With his agreement and slackening beneath her, she slowly eased her grip, but the Dust Lady kept her eyes on him. He dared not move, not this time, not when her gaze stood in the face of any thought of escape, a knowing look - she wasn't going to be caught off-guard again, and she was reminding him.
The System flashed yet another prompt with her status, but he believed it was for naught. Viscus wasn't going to fight her, not when he was directly within pulping range. His chance to escape was thwarted by a table, one that he would have barreled over had he not been as weakened as he was. His breath shuddered as he groaned inwardly, his fists weakly clenching at how his body was only functional with the assistance of Mana.
When he began glowing blue, she froze, her hands twitching toward his, but he calmly slid his arms beside him. As calmly as he could, at least.
"No funny moves, Ghost."
His reply was a powering down, Mana returning to circulating inside him, "W-wasn't trying."
The Dust Lady took one last scan over him before finally moving away, giving him enough space to sit up. He longingly glanced at the door to his left, but his sight was obstructed when she sat next to him, her emerald eyes meeting him with a glare.
"Now, let's set some rules before you decide a fight to the death is what you want, okay?"
He inched away, but nodded regardless.
"We'll be having a talk. A very simple talk, and I expect you to not run off on me the second I look away," her glasses gleamed.
A sudden roar caused him to jump from his place, his head whipping to the source. When he saw a poorly animated monster, he took a deep breath before seating himself back, the Dust Lady having already grabbed the remote and turned off the TV in the process.
"Let's start from the beginning," she aimed the remote at herself. "Tiye, and?"
Seeing the remote aimed at himself, he gulped, "Viscus."
"Finally, a name to the face behind the mask," she took a breath. "Sorry about the TV, it startled me as well."
His mouth tilted, "You didn't seem all that startled."
"I was," she spun the remote. "But you were plenty distracted yourself to see that."
"Right.."
"Horror movies are kind of comedic when you try and watch them again, if you think about it."
"I.. guess?"
Then he froze. He didn't understand why they were talking about movies, so he couldn't help but shift in place for a moment. His sight danced around for a moment before his hand twitched with a gulp masked by her speech.
"Huh, come to think of it, I've seen you before, but where.." she leaned her chin on her fist, and his eyes caught the door behind her once again.
"Was it with the Screwdrivers?"
After a second, Viscus realized the question was aimed at him. He couldn't help but keep silent, and she snapped her fingers in front of his nose.
"Remnant to Viscus. The Screwdrivers?"
The blond blinked, "Who?"
Tiye blinked back before her expression darkened. "The guys in the junkyard? Lead by Diver? Ring any bells or did that bullet sap away your memories?"
"Wha- I didn't know that was their title," he said indignantly. "I did see you there, Dust Lady."
"Great, no long-term memory damage there, an achievement. Anyway.."
The blond couldn't tell whether she was being genuine or making fun of him, but the latter felt more obvious. He felt an urge to pull out a weapon, but she was too close and seemingly aware of his abilities.
"Have you eaten any of the food I gave you?"
He glared at her for a few seconds before shaking his head.
"You do realize that you are rejecting my hospitality here, but it's understandable. Want some snacks instead?"
Viscus kept silent. When she offered to get a drink, claiming he was most likely parched, he shook his head once more, then his head halted. He stared at her in confusion before he registered the fact that her hand was near his cheek, the cold remote in her grasp anchoring him.
"I don't appreciate the silence here, what are you thinking?"
At a snail's pace, he scooted away, but there was only so much space to go. Before his back could touch the couch's armrest, the Dust Lady's mouth opened.
"I thought the bullet did something, but maybe you were always like that," she clicked her tongue. "I pity those who gave birth to you."
"What?"
"You make me feel like I'm interacting with a mentally deficient person. Maybe that's how you wandered here."
In his eyes, he saw not a smirk or a sneer. He saw not a hint of mockery, but an objective observation. Yet, his mind processed them repeatedly in the two seconds of silence that followed, his response delayed only by the survival instincts and repeated screens filling his vision.
"You!"
"What about me?" She hummed, "What about it?"
"What the hell do you want!?" his fist hovered over his inventory, consequences be damned. "Fuck you and your food, I'm leaving!"
A hand grasped his shirt and their heads were nearly touching a moment later, "Listen here, Viscus. I'm quite annoyed with you. I've been nothing but accommodating, so how about you drop all this anger bullshit so we can speak face to face?"
The confusion was overshadowed by the rage, and, against his better judgement, his head rocketed forward, their foreheads smashing with sparking Aura. Before he could regret or celebrate his hit, Tiye righted her head and sent it forward, slamming him back onto the couch with a groan, his brain rattling.
"I didn't mean that in a literal manner, but good try regardless," she huffed.
He clutched his forehead while glaring at her, not making an attempt at sitting up. If that was how she was going to play, then he, too, could show her something she'd enjoy. He glanced at the ceiling for a second, his mind conjuring a plan.
"I swear to Oum if you are thinking about blowing up the ceiling, I'll make sure to put that bullet back where it belongs," he glowered at her words. "Now you're looking at me, good."
"Just spit it out," he gnashed his teeth. "Are you gloating before killing me? You want to chat a bit before putting a second bullet in my skull? Is that it?"
At his outburst, the Dust Lady snickered, "You wouldn't be here if I wanted you dead. And by here, I mean this room."
He seethed on the inside as he straightened his back, well knowing that her words were fact, but a lick of heat managed to seep out, "So you're keeping me trapped here, great, amazing. Screw you."
"Not quite," she sighed. "You aren't making much of an effort to stop me from lunging at you."
At the twitch of her limbs, he shot to his feet, her gaze seemingly lazily following after him.
"Viscus," she stood to his level, "The Ghost of Walkerway is dead."
He hopped back in alarm, hurriedly swiping whatever weapon he could manage out of his inventory, but all he was graced with was a block of cocaine.
"You might not be dead, but he is. Have you ever thought what would have happened if you survived that encounter?"
Narrowing his eyes, he switched the brick for an actual gun, but she simply started stretching with her arms behind her back. It was obvious what would have happened - he would have come back to tear them all to shreds for springing their trap on him, and wiped out every single member of their gang as soon as he had a level rivaling that of the gang leader with a chain.
"Are you stupid?" she said out of the blue. "I'm not even trying to insult you, but are you actually stupid?"
His reply was a barrel trained on her head. She regarded it with a mere glance before her eyes focused on his, a challenge and mockery hidden within. He knew that look, it was too familiar to him, as if every Vacuoan was trained from birth on the art of how to give the most disgusting looks toward others.
"If you shoot this gun, I'm not even letting you leave with an intact body," she hummed, waving the remote in front of him.
"Just," he glanced at his rapidly dwindling Mana and cringed. "Tell me what you wanted to speak about."
"Gun first," she nodded. "Alright, sit so we can continue, and I'd rather you toned down that temper of yours."
A snide was on the tip of his tongue before he forcefully dropped on the couch, grumbling internally. When he finally looked at her, he froze at the chilling look on her face. It was blank, no emotion in sight, and her eyes reflected nothing but him. No emotion, no thought, just him inside, frozen like a still-picture.
"Tell me, Viscus, why were you running around killing people left and right?"
His hands twitched, and his lips split open for a second before his teeth clacked shut. The Gamer knew the answer to this question, it was the answer to any question toward him that started with 'why.' The System was the cause, and its impossible task for him. Why else would he act as he was? Why else would he kill someone? Why else would his hands touch a corpse, looking for anything of use? Why else would he willingly run into gang territory just to come back to the hotel drenched in blood?
"They started it," he eked out an answer after seconds of nerve-wracking silence.
"Explain."
"E-explain?" he spluttered. "Explain!? What do you mean 'explain'? It-it's obvious!"
"I want to know."
There was a certain sharpness behind those glasses of hers, but for the life of him, Viscus couldn't understand why she cared. While Tiye had interactions with the junkyard gang, or the Screwdrivers as she called them, it didn't appear that she had any affiliations, though if it would get her off his case, then he'd answer, if only to understand her reasons.
"They antagonized me for no reason!" he hissed. "I go ask for help, and all I get in the end is a stab in the back."
Every single time.
"I manage to flee for my life, and what fucking happens? Some… kid or something just tattles on me to some random thugs who come to beat me up while I'm doing nothing on the street."
"That's tough."
"You think that's tough? You-they-I.." his blood simmered.
"They threw me in a fucking cave!" he spat. "Surrounded by other… disgusting gang members, then- Fuck! My car!"
His only source of transport out of this cursed place, just somehow disassembled with 'screwdrivers' according to that lazy cashier. She didn't even care that the car was being torn apart in front of her shop - the sand hadn't yet settled by the time he had even arrived!
"I'm fucking homeless, penniless, and without someone to rely on, so I try to get a job - some honest work in this disgusting dishonest place, but guess what, guess what!" he slapped the couch with both hands, his face zooming toward Tiye's. "It doesn't matter!"
None of it mattered - all he did was waste time. Time that he so dearly needed if he wished to live to the end, if he wanted to fight the two immortals and escape this doomed planet, starting with Vacuo.
"I fucking hate Vacuo! I hate it, I hate it so much."
"Don't we all?"
"Do you all? Do you really!?" his arms trembled. "Or do you hate me because I'm 'Atlesian'?"
"Are you not?"
"Fuck you!"
He didn't care anymore - The Gamer was done with this charade. Before the Dust Lady could react, he rocketed his head forward with as much Mana as he could pump into it, smashing once again into his opponent's, but this time stunning her.
She bent backward as he jumped over her, his blue glowing body flying toward the locked metal door. With a snarl, he smashed into the metal-
Only to ricochet off it.
His heart rate shot up as he realized he missed his chance, but he didn't - couldn't - look back. A blue orb of Mana flew from his hand and struck the door, not quite obliterating it but breaking it off its hinges regardless. With his escape secured, he marched forward. Yet..
Only two steps were taken until he felt powerlessness flood his body, his head striking open the last resistance of the door before he was floored within the second. All he could mutter at that moment was a weak curse, his eye briefly catching the Dust Lady from the corner of his eye.
"You know, I actually feel bad for you."
Lies.
"I think I can help you."
Lies.
"I can get you back to Atlas."
She can't get him back home.
"But,"
Here was the catch.
"I need you to help me in return."
Viscus felt his body shift before he was lifted face up. He saw Tiye staring at him, her emerald eyes containing something he couldn't understand. It didn't matter - his Mana had run out with his explosive bursts. It wasn't meant to be active for so long, and he had pushed it by using [Mana Bomb] twice, even if the first was canceled mid-casting.
"I'll bring you back to the bed and we can chat there," she began walking. "I think what I want to tell you is quite important, especially since you weren't exactly listening to me prior."
"What's there to listen to?" instead came out as a long exhale.
Once she had put him under the cover, she sat on the edge and looked him straight in the eye. He didn't have the strength to turn away, not unless he wanted to waste the precious few points of Mana that regenerated.
"I asked you what you would have done had you survived that ambush, but you didn't answer," she noted with an eerie, almost soft, smile. "More likely than not, a manhunt would have started."
The Gamer wanted to ignore her, but the words slowly oozed into his mind. Before he could open his mouth, she continued.
"More likely than not, you want to ask me what I mean by this. Let's imagine you escaping or somehow winning - we have a new guy in town, running around and killing people with no apparent rhyme or reason, who doesn't look anywhere near stopping, and cannot be reasoned with."
He blinked at her, understanding the reasoning but not seeing the issue. If he was able to escape the night prior, he would have learned that gangs were monitoring him, and he would have prepared accordingly. He hadn't yet locked in his new stats, nor consolidated his newfound power. His semblance, disgustingly useless it may be at the moment, had to exist for a reason, or he would have made it useful against all odds.
"You don't seem to understand. Every single gang would have traced you back to where you hid, and you would have had at most three days before your body was crab food."
"..."
"Looks like you finally get it. The Ghost of Walkerway is dead, but you are not."
"What.. do you want?" he glowed for a second.
"You, but not Ghost. You seem to have a drive, and I can help you, only if you help me."
"What.. that mean?"
She scooted closer, "I need you to listen carefully," he stared, unblinking. "You have a skillset I need, but the problem is that you aren't focused on the right thing. From what I see, you were just killing anyone you came across."
He stayed silent when she paused, as if waiting for him to affirm that statement.
"I can sense you have a.. Disdain for gangs, but Atlas isn't like Vacuo - nearly everyone you meet is part of a gang here."
That wouldn't change his direction. It wasn't as if Vacuo had treated him well to warrant a need to hesitate.
"Before I continue, I need to understand you. I need to know: what do you want?" her eyes glimmered, and his narrowed.
'How much should I tell her? Should I even tell her anything?'
"I know you want to go home, wherever that might be, but how does murder solve that?"
Viscus shut his eyes for a brief few seconds, unable to find the right words.
"Is it revenge?" she postulated. "Or are you a fan of blood, as some psychos are?"
When he glared, she scoffed, "I don't know, how about you tell me?"
Every response that floated in his mind coalesced into one word, "Power."
"So you like being strong? No? Pretty sure if you looted a quarter of the people you killed, you'd have enough to be back in Atlas by yesterday."
"Not Atlas," he was sick of hearing it.
"Alright, I'll let you rest for the next few hours. Got an arrangement, but in the meantime I want you to think about this," she pointed at him. "I can let you go once I'm back, though you gotta pay for my door-
"Or we could make a deal."
He nodded, and she was soon out of the room, the door closing with a click. The blond was finally alone in the room, and he didn't know what to make of it. When he closed his eyes, he couldn't help but tremble even in spite of the weakness of his body.
Viscus didn't know what to do - he was terrified. If her words were right, then he would have been doomed in no more than 3 days. If her words were right, then she wanted something from him, and could offer something in return.
But Tiye was something he was not - level 41. She lorded over him, and whether she would honor her words or not was debatable. This was Vacuo, after all.
'Why can't things be easy?'
His eyes shut amidst the tears.
-CEM-
The blond sat on the edge of the bed, his hands clasped. Eyes turned toward the floor with a head leaning forward, and thoughts spiraling downward. He debated taking a glimpse at the door, or at the window shining slightly brighter, but that would only increase his longing further.
He gazed at the carpet beneath him, outlined by red with dark orange and green dancing in the middle. The colored lines looped around each other, the green enveloping the orange in its cocoon, a pattern repeated until it met the edge where the red outline cut the cocoon in half, yet enveloping the orange all the same.
It rubbed softly as he glazed his foot over it, not quite stirring dust but not feeling as clean as it could have been. Whether it was the dim lighting or age, the gradient felt muddled compared to what he imagined it could have been, but it could have been a new purchase for all he knew.
The ceiling above wasn't as bright as it was hours ago, but he could still see the various shapes disguising a pattern of flowers peeking between the luminescent stickers. It felt homely, like this was not a prison, and maybe it wasn't.
There were no bars bar those for the window, and even then they were for keeping people out rather than in. The door was not made of metal, but a wood that would shatter even for the most average of people - its thickness so much less than he was used to. Whether it was due to shoddy Vacuoan quality or intentional, the truth remained that, in this very moment, he could leave.
He could burst out through the window, tearing open the flimsy metal bars with a flash of Mana, or he could just open the door and stroll out of the exit that he had made for himself hours prior, the metal door casually leaning in its dented state over the entrance, only protecting privacy and not any invasions.
Viscus could leave.
Yet he sat on the bed, his body taking in the chill of the air as if to make up for all the days strolling in the oven of Vacuo. His nose flared as he took in a breath, his mouth exhaling before repeating the cycle. He could leave, he knew and couldn't find anything to stop him.
The exit was there, the chance was open, but the Dust Lady's words stuck to his mind, inspiring terror with every thought - he would have been dead within days of his escape, and when he gave it the brain power it needed, he understood how true that might have been.
The gang leader with chains was seemingly waiting for him. His men were standing as bait, and immediately surrounded him as soon as he fell in their midst. The man wanted him, and the encounter would have ended with him either dead or enslaved to a gang.
So he died. Or he apparently did, yet survived. His body was battered beyond belief, [Gamer's Body] unable to cope with the degree of damage, even if it was repairing at a fast pace. The Ghost of Walkerway wasn't invincible, so he got exorcised with a silver bullet to the skull.
With a tremble, he pulled out the ceramic mask and stared at its husk - a mixture of so many things dirtying its pure white base, its top quarter shattered circularly with fissures running down from around the circular break where the bullet landed. In its current state, the mask was barely holding on, but it didn't need to be used anymore.
The Ghost of Walkerway died.
A brief glimpse at the System's description of the item made him sigh before depositing it back where it would never see light. It was an item that would forever remind him of who he became, and what end it led to.
[Legendary Mask (Unnamed):
Fits to the wearer's face
Prevents involuntary unmasking
2/100 Durability]
He wouldn't miss it.
The System provided him with points to invest after his level ups, something he neglected to do in his bid to compensate for the semblance he had gained, and he didn't know whether it would have even helped. The gang leader was so much above him in power that the 12 extra points would have, at most, prolonged his suffering.
He looked at his pitiful Mana points, and he fought against the desire to mash the twelve points into INT and WIS, but there was no telling if it would have made him any smarter, or wiser.
The bed creaked as he shifted, his back landing with a thud as he relaxed his body. The Gamer wanted to know what to do, where to go from here, yet the System helped naught. A prompt that exhausted him to even look at, but it was what it ordered.
[Main Quest : The Means : With capital and base strength to stand on your feet, you have only achieved the bare minimum.
Objective(s): Reach Level 30 (11/30) - Achieve MAX level in/Upgrade 5 skills (1/5)
Reward(s): 1000 XP, 3 Skills of choice, 10 Stat Points, Continuation of Main Quest
Failure: Death]
He could only glare at the screen before dismissing it, his eyelids closing shut. Level 30 felt like it was ages away, and considering the amount of death to reach his current level, which he estimated would have passed a hundred by now, he feared for what his future entailed.
How much longer would he need to bloody his hands just for one more morsel of XP, just to level up once more, only for a larger requirement to meet him? It wasn't as if he could simply settle for 30 or wherever the top huntsman's level would be - he had to go higher. A battle against ancient beings meant that he had to be prepared, and he doubted any amount of preparation would count as 'overpreparation.' In fact, it made him feel the goal was only ever loftier, and it terrified him.
As he was rolling on his side, he heard three knocks on the door before it opened, and his eyes opened to the sight of Tiye still holding the knob in her hand, not yet leaving the doorway.
"Thought you would have left by the time I was back," her hand slipped off the metal as she leaned over the frame.
"Thought so too," he whispered before sitting up, his gaze barely meeting hers.
"I'm grateful that you didn't bail on me. So, are you up for some discussion or do you need more time?"
He motioned toward the chair, and they were soon sitting face to face, a mug filled with what seemed to be coffee in her hand.
"Want some? I can go prep' it real fast if you want."
"It's alright," he took a deep breath. "I've thought about what you said, and I want to ask you to give me some more time?"
"Oh? I thought you were prepared to give me your final decision - and I'll respect it either way."
"Yeah, so," he gritted his teeth, "I want to go outside for a day or two before I can finally decide."
The mug paused in front of her lips, her eyes narrowing, "So you want to go kill some more?"
He shook his head, "I just want.. Need to take a breath outside."
"How can I trust you won't just ghost me? Pun unintentional."
"I won't. I'm not going to go start fights either, not if I want the Ghost to reappear, and I'd rather not have gangs collapse on me as I sleep." Not that he slept, but it didn't change the situation.
Tiye settled the half-empty mug on the desk, humming in thought. If she refused, then he would probably reject her offer and hope she kept her word, but he wasn't afraid to fight for his freedom if needed.
"Alright, if you are being as truthful as you claim, then you can just go. No need to come back either, but if I heard any news of a new Ghost popping up, then consider yourself dead," she tapped on the desk. "I'll kill you myself if you appear before my eyes."
"I-I won't look for trouble," his hands tightened into fists, and she nodded.
"You can go, but I recommend you get something to hide your hair. A picture of the Ghost's corpse began circulating last night, and your mop is too similar in character," she studied his face.
"I can see it in your eyes, but you don't need to worry about it. I can fix something up to hide your features, if you want."
"..Thanks," he inspected his arm for a moment. "And, uh, could you lend me your shower for a bit?"
"I'm assuming you have clothes to change into?" she raised her brow.
"Y-yeah."
With her agreement, she brought him to the bathroom and instructed him to find her in the living room after he was done. A hint of fear that she would catch him naked had him on alert for the short few minutes he'd been under the blissful shower, but it seemed to have only been his paranoia.
Before he exited, Viscus couldn't help but catch his reflection in the mirror, his blond, damp hair feeling no different in length than when he had first arrived. His gaze flitted between his hand and the mirror a couple of times before he raised it to his scalp, a lime glow bouncing off the reflective sheet.
Uncomfortably, he felt the water stream toward his hand rather than drop to his shoulder, and a minute later did he stand with a spherical blob of water and a nearly dry head of hair. The Gamer couldn't help but inspect it, the ball floating above his palm, unstable just like his [Mana Bomb], but with less of a desire to explode out or burst, and more just struggle to maintain shape as the water particles wobbled.
Glancing at his status had him shut off his semblance with a grimace - he would deal with the inefficiency later, the Dust Lady was waiting for him. He hurriedly rearranged his inventory so he wouldn't make the same mistake again - pulling out a brick of coke instead of a gun was more embarrassing than his death.
"Huh, you do look marginally cleaner like that, though your taste in clothing sucks."
With twitching eyelids, he looked at his current outfit. It was a simple combo of a red shirt with some jagged decals on top of gray cargo pants, "I don't see the issue."
"You do you," she shrugged. "Now come closer."
She beckoned him on the couch, but aversion assaulted him in droves. "Either you sit here or I'll drag you myself. Can't exactly put this on you from here."
He quickly realized she had prepared a desert scarf for him, one that he rarely noticed being used in the streets, but numerous enough to not be considered extinct. Against his instincts, he sat next to her, momentarily inspecting her as she brought over the cloth.
Even till now, she didn't seem to have any weapon on her - only being dressed as if she was at home, though that was probably the reality of it. Her gray top and black pants made him feel she was defenseless, but he was taught very quickly that even without weapons, anyone with a level higher than his could beat him to death if they wanted to.
Especially her.
His sight darkened as she fastened the scarf, and he was finally, according to her, prepared to go out.
"I don't know how they do it where you're from, but we take our promises here in Vacuo quite seriously. I'll take your word for it, but I won't be expecting you more than two nights from now."
Shakily nodding, he moved the metal door away and turned to put it back before he left.
Tiye waved him goodbye as the door screeched between them, and he, hesitantly, made sure to wave at her back.
Whether he would make a deal or not, Viscus was at least sure of one thing:
He was already more relaxed with just one more door between them.
You may love this story, RedTheVariant, but we flippin' love you more!
..May or may not have actually reminded Pasta to upload by the review notification, believe it or not.. And then I spent the next two hours after noticing that editing a few wonky stuff with Maakl2001.
Anyhow, Chapter 25 and 26 are monuments for Pasta. To say they were incredibly difficult to write would be an understatement. Every word, every action, every twitch and thought - all of it was intentional. All of it has meaning, and it's up to you to decide the meaning with the information given.
So we enter the new Arc in DA, where the previous one ended in the death of the Ghost of Walkerway, this one begins with the reawakening of Viscus.
One thing I'd like to point out is that in all the scenes where Viscus was wearing his mask, I never referred to him by name. It was always "The Gamer" or "The blond," among other context-relevant referrals. Did you notice it?
It honestly disoriented me a bit when writing 25, since it had been actual months since chapters 22 and 23, with 24 occupying most of this period (I actually wrote 25 and 26 around a week or two before 24 was done-done).
Pasta can't exactly think that much at the moment, but it is in my hopes that 25 and 26 intrigued you. The next chapter has no defined date as plans are being made for it and some other surprise, and it is up in the air which one will appear before your eyes first.
Take care, my dear meatballs. We are only just beginning..
Viscus has only just finished the Tutorial, after all.