Chapter 27: A Certain Otherworld Huntsman - End_of_Day

Ring. Ring. Ring.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

A phone rang into the night. On its screen, a name they did not expect to hear from again, but should have.

Aleister Crowley.

Jaune and Tattletale stared at it for a while, then shared a look. They just screwed the guy over, throwing in their lot with the 'rouge esper' he wanted them to neutralize in order to steal back the kid his forces had stolen. All in all, it's a dynamic that did not bode well for any conversation that may follow. Jaune was the first to break the silence between them.

"Block him?" he suggested.

Pretend they're not home. Run back to the portal. Skip town before he finds them. A fool-proof plan.

Tattletale shook her head, pointing at the blue container. "He brought peace offerings, and I want to know why."

Of course she did. Always with the knowing.

"Alright, I'm willing to give it a shot, but…let's make a little distance from that box just in case this is a trap and there's a bomb ticking away in there. I've seen the movies. If he says something along the lines of 'you will regret crossing me, muhahaha,' we dive for cover, okay?"

She snickered. "Sounds good, Jaune."

They relocated to the entrance of a nearby shop, a stationery store selling all manners of school supplies. Standing under the overhang, Tattletale pressed the answer button, and set it on speakers.

"Tattletale, Jaune. Greetings," was the first thing said by the voice on the line, still sounding like a chorus distilled into one.

Jaune waited for the incoming tirade, and was rather thrown for a loop when none came, leaving him with a lukewarm pleasantry to respond to. Now that someone did say hello right off the bat, the lack of insults and threats stumped him a bit.

After a beat, he settled on a simple "...Yo."

"Hey?" Tattletale added.

Truly, they were poets.

"A fine night, is it not? There is something about the air after a good soaking rain in autumn. The crispness of it, I suppose. It is beyond compare. Have I ever told you…"

And Crowley went on and on. At first, Jaune hummed along every once in a while to show he was listening, thinking that they would soon get to the matter at hand. By the time Crowley started blathering on about sunsets evanescent and love's forlorn whatever, he was forced to revise that idea. The guy might, in fact, be using them as a sounding board for his crappy romance writings.

Patience stretched to the limit, Jaune snapped, "Okay, what do you want?"

A chuckle came through over the line, amused with undertones that brought to mind of stark sadness and holiday cheer. Confusing as ever, it revealed little of the man's true thoughts. That said, Jaune got the distinct feeling that he had lost some sort of exchange by failing to keep his cool.

"Just my little joke," Crowley said, unapologetic. "As for the purpose of this call, well, I simply wish to commend you on a job well done, and ensure you have received your payment. How are you finding it, by the way? Nothing is missing, I hope."

"I…a job well…what?" Jaune spluttered.

Tattletale cut in, mind awhirl. "He considers what we did to be the outcome he wanted." Despite her difficulties in reading Crowley from his voice, the things said were enough to glean a few details. "As far as he's concerned, we're still on his side."

"You're kidding. He backstabbed us!"

Crowley gasped, sounding oh so fake. "Such a harsh accusation. My thoughts were of the city, and I have only ever assigned you to the tasks where you will do the most good."

"Oh, yeah?" Jaune made certain the man heard the sarcasm.

"Of course. Without your work throughout District Seven, the magician Vento would not have crossed paths with Kamijou Touma, where her containment at a deserted and out-of-sight location slowed the effect of her spell. In the same vein, the assignment which follows—"

"Threw us right in front of Accelerator," he said with an almost snarl. Sure, he could see how there might be sense to that spree of traffic mayhem from what Crowley claimed—people were dropping like flies due to the memetic virus, spell, or whatever it was. He can even agree that it was a good idea to drag Kamijou Touma into the battle, now that he enjoyed the benefit of hindsight. The other boy could handle Vento just fine. But Accelerator? "It was a death sentence. What benefit to the city was supposed to come out of that, then, besides getting rid of us?"

"4 minutes, 26 seconds."

Aaaand he was confused again.

"...Beg pardon?" he said, tilting his head.

Crowley gave another one of his offbeat laughs. "I had much the same reaction at the time." He paused. "Or near enough. Insofar that I am still capable of feeling surprised, at any rate. Most of my estimates place you at just shy of two minutes. The result as transpired was a far outlier, I can tell you that."

Jaune still didn't get it. But Tattletale? Her eyes widened, and she sucked in a sharp breath.

"You fucker!" she hissed out. Turning to Jaune, she explained, "He might not have planned for us to die, but he also didn't care if we lived, and never thought we'd win. Our job was the same as Hound Dog, to delay Accelerator. Bodies thrown in the meatgrinder to keep him distracted from rescuing Last Order long enough to serve Crowley's purposes."

So, two minutes. That was the total worth of their lives. Two more, plus twenty six seconds, to make a happy surprise. A surplus they've provided him on top of their value.

Understanding came with an anger that burned cold.

"I think I hate you, Aleister Crowley."

The man took it in stride. "A common refrain, I'm afraid. Although, do not underestimate yourself. Facing Accelerator was no certain end, merely a risk," Crowley corrected. "Between the pair of you, and the anomalous properties you two exhibit, I anticipated a number of possibilities. Survival counted among them, and that is more than could be said of many. Of the available agents that I could send, you were the best for the job, and you proved it."

That sounded so nice. Crowley had nobody better than them!

It did not tell the full story, not with what Jaune knew now of the voice on the line. 'Available agents that I could send' was quite a turn of phrase. It seemed to suggest, but did not mean, everyone in his employ. Not when the task involved fighting Accelerator. Against the strongest esper, victory was unattainable, survival a remote chance. In that scenario, the best people comprised those that one can afford to lose. For Crowley, Jaune and Tattletale topped the list of the expendables.

And yet, something bugged him. Past his anger, there lay curiosity, and it won out.

"I don't get you," Jaune admitted. "In one sense, you calculated events out to a ridiculous degree, down to the seconds. But in another sense, the way you went about it looks… shortsighted."

"Oh?" Crowley waited, clearly waiting for him to elaborate.

"Why lie? I mean, yeah, it got us to the hospital, and to start a fight with Accelerator. Except, if you really believed we could come out of it alive, then the odds of us finding out the truth has to be pretty high, right? Because I'll just bet most of those scenarios involved him sparing us. Why lie, and those lies in particular? It could only blow up in your face."

"No, it wouldn't." Tattletale looked sick. And awed.

From the phone, a hum of agreement. Nothing more, as Crowley allowed Tattletale a chance to pursue the threads she had grasped ahold of.

"Jaune, imagine you had a weapon. A trusty tool that you consider a trump card. Would you prefer that it works once, or a lot of times?"

The surface answer was a choice between one or the other. The answer reading between the lines, was a name.

"Last Order," he said.

Tattletale nodded. "Kihara's an unhinged maniac." There's another one talking to them right now, she need not mention. "He wanted to hurt Accelerator above everything else, and nothing would hurt him worse than losing Last Order. Hell, Kihara gave it a good shot at the end with the computer chip."

"Would you care to hear the simulated chance that he murders her at the conclusion of tonight's events, should he be in position to commit that deed?"

In fact, Jaune did not. His mouth ran faster than he could stop himself.

"What is it, then?"

"96.752% she dies."

Way higher than he ever guessed, yet so much more real from the moment he heard it spoken aloud.

"Kihara is a useful asset. Predictable, despite his quirks. His motivations, his past, his scientific expertise all made him uniquely suited to succeed in retrieving Last Order from Accelerator's care, and to activate the Imaginary District Five project so that we may repel Vento before she plunges the world into eternal slumber."

"But that's one half of the equation," continued Tattletale. "Just as you needed her abducted to deal with the crisis, you needed her rescued after it was over."

"Thus, you. Greedy, but not unduly so, and trusting, up to a point. The story of a child in captivity puts you where you had to be, when you had to be, again and again."

The lies set them against Accelerator, and the lies allied them with Accelerator. After those minutes of delay, it didn't matter that they discovered the ruse. Rather, Crowley counted on it. Even their animosity against him had become a part of the ploy, spurring them to push forward until they stood in an office building, staring down Kihara.

Jaune leaned back against the wall of the stationery store, looking up in a stupor. He swept his gaze across the skyline of Academy City. It no longer seemed as fascinating a world, where science and magic promised a million possibilities.

Accelerator had raised the first red flag, in a sense, of the strangeness below the surface. The boy had been unable to trust adults, and divided the city between them and the students. To color his views so, who else in this place shared Crowley's way of thinking that people were chess pieces and numbers? Too many, Jaune would guess, because Hound Dog was the next clue. They died in droves, traded for seconds at a time as Kihara discarded them like trash.

And now, a confession from the man himself, spoken with the ease of one commenting on what he had for breakfast.

"You can't expect us to believe that you orchestrated events to march so neatly to your tune," Tattletale protested. She was shaking her head, one hand pressing on her temples. "Like…like some kind of Simurgh Thinker plot. It's too contrived… What if just one thing turned out different at the hospital? It could have," she insisted, unwilling to accept they were led along to that degree.

The story had a thousand avenues it might have gone down. A single wrong word by Tattletale, and Accelerator would have pasted them on the walls. A sliver of Aura less, and Jaune would be dead, crushed by rubbles. And later on, they had been so very close to running when the angel emerged within the city.

"Then you die," Crowley answered.

A brief period ensued where Jaune and Tattletale stared at the phone with open mouths.

"Can you say that again?" Jaune finally asked, incredulous. "I could have sworn we were required for a later bit. You know, with the rescue and all."

"Barring your presence, other contingencies would direct Accelerator toward the correct location. They carried an increased risk of him deviating even further outside previous thought patterns, of course, plus other complications, hence my preference that you took up the task. The boy had a nearly 56% probability that he would die outright to Kihara if he went ahead without aid, would you believe it?"

"Sorry, I'm still a little occupied by the fact that after all the talk about us standing a chance, you were completely cool with us dying."

"You were up against Accelerator, Jaune. What did you expect?" Crowley asked, and notes of honest confusion shined through among his myriad emotions, as if to suggest it's Jaune who was being weird.

"I'm not the unreasonable one here!"

Crowley, it seemed, thought otherwise. "Your survival was the best case scenario, I assure you, but had it gone the other way? Well…you would have provided new combat data for Accelerator, moving him ever closer to the next phase, and I would be down two outside variables before their actions can cause further ripples in my city. It was, as the Americans say, a win-win. I had to be a fool to not take that deal."

"Are you serious right now? We spent most of the morning hanging out at a mall, you prick. Literal harmless teenager stuff."

"My point, exactly. You caused a ludicrous amount of problems left and right with just that alone. A dozen organizations were preparing to engage in a public street brawl to grab you. Your odd string of purchases might appear innocent, but it shifted the collected demand data for the Underground Mall ever so slightly, and that's going to lead to a number of hilariously off-tune products hitting the shelves in the future. Then we have Misaka Mikoto, who somehow wrangled a real date out of Kamjiou Touma—I had to revisit my end-of-the-world prediction models for that one, I'll have you know. And even after relocating, there's the matter of the substance you shared with Accelerator…my word, did you have to do that?"

"Yeah? Blame it on the situation you put us in," Jaune said in an accusing tone.

"How troublesome. I'll grant that it contains some academic value, despite its rather distasteful nature—"

"Oh, yes, talk about Aura like it's something dirty. That's really going to endear you to me."

"Forgive me, but I find it a hard thing to accept. Your 'Aura' does not belong in the true world." Crowley sighed. "No matter, it will ensure Accelerator better survives. The benefits outweigh the detriments. A net positive. It won't spread on its own, will it?"

"..."

"Jaune?"

He remained silent. Let the guy worry. Petty as it was, it's one of the few opportunities for revenge he could get, since the man seemed capable of running rings around whatever else he might do.

Another sigh, and Crowley said, "I suppose I will find out in the future, when a new zombie outbreak occurs or some such other problem. In any case, you may find my methods disagreeable, but I hope you see that it, as ever, serves a purpose."

He saw nothing of the sort, and Jaune sniffed in disdain.

(And if a traitorous part of him held a different opinion, then it can get stuffed.)

"What happens now?" he said, somewhat changing the subject. Avoidance of an uncomfortable talk aside, the concern was valid. By Crowley's own admission, the two of them were undesirables to the smooth running of Academy City.

Proving that they did not know him as much as they believed, Crowley said, "I have a new assignment for you, and payment will—"

"Nope," Jaune said, after needing a moment to understand that, yes, the guy was dead serious.

Taking cue from him, Tattletale added her voice to it. "Rejected."

"A shame. Am I to see this as your notice of resignation?"

"Yes, it is. We're not sticking around anyway."

Having confirmed so, Jaune tensed up, as did Tattletale, their hands moving towards the various weapons strapped around themselves. If a real backstabbing (as Crowley considers it) were to happen, now would be the time the trap was sprung, when they severed the tenuous alliance for good. They weren't assets anymore, just a set of unforeseen variables mucking up the equation.

But, screw Crowley, it had to happen. The portal didn't even factor into his decision. Jaune refused to work with the man again after the events at the hospital—it was asking for another betrayal. And who knew how many more children he would hurt without even realizing by heeding the man's request.

"Understood. Then we shall part ways here," Crowley said, unveiling no nefarious intentions that Jaune could detect. The man's amalgamation of voices was quite annoying in these instances. "Please, do take your payment with you. Confirm that there are no traps, if you like."

One whispered argument later, and Jaune approached the blue container. A pile of guns that had run out of ammo appeared on the street, making room for the box to vanish inside his Pocket. Shapes flickered on his upraised palm as he ran down the list of items for Tattletale to study, taking them out and sending them back to form a series of split-second observations. At the end, she nodded in satisfaction.

"No tricks, no bombs, no shortchanging. He pays his bills, at least." She paused at the familiar sound of a drone. One shortly drifted down to deliver another blue box, smaller this time. "What's this?" Tattletale asked, suspicion making a comeback.

"A bonus. In appreciation of a job well done."

Ugh. He hated how there was a brief pang of gratitude welling up in him, a sense of 'oh, hey, he's not such a bad person' that Jaune would bet was the point of this move. A bribe to assuage their feelings, so as to dissuade further retaliations.

"Thanks, I suppose," he said with reluctance.

"You are welcome."

What a polite backstabber.

"...Crowley, it was not a pleasure to have met you. After everything, I could only say that you're an asshole. There are lines."

"I shall do as I will, such is the whole of my law," Crowley offered as his reason.

Jaune thought about that for a bit. "Yeah, like I said. Asshole."

If a phone could convey a shrug, this one did.

Those words of Crowley, he found them uncomfortable to the extreme. There was a selfishness to the credo that struck too close to home, reminding him of forged papers, thefts, and thoughtless little lies piling up.

With nothing else that could be said, Jaune turned his head away from the phone, letting the conversation end. Tattletale mimed dropping the call, and he nodded.

Then, he stopped in his tracks, because in the night, shapes were emerging from the shadows. Cars turned the corner to rumble down the road. Alleyways disgorged figures in faceless masks and body armors reminiscent of Hound Dog, with a number of insignias to differentiate them from each other.

"Uhhhh, Crowley? Are you still there?"

"Yes?"

"Did you send these people after us? You know, to maybe stab us in the back or something."

"No. I have ended our partnership, however, and I do believe the various research organizations took that to mean a withdrawal of my protection, thus making you fair game."

"And does it?" Jaune asked, heart sinking as he already suspected the answer.

"...It does. My, they are rather quick to move on an opportunity."

"You couldn't have told us this beforehand, huh?"

"I shall do as—"

"Yes, yes, you've told me."

A chuckle emanated from the voice on the line. "Good luck."

Whether they were captured and dissected to the point they no longer counted as 'unforeseen variables,' or they removed themselves from the equation, did not matter to the master of Academy City. By the end of the hour, the problem they represented would be solved.

The call ended. Jaune and Tattletale looked at each other.

"We can fight them," he suggested.

From the sky came a constant whip-whip sound, much louder than that made by the drones, to denote the arrival of multiple helicopter crafts. Snipers knelt at the open doors. More cars pulled up.

"We can still…"

The pavement cracked with loud booms as huge mechanized suits landed on the street. Eyes glowing red, they brought net launchers to bear. For whatever reason, perhaps because test subjects didn't truly need legs, chainsaw arms whirred to life.

"Run?"

"Run."

-o-

"I told you it was a bad idea to make so many different PINs!"
"Be quiet and let me work, Jaune!"
—Conversation in a coin locker.

"Hurry! Hurryhurryhurry! How long could it possibly take to remove a toilet!?"
"Be quiet and let me work, Tattletale!"
—Conversation in a public restroom.

-o-

The portal was shrinking ever smaller before their eyes. During the time remaining, Jaune and Tattletale waved to the mercenaries, mad scientists, espers, and assorted pursuers who were currently packed into the public restroom on the other side. Not that many were paying attention. Denied access to their targets, they've fallen into infighting, with a rousing battle in full swing as the portal finally shuts down to leave them alone together in the apartment.

"And that's that," Jaune said.

"Yeah…" Tattletale laced her fingers together and stretched them to the ceiling. "Oh man, that was a long day."

To roughly correspond with their internal clock, the sky outside had turned to night. It hit them right around the point they were watching the planet hanging in place of the moon just how exhausted they were, and the pair arrived at the same thought to leave everything for tomorrow.

As Lisa padded off to grab a shower, mask removed and a new set of pajamas tucked under one arm, Jaune set to the task of stowing away their loot. Circling the room, he held out a hand, summoning items from a Pocket filled to the brim. The shopping bags were dropped in a corner—not the one with the bat, but opposite it. The blue containers joined them there. Weapons got a spot along the wall. Kitchenware and other small appliances went on the countertop, with the tools Crowley provided them—carjacking device, crowbar, etc.—placed next to those for later reorganization. Which will either be tomorrow, the day after, or whenever Lisa pesters him to put them away.

Passing by the spot where the portal was, he snagged the high-tech toilet still dripping with water, lifting it and walking over to the bathroom, setting it beside the door. Since they had been in a hurry, the removal process mainly involved him smashing apart the area surrounding the thing using the crowbar and Crocea Mors, then prying it out. It left pieces of concrete and tiles attached to the fixture, along with a couple of pipes cut clean through. The electrical wires, he had ripped from the wall and they now hung off of one side.

That was going to be a mess and a half for tomorrow-Jaune to deal with. Poor bastard.

The last item summoned from the Pocket was special, and he mustered a bit of energy for it. Holding the box in hand, he studied the picture on the front.

An inflatable mattress. It sure looked comfortable.

Unboxing it, Jaune used a foot to shove aside the couch that had been his sleeping spot. Out with the old, in with the new, he spared it not a single glance as he spread a piece of fabric onto the floor. The instruction sheet was dead simple to understand, comprising two steps, and with the first step already done, all he had to do was find the button on the tiny motor tucked in one corner. A press, and the mattress quickly filled with air, resulting in a pretty sizable thing longer than he was tall, that he can lay on with both arms spread out wide.

He placed a hand on its surface as a test. This was soon followed by his head, his face sinking into the softest bed he had ever experienced. It didn't feel like an air mattress, but one stuffed with…with down feathers or something.

Not that he actually knew what a down feather bed felt like. He wasn't made of money.

Still, it resembled the sensation that he imagined one would have, along with the air inside somehow managing to achieve a layer of firmness once he sank down deep enough. It resulted in a neat balance where he could enjoy being surrounded by warmth and softness without it feeling suffocating. There was also this peaceful, flowery scent that practically beckoned him to sleep. It took all of his willpower to even stand up after Lisa exited the bathroom, and through the entire length of his shower he dreamt of his new bed.

Which was why it annoyed him rather a lot when he came back in the room to find a wild Lisa bouncing up and down on the mattress. Although, the joyful laughter made it difficult for him to get mad.

Strolling over, he asked, "Having fun?"

Lisa stopped her bouncing and flopped on the bed, face down. A groan of pleasure drifted back up, and she answered him in a muffled voice. "Holy crap this is soooo comfortable! I think it's softer than the other bed!"

"Right? Waking up without that nasty crick in my neck is going to feel amazing." He sighed in happiness at the thought.

Lisa did not respond. Nor did she move.

He waited for her to get the hint. Then, after a little while of nothing happening, he cleared his throat. "Hey, Lisa. You mind?"

"This is mine now."

Oh, to hell with that.

"Excuse me?" Leaning down, he glared at her, the effect somewhat dampened by the fact that his gaze was meeting the back of her head. "I don't think so. Off."

"You can take my old one," she offered.

"Good joke, but no. This thing's replacing the couch, and who was sleeping on that? Me. It only makes sense for this to be mine." He thought that was very sound reasoning.

Lisa clung onto the bed as a declaration of her intent.

The long, ensuing period of silence got her thinking she won, and the corners of her lips quirked up in a bright smile. To make sure, Lisa turned her head to peek out with one eye.

Right as Jaune landed on the mattress.

With a yelp, she bounced a foot in the air. By the time she landed, Jaune had secured his spot, head resting on the pillow he brought with him, his eyes shut.

"Go away!" Lisa demanded once she regained her bearing.

"Nope. My bed." He stuck out his tongue.

This bed was his domain, claimed by conquest, so decreed Jaune Arc, king of the apartment. That he had also claimed by conquest.

Unfortunately, Lisa wouldn't leave it at that, and she pushed at him with both hands in an attempt to dislodge him. It looked tenable at first with Jaune being moved an inch at a time, but before she succeeded he stuck out an arm. In one shove she was sent flipping end over end off the bed.

Her head poked above the edge of the mattress. Green eyes narrowed to slits. Growling, she pounced.

The pair began quarreling back and forth, all thoughts of sleep forgotten.

After a long, long day, it was good to be—

Well, not home, but something close.

-o-

Footsteps rang out over stone, coming to a stop next to Jaune's head.

"Zzzz."

"..."

"Zzzz." The fake snoring continued in the hope that it would make any disturbance give up and go away. Sure, it was a tad cold and uncomfortable lying here on the rough ground, but Jaune figured he could weather any storm if it meant a faster return to his real bed.

"...Oh look, this island is breaking."

His eyes snapped open. "Wha—ahhhh!"

Jaune smacked into a new landmass below the one they were on. The impact didn't hurt, not really. It seemed more a case of him knowing that he should feel pain, and so did. The sensation would fade as soon as he became distracted.

With his eyes now open, Jaune looked around to confirm that he was once again within that half-dream, half-reality space called the Void.

The unnatural cold bit deep, though Jaune shivered not from that alone. Surrounding him was the yawning emptiness that stretched without end. All sense of scale paled before it. Here and there, islands floated, and a few could well be the size of continents for all that they resembled pebbles at this distance. Sometimes the islands were just barren rocks, and sometimes Jaune thought he recognized the shapes and figures standing on them, like scenes from old memories he could barely recall. The details were fuzzy. There might have been movements.

He stood upon one such place, with dark, jagged stone beneath his feet and pure nothing in front. A simple turn of his head, and he was now on a pedestrian bridge. City streets laid before him. High rises loomed, among them a windowless building on one end, a smashed open office building on the other. A comet flew in the sky.

A young man with black eyes was by the railings, arms resting atop it. Jaune found him inscrutable as always—the neutral expression never changes. The guy seemed to enjoy the chance to talk judging by previous meetings, though, so this was probably one of those occasions. Sighing, he walked over to join the Outsider in looking up at the angel.

They stayed like that for some time, neither person speaking. It was almost serene, in a way. Just them and the silence.

"You were watching," Jaune said, finally.

"Of course. I said I would. I liked the rabbit."

"I didn't. That thing was vicious."

The conversation stalled out there, and Jaune used the time to study the angel.

In the absence of an ongoing crisis and the wanton destruction, it's not quite as scary. Back when it was moving, he had been so concerned of an errant blast wiping them off the face of the planet, that each glance at the angel led to him shaking. Here, the stillness lent it the air of a painting. He could observe the angel at his leisure, and appreciate the details without an overwhelming fear to mar the experience.

A hundred wings of light reached for the sky, frozen in the moment. They lit aglow the Void, seeming all the brighter amidst the dark.

"Kinda beautiful, isn't it?" Jaune asked, just to have something to say.

"Do you think so?"

He thought of Last Order. "No."

The Outsider nodded, and turned to sit on the railings, one leg pulled up. "I have said this before, but what is it about people, that across civilizations they would arrive at that same idea, and make that same choice."

"What idea?"

"Torture a person, create a god." Pitch black eyes stared at the present, and saw the past. "Why do they always think it would end in benevolence?"

Jaune rubbed the back of his head, distinctly uncomfortable as he muttered, "That's…I mean, it might not be like that everywhere." He was not ready for this heavy a topic, one that told much of the Outsider's story. "It's two worlds."

Dunwall, and Academy City.

"Three," the Outsider corrected, but did not elaborate.

Jaune ran through the previous universes in his head. Of his Remnant, Earth Bet, Steelport, Monty Python, and Lordran, he could only guess it'd be the last one.

"Okay, I'll admit it's concerning. This is starting to sound like a—"

"Pattern? Yes." The Outsider gave a chuckle. Where Crowley's laughter contained every emotion under the sun, this one held none. It was more akin to the imitation of mirth, than the real thing. "And you assume, there's one to a world."

Jaune blanched. "Are you talking about…" He pointed at the copy of Academy City.

"Magic gods, they call it here. I met them by chance in a place much like this." The Outsider spun his finger in a circle to indicate the Void surrounding them. "We compared our stories, and it was fascinating the extent to which they match. I peered into a mirror, almost." He motioned across his throat. There was a faint hint of a scarred line there, that didn't look like the kind of wound a person got better from.

What was there to say to that? Jaune searched and searched, and failed to find words that were sufficient.

Crowley had seen a need for the angel, and he deemed a child's suffering worth the cost. By his estimation, it was the necessary step to save many more lives. Kihara shared the sentiment to an extent, diving in head first on that decision, and he called himself a hero for his deed. How many through history, and across worlds, said the same?

Of course, other people probably haven't gotten the same chance as him (lucky him!) to meet a person who was sacrificed and who then returned to let their feelings be known on the matter. The Outsider held a rather rare perspective, one coming from the other end of things. Maybe if everybody could see dead people, these sorts of decisions would have different outcomes.

And him? Well, he faced the choice twice in his life thus far, and though he wanted to boldly declare that he went at it his way, even he was not blameless of that brand of heroism. An unwitting 4 minutes and 26 seconds helped give rise to the angel, and hurt a young girl.

"I'm sorry," he said in the lack of a better answer. "I might not have done anything directly to you, but I held some responsibility for what happened to Last Order. I'm one of those people you're talking about. So…I'm sorry."

The Outsider turned his head to look at him, and the thought occurred too late that he might have made a mistake admitting that. Nobody could predict what one of these unknowable beings would consider a grievous sin. Pitch black eyes rooted Jaune in place. In it, he saw dark, only dark. Cold, empty, soulless. The end—it ends—

Lips curled to imitate a smile.

The sensation Jaune had of forever falling down vanished in a blink. He could breathe again.

"You had a hand to play in that girl's suffering, true," the Outsider said. "And yet, I cannot help but imagine… If I had someone like you on that day, if the man I once was screamed for help, and a voice called back in answer, saying that everything will be alright." He drew his gaze upward, seeming to mull on matters. "I suppose my thought on this, is that you continue to be a strange one. Hm."

Pushing off the railings, the Outsider landed on the sidewalk, and began strolling away.

Caught by surprise, Jaune hurried to catch up. Problem was, despite how hard he ran, the Outsider outpaced him, walking further and further ahead. Jaune soon surrendered, and slowed down to a stop.

"What, is that it?" he asked in a carrying voice. "No dragging me from place to place? You really seemed to like doing that."

The Outsider called over a shoulder. "How small we are, Jaune, that the world does not upend upon our will. Ah, no matter. There will be many more chances yet. For now, I have an appointment to keep."

"An appointment? With who?" Jaune considered the possibilities for himself, and paled. "You didn't bring tagalongs from the last universe, did you?... Did you!?"

There was no response. The Outsider kept walking down the street, while the world around them started to grow hazy. One by one, the buildings fell apart, floating off in the air. The dream will soon come to an end.

At an intersection, just before he turned the corner, the Outsider paused and spun back to Jaune.

"Oh, and if you ever get a chance, do put your Void-given powers in contact with that strange right hand."

It took a moment for Jaune to get the reference. "Are you talking about Kamijou Touma?"

The Outsider spread his arms, gesturing to their surroundings. "The Void is the end where all things have come to pass. It is a vast emptiness, infinite in distance. Formed of itself, dreamt up by fearful minds. Shaped by will. Should it touch that hand…I wonder, can even 'nothing' die?"

And with that, he vanished from sight.

Left behind, Jaune slowly shook his head, and said to no one, "That just sounds like a bad idea."

Then he fell back, and was gone before he hit the ground.

-o-

Jaune awoke from the best sleep of his life, buried in the softness of his new bed.

Despite recent dreamings, he restfully dozed as the minutes passed on by. The memory had dulled in its intensity somewhere between the Void and the waking world, and right now, he had little inclination to fret over it. Nor was he in a hurry to get up.

It was still pretty early, all told. The golden glow to the room suggested that the sun had just finished rising on the horizon, meaning he had lots of time to bask in this feeling of warmth.

And weight. Curious.

He raised his head to look down his chest.

A sleeping Lisa was there, lying sideways across his stomach. Her arms and legs sprawled out unreservedly, as if striving to claim as much space as possible. One of her hands clutched at his shirt, with the fabric bunched up under her fingers, and a line of drool trailed down the corner of her lips.

It seemed the two of them had failed to reach a resolution to that battle for the bed, and so just fell asleep after becoming too tired.

Jaune briefly entertained the idea of shoving her off the bed again, but laziness stayed his hand and he decided that today he shall be a man of peace, letting her sleep on. That face wasn't fair, anyway. How dare she look so content and carefree.

His gaze drifted past her to the window, where a sunlight talisman shone with a lively glint, and to the sky beyond.

It was a bright new day, rife with triumphs and mistakes and everything else.

"Good morning, world."

Universe: A Certain Magical Index. Location: Academy City. Event: September 30
Loot: Modern day clothes, full complement of kitchenware, assorted day to day supplies, phones (x2), inflatable bed, carjacking tool, crowbar, high-tech toilet, cleaning robot (household ver.), stun darts, tranquilizer darts, smoke grenades, flashbang grenades, smart handcuffs, reshapable door keys, ID cards (customizable), acrobike, olfactory sensor tracking tool, camouflage cloak, rocket boots, a laptop.

Author's Notes: A Certain Magical Index, done.

The Outsider, highly curious—Jaune, stick your finger in that socket.
Jaune, scoffing—Pft. Like hell I'm that stupid. *walks off the edge of a building*
Lisa, warm and cozy—*Zzzz*

Yakuza Arc needs its chapters.