Okay so (maybe)next chapter I'll kill somebody.

Guidey smart boi.

EDIT: 07/09 - I forgot something in Section 2. OTL I've been trying not to miss things, but i realized last night that The Guide would be like - wtf is Slayer's arm doing there lmao?! And I need him to do some thinking. Just a short section I promise. I'll TLDR Edit at bottom in case you don't wanna re-read the section.

She had seen battlefields before, hundreds of battlefields. Thousands of injured. Thousands of slain. The horrors of war were only ever fully realized in their somber aftermath. The medical tent was it's ultimate essence. 'Battle' was exciting, the rush of adrenaline, the rapid pounding of the beating heart, the joyful strain of muscles, the wild flailing in the heat of desperation...

But war?

War... was an abomination that caused desolation. War was a horrific deity that rained death and destruction with a complete and utter malice. War was the wailing orphan picking through the remains of his home. War was the low despairing groan of able-bodied men who now lay crippled, missing eyes and hands and ears and feet. Death grew near on the killing fields, it approached and waited, its insatiable maw opened wide like a sepulcher, its throat a broad road to hell. War was the great, useless engine which churned and churned - fueled by the lives of innocents, oiled by the blood of soldiers.

Keep it the fuck together...

And The Nurse had seen war. War was her training grounds. It was upon the dead and the dying that she honed her craft, sharpening her life-saving skills. She had saved many; she had lost many. Eventually, it became nothing more than a game to her, an exercise. She had watched hundreds of men die with a cold, numbed gaze. She could calmly work through her patient charting to the tune of a family's heartbroken sobs. She wasn't born a callous person. She just got used to the workplace. The squelch of tissue and organs beneath her scalpel was the most natural thing in the world. Grievous wounds were merely projects. Patient deaths were merely her 'losing' that game. She'd try again on the next body in line.

Phew, shit...

But this little skirmish - no, it was too insignificant to even be called that - this petty squabble... it was personal. It was intimate. She had always felt detached from 'violence' and 'war' despite being raised in it. Should she fear war? Should she fear violence? Nonsense. For the entirety of her long career, the Tyrant's threat loomed behind her. The Nurse had always acted like she was invincible... because she was. The King whom she served, whom she hated, was the one who protected her. His great power kept his kingdom in peace and order. A forced, terrified peace, a trembling, authoritarian order.

And the order was this: that all who saw her were to treat her with the utmost respect, despite however horrible she had decided to be that day.

Why? Because she was the Capitol's precious Head Nurse. She was the best medical physician in the land, worth her weight in gold. Would somebody dare raise a hand against her? Of course not. None could even voice a complaint. She was a valuable asset, her research and advice was heavily capitalized upon by Draedon and The Lunatic cultists for their own purposes (she intentionally never looked into it). As an important cog in Yharim's war machine, she had been kept safe. Not only safe in body, but safe from criticism, from disrespect... nothing touched her. In the same way nobody spoke of The Resistance, likewise, nobody dared speak against - much less threaten one of Yharim's people.

I... I took it for granted.

It wasn't until she set out upon this ill fated adventure that she was subject to real, personal danger. The night she ran - the night she betrayed The King - was the first time she'd ever run for her life. She had thought herself very noble in the outset, but as the day grew long and her condition grew desperate, that lofty ideal fell to the earth. Had the flow of destiny not steered her to The Compound, she may have died that very night. The Capitol's Head Nurse? Dying? What an impossible thought... but that impossibility marked her throat with a shallow scar... and stained her veins with lurid poison... and now, it lay stiffly, oozing blood, on the ground before her.

"Nurse... I think The Spy killed him. We need to fortify. There are too many entrances in The Clinic, we need to move..."

The Arms Dealer's deep voice murmured from behind her. He was seated on one of her mini-hospital beds. The other two cots were occupied. One, by the comatose Pink-haired woman, the other by the groaning Demolitionist. The Dwarf would live (of course he'd live, The Nurse had conducted this exact operation countless times) and although he was able to wire up a few booby traps, he was in no shape to run about in further firefights. The only able-bodied people left were herself and The Arms Dealer... and although she held herself as a unflappable, powerful woman - under the perceived threat of death, now nearer then ever, she couldn't keep her hands from shaking.

You need to fight, Nurse! Nobody's here to rescue you! Get your shit together!

She gritted her teeth and stiffly turned towards the man she had come to love and rely on, willing her face not to show her fear. She knew if she broke down, he would try his utmost to comfort her, she likewise knew this was no time for such sentimentalities. She took several deep breaths and, in a gesture of false bravado, propped her hands on her hips and lifted her head to nod sharply at him. At the signal she'd be fine, The Arms Dealer stood to his feet and walked over to The Demolitionist to carefully help him sit up. Although The Dwarf was two hours post-op, he had still managed to lumber around and plant some explosives in the walls before once again collapsing to his cot.

There's only one enemy... we can do this. The Science Experiment isn't back yet so we have a chance...

The Spy was prowling about, a CC agent. One of those genetic abominations was hunting them. The Arms Dealer had claimed he'd seen her sneaking from The Merchant's home into The Guide's not long ago, and now - The Merchant was dead. Would The Guide survive? Was wit enough to surmount all the zealotry instilled on those freaks? Unlikely. The Guide was as good as dead. Now, it was just the four of them. They were going to hide in the heavily-fortified castle and...

Then what? Wait for The Slayer to come back and hope he doesn't kill us?!

"Nurse, hurry let's go."

The Dwarf grunted weakly at her as he stumbled out her front door, out into the stinking afternoon mists. The daytime was, in some ways, more awful than the night. The expectation of 'day' was a clear blue sky, a bright warm sun, and all the riches of lush foliage the earth had to offer. This part of the country had always been famous for its exceptionally fertile ground (a legend persisted of how The Dryads had blessed this place) and to see it so desperately marred was enough to shoot down the smallest inklings of hope in her heart. The night is far better...

"Nurse, are you alright?"

The Arms Dealer placed a hand on her shoulder. How did he manage to stay so calm during such a time as this? The Merchant was laying there on a sheet... The Merchant had been one of them. Had the Spy happened to choose her house instead, and then she'd be the one laying on the mat with her throat gaping open in a hideous smile.

"I'm fine, let's go."

She averted her eyes from The Merchant's mangled form and did her best to force it from her thoughts. Seeing corpses had always been part of her job. She had always looked at them the same way a woodsman looked at a bad log. It had been a long, long time since seeing a body had caused such craven fear to grip her heart... because for the very first time, The corpse laying before her wasn't just a corpse.

It was a threat.

It was a message.

That message was undeniably: 'You're next.'

"The Clinic?"

"Yes, the house next door. It's across the lawn from the castle. The Head Nurse has taken residence there. She was originally supposed to come here to assist with some of our research, but The Resistance arrived shortly after she did. Whether she had a change of heart in the spur of the moment, or had been working with The Resistance for a long time - I cannot know."

The Guide shook his head with mock disappointment. He was really getting into this Lab Director role, and his brief knowledge of Capitol politics was now serving him well. It seemed reasonable for The Head Nurse of an imperially funded hospital to advise on Draedon's experiments, and The Party Girl seemed to think so too. The Guide would say whatever he could to further cement his role as her legitimate superior. His life hung on her opinion of him.

Do I need to... get rid of anyone who might say I'm not the Lab Director, just to be safe? Haah...

All these thoughts of killing and death were causing his stomach to do somersaults in his belly. He was no general. He didn't play with lives... but what else could he do to preserve his own? He did his best not to appear overly ill as he planned the deaths of the men and women he had rubbed shoulders with over the past two weeks. He knew this must be wrong. He struggled to justify his actions, yet proceeded to do them anyways. Hopefully when all the dust had settled, he could look back on today and still be able to live with himself. If he survived at all...

"Ah!"

The Party Girl was sitting across from him with nothing less than glee painting her girlish features. It seemed that talk of 'killing and death' elicited a much more positive response from her, especially the 'killings and deaths' of The Resistance Members. She grinned and batted her eyelashes and drummed her (viciously clawed shoes) against his hardwood floor in delight as he carefully divulged whatever he thought would help her succeed in her mass-extermination mission. The deadly spy certainly looked intimidating enough when cloaked head to toe in black... but disrobed of her outer garments, she looked positively... bubbly. It was quite unexpected, really - but The Guide had no complaints. She was happy to see him, and that was all that really mattered. The Guide briefly wondered what series of events must had transpired for her to wholeheartedly believe he - a random person with absolutely zero credentials - was actually a high level operative in Yharim's power structure, but didn't dwell to much on it. She was thoroughly convinced of him.

Perhaps she's just gullible?

Whatever had happened, The Guide was thankful for it. It appeared that the tables were already turning in his favor since her arrival. The Demolitionist was down for the count (but still dangerous, given he was an explosives expert) and The Old Merchant was dead... all that remained of the opponent's coalition was The Nurse and The Arms Dealer. The Guide would have loved to spare these two (especially The Nurse) - but alas, they had already pitted themselves firmly against him when they had attacked The Slayer.

As his thoughts wandered to his 'pet experiment' (he had described The Slayer as such to The Party Girl. She seemed understanding) he was suddenly struck with a heart-gnawing bout of anxiety. What happened to him? Was he alright? The more The Guide thought about it, the more certain he was that The Slayer would definitely make a beeline back to The Compound upon appearing in the magic circle in The Crimson-Infested Village. It was only several miles out! He should have come back the night of... but it had already been how many days now?

Is he injured? That's - definitely- his arm strapped to The Party Girl's backpack. She said she's been using it to pass the barrier. Does that mean he's missing an arm right now? He can't wield a bow with only one arm - but he must be alive. He should have that sword we found underground, The Arhkalis... and besides, the barrier hasn't fallen... if he died, I'm sure the barrier would have fallen. Wait, maybe he appeared somewhere else entirely? No...

The Guide cast a sidelong glance at the violently squirming arm that thrashed against it's bonds as it slowly shuffled The Party Girl's bag across the floor. The limb had most likely been blown off in the explosion a few days ago, and was not only alive, but had also healed its stump over. Any other damage it may have sustained in that inferno had likewise been healed with the exception of the last two fingers - which had been sliced cleanly off. Some of the arm's armour had been stripped off, but what remained was clearly identified as belonging to The Terrarian.

The fingers didn't regrow, is that how Amidas escaped the Barrier? Is he hanging onto The Slayer's fingers at this very moment? Maybe he used some other Eldritch magic... I saw him turn invisible. Ugh, these people are just slicing The Slayer to pieces and trading him around like commodities!

The Guide felt heat rise behind his eyes as something approaching irrational anger began to creep over him. As he felt his hands begin to tremble, he startled. Why was he getting so worked up? The Slayer would be fine... probably. Even if he died, The Guide would just have to find another way to accomplish his goals. Losing a 'friend' and an opportunity was certainly a blow, but considering all the other hardships The Guide had found himself embroiled in over the past two weeks, it was nothing to write home about... Right?

Urgh...

His logical arguments did nothing to keep his stomach from twisting. He'd never felt such a mixture of anguish and rage before. Wait. Was he having such visceral reactions because he'd raised The Terrarian? What the hell! Am I already acting like a single dad? Nonsense, stupidity. The Slayer stuck close to him for information's sake only. Their relationship could be amicable - but should remain purely transactional. Those were the limits The Terrarian had set that evening when the two of them set out to kill The Eye of Cthulhu. If The Slayer wanted more from him, he wouldn't be shy in saying so.

Get it together. Phew.

The Guide was certain his face must have twisted into some terrific expression, but The Party Girl didn't seem to notice. She was chattering away, her excited voice splitting the somber silence that had quickly settled over the room. The Guide quickly pulled his thoughts back and focused his attention on her.

"The Head Nurse! Surely she has plotted with The Resistance for a long time! I can imagine she and The Lunatic Cultist formed a coalition to defect together! No wonder they disappeared at the same time! That Merchant said she was a 'Resistance Veteran' before I killed him. I knew it!"

The Party Girl looked absolutely euphoric upon reaching the conclusion. If she weren't part of Yharim's secret service, The Guide would have thought her to be a journalist who had just stumbled upon a career making story. Did she have so much confidence in The King and his empire that betrayals of such high caliber were merely newsworthy tidbits? Perhaps... or perhaps she was just a bit shallow.

At least she's strong enough to rely on herself... who the hell are you to criticize her?

He reprimanded himself before pretending to carefully consider her argument. He tapped his chin and frowned ponderingly.

"That... is certainly possible. But The Lunatic Cultist, I can't imagine."

The Spy nodded, but frustratingly didn't divulge any further information about the mysterious 'Lunatic Cultist'. In the past, The Guide had heard that name mentioned exactly once in regard to a rising member of Yharim's court, but knew nothing aside from that. From the tidbits The Guide had gleaned from his conversation with The Nurse and The Party Girl, it seemed The Lunatic Cultist might have been a powerful sorcerer. Could it be? Is he the Vulture-headed Mage? He had supposedly appeared in this area around the time his village was destroyed, but The Guide couldn't be sure. He desperately wanted to ask The Party Girl what The Lunatic Cultist looked like, but such a question would surely endanger his life.

I'll just wait for The Travelling Merchant to bring my report.

That was a less urgent order of business. The first, was to kill those who had dared lay hands on him and his Slayer. The Guide closed his eyes for a long moment and let out a long breath. He could feel The Party Girl's eyes burning into him with something akin to fevered admiration. Earlier today, he had tried to kill a man in self defense. It was justified...

Now, he was plotting murder.

He hated it.

But there was no turning back.

Slayer: The Guide made me first. He made you second. I'm the favorite.
Party Girl: I... The Guide didn't make me. He's my commanding officer, but I don't expect an experiment to understand these sorts of things.
S: ... Dad said we were partners. I kill monsters for him, he-
PG: 'Dad'? did you call him Dad?!
S:... 'The Guide' said we're partners.
PG: I'm calling him Dad now.
S: No.
PG: Too late.
S: No, I called him Dad first.
Guide: ... Nurse I need something for a headache.
Nurse: This is the best fucking sitcom I've ever stumbled upon.

Notes: ayo so, Guide pretty much lives in the boondocks of nowhere town, otherwise he'd probably know a lot more about Lunatic Cultist. Oh well. thats what you get for being country bumpkin. You know how in the game, The Guide pretty much knows everything? haha, not here... not yet.

PG and Slayer are going to be the most destructive pair of siblings on the face of the planet. Poor Guide. You've been a parent for two weeks. One of your kids is a vicious super spy. The Other is a physics defying bloodthirsty killer. Good parenting.

Nurse chopped off The Arm's fingers with a scalpel. Right now, My baby's in pieces. sad.

EDIT TLDR: Guide sees The Arm, identiifes it as The Slayer's and notes the two fingers missing. Says perhaps that's how Amidas got out. Thinks about The Slayer and is like - okay stop acting like a dad, he's not your baby. *sob*