Knock. Knock. Knock.
"Sweetheart? Can you please check who's at the door for me; I'm afraid I've got my hands tied in the kitchen at the moment!"
"Yeah, for sure mom; I'll be right there!"
"Don't open it though, okay?! Just look through the peep-hole, and let me know who it is first!"
"Okie dokie, artichokie~!" Bethany called out from the middle of the stairwell, as she quickly defended down the steps while wearing only her lavender nightgown.
Curious as who it could be, the ten-year old made her way to the cozy foyer; her bare feet stepped across the brown linoleum floor, as she made her way near the coat hanger in the corner of the entryway to grab her step-stool from behind it.
Carrying it with her, Bethany jovially sat the two-foot tall step-stool down in front of the large, wooden door— climbing up it, and holding onto the smooth surface of the front door, as she leaned in to put her left eye up near the one-way peep-hole.
Fully prepared to tease her uncle for having forgotten his house key inside, Bethany's mischievous grin faded upon reckoning the anxious teenager that was standing on the other side of her door, with just a lantern in hand, and a hooded-cloak over her outfit she had on from that same morning.
"M… M-Mom! Mom, Vivi's at the door! C-Can I let her in?!" Bethany called out in a worried voice— already reaching down to grab a hold of the handle, as she heard her mother's footsteps quickly approaching from around the corner, where their kitchen was.
Appearing just as bewildered and dreadful as her daughter felt, Bethany's mom furrowed her eyebrows and muttered under her breath, "Why on Earth is she here, at this hour," before picking Bethany up and setting her aside.
Hearing the legs of the step-stool drag against the linoleum floor as her mom's foot pushed it away from the door, Bethany knelt down and picked it up before place it to the side— creating space in the their small foyer, as she watched her mother peek through the door.
Verifying that it was indeed Vivine at their door, the woman with platinum blond hair hastily pulled the door open— her heart immediately sinking into her chest, the moment she saw for herself just how exhausted and desperate the sixteen year-old girl looked, underneath the hood she had on over her head.
Already sensing that something was terribly wrong, Bethany's mother poked her head outside to survey her property, for as far as the eye could see. Once she knew the coast was clear, the woman offered the distraught teenager a sympathetic smile.
"Why don't you come inside, dear…? We'll talk where it's safe," Bethany's mom suggested, before she and her anxious daughter took a step back for Vivine to slowly drag her feet inside behind her— every maternal instinct firing on all cylinders inside her cognitive mind, as the woman closed the door behind her and locked it.
Awakening to the artificial sounds of rhythmic beating and low constant humming of what he could only relate to as sounding like a water pump, Ren found himself staring up at a bright fluorescent light— an inactive lamp and several other bedside medical instruments hanging over him, as his dry lips felt a steady flow of oxygen blowing through the mask he had around his face.
Feeling just as groggy as he had— back when he had woken up in the middle of a wolves' den, from what felt like death itself— Ren let out an elongated groan, while beginning to stir up from the rather comfortable mattress he found himself on.
However, before he could even sit up all the way while still in bed, a sudden scurry of footsteps coming from what sounded like a meter away from him alerted him that he wasn't alone.
Upon hearing an all too familiar voice muttering under her breath, "Oh, shite— thank God," Ren soon felt a pair of small hands gently pressing down on his chest as he heard Amerika scolding him, "W-Where the fock dew yew think yew're goin'?!"
"Uh…? Out of bed…?!" Ren replied back with a tired voice— not putting up too much of a fight, as Amerika laid him back down before adjusting the heavy white blanket over his body.
"Tch! The 'ell yew are, mate!" The goblin argued back in protest, before quietly muttering under her raspy voice, "Stuborn lil' bastard— yew were about to pull the bloody-fockin' IV out of yewr arm," as she bent over the side of his bed to ensure that the bandaged-needle in Ren's arm was secured.
Still waking up and not all there in the head yet, Ren felt the back of his head sinking deeper into the fluffy pillow under him— narrowing his eyelids at the fluorescent light above, and lying still while Amerika began to conduct a physical on him.
By the time the goblin girl had finished poking every inch of him, shining lights in both of his eyes, and continuously asking him questions that could be answered with common knowledge, Ren had fully awoken— feeling alert and surprisingly able-bodied, much to Amerika's bafflement.
"Yew're, uh… Y-Yew're quite the medical enigma— yew know that, mate?" She asked with a relieved yet drowsy smile across her pale-green face; letting out a tired yawn, as she used what cognitive dissonance she had left to begin carefully unhook him from the plentra of electronic medical devices.
Staring at the backlit screen of the vital monitoring device that had been attached to his chest— via three small sticky pads that were wired underneath its chassis— Ren narrowed his eyelids with a thoughtful look, as he searched for an explanation as to why he had even survived.
"I think… I think it might be because of the the large dosage of grellsvice you gave me, that my blood vessels constricted down to the point of me losing almost all circulation, throughout my body," Ren theorized with what felt like an educated guess, as he remembered somewhat hazily the sheer amount of blood that had been pouring out of his bullet wounds.
Humming tiredly to his theory with an impressed look in her baggy eyes, Amerika coiled up the vital monitoring pads in her hands, and set them aside while asking, "Yew know a lot about drugs… It's because of yewr mum, right? She was a "Medicine Woman," I think…?"
"Pharmacist: my mother studied pharmaceutical medicine at the "Golden Vinyard University"," Ren clarified, while finding it slightly odd how he addressed his mom's profession differently than he normally would have.
"Ah, okay; that clears it up for me!" Amerika said with tired sincerity in her voice, as she set aside the coiled up pads to carefully pull out the IV from Ren's arm. "Yew see, I'm more familiar with what a pharmacist is, than I am with a "Medicine Woman"… There, got it."
Compared to the levels of excruciating pain that he had recently endured, Ren barely noticed the needle being taken out of his arm— only realizing it, once he felt Amerika grabbing a hold of his elbow to wrap a fresh bandage around his pin-prick sized wound.
Sitting up from bed while wearing a white patient's gown, Ren watched with intrigument in his eyes, as Amerika used her writing utensil to finish up jotting down her notes on a white forum that she had attached to a metal clipboard.
"… What is that?" Ren asked curiously with his finger pointed at the flat-rectangular in the goblin's non-dominant hand.
Raising a brow at him, Amerika thought for a second as to what Ren was referring to, but coming to her own assumption. "Oh, this?" She chirped, before tucking her writing utensil behind her long, pointy ear to free her hands— turning her clipboard around, before handing it over to the eleven year-old. "It's a called "Physical Exam Sheet"; whenever one of our scouts would get injured out in the field, we'd use these twice on them…"
"… Once when the injury occurs; and again after they've been transported back to the medical bay for further evaluation and treatment," Amerika explained in a cathartic voice— appearing both visibly somber at her tragic loss that was still fresh on her exhausted mind, yet bizarrely thankful to be able to still share stories of her clan.
Glossing over his results— all of which looked positive, as far as his limited medical insight went— Ren inspected the top of the metal clipboard. Keeping a thumb pressed against the paper to prevent it from slipping away, Ren narrowed his eyelids with peaked curiosity in his crimson gaze, as he repeatedly pressed down on the metal clip— much to Amerika's befuddlement.
"Oh… Y… Yew were referrin' that thin', and not the… The fockin' piece of paper," Amerika muttered while feeling chagrin— her cheeks darkening, as she let out a quiet chuckle while finding the boy's fascination with her clipboard both amusing, and endearing.
"Ah, I see… There's a little metal rod inside that's fastened with rivets; and it looks like those little closely-knit springs are constantly creating downward tension to keep it closed against the metal board…" Ren murmured eccentricity to himself— his quick deciphering and understanding of a device impressing Amerika.
"Knew yew were a bright one, mate…!" The goblin complimented with a soft chuckle, before reluctantly pulling the clipboard gently out of Ren's hands. "'M sorry 'bout that, Ren; we've got some unpleasant business to, uh… T-To take care of first."
Not that he was upset in the least bit with how she had politely taken back what was hers; Ren's carefree demeanor did noticeably shift, the moment he saw the way Amerika's weary smile faded away— almost immediately after she had dreadfully mentioned there being "unpleasant business".
Becoming more serious, Ren furrowed his eyebrows as he asked her in a concerned voice, "Is there…? Is there something wrong?"
Upon hearing that said, Amerika couldn't help but to let out a humorless chuckle while shaking her head despairingly. "Keh…! Sayin' that there's "somethin' wrong" would be the understatement of the century," she quipped sarcastically, before taking in a deep breath to slowly regain her composure— the dark circles under her bloodshot yellow eyes told all Ren needed to know about just how fatigued she actually was.
"It's, uh… I-It's actually bloody-fantastic miracle that yew're up and at 'em so soon— to be frank with yew, I started doubtin' about eleven-fockin' hours ago that yew'd even pull through there," Amerika admitted with a shudder running down her small body, and paused while momentarily sporting a an exhausted thousand-yard stare.
Regaining her senses after Ren awkwardly waved his hand several times in front of her face, Amerika flinched while blinking repeatedly— shaking away the dark intrusive thoughts, before looking back up to give him a tired smile of reassurance once more.
"S-Sorry 'bout that, Ren; I haven't fockin' slept in like… F-Fockin, thirty hours— it bloody feels like it…!" She uttered out exasperatingly with sorrow in her voice; but yet, all she could do was let out a delirious and half-hearted laugh at her own despair.
Feeling sympathy for her as she reached up to massage her closed eyelids with her thumb and index finger, Ren took in a deep breath and slowly exhaled, before going on to tell her, "You have nothing to apologize for, so don't say sorry for anything, Amerika."
Upon hearing such a response accompanied by the sheer amount of conviction that he had in his voice, the goblin girl felt genuinely taken aback in that moment— her yellow eyes widened as far as they could open in their tried state, as she stared back silently at the eleven year-old, before finally breaking the silence with a soft chuckle.
"Heh…! W-Wasn't expectin' yew to say that…! That caught me by surprise!" Amerika mused softly, and felt her smile widening across her round face, as she noticed the way Ren stared back at her with a look of gentle approval across his pale face. "Anyway, uh… I'll bring yew up to speed along the way; there's… There's one more loose end that needs tying up."
Getting out of bed and getting dress in a pair of leather jeans and plain white shirt she had crafted from a combination of her bunker's resources— and whatever materials she could salvage from the fifty mutilated-corpses within the Equipoise bunker— Ren put on the pair of a pair of custom-fit socks and combat boots, before following the groggy goblin out of the cluttered medical bay— taking notice of how she made sure to bring her clipboard with her, along with a fresh few piece of blank paper.
"Yew remember me mentioning to yew about there being a hooded figure that was supposed to be in the mainframe room?" Amerika asked, while the two walked side-by-side through the bloodied hallways of the corpse-ridden bunker.
"Vaguely, yeah; it's all sort of blurry, to be honest… You mentioned something about eleven hours ago. Is that how long it's really been?"
"Unfortunately, yeah; I had to spend all that bloody time resuscitatin' yewr dyin' arse…!" Amerika answered with an exasperated groan, before shrugging softly as she added, "Which, I mean, benefits both of us— believe it or not."
Hearing the fans within the ventilation built into the ceiling whirling, as it sucked away the stench of death that would have been pungent around them, Ren slid his hands into his pockets as he began saying to her, "I mean… As much as I appreciate you saving my life and all, I… I don't understand how my survival would benefit you in the way you're hinting at."
"Well yew see mate, that hooded bastard that I've mentioned took somethin' really, REALLY important from the mainframe room," Amerika stressed with tired urgency, and rolled her lips while exhaling through her mouth, before cynically telling him, "Long story short, I need to retrieve the device he stole from me— at any cost."
"… Even if it means havin' to spare the same fockin' bastard whose filthy micro-cock was in me mouth for damn well near five hours," Amerika said angrily with a grimace— her eyelids narrowing bitterly at the unpleasant memory, while Ren shared the same uncomfortable-disgust she had towards her own sexual assault.
"So… I'm guessing he's still alive then?"
"For the time bein', he is— yeah; he told me that he had information that would help with locating that hooded-fock… The caveat being that he'd only speak to yew," Amerika replied with disdain in her voice, and pausing while they turned a corner, before suddenly letting out a vindictive chuckle.
"But after yew get what I need out of 'em, I'm goin' to fockin' cook him alive in his own bloody suit of shitty armor— crack him open like a crab, and make him watch while I eat his fockin' guts…!"
Unable but to feel rather disturbed from the way Amerika began sadistically grinning with her lips curled out— her sharpened teeth, seemingly ready to tear into her rapist's internal organs.
"Oh, uh… D-Do goblins noprmally eat humans?" Ren couldn't help but to ask, and immediately felt a wave of relief wash over the moment Amerika's vicious expression disappeared, the moment she let out an amused laugh.
"Nah, not really; but I'm bloody willin' to make an exception for him though," Amerika reassured, while sounding absolutely serious about burning and eating the armored man alive. "But leave that lil' dish of revenge for me, mate; the last thing I'll need when that time comes is a case of performance anxiety~!"
"…"
"…"
"… W-Was that supposed to be a joke, or-"
"-Not really, no; I truly do believe that I'll get cold feet if I know yew're watchin' goin' "goblin mode" on the piece-of-shite," Amerika admitted with an uneasy smile, before quickly raising her finger up to her relaxed lips.
"... But just don't go tellin' him any of that; I lied to him that I'd let him go free after this," Amerika said with her sadism momentarily returning, as she winked playfully at Ren before taking the pen out from behind her ear. "Here's yewr tools— I take it yew're literate, yeah?"
"Yeah, I suppose you could say I am," Ren quipped back with a playfully smug grin across his lips— attempting to lighten his mood, as he took his hands out of his pockets to grab a hold of Amerika's clipboard and writing utensil.
With his tools in hand, it wasn't long until Ren and his goblin companion once again found themselves walking down the final hallway of the bunker. Instead of heading all the way down the fluorescent-lit corridor, the duo focused their attention on the nine-foot tall armored man that laid on his side— his metal joints fused together, unable to move effectively.
Seeing the man who had been responsible for the death of her loved ones, and who had facilitated her gang rape that had almost ended her life, Amerika's tired yellow eyes became rejuvenated with hatred— her fingers tensing up, as every part of her entire being wanted to slowly dismember the bandit leader, piece-by-piece.
"Oi, Cunt! He's here— perfectly healthy, just as I said he would be," Amerika spoke aloud and in a direct voice to the incapacitated armored man— her voice growing devoid of any warmth or humor, as she led Ren closer to him.
Although the goblin girl— within her current mentally-fatigued and physically exhausted state— wasn't faring well in the slightest, Ren could tell from the way he heard Jag wheezing painfully, each time he took a breath, that he was in even worse condition than Amerika.
"So the wretched thing actually made good on her promise; I suppose that shouldn't come to anyone's surprise," the entrapped bandit leader mused insultingly, before adding in his low, deep voice, "She wears her ulterior motives on her sleeve."
"That "wretched thing" with "ulterior motives" is the one who's saved my life twice now," Ren shot back defensively— shouldering the brunt of the bandit leader's disrespect, and taking it personally on behalf of the mentally fatigued goblin. "For argument's sake though... Let's say that she truly is nothing than a "wretched thing with ulterior motives"... Wouldn't it be fair to say that you and your men were nothing more than a bunch of coward-rapists, who STILL lost to someone as lowly as her and a mere child?"
"I see… Fair enough," the bandit leader murmured hint of guilt in his voice, and paused while muffling his own wheezing breath, before telling Ren, "Allow me to make myself transparent to you: had I known you were a human child, and not an unholy product of necromancy, I… I would have ensured that no harm came to you…"
"… You have my deepest condolences; what befell upon you is most unforgivable," Jag finished up his explanation with a sincere apology that Ren wasn't interested in hearing.
"Yeah, well, if you truly want to bury that hatchet, then you can start by telling me everything I need to know about who that hooded guy was, and where he went," the eleven-year old stated firmly, all while silently earning praise from Amerika as he tapped the end of his pen against the clipboard to sassily emphasis his point.
Seemingly digesting Ren's mannerisms and response, Jag remained silent for a brief moment, before finally asking aloud in a condescending voice, "Ah, I see… You've become her proxy, haven't you? Have you not recognized that, or perhaps you're simply just in den-"
"-Perhaps you should simply shut the hell up, and answer my goddamn questions already," Ren snapped back while raising his voice at the armored man. "Let's make one thing clear here: I'm not interested in your bullshit pseudo-psychological analyses; all I want to know is about the hooded man, and here he took that… T-Thing, from the mainframe…" Ren trailed off, as he looked away momentarily back at Amerika's approving, yet somewhat embarrassed face.
"T-Tch!? T-The "thing"?" The bandit leader murmured, with a hitched breath— having been so caught off by how badly Ren messed up his attempt at an intimidating speech, that he forgot to control his agonized breathing. "Oh… I see now— how expected of her kind: she hasn't told you about what a "Sternengesang" is yet, has she?"
Whipping his head away from Amerika's direction to stare back down at the entrapped bandit leader, Ren furrowed his eyebrows while silently trying to repeat back what Jag had just said— before finally asking him in a dumbfounded voice, "T… The what?"
"It's c-"
"-"Sternengesang": it translates into "Star Singer"— the name originates from an Old-World language that's been lost to time called "Deutsch"," Amerika answered quickly, before Jag could seize the opportunity to paint her in a distrustful light. "When inserted into a designed slot that's made to dock it, it'll allow its user to access its interactive databases…"
"… I-I'll just explain it to yew better some other time, mate; for now, let's deal with this fockin' prick first," Amerika reassured with an apologetic look on her exhausted eyes— after seeing just how mystified Ren looked, once she said the phrase "interactive databases".
From there, Ren had to maintain what patience he could reserve for Jag— constantly getting earfuls of exposition, of how he used to be an adventurer that began his path down to becoming a criminal overlord, due to his village having apparently been raided by a band of pillaging goblins.
Had Jag and his men not sexually assaulted Amerika, and had spared her family of the horrendous acts of violence committed against them, then perhaps Ren would have shown more sympathy to the bigoted man.
After about three hours of questioning him, Ren and Amerika finally got the lead they were searching for.
"I only know him by the name he gave me: "The Completionist". I'm uncertain of what his true identity is, but what I do remember him telling me when he first came into my camp was that he was a representative for the Adventurers' Guild…"
"… Told me that he knew who I was, and that I used to be an adventurer myself. I suppose with that knowledge, it only made sense that he knew that I'd accept his "off the record" quest— seeing how before I ended up living a life of crime, I used to go by the alias of "Goblin Slayer"."
"I tried asking him for an explanation as to why the guild didn't just hire one of their own to take his offer, but all he would tell me is that he couldn't have them or the Ministry of Justice know about where he would be taking us…"
"… If you're seeking to relocate the goblin's stolen artifact, then my advice to you is to start at "Pantheon"— it's the capital of the kingdom, in case your knowledge of your own geographic region is lacking."
"Once there, make your way to the headquarters Adventurers' Guild; begin your investigation into the Completionist there. Use my old alias to gain access to the archived quests that've been completed within the past few months; they won't let you near them, unless you're an adventurer, and from the looks of it you're far too young to register as one…"
"… Just make sure to always wear a helmet and cover your skin while you're amongst those who believe you to be "Goblin Slayer"; the last thing you want is to be investigated for impersonating an official member of the Adventurers' Guild."
"…"
"… That's everything that I know about him."
"…"
"… I… I believe this is the part of our agreement where you release me, and we go our separate ways."
"…?"
"W-Why is she looking at me like that?"
"...?!"
"W-Where are you going...?! Y-You're not going to leave me with her!"
"W-Wait!"
"W-WAIT, NOO-GUWAAAAAGGH, OH GODDDD— GUWAAAAAH!"
In a perfect world filled with compassion and those who actually practiced the teachings of Earth Mother, the entire population of Maggoire Village would have selflessly volunteered to participate in an actual search and rescue operation, held by the captain of their guard.
Unfortunately, to the King's men— and to those of Maggoire Village— Ren was just another missing child to be written off as a victim of neglectful parenting. With their only support being a single guard who spent a grand total of two hours wandering aimlessly around the vicinity of the village, Bethany's family and Vivine had only each other to rely on— during the three days they halted their lives to search tirelessly for him.
By the beginning of the fourth day since her best friend had first been reported missing, Bethany's mental health had taken a turn for the worse. Unlike Vivine and the rest of her family who kept their dwindling hopes up, the ten-year old girl had the unbearable weight on her shoulders of having blamed herself for Ren's disappearance— coming to the conclusion that if she had only let him enact his horrible plan to hide the goblin girl beneath his floorboards, that he'd at least be home where he was safe.
Knowing that her child was grieving, Bethany's mother chose to stay home that morning, while her brother and husband went out on their horses to search through the Equipoise Forest, for what must have been the eightieth time since they began searching for him.
Walking upstairs with a plate of scrambled eggs, biscuits, gritts, and bacon— accompanied with a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice that she was holding between her chest and forearm— Bethany's mother knocked three times on her daughter's bedroom door, before announcing that she was going to open the door.
"Good morning, sweetheart," the platinum blond woman greeted with a somber smile of her own— her already aching heart tearing at the seams— as she looked across Bethany's large bedroom to see her ten-year old daughter staring blankly at the ceiling with an almost lifeless expression on her emotionless face.
Opening her mouth to speak words of motherly comfort to her, the platinum blond woman paused with her jaw agaped slightly— refraining herself from having a possible repeat of the last time she had tried consoling her daughter, who she could tell was still processing Ren's probable death.
Lowering the tops of her eyelids down to the middle of her melancholy gaze, Bethany's mother proceeded to release her anguish out quietly with an elongated breath. "I… I love you… B-Breakfast will be here, when you're ready for it, dear," the heartbroken woman murmured softly, before setting the plate and glass down on top of the large drawer counter that was beside her opened door.
"I'll… I'll come back in twenty minutes to check on you, love," Bethany's mother said somberly as her parting words, and offered her uninterested daughter a teary-eyed smile as she closed the door behind her— burying her sleeve into her face, so as to muffle her quiet sobbing as she wandered back down to the kitchen.
Not moving an inch after hearing the last of her mother's footsteps fade away out of her earshot, Bethany might have gone on staring blankly at her white ceiling for the next four hours. However, it was only after five minutes since her distraught mother delivered her food did something actually manage to stir the heartbroken ten-year old from her state of depression.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Furrowing her eyebrows with a confused— and mostly irritated look— breaking the monotony of her empty expression, Bethany let out a muffled, throaty groan as she slowly sat up from her bed. Curiously, she turned her head towards the large bay window that stuck outwards past her wall— where the distinct sound of something hard hitting its glass panel had come from.
With bated breath, Bethany locked eyes on her cozy bay window that housed a cushioned nook that doubled as a guest bed. And after what felt like an eternity had passed by for her, Bethany let out a soft gasp the moment she saw three more pebbles being tossed against her window.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Taking in a sharp breath as her pink eyes widened in bewilderment, Bethany felt her heart bursting with reignited hope the moment she made the connection as to who it could only be.
"R...Ren…?! R-REN?!" She blurted out with desperation in her raspy voice, before practically throwing herself out of bed and onto her carpeted floor— scrambling to her feet, as she rushed over to her bay window.
Hopping up and landing her knees on top of her window's cushioned lounging sill, Bethany was unknowingly hyperventilating with excitement, as she forced her trembling hands to unlatch the window— almost breaking her bay window's two glass-panel doors, before poking her head out to stare down at the eleven year-old standing below her gaze.
Seeing his gentle yet optimistically bright smile and his glimmering dusty-rose eyes looking back at her was all it took for Bethany's own bottom lip to start quivering rapidly— her emotionally charged eyes immediately tearing up, as she used her blubbering lips to smile back down at her beloved best friend.
"H-Hey! Hey, Beth…!"
"I…! I did it!"
"I kept my promise!"
"Just like how I said I would!"
Part of me is thinking that I ought to just make this exclusively Goblin Slayer x Cow Girl.