It had taken the Contessa a minute to meticulously inspect every corner of my room, her eyes scanning for any hidden traps or concealed objects. Satisfied with her search she turned to face me, her gaze penetrating and intense. The air grew heavy with tension as she spoke, her voice laced with urgency.

"How do you possess knowledge of those names and words?" she demanded, her voice hanging in the air for a moment before I could respond. My heart raced, and I found myself nervously perched on the edge of my bed.

"F-future! I know the future! You get revealed in a Simurgh plot! I come from another universe, and I have insight into—" The chilling sensation of cold metal pressed against my temple abruptly cut my words off. A gun.

"Next question. What are the weaknesses of the Endbringers?" she demanded, her voice firm and commanding. I hesitated for a moment, my mind racing to recall the information I had gathered.

"The smallest wing joint, the base of the tail, the base of the throat. Simurgh, Leviathan, Behemoth. There's more, there's—" The pressure of the gun against my skin intensified, silencing my words and bringing a sense of dread.

"How did the Enemy meet his demise?" she continued, her voice calm and unwavering. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself as I delivered my answer. It didn't matter that I knew she couldn't kill me. A gun to the head was terrifying.

"Psychological warfare. Labyrinth played a crucial role. The Enemy surrendered, allowing himself to be killed over Eden's death. A proto-Titan, a fusion of human and Agent, orchestrated it but—" Before I could finish my sentence, the cold metal of the gun pressed harder against my forehead, causing my words to falter.

"Which Entity do you hail from?" she growled, her expression one of intense concentration. Panic welled up within me as I struggled to find the right words. I knew she wouldn't like my response.

"None! I'm not a Parahuman," I frantically began to explain, my voice trembling. "I'm a Con—"

"Wrong answer," she interrupted, her voice cutting through the air like shards of ice. In an instant, the deafening sound of a gunshot shattered the silence, leaving my ears ringing and my head reeling from the impact, as if a sledgehammer had struck me.

"Godamnit, Fortuna, really? I'm not—" Bang! Bang! Bang! The gun barked thrice, and the force propelled me backward, crashing onto my bed, while the Contessa lunged at me, her knife aimed at my eye. I screamed, terrified by the sudden violence, desperately pushing her away, causing her to slam into the wall, sending my map of Vvardenfell fluttering to the floor.

Gasping for breath, I scrambled to my feet, propelled by sheer defiance, determined to escape this sudden madness. But before I could make a move, she tackled me, her blade finding its mark in my armpit.

"Why does the Path not work with you correctly?" she almost whined, her fedora askew as her knife glancing off my skin as I thrashed on the bed.

"Why would I tell you that?!" I shouted, using a modicum of my newfound strength to push her away, slamming her against the wall adorned with a map of Randland, rattling the house. I didn't want to actually hurt or kill her. Without her, the world would be in complete chaos.

"Door, cell 183."

Instinctively, I ducked, narrowly avoiding a beam of white fire that scorched the spot where I had stood moments ago. For a brief second while the Door was still open, I could see a squat, bulbous green-blue figure appearing to inhale, a dozen black eyes staring back at me.

"Jesus Christ, Fortuna, stop! I'll explain—" Bang! The bullet struck me, causing me to choke and splutter as it hit the back of my throat.

"You'll have plenty of time to explain when I have you securely restrained," she said ominously, closing in on me with a gas mask in hand. "Door, contingency three-A1A," she commanded, a portal materializing behind her, unleashing a rush of noxious gas into the room.

Panic surged through me. I still needed to breathe. We clashed for another agonizing minute; the Contessa protected by her mask, while I weakened, succumbing to lethargy, until I collapsed onto the ground, my limbs heavy and my eyelids drooping, drifting into a deep, suffocating slumber.


The Contessa observed the man's slumbering form, intrigued by the enigma he presented. He possessed an otherworldly resilience, surviving attacks that would have incapacitated any ordinary individual, which he read as in her Path. His ability to deceive her Path, however, exposed his true nature. She knew he was manipulating her Agent, and his resistance to her Tinkertech weaponry only heightened her curiosity, which had grown with each answer her gave.

Despite his apparent strength, he refrained from inflicting serious harm upon her. It was a naïve tactic, believing he could sway her with mere words. The Contessa, a seasoned veteran in the realm of manipulation, had encountered countless attempts to sway her allegiance. She understood the power of a well-placed remark, and she had learned the hard way to silence Thinkers before they could unleash their persuasive abilities.

As she observed his peaceful countenance, she couldn't help but acknowledge his physical attractiveness, albeit conventional with his bald head and beard. But it was what he knew that mattered. The knowledge that resided within his naïve mind intrigued her greatly. She knew that Cauldron, the organization she served and guided, would undoubtedly uncover his true identity and exploit his potential to safeguard against the impending Apocalypse. And if he proved to be inconsequential, they would discard him after extracting every ounce of information he possessed. It was simply the way of things, no feeling necessary.

As she stood up and turned to leave, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity, though. It was just another day in the life of a manipulator, devoid of personal sentiment. But perhaps, just perhaps, there was something more to this stranger than she initially thought.

Only time would tell how much was truth and how much lies. The Contessa whistled a merry tune, content with the thought that even if they were only half-truths, the information gained would be invaluable. Endbringer weaknesses, Simurgh plots revealed and a way to achieve victory. All in all quite a good haul for a handsomely nondescript man who said the wrong words aloud. Usually she had to kill them.