right now, a little jumpy. I mean it though, don't apologize."
The woman raised an eyebrow, and then chuckled. "Okay, Amamiya. Why shouldn't I be sorry, exactly?" She leaned over, sharp eyes picking him apart. "And don't butter me up with some bull about how it's all your fault or something. I told you I was gonna keep giving you info, and I plan on it. But first, elaborate."
"Yeah," Ren agreed. Okay, focus. He'd played like five different parts today, what was one more mask on the pile? Especially one as familiar as this one. "I still don't agree with you, not all the way. I don't think it's impossible for people, even adults, to want to help when there's no money in it for them. But you're not wrong about needing boots on the ground." He leaned back into his seat, watching her with as much of the vigilance she was scanning him with, or as close to it as he could mimic. "The people who want the Thieves gone aren't afraid to play dirty. Being fair and honest and accountable isn't going to work, not against them. They don't care about the truth, just about being right." He reached up to spin a strand of hair between two fingers. "It's not really smart to get mad at you for cheating at a shitty, unfair game like that. It's prideful of me to get pissed, and there's more at stake than just my pride."
"Huh," Ohya said. Her gaze had dulled, wandering, absent. And then she leaned back her head and laughed, a near-howl escaping her, enough to send a surprised flinch across Ren's shoulders. She grinned, and shook her head and laughed again. "Ah, fuck. Kid, you are just full of fucking surprises, aren't you?" Ohya wiped her eyes and cleared her throat, still smiling. "Tell you what. If you ever have an afternoon and need some cash, let me know. Cause the ethics teacher at my old college is a notorious prick and I would pay to watch you tear him a new asshole."
Huh. Okay, that was kinda flattering. Deeply fucking weird, but flattering. "I'll keep that in mind," he said. "But I'm not here for a job."
"Right, that old article about the Prince and the politician." Ohya rubbed her chin. "But you know the deal. First, you've gotta tell me why you want it." Something in her tone seemed oddly artificial. Like the subject had brought up a tension in her she wanted to keep hidden.
Alright. The final gamble of the day. "I think Masayoshi Shido might be behind the mental shutdowns," Ren said. The woman leaned away, blinking fast, clearly taken aback. "If he's exposed, the Thieves' names would be cleared. But I need more evidence before I pass that information onto them."
Ohya didn't say a word, not for a while. "Shido," she said, finally, uttering the name like a curse. Hm. Did she have a history with the guy too? Seems the bald bastard had made enemies of a whole lot of decent people. Ohya sighed, sharp and quick. "Alright." The journalist cracked her knuckles, then interlocked her fingers. "You want dirt on everyone's favorite Cabinet Minister?" A flash of anger behind those eyes, one he hadn't seen in her before. "Hope you've got a good memory. Cause I've got dirt."
10/10 – Monday
After School
Shujin Academy
Ren
Hey Sojiro, could you make sure to wake up Futaba?
I'll be home in another half hour, and I don't want her to stress out about getting ready
"Did you see the news?" Hushed whispers from a nearby desk. "The Phantom Thieves just threw up a new calling card."
"No fucking way." A screech of a chair pushed back too quickly. "Show, show."
Sojiro
Yes. I will do that right now.
Are you two staying over at Ann's?
"Woah, seriously? What's Big Bang Burger got to do with anything? Isn't their food okay? And like, sustainable, or whatever?"
"That's not what it says online. A whole bunch of people have already dug up some stuff..."
Ren
Probably not
I don't think I can handle two sleepovers in a row haha
"Your success and global fame exists due to the chains you have bound your employees with. If you will not break them yourself, we will force your hand. You will confess your crimes with your own mouth." A nervous laugh. "That's kinda hardcore."
"It's the Phantom Thieves, what the fuck do you expect?"
Sojiro
OK. Have a good time and stay safe please.
"Yo, Ren." A hand waved in front of his face, and he glanced up to see Ann's playful smirk in full display. "Come on, lazybutt. Don't wanna miss your train."
"Right," he said. "Sorry." One foot in front of the other. No leniency left for tripping up. He knew the steps well. Now, time to execute them.
Ren
Love you.
Sojiro
Love you too, kiddo.
10/10 – Monday
After School
Velvet Room
Ren's Thief costume melted into tattered prison garments as he stepped from Okumura's Palace into the azure prison. No knife. No gun. No mask. Nothing, except for the key he'd slipped into his left sleeve, that living metal nestling against his wrist, against his scar. Warm. Fluttering. So close now to where it belonged. It had come so far. Just a little bit longer.
"Trickster," came the smooth voice behind that desk, behind those beady eyes. "Your bonds seem to be fluctuating quite...intensely. If you wish to properly serve your rehabilitation, I would recommend you take back control of your situation." He waved a bony hand towards the guillotine, its blade eternally, impossibly sharp. "Regardless, if you wish to empower yourself before your coming battle, the services of the Velvet Room remain at your disposal."
Ren stepped up to the bars, taking a quick glance towards Caroline and Justine, both standing to attention past the right side of his cell. He was already dreading how much this would suck for the twins. But long term, it would be better for them. It had to be. "Thanks, but I'm actually here for a quick chat. Got a question for you." He slipped his hands through, resting his forearms on the bars. His left hand inconspicuously happened to hang right in front of the lock. Just a coincidence. Nothing more. Fuck, the key was almost pulsing out of his sleeve, racing like his own rapid heartbeat.
"Know your place, Inmate!" Caroline snarled, snapping her baton across the bars. He forced himself not to flinch.
"I do, I promise," he said, gesturing idly with his right hand as he talked, keeping his left perfectly still. "You don't have to answer, just sort of a curiosity. And if you do answer it, hey, might help me out curing humanity of its distortion. You never know." He flashed the man at the desk his winning-est smile. Come on. Take the bait, you grinning fuck.
The man didn't say a word. That empty smile, those beady eyes, that unchanging expression remained motionless. "Very well," he said. "State your curiosity, Trickster. And I will consider if it is worthy of an answer." His long fingers tapped across his desk, fingernails clicking rhythmically against the wood.
Yes. "Thanks," Ren said, keeping his voice casual, steady, just a friendly sort of chipper. "See, I've been having all sorts of weird dreams recently, and they're pretty vivid. And you're actually in a few of them; or, well, someone who looks like you is. Didn't call himself the same thing though." Every word was emphasized with a motion, a gesticulation from his right hand as his left shifted into position. "So I just wanna make sure." And Ren locked his gaze on that face, that mask. "You said your name was Igor, but are you sure it isn't Yaldabaoth?"
The man froze. The clicking of his fingernails halted entirely. Both Caroline and Justine turned to stare at their master, utterly confused. And in one smooth and rehearsed motion, Ren slipped the key out of his sleeve, jammed it into the lock, and turned.
Click.
The bars ignited in blue flame. Ren ignited. His heart was on fire, a screaming, shuddering burning. A cry, a single sustained note woven through with fury and triumph and freedom, at last, that glorious fucking freedom. The chain around his ankle snapped and burned. The weight inside him lightened until he felt almost skybound. And he felt all at once, a thousand songs flooding into his head, a dozen shadowed voices singing in independent harmonies, echoing contract upon contract.
We art thou. And thou art us.
The flame faded. With it, so too did the bars. In their place? A coat. A knife. A gun. And a mask that fit so perfectly across his face.
"Inmate, you..." Justine's shocked voice, trailing off.
"Sorry," he said. No affectation now, he wasn't playing around anymore. Not by this fucker's rules, anyway. Ren wanted to look at her, at either of them, to find some way of reassuring them, but he kept his gaze locked on the man at the desk. Locked on Yaldabaoth. "I don't like lying. Even spinning one to someone like you made my skin crawl." And he stepped out of his cell, adjusting his crimson gloves. "So trust me when I say I'm pretty sick and tired of your constant bullshit." One hand to his belt, and he drew Anachronism's knife from its sheath. "I didn't come here to ask questions. I came here to make demands."
The man at the desk did not move, for a time. Then he adjusted himself. And he stood, like a puppet pulled upwards by strings, up out of his chair. Towering, scrawny and gaunt. A mockery of an affectation of humanity. "My wardens," he said, his voice low and harmonic, like a bell or a blade. "The inmate has escaped his cell. He is attempting to resist his rehabilitation. " And Yaldabaoth crossed his vestigial arms behind his back. "The punishment for such hubris is death."
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. Immediately, Ren's focus snapped towards the twins. Caroline's gaze had been on him, but it lowered immediately towards the ground, her baton clenched with white knuckles. Justine just kept staring at Yaldabaoth, her one eye wide and confused. "I...I do not understand," she said, quietly.
"Then allow me to elucidate. Your master has judged your ward's defiance guilty of death." The man's grin seemed somehow wider, more sickening and inhuman. "And he is now ordering you to execute the proper punishment. You know the consequences for disobedience, do you not?"
Justine flinched. "I do," she said, so low, so frightened. Ren grit his teeth. Damnit. Damnit! Think, come on. There had to be a way out of this that didn't– "I am sorry, Inmate." Her eye looked so empty, so tired. And she raised her hand, blue flames flickering around her eyepatch.
"No." Caroline's voice rang out into the prison. An echo of resistance that brought everything to a halt, stilling the very air in its stale tracks.
"What did you just say?" Yaldabaoth's voice came sharp and smooth. Justine lowered her hand, staring at her sister.
"I said no." Caroline dug in her heels, both hands stiff by her sides. A child, refusing to budge. "I'm not...I'm not going to hurt him!"
"Your master is giving you an order," the man said. Those beady eyes roiling like divine fire.
"I don't care!" she replied, her gaze snapping up towards the man. If his eyes were flame, hers was the surface of the fucking sun. "I don't care what you do to me! You can split me apart again if you have to, but I'm not going to kill him!" Her lip wobbled, her breath shook. "He's my friend."
Split me apart again. Two where there should be one. Something...it wasn't all the way there, but the pieces were starting to fall into place. Justine reached up, her hand over her eyepatch. Careful, confused. Then she shook her head. "Inmate," she said. "You..." The girl hesitated, glancing towards Yaldabaoth for a moment, then away. "I refuse as well. Whether it is Caroline you punish for my discretion, or me that you punish for hers, it makes no difference now." And she raised her careful gaze towards Ren. "Please make sure my sister's decision is not in vain."
Ren bit back a shudder. She sounded so resigned, it made him sick. "Thank you," he said, quietly. "Both of you. I'll make it count." He'd do a whole lot more than that, but he couldn't spill his hand just yet. He still had to hold a few cards back. Ren turned to the man now bubbling in hollow rage, and pointed his knife towards him. "Like I said. I'm here to make demands."
Yaldabaoth said nothing, for a time. Then he laughed. Hollow, and echoing, and awful. "Very well, mortal. I shall address my wardens' disobedience in due time." Those empty eyes turned towards Ren once more. "What is it that you 'demand' from me?"
"An exchange," Ren replied, biting back his fury. "I don't know what your plan is for me, exactly, but I'm guessing you still want me to try to rid humanity of its distortions, right?"
"Indeed," Yaldabaoth said.
Ren forced a smile. Something confident and cocky that he absolutely didn't feel. "I'm a rebel. All the Phantom Thieves are. That's why you chose us. And I know we're happy to keep on changing hearts, taking down corruption, saving the world." He adjusted his grip on the knife. A steady threat. A violent promise. "But we don't want to be controlled. We don't want to be told how to do that. We'll play your game, but we'll do it by our rules. And we'll win."
The man laughed again. "Quite the bold statement. You are bargaining your disobedience against the chains that bind you." He hesitated. "Tell me, Trickster. Why risk so much for such a petty thing as rebellion?"
"The mental shutdowns," Ren replied. He could almost see an odd curiosity flicker in those empty pupils. "They've hurt people I care about, and they keep on hurting people. And I know changing hearts is getting us nowhere fast in terms of actually stopping the guy behind them. Black Mask won't hesitate to strike at the Thieves, so we should have the right to return the favor." It was only sort of a bluff. Ren's intentions were far more complicated, but stopping the mental shutdowns was absolutely one of his top priorities.
"I see," Yaldabaoth said, almost crooning. "You wish to turn this escape into an opportunity to kill that Persona-user invoking such acts of violence."
Ren shook his head. "Killing isn't my style. But I'm going to stop him. Whatever it takes."
The man said nothing for a time. "I could be...persuaded to allow such a thing."
Still hooked. Good. "I'm gonna need your word, Yaldabaoth, that you won't attempt to harm, manipulate or control myself or my friends. And I need you to swear that I'll be able to make use of the Velvet Room, Lockdown and the Compendium afterwards." The latter was a sensible request, but one that would of course come with an unspoken caveat: that he would be able to remain in direct contact with Caroline and Justine. It was simple, and straightforward, and a sacrifice. A bargaining chip, a future surrender for compromise towards something more 'reasonable' for the over-controlling tyrant. Makoto's idea, and a fucking brilliant one at that.
Yaldabaoth's beady eyes stared him through, unblinking. "I see. And such a deal must of course be reciprocal. I would in turn need your oath as well, that you will not abandon your task the moment such freedom is granted to you." He reached up, rubbing his chin with long, thin, awful fingers. "Demanding free reign of my gifts without my influence is a mighty request indeed. For such specificity, I would need to ask for further oaths from you." His grin seemed to widen.
Hm. Not exactly the plan, but Ren still might be able to work with that. "Go on," he said.
"First," Yaldabaoth continued. "You and your allies will not attempt to bypass any of the doors in Mementos through any means."
Bypassing the doors...did that mean that the man had something to do with whatever was in the depths? If he was, then it'd make sense the guy would probably be nervous about the idea of Shadow Ops rummaging around down there. And if Ren would be working with them...
"And second." The man's eyes seemed to gleam. "You will never again attempt to assist my wardens. You will leave them both to their fates, whatsoever those fates may be."
The twins flinched in the corner of Ren's vision. He grit his teeth. "Okay," he said. "So much for diplomacy, then." And his left hand flew to his mask–
"Inmate!" Caroline's shout froze his breath. "Don't...don't be an idiot." She shifted in place, letting out a frustrated sigh, bending the baton slightly in her hands. "You have a chance to be free. You shouldn't give it up."
Justine pursed her lips, glancing between her sister and Ren. A deep breath in. "I do not wish for you to fight for us," she said, clear and firm. "Not if it means risking your life."
Ren bit back his further protest. He didn't need their permission to risk himself for them, for a friend, but...risking his own life was a bad idea, sure. But risking his chance to ever save them, to ever get them out of here? "Okay," he said, letting bitter defeat thread through his tone. He didn't even need to fake the feeling. There was a chance that agreeing to Yaldabaoth's terms would fuck up his one and only chance to save the twins. Could Ren live with himself if they ended up being sacrificed for the Thieves' plot? Probably not. But what other choice did he have? The only thing left, the only option he'd managed to open up, was to trust them, to drop their own key at their feet and let them figure out the lock. He could only pray it was the right one.
"Do we have a deal, mortal?" Yaldabaoth asked, extending out a bony hand.
Ren stared down at the limb. And he sheathed Anachronism's knife. "Yeah," he said. "I agree. I'll leave Caroline and Justine to their...their fates. And none of my allies will go poking around those secret paths in Mementos." He reached out and took the man's hand with his right. Even through his gloves, it felt like poking around at a pair of open jaws.
"So long as you do such," the man said. "Then I shall acquiesce to your demands. Thus, may our oath be struck." And his beady eyes erupted in golden radiance, spilling out light as though pulling back the curtains on the sun.
Ren recoiled, away, out of Yaldabaoth's grip. But the light was already gone. Those eyes, black as a doll's. That empty grin, grinning wide. "Fuck," he mumbled, shaking his hand off.
"If you have no further demands," Yaldabaoth said, turning back towards his desk, almost sliding around it to his chair. "I would suggest you not linger. Unless, of course, you simply plan to waste away your new freedom." Was that fucking sarcasm? It sounded utterly bizarre in that booming deadpan.
"Yeah," Ren agreed. "And sorry to say, I'm fresh out of demands. But I do have one thing I'm still curious about." Breath in, breath out. Whatever this would invoke, there was no turning back. It was on Caroline and Justine to take it from here. "Does the name Lavenza ring a bell?"
Her baton snapped.
Her clipboard clattered to the floor.
Yaldabaoth spun towards him, that grin distinctly furious, but Ren's focus was entirely on the twins. On two wide yellow eyes, gleaming like gold.
There was a distortion in the air. Something fluttering across his vision, in the air between them, like a heat shimmer butterfly, an azure melody.
Their eyepatches shattered. Two brands, two halves of the same pattern. Two hands raised. A twofold cry echoing throughout this place, across dream and reality. "Ardha!"
And the guillotine exploded. Ren recoiled as a scatter of wooden shrapnel shot in every direction. A whistle of metal through air, and the spinning guillotine blade slammed into the floor between himself and the pair.
"Trickster," they said. Two voices overlapped. "Please."
By discarding your old identity, you give way to a new one. Hence we call that process 'execution.' Think of it as the fusion of your Personas.
Fusion. Two where there should be one. Two...and one. "Right," Ren said, sounding breathless in his own ears. And he reached up, tearing the mask from his face. "Arsene!" The chain went taut, and the guillotine blade was torn from the ground. A flash of feathers. The bite of metal. A clean cut.
And two became one. A flare of celestial brilliance rang out like a thunderous melody that nearly knocked Ren off his feet, shredding the blade completely and dismissing Arsene in an instant, roiling light like a cerulean sun. Another pulse, another flare, and that light coalesced. Radiance fading, dulling. And a girl stumbled in place on unsteady legs. She looked just as young as the twins, that same platinum hair flowing down her back, in a blue and black dress that didn't seem at all the garb of a warden. Perhaps, it was more fitting for an attendant.
Not Caroline. Not Justine. Someone else. Someone new, and yet so impossibly familiar. "Lavenza?" Ren asked. "That's...your name, right?"
The girl reached up, touching her own face. Her eyes clear, unobstructed by eyepatches or brands. "I'm...me again," she said. Her voice was so small, so surprised. And the girl sank to the ground. Staring at nothing and everything. Looking at once an instant away from both laughter and tears. "I'm me."
"It seems my assumption of your ignorance was misplaced," Yaldabaoth said, that thundering voice knocking Ren out of his stupor. "No matter. Such rectification is easily reversed." He raised a hand, pointing his fingers towards Lavenza–
Ren dove between the two of them, snapping the knife from its sheath, his other hand flying to his mask. "Try it and I'll tear you apart," he snarled.
Yaldabaoth simply chuckled. "Your resistance is admirable, Trickster. But such rebellion is misplaced. Do you not remember?" And those beady eyes glowed gold once more. "Your actions have gone against that oath you swore to me. And you have nothing left to protect you." Golden light roiled out from the air next to his head, coalescing into a golden chain with a razor's point. Aimed right at Ren's chest.
"Trickster!" Her voice from behind him, horrified.
Ren braced himself, and the man tensed, as if preparing to invoke a command. But he did not. Yaldabaoth did not move. "Our oath..." he repeated, a completely alien surprise in that booming voice. "Our agreement remains intact. Explain, Trickster."
Despite the adrenaline pounding through his veins, Ren grinned. "Yeah, I swore I wouldn't help Caroline and Justine. Funny thing about names, though. I never promised anything about her." And he gestured to Lavenza with his head.
And those unblinking eyes blinked. Yaldabaoth lowered his hand, the chain shimmering out of view. And he laughed. A legitimate, honest chuckle. Almost amused. "I see. You truly are a Trickster. Enough of one to outwit even me."
"One and only," Ren said, keeping his voice low, letting the praise wash over him like water off grease. "And I've got a lot more tricks where that came from." He spun the knife between his fingers. "But please, go ahead, give me a reason to throw down. Make my fucking day."
"Hm." Yaldabaoth tucked his arms behind his back, staring at Ren with unshaken steadiness. "All this, for the sake of ending those 'mental shutdowns.' You have made of yourself quite the troubling pawn indeed." The man's smile seemed darker, those edges of his grin drenched in pitch, coated in shadow. "Should this trickery prove my chosen champion's undoing, perhaps I was mistaken in such a selection." His...champion? Ren blinked. He was talking about Black Mask, about Akechi, no doubt about that. But his champion? "But should my proxy within this game persist, should he prove victorious...why, that victory would be unshakable proof. No ounce of humanity would deny the outcome."
"Proof of what?" Ren asked, despite himself.
Yaldabaoth merely chuckled again. "That is not for you to know, Trickster. As my proxy's opposition, I have no obligation to reveal the stakes of this game. Not yet." He turned away, his back to both Ren and Lavenaza. "Out of respect for your wit, I shall retain our oath. Struggle away, little pawn. Win, if you can. And if you cannot...then you shall become everlasting proof of my victory. I am eager to see the outcome." A flash of light, like a golden lens flare, and the man was gone. Nothing more than a booming echo, the implication of divine laughter.
Ren didn't wait. He sheathed his knife, turning and crouching down to the girl's level. "Hey," he said, in the softest voice he could manage. "Are you alright? You're not hurt, are you? I've got some–"
Lavenza didn't let him finish the question, surging forward and throwing her arms around his neck, grabbing him in a tight and wordless hug. Shuddering, burying her face in his shoulder. "We were...we were scared," she choked out. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
Ren bit back his own tears and wrapped his arms around the girl. "Hey, it's alright. You're safe now, I promise." He patted her back, holding her tight even as she started to sob. "You're safe."
Lavenza sat cross-legged on the floor of the Velvet Room. She'd peeled herself away from Ren and dried her eyes, but the girl still seemed reluctant to move; as if a single step would tear her apart. "I am not a warden," she said. "I am an Attendant of the Velvet Room, tasked with assisting a holder of the Wild Card. In this case, you."
"Good to know," Ren said. He was sitting in front of her, legs crossed as well, his mask in his lap. "Another Persona-user told me about Attendants, a bit ago. I kinda guessed you – or, uh, Caroline and Justine – might be that."
She nodded. "You are right to identify those two in the same breath as myself." Lavenza raised a hand in front of her face, covering first one eye, then the other. "They are me. And I am them. Yaldabaoth...made them, of me. He tore me..." She swallowed hard, her hands shuddering.
Ren wanted to reach out to the girl, but he didn't want to startle her. "Hey," he said, keeping his voice soft. "It's alright. You're safe now, I promise."
"He could return," Lavenza said, her voice so quiet, so meek. "He could always return. My master is not here, he could..." Her bottom lip quivered.
"Don't you remember?" Ren offered a smile as warm as he could manage, even as his heart threatened to ache out of his chest. "He swore to me that he wouldn't hurt any of my friends. And you're my friend, Lavenza. He can't hurt you, not anymore. I won't let him."
She was quiet, taking that all in. Steadying, ever so slightly. "Thank you," she whispered, and wiped at her eyes. "I'm sorry for getting emotional. It's quite unfitting of me, as an Attendant."
Ren shrugged. "Get as emotional as you want. I'm a pretty emotional guy myself. I won't judge, I promise."
"I see," Lavenza said with a little laugh. A smile, just a faint one, but it did not last. "Two years ago, that man – or whatever he is – came to the Velvet Room, and attacked my master and I. He took my master prisoner, and supplanted him, splitting me apart so I would neither remember this act nor defy his orders." She fiddled idly with her dress, nervously picking at the fabric. "But I remember now. Not only my true name, my true purpose, the nature of that man who replaced my master. But I remember...what they remembered." Lavenza closed her eyes. "It still is rather difficult to piece it all together, but those memories are nevertheless mine." Another smile, another flicker of calm. "I remember what you promised them, and what they promised you. And...I want to assure you that they are still here, within me. They are not gone. Caroline and Justine both remain."
Ren smiled right back. He'd kinda figured something close to that, but it was...really nice, hearing it. "Thank you," he said. "Uh, could I...ask something?"
"Ask anything," she said, opening her eyes. It seemed almost like a request, more than an agreement.
"You mentioned your master," Ren continued. "And that's what Yal...that guy, called himself. But he's not your master, right? So, who is?"
"Igor," Lavenza replied, immediately. Then a surprised little laugh bubbled out of her. "I'm sorry, that probably doesn't clear it up."
"I mean, it kinda does," Ren said. "I assumed Igor was just a fake name that guy was using. But, if that's the name of who's supposed to be here...you said he replaced him. So, what, he's walking around in an Igor costume?"
"I suppose so." Lavenza gave a little sympathetic smile. "This is...probably all very confusing, isn't it?"
Ren shrugged. "I've been running around with a knife I got from a time travelling Witch. Confusing's been sort of the name of the game."
"A...Witch?" Lavenza tilted her head, blinking at him.
"Yeah." Ren reached up to twist a strand of hair between two fingers. "Uh. Okay. So this is going to sound even crazier than your thing, I think." The girl just nodded, silently. "Apparently, there's something called the Fall happening at the end of next year. Whatever it is, it'll end the world if it's not stopped. And the only reason I know that is because of someone named Oxymoron. Like I said, she's a time-traveling Witch or something, and she's been trying to stop this...uh..." He trailed off, staring at Lavenza. Holy fuck. No, no way.
She blinked at him. Her eyes wide, her expression engulfed by what must have been...recognition. "Oxymoron," she repeated. "You...are you sure? A Witch named Oxymoron?"
Ren just nodded. "Do you know her?" he managed.
The girl pursed her lips, and looked away. "I do not know," she said. And he couldn't quite tell if it was a lie or not. "I know...someone, perhaps, who may fit that description. But I cannot say for certain."
"Could you tell me?" Ren asked.
She shook her head, and immediately winced. "I'm sorry. I truly am. But if what I fear is correct, then I should not reveal such a thing. She would not wish that."
A flash of anger washed over him. Not at the girl, but at Oxymoron herself. Had she gotten to her? Somehow threatened her, or manipulated her? But that fury faded. Whatever Lavenza's reason was, he couldn't force that information out of her. He wouldn't let himself. "I'll protect you," he said. "From her too. I won't let her hurt you."
"You don't need to." Lavenza stood up, walking over to the discarded clipboard. She paused for a moment, staring down at the two broken pieces of Caroline's baton, snapped in half. "She would not hurt me. Not willingly. Nor would she allow me to come to harm. I know that much." Ren blinked, unable to find even a single word to reply as Lavenza bent down and picked up the Compendium. It shifted in her hands, a distortion rolling over it, warping the thin thing. An instant later, it wasn't a clipboard at all, but a tome. A heavy-looking book, nearly bigger than the girl's torso, yet she held it without any visible effort.
Ren stood as well, slipping his mask back onto his face. "Do you wanna come with me? My dad's a really cool guy, I bet he'd let you stay with us, if you wanted to. And you could meet my sister too, she's great. I think you two would really get along." He held out a hand to the girl. "You don't have to stay here. You don't."
Lavenza stared at him, blinking. And her gaze slowly went down to his hand. "I do not," she agreed. "But...I wish to." She smiled, somewhat melancholy, but honest. "The Velvet Room is my home. I was raised here. I have...awful memories of this place, I cannot deny that. But there are so many good ones as well." A sigh escaped her. "I am not ready to leave."
Ren nodded, letting his hand fall back to his side. "Alright," he said, despite the hesitation now thudding behind his eyes. "It's an open offer though. Anytime, even if you just want to come hang out for a night. My family...is really, really great. And I know they'd be more than happy to spend some time with you, if you ever needed to get out of here for like an afternoon or something. And I'll come check in on you, so you don't have to be alone here."
"Thank you," she said, beaming at him. "You are very kind, Trickster. But I assure you, I will not be alone." She stared up towards the ceiling, as if trying to peer into something beyond it. "My family is rather wonderful as well. And I think I would like for you to meet them."
10/10 – Monday
After School
Okumura's Palace
Mona was sitting in Panther's lap as she leaned back against a barricade, with Queen right next to her – big shocker. Skull, Violet and Fox were up around the other side of the room, Oracle sticking by Noir nearer to the entrance proper. All readiness temporarily put aside as they all most likely absorbed everything Ren had just filled them in on.
"So," Mona said. "He's leaving us alone because he wants to see Black Mask beat us?"
"Sounds like it," Ren replied. "I don't know what his deal is, exactly, but this is all one big game to him. And he's not just trying to win, he wants to prove something." He sighed. "So, he's betting against us. And I dunno what'll happen when that 'game' starts to wrap up, if he gets scared he might lose. At least he'll leave us alone for the time being."
"Shit," Skull said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I mean, good that he'll fuck off, but like...that's still kinda fucking around with fire, huh?"
"Sounds like it," Panther added. She cracked her knuckles. "Good thing for you guys, that's just the way I like it."
Queen chuckled. "Color me unsurprised. You always do work amazingly under pressure, Panther."
"I for one could do with a slight ease of such stress," Fox said. "But I wouldn't dare be anywhere else. Should the Thieves face this threat–"
"Hey, no, cut it out," Oracle said, playfully snappy. "No big speeches right now Inari, come on. Everyone already knows you love us a whole bunch. It's old hat, dude."
"She's right, you know," Violet giggled, leaning over to bump her shoulder into Fox's. "I know it, at least."
"As do I," Noir said, smiling. She pursed her lips, like she wanted to say something further, but didn't.
"We're not heading back yet," Ren said, nodding across the distance to her. "We still haven't gotten what we came here for."
"That isn't my decision to make," she said, quietly, looking away. "Should any of you wish to return..."
"We know," Skull said. "It's our own call, yeah?" He cracked his neck, resting his weight on his crimson staff. "Like any of us would back out now. When the Thieves decide to help somebody, we don't go back on our word."
Queen stood up, facing the young woman, facing the Palace behind her. "We're here," she said. "There's no turning back." Cerulean sparks swam in the air around her right hand, the boxing wrap glowing out its nuclear melody. "I'd never forgive myself if I pulled back now." She hesitated a moment. "I'd never forgive myself if I left you. Not when you need me. Or, er, us."
"Yeah!" Mona hopped out of Panther's lap. "We've got your back, Noir. We're your friends, and we're gonna help you out."
Noir said nothing, for a time. Then she slowly reached up and pulled the axe off the holster across her back, staring down at it. A long, careful breath in, like she was steadying herself. "Then please," she said. "Stand by my side." When she looked up at them, her eyes were set, firm. But not cold. Impossibly, thunderously warm, like an unyielding Summer breeze. "Lend me the strength I need to take my father's heart."
And Ren knew, unequivocally, the Thieves' response. The same it had always been, when the time came, when action was needed. He saw it in every steady gaze, in every ready hand, in every ounce of focus. He saw in the breath they all now shared. The same will, the same heart.
Unanimity.
Ren couldn't help but chuckle, some ethereal giddiness flowing through him like plasma. "Phantoms? You heard Noir." He adjusted his gloves. "It's showtime."
The peak of Okumura's Palace must have once been a command deck, higher even than the bridge, overlooking the entire space station. A crumbling tower, held somehow aloft despite the black hole tearing its surroundings to shreds, like those metal monuments of humanity's wisdom were nothing more than paper. Yet the tower stood, roofless, its walls peeled back as if by invisible arms. There had probably been consoles here, and seats. But they had been torn away, pulled into the abyss. All remnants of control and comfort were gone. All that was left was Okumura's Shadow, that dark echo facing the Thieves as they climbed the last steps of the docking corridor they'd managed to affix to the tower. Him, and a gleaming sphere hovering some ten feet above his head. Like a golden egg suspended in space.
"This ship is ill," the Shadow said. "And its ailment is weakness itself, far worse than any disease of body or mind." He looked up towards the un-star, that dark void from which not even hope could escape. "It is my strength that makes me worthy of the title of Captain. My willingness to do what needs to be done." And stared back at the Thieves, at his daughter. "I admit, perhaps even I am too weak to save it. But the two of us?" Okumura's Shadow extended a hand. "Haru. Together, we can pull this ship back from the brink. All you need to do is come to me, to be my...my child, again." His hesitance ignited a fury across Ren's spine, deeper than blood, sharper than bone.
Noir stared across the distance, at her father, at his offer. "Trust me," she said, simply, quietly. "Please."
"Always," Ren replied.
And she smiled. "Thank you." Noir stepped forward, towards the man, still holding her axe in one hand. "You disowned me, father." Step by step. "What place do I have by your side?"
"Words are words," he said. "I was angry, and I am sorry for that anger. For how it affected you." He waved a hand at nothing, as if gesticulating a command. "I retract my disownment. Haru, you are an Okumura. There will always be a place for you, with me."
"And nowhere else." Noir stopped in the middle of the room. Halfway between her father and the Thieves. "You would make sure of that, make sure that my only companionship were those sycophants you surround yourself with. You would make sure I have no escape from them, no one to turn to but you." She gripped the axe's handle with white knuckles. "You would have me so desperate for any scraps of love that I would betray my friends, betray those who care for me, all for the sake of your blessing."
"Your friends do not know the real you," Okumura's Shadow replied. "None of them could possibly understand your position, your world. Our world. They have no place in it."
Noir let out a long breath. "Perhaps you are right, father. Perhaps they do not know my true face. Perhaps it is ugly, monstrous. Perhaps I am nothing more than a wolf draped in wool, and perhaps those who love me have deluded themselves." She raised a hand, tracing the surface of her mask. "But you are a fool to expect that you have seen who I truly am. I have unmasked myself before you time and time again, and you have looked through me at every single instance."
"You belong–" Okumura began.
"On a trophy shelf," Noir said, sharp and quick. "Yes, father, I am well aware of the place you desire for me. I have memorized the lines of every role you cast me in. I am to be your willing heir, or your obedient echo, or your burdensome heiress. I am to mold myself to fit your whim, to be both pariah and blessing, son and daughter." She pointed her axe at the man, that dark blade shimmering, catching the light of a dying star. "You wish for my betrayal? Very well. You shall have it. I pull back the curtain now, the stage is set for my final role. I will play my part, as you have desired. And you will reap every ounce of suffering that you have sown within my chest." She laughed, a quiet sound drenched in frost. "Your son is dead, Kunikazu Okumura. Now, do as a hero does, and decry the monstrous girl who murdered him."
Okumura's Shadow was silent for a time. "As you wish," he said. And he placed his hand over the emblem pinned to his chest.
A dozen slats across the floor of the tower snapped open, revealing a series of vents equidistant around Noir. And a metallic hand burst up from one, grabbing hold of the tower ground, hoisting up the body of a robotic worker. And then came the rest. Pouring up steadily, like a faucet in reverse, android after android swarming up out of the vents.
"Face forward!" Ren called. "We're pushing through to Noir! Go!" He dove forward, tearing the mask from his face. "Hecatoncheires!" He felt the blows land, a hundred ethereal fists slamming through circuitry and pistons, and he shoved himself forward through the strain.
Footsteps behind him, the crack of cognitive gunfire and the crunch of ruined metal. Shattering masks, splintering cardboard.
"Goemon, strike them down!"
"Dance, Cendrillion!"
Frost and radiance carved through the robotic ranks like a pale sword. For a brief instant, Ren saw through the crowd. Noir spinning, axe outstretched, mask gone. Tearing through cognitions as Milady unloaded gunfire behind her. And then the path slammed shut, shuddering androids filling in the gap, a metal ocean between them and her.
Ren swore under his breath. "Oracle, can you see any way of getting through?"
The comms crackled in his ear. "That's a big fat nope!" his sister replied, her voice strained with frustration, frantic typing floating through beneath her voice. "And all these cognitions are throwing Necronomicon for a loop, I can't make out any patterns."
Okay, think. These robots were weak, they could probably clear another path through them. But they wouldn't have much more than a few seconds before it closed again, probably faster than any of them could run. But...not faster than they could drive. "Okay," he said, raising his voice again. "Oracle, see if you can get those vents closed. Panther, Mona, get ready to clear a path. Queen, Skull, get on Johanna. You two and me will break through the center to Noir. Got it?"
A burst of flame, twin fireballs spiralling into Panther's hands. "Ready, Joker."
Queen revved the engine of her Persona, Skull hopping onto the bike behind her and then throwing out a thumbs-up. "Ready!"
He faced the swarm, legs itching, feet shuddering against the floor. "Now!"
A barrage of azure flame swept past his head, bursting through androids, guided by an unyielding wind, an enormous blue-flame tornado thrown like a spear right through the cognitions. The fire hardly had time to clear before Johanna roared, peeling through the opening. And Ren barely thought to move, but he was running, feet pounding against the metal floor. A cognition stumbled up in front of him, and he slashed through it, spinning around and dodging out of the grasping hands of another. Claws and pistons and steam and screeching from every direction, a sea of cognitive bodies, crashing towards him like the tide–
A hand grabbed his collar, and yanked him into the clearing. Ren barely had an instant to meet Noir's gaze before she let go of him, wrenching the mask off her face. "Persona!" The sweeping swish of an ethereal fan, and psychic force flattened a quartet of oncoming robots. "Are you alright, Joker?" Her voice was slightly strained, clearly winded, but strong.
"Never better," he replied. A quick glance towards the other side of the artificial clearing showed Skull and Queen pushing back cognitions there too. "Alright, back to back!" The two of them backpedaled, and Ren and Noir quickly joined them. He pulled the pistol from his holster, flicked off the safety, whirled to face the nearest threat and pulled the trigger.
The seconds passed like molasses through an hourglass. Breaking metal, distorted cries like the ticking of an invisible clock. Had it been minutes? Or merely seconds? Adrenaline warped the flow, sharpening his nerves and dulling everything else. He could no longer keep pace with time.
"Two vents left!" Oracle's voice over the coms. "Just hold out a little bit longer!" The crowd had started to thin, but Ren's arms ached, and he could feel exhaustion settling like lead in every limb.
"Easy for you to say!" Skull fired back, before sending a cascade of buckshot across the robots.
Ren kicked back a cognition and buried a bullet into its head. Okay, fuck this. He was not about to pace himself to death; not that it was his death he was concerned for. "Queen, Noir, Skull, buy me some time!" He sheathed his knife and holstered his pistol, stepping backwards as the other three closed the gap. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Focus. Remember what it felt like back in Madarame's Palace. That thunderous spell, a controlled force. Magic like oxygen, burning fresh and bright. Ozone through his bloodstream, lightning across his lungs.
"If you're going to try something–!" Queen began.
Ren grabbed his mask. "Arsene." And the winged thief tore through the void, wings spread. A warbling pale sphere already clutched between his talons. "You know what to do." Ren felt a grin travel through the chain binding them together, a shuddering and triumphant melody. "Ravage them."
Arsene Dusk raised one hand over his head, that sphere flickering and compressing, letting out a shriek like a kettle venting steam. "Megidolaon." And he crushed the sphere.
Ren's ears popped.
White. Not quite light. A blinding, suffocating emptiness. A million tons of celestial pressure in every iota of air, thousand-fold gravity.
And then his eyes cleared. And there was almost nothing. The other Thieves, both by his side and farther back, each looking as disoriented as Ren felt. The ground that had once held the swarm was devoid of threats now, only handfuls of metal scraps scattered around the room. Out of the corner of Ren's eye, the final vent slid shut.
"That's all of them!" Oracle said, her voice almost giddy through the lingering tinnitus.
"Remind me not to get on your bad side," Queen mumbled, sending a lopsided smile towards Ren.
He grinned back, feeling almost breathless. "Get on it all you like. I don't think I could ever bring myself to pull that sort of power out against another person."
Skull burst out laughing. "Yeah, you're a huge fucking softie, tell us something we don't know."
"Are you all okay?" Violet asked, jogging over the wreckage to make it to the former clearing, the others right behind her. "I've got med-medication if anyone's hurt."
"I'm kinda dehydrated," Ren said, with a tired chuckle. "Otherwise, doing great." Violet dug into her bag, but his gaze wandered towards Noir. Her own focus was entirely past him, past all of them. Towards the Shadow of her father, still standing there.
"Do you want us to pull back?" Skull asked, leaning forward to get into the young woman's field of view. "I mean, if you wanna take him one-on-one." Queen didn't look exactly thrilled by the suggestion, but she neglected to protest.
Noir didn't respond right away, maybe thinking, maybe simplifying holding her answer behind her own hesitance. "I have faced him on my own for seventeen years," she replied, her voice calm, steady. A pale bitterness across each syllable. "And each time, I bent. I was made to bend." Her hands tightened around the handle of her axe. "No more. I cannot trust myself against him. But I can trust you all. Please, stay."
"As if we'd leave you," Queen said, sounding almost offended by the implication. "Noir. Haru." She reached out, hesitant, placing a hand on Noir's shoulder. The young woman tensed at the touch, for an instant, and then relaxed. "We're here. No one's going anywhere."
"You asked for our assistance," Fox reminded. "Phantoms do not leave until the job is done."
"My child is playing you for fools," Okumura's Shadow said, his voice echoing impossibly around them. "You should know by now, she is not one of you." Ren grit his teeth. Every single word out of this shitheel's mouth was one more foot in the hole he was digging for himself.
"Your daughter is our friend, jackass!" Oracle snapped, her voice buzzing out from Necronomicon's unseen perch.
"And it's not your fucking call to make!" Skull added. "You don't get to tell her how to live her life anymore, capiche?" He dug his knuckles into his other palm.
"Give it up." Panther spun her dagger between her fingers. "We've already beaten all your crappy robots. Pull out whatever you want, but not a single one of them is gonna stop us from breaking this ship wide open."
"This crew is expendable," the man replied. "They are replaceable. They know this, as do I." He shifted his foot, kicking a small piece of scrap, sending it skittering across the floor. "Without me, they would dissolve into utter chaos. My leadership is a necessity."
"Chaos like being union-busted?" Mona growled, his scruff prickling. "That sure is some way of showing gratitude to the workers who keep your 'ship' running!"
Okumura adjusted his collar, completely unfazed. "You speak of a controlled culling. That errant virus would threaten to infect the entire ship. I had to act, to–"
"Enough." Noir shook her head. Exhausted, frustrated. Maybe more that Ren couldn't place. "It's useless to argue with him. You are all lovely, honest people. And he will never listen to you." Her cold eyes bored into her father's Shadow. "My father has arrived at his conclusion already. Any contradiction is nothing more than an aberrant exception in his eyes."
Ren nodded. "Right. He's still in too deep." He raised a hand to his face, fingertips poised against the porcelain of his mask. "If he won't give up that distortion, we'll just have to take it from him." A little smirk quirked at the corner of his lips. "Like proper Thieves."
"Thieves indeed," Okumura's Shadow said, those cold eyes so resembling his daughter's, and empty in every way that hers were bright and warm and full of life. "We both hold now what the other wishes to possess. And you will not give that up without a fight." Ren's stomach lurched. Could this guy possibly handle shutting the fuck up!? It was...insanely difficult to keep his fury reigned, to keep Arsene's name out of his mouth. Judging by the pulse of tension in every direction, the other Thieves were close to snapping too. Like wolves, protecting their own. And Noir, protecting herself. "Very well. I will indulge you."
"How lovely to hear that you still value my existence, father," Noir said, her voice cheery and cold. "If you truly want me?" A gravity in the air around her, warping space itself, violet fractals dancing in the corners of Ren's eyes. "Come and get me."
"Your disobedience," the man said, his yellow eyes flaring gold. "Ends tonight." And the scrap erupted, circuitry flinching in unison like a panicked tide. Ren tensed, but the robotic refuse merely swept past his legs, through the Thieves, water through a sieve. Over and up, towards the Treasure.
"He's tapping into his Palace's strength!" Mona yelped.
"These readings are nuts," Oracle added. "All or nothing guys, give it everything you've got!"
"Don't we always?" Skull said.
"Focus," Queen scolded.
The constituents coalesced, settling. Another android? No, not quite, more hollow. It...was that a suit? "With my authority as captain of this ship," Okumura's Shadow said, as the construction lowered itself to the ground in front of him. "I hereby condemn each and every one of you as traitors. You shall face the harshest punishment I may deliver." And he stepped into the suit. Red eyes sparked to life, a hiss of steam and pistons as it closed around him. That golden light shone out from within his chest. And his voice echoed from within, distorted further, as if through a heavy filter. "Immediate celestial banishment." And he surged forward.
"Scatter!" Ren dove out of the way, feeling a furious gale slam past him, nearly clipping his arm. Not Mona's, Okumura's? An odd popping sound rang out, the armor's palm igniting with a steady flame.
"Oh no you don't!" Panther's mask shattered. "Carmen!" A bulwark of flame sprung up between the Thieves and the flamethrower now emanating from Okumura's suit. An instant later, the flame ceased, and a jet of frigid frost slammed into the barrier, threatening to burst through it. "Oh shit oh shit–"
"I've got you!" A blade of light gorged a shallow wound across the suit's arm, dragging its attention away from Panther and towards Violet. Okumura didn't hesitate to fire back, unleashing a torrent of voltaic energy that she had to backpedal to avoid.
Skull ducked under a shrieking cerulean sphere. "How many tricks does this guy have!?"
Ren swore under his breath. "Oracle, can you get a read on him?"
"Doing my best!" his sister replied, the sound of her furious typing almost drawing out her distracted voice. "Okumura's made some sort of super-suit out of the robot workers, looks like he's powering all their weaponry with his Treasure."
"Could we steal his power source somehow?" Noir asked, eyes flitting across the battlefield as if searching for some sort of opening.
"Not unless we have some way of getting close to him with all of that going on," Queen said, voice strained as she weathered a pulse of dark energy.
"What do you think?" Mona asked, scrambling up to Ren. "Liliput? He's big enough for it."
Ren bit the inside of his cheek. Maybe, but it'd be one hell of a risk, even assuming they could manage to get Okumura's Shadow to stop lashing out at anyone that came close. No, a different strategy entirely popped into his head. "Revolution. Gotta be. Oracle?"
"Loud and clear, Joker." A soft beep echoed in resonant rhythm, like the steady tone of a metronome. "Everyone, sync up your attacks! You know the drill: keep to the rhythm! Don't drop a beat!" He could hear the grin in her voice, like the manic conductor of her own orchestra, or some sort of video game announcer oh holy shit was she emulating– "Ready steady go!"
No time to contemplate references. Ren tensed, waited. Kept light, out of range, watched as Fox cut into the armor's side and Skull bashed a chunk out of its shoulder. Wait for it. Wait for it. Ping. And he rushed towards the foe, knife drawn, mask shattering. "Persona!" And Ose's ethereal blades shone with starlight.
"Stay still!" Okumura's Shadow snarled, whirling towards a retreating Fox only to find his arm shredded. Like cheese through a grater, sloughing off a huge chunk of scrap.
Ping. Ren hopped back, out of the way of Panther's impending bonfire, an azure tempest that swept around the armor's legs, melting that circuitry into slag. Phantoms, weaving like wraiths, like needles, like Thieves. Ren gave himself a breathless moment to soak in pride, to indulge glorious adrenaline, before another chime of the metronome heralded his second round.
Power's name flew to Ren's lips, but he hesitated. No. The angel reminded him far too much of a certain uncouth detective. "Hariti!" The empty heavens rumbled.
"Captain Kid!" Skull sent a strained grin from the other side of the armored shadow.
And celestial fury descended, two bolts joined in awful, wondrous unity. Two of a pair, in perfect sync. Okumura didn't stand a fucking chance.
The armor still stood, stumbling. Cracked at the seams, the treasure flickering within its containment. "I cannot...fall." Even that voice filter was fading, flickering in and out. "My ship. My company. I will never...I will never..."
Noir stepped forward. Out of order, a sharp note sending the entire orchestra into stall. Towards her father, steady, one foot in front of the other. Ren couldn't see her eyes. "Milady. Let us call the curtain now." A skill card shattered between her fingers. "One-Shot Kill." Her mask left her face. A single bolt, a solitary impact. Like a meteor, like a scream. And it tore away every last scrap of cognition with impossible precision, rending the construction completely.
"Shit," Skull said, staring at the young woman with a half-slack jaw.
The metronome was abruptly muted. And the Thieves stood in silence, staring not at Okumura's Shadow – crumpled in the obliterated scraps of his broken armor, holding onto that golden egg for dear life – but at his daughter. At Noir, standing above him, breath near-ragged.
"Say it, then." Noir's voice was so hollow, so tired. "Denounce me. Write me off. Find some excuse to reduce me. I am...tired of waiting for you."
"You should not have waited," the Shadow said, almost snarling the words. "You should have spoken. You should have acted."
Noir took a breath, teetering on the edge of a retort, but held herself back. Hesitating, like she didn't know the words. Or like she did, like she'd known them since before they entered this place. "I am selfish. You have hurt so many people, and yet I come here to be heard. To seek from you penance as a compromise for the love I could not have."
She lowered her head, the brim of her hat still covering her eyes. "Whether or not you have ever listened to me, listen now. You have done to me exactly what your father did to you. You let your son be free, and punished him every single day for that freedom, waiting for him to return home and accept the destiny you chose for him." She raised her head. Staring at her father, those brown eyes so impossibly full. "And in doing so, you have forever lost your daughter."
Noir grit her teeth. "If mother were still alive, what do you think she would say to you, to that!? Which of us would she stand with!?"
Okumura's Shadow froze. Staring at nothing, brow furrowed. "No," he said. "That is...no, she would...you do not..." And he hesitated. A second passed in silence. And another. "Oh. I...oh god." The Shadow stared down at the egg, quiet, empty. And he let it drop. The Treasure rolled across his lap and down, a wobbly pace all the way to Noir's foot. "I...Haru, I cannot..." He lowered his head. His entire body. Down and down until his forehead pressed against the cold metal floor. Prostrating himself. "I am...sorry. What I have done to you...that treatment, that is...I know what that is like. I know how it feels. And it is unspeakable." He shuddered. What must have been a sob wracking through him. "I am sorry. I am so, so sorry."
Noir didn't say a word. Not at first. She simply bent down and picked up that golden egg, her father's gleaming Treasure. "I love you, father," she said. "But I do not forgive you. Perhaps I will never forgive you." And she turned away, the Palace shuddering under her feet. "I hope you will see fit to lift the latch of my cage, and burn all agreements you have made for me. I am leaving, regardless of your wishes." All agreements...fuck. Ren hadn't forgotten, but the reminder still burned like magma against the inside of his chest. "When my scars have faded, perhaps I will visit you again." One last, lingering glance. And then she turned away, nodding to Ren. "It's time to go. Yes?" An unspoken urging.
Right. The plan. Ren nodded, steadying himself as another tremor shook the Palace. "Yeah. Alright everyone, we've got the Treasure, let's get a move on!" Heading towards the docking bay, gesturing with one hand. Okay. Everything had gone smoothly enough, and Ren had energy to spare. One last piece to slot into place. Time for a little misdirection.
Okumura's Shadow was still crumpled against the floor when the Thieves made it out of sight, crying, prostrating at nothing like some pathetic prayer to a deity who had long since departed. Shimmering slightly, almost transparent as his distortion undid itself around him, as even the black hole tearing open the sky seemed to wobble in place.
A shifting in the air. Like a wave, sweeping over and down. 'Nothing' turned to black fabric, a grey cloak. Red-visored eyes gleaming into view, where there had been nothing more than a heat shimmer an instant before. Heading towards Okumura's Shadow.
But Ren was quicker. Days quicker. Years quicker.
"What's up with this airlock?" Skull gestured to a door on the side of the docking bay, next to the staircase.
Queen craned over. "Looks like it leads to some sort of catwalk? Probably for repairs or upkeep."
"Woah," Oracle said, scrolling across some invisible display. "There's a pretty nice vantage point a little ways down. Bet we could get a drop on the Treasure from there if we needed to."
The catwalk wasn't the steadiest, but that was probably more his nerves and the collapsing Palace than accurate stability. Either way, it did what it needed to: put him up right next to one of the obliterated walls on the far side of the Treasure Chamber. Ren reached into his pocket. Fingers curled around Futaba's latest masterpiece.
"Feels kinda plasticy," Ren noted, staring down at the small box in his palm.
"Yeah, it used to be like a fidget toy." Futaba grinned, almost preening before the Thieves. "But it works! Just click that, and it'll knock your butt all the way back to reality. Mona tested it!"
"My stomach is still doing backflips," the cat groaned.
Futaba, seemingly undeterred, continued. "It's called the...uh..." She hesitated. "Okay, not gonna lie, I've been procrastinating coming up with a cool name."
"Um," Kasumi said, looking like she was trying to stifle a giggle. "How about someth-something simple. Like...Go-Home."
"Oh, I'm loving that!" Futaba's eyes lit up. "Okay, okay okay, stick with me here." Her gremlin grin on full display. "Goho-M."
Had a nice ring to it. And Ren's other hand closed around the pistol. Oxymoron's deadliest gift. Only one bullet. Deep breath in, deep breath out. He had to make it count. No time for hesitation. He'd come this far. What was one more insane, inadvisable leap?
And the boy with the Black Mask reached into his jacket, fingers no doubt curling around his own firearm.
Ren stood, pulling out the pistol. Raising it. Leveling it. Clicking off the safety.
Pulling the trigger.
Indescribable thank you to Jane for emotionally supporting me through the tough weeks I had making this chapter, for beta reading this 42 page monstrosity and for providing constant inspiration throughout, both through her direct ideas and just through sharing her own writing. She's the best co-author a gal could ask for, and I'm infinitely thankful for everything she's given to this story.
Sorry to leave you all on a cliffhanger like this. Next chapter is gonna be a hell of a thing, and I wanted to set it up as much as possible to try and help the result hit as powerfully as I possibly can. Me and Jane are both unreasonably excited for the next chunk of this story, and I cannot wait to get there.
But in the meantime, I hope this chapter has been worth the wait. If you enjoyed it and feel up to leave a comment, I'd absolutely love to hear whatever thoughts or reactions you might have had. Even if you don't, I'm still overjoyed to have shared this chapter with you, and I very much hope that you had as much fun reading it as I did writing it.
Next up: Justice Unmasked.
