Original Ao3 chapter summary:
H-here we go? Part 3 of ARR Hildibrand, and still not the end! I was originally going to combine the final two parts into one (as the appearance of a certain Primal in this chapter might indicate, haha) but it was getting long and I do want to move on with more Heavensward soon… so here we go with part 3 of 4!
"Look, ma'am. I appreciate yer concern, truly. But if you'll forgive my sayin' so, I'm not about to up an' cancel the highly-anticipated finale of a tournament based on vague rumors from a tabloid rag. No offense." The Roegadyn man, dressed rather garishly in a loud pink pinstripe suit, flashed a charming smile— touched with a wrinkle of preparatory sharpness that he couldn't quite seem to entirely iron out.
Hands in frustrated fists at her side, Ellie glowered up at him, a slight flush of anger darkening her cheeks.
"But sir—"
"The Mythril Cup will proceed as scheduled. You and yer, er, assistant here are more than welcome to do a write-up on the proceedings from the stands, o' course," The man interrupted, looking over Ellie's shoulder and to the door. Likely calculating the force required to literally toss them out, "But the show's goin' on. Now if you'll excuse me— I've got enough on my plate tryin' to scrounge up a second pair of fighters before the crowd realizes we're two men down."
At her side, in contrast to the journalist's fuming, stood a perfectly calm Jack Garland. The Mistbeard mask's stoic face bobbed in thoughtful contemplation as he scribbled excessively copious notes in a small notebook… the pages of which were primarily filled with haphazard zig-zagged lines and a few crude doodles of Coblyns.
Circumstances had forced Joker to take up the mantle of Jack Garland again today— but this time in serving as an apparent apprentice to Ellie Ryse of the Mythril Eye: Never blinking, all-seeing and misses naught that transpires within the lustrous domain of coin! Or so the slogan under the paper's header had stated, anyway. He had struggled to read it for a few good minutes, so he didn't really have time to memorize it properly. But it was an excuse that had served the two of them well enough to grant him and Ellie access to the staff room of Ul'dah's grand coliseum and an audience with its proprietor: one Dour Meadow.
Though their supposed interview was really more of a dire warning. Their ever elusive target— the so-called Phantom Thief of Many Faces— had most dramatically announced the subject of their next heist but a few days ago: the "Victor's Spoils". And Ellie had deduced that their serial larcenists' latest goal likely lay at the end of today's final bout. Perhaps not entirely surprising, since it seemed the vaunted Mythril Cup was already rife with controversy. From the very beginning had there been rumors of foul play circulating behind the scenes. A truly suspicious number of contestants had been forced to withdraw over the course of the event, indisposed with sudden and supposedly unrelated injuries… and forcing today's final round to be terribly short-staffed.
But somehow the co-ordinator of the event did not seem the least bit perturbed by any of this. His sharp smile widened, a condescending hand placed on Ellie's stiff shoulder.
"I'd think journalists such as ye good selves would be more concerned with facts over theatrical flights of fancy. I mean, whoever 'eard of a thief robbin' a stadium so crowded it was packed to the rafters?"
"The same kind of thief that would target an active wedding procession, good sir. A Phantom Thief." A sharp voice interjected, "Or have you not heard of how the fiend has been fashioning himself as a folk hero of late?"
Ellie spun on the spot, extended excited arms out towards a certain approaching inspector,
"Oh, Inspector Briardien! Thank the gods— Perhaps you could talk some sense into…?"
But Briardien raised a hand to silence her, his gaze sharp and studying. Reached a hand into the pocket of his bliaud.
"Do forgive me for this, Ellie, but I must be certain."
The journalists blinked slowly, hands lowering.
"What are you—?"
And Joker flinched as Briardien withdrew a familiar, shimmering white orb that was soon tossed with a rather limp-twisted throw. It dropped flatly at Ellie's feet, immediately erupting on contact with the floor into a puff of sparkling smoke. Ellie and Dour Meadow both yelped in alarm.
The spluttering journalist, identical in appearance even after the smoke had faded, lowered her hands from her teary eyes. She rounded angrily on the tall Elezen, seething.
"What in the gods' names was that for?!"
But Briardien simply looked smugly satisfied, pushing up his glasses.
"Scalebombs. An item of Sylphic make, I am taken to believe." He explained, seeming quite happy with himself, "Capable of dispelling glamours. Took me quite some time to acquire a batch— and certainly far fewer than I would like— but now we finally have a weapon against our foe's illustrious Many Faces."
Ellie's eyelid twitched. She covered it with a hard cough that forced the last of the smoke out of her lungs.
"Well! Now that you're satisfied that we're wearing our own faces, perhaps we can focus on—?"
"Not quite, I'm afraid." Briardien lifted another scalebomb, alongside a pointedly arched eyebrow, "I'm sure I need not impress upon the two of you the need for caution. 'Jack'— Off with the mask, now."
Jack Garland, who was most certainly not a Phantom Thief and thoroughly appalled at the very suggestion, took a step back. He clapped his palms on either side of the legendary Mistbeard mask, shaking his head.
"No!"
"I insist!" Briardian snapped, reaching out a gloved hand and grasping at the helm.
"Never!"
Briardian's face scrunched as he gripped the top of the mask as tight as he could. Jack, meanwhile, held onto it for dear life from the bottom, arms straining as he obstinately refused to reveal his face. Ellie and Dour Meadow watched on, utterly baffled.
"This is ridiculous, man…! R-reveal unto me your t-true form at once!"
"Noooo!" Jack countered with grace and dignity and poise, planting his legs firmer.
Ah. To think he would ever be on the receiving end of this. Now he knew how the Shadows he targeted must have felt when he did it…
Ellie sighed. Put a hand on the inspector's shoulders.
"Let it go, Briardien. If anything this just proves it's him even more."
Briardien flinched at the contact, strained face flushing bright pink. His slackened grip let the helm slip from his hold.
And Jack Garland cackled triumphantly as he threw himself forward, the top of the metal mask colliding audibly with the inspector's stomach as he launched into a truly brutal headbutt.
"Oh, well done my good boy!" Cheered a loud voice while Briardien writhed on the ground, curling over his stomach, "A most spectacular display of martial prowess, worthy of a Manderville!"
Ellie, kneeling at Briardien's side, stifled a groan as the silhouette of Hildibrand Manderville bloomed radiantly against the light from the doorway, triumphant hands upon his hips. The shape of Nashu Mhakaracca soon followed, of course, cat ears twitching and nose wrinkling as she sniffed the air. The Miqo'te's bushy tail perked right up.
"Oh, look, Inspector!" She clapped her hands together, "I followed the smell of trouble, just like you taught me— and I found Jorker! How funny, they both sort of smell like seafood?"
Jack didn't know if that should bother him or not, but it did bother Dour Meadow. He took a step forward.
"Hey now, you two! This is a restricted area! How'd you get in?"
"A-and more importantly," Briardien gasped from the floor, utterly winded, "Why are you here…?"
"What a foolish question, my fellow passionate but markedly less competent seeker of truth!" Hildibrand laughed, strolling into the staff room with nary a care. Nashu trotted behind him. Jack bent down to offer her a high-five, though she sort of missed the mark and bit his hand instead.
Hildibrand preened as Jack rubbed his fingers, "As you should know, wherever there is a case, those of our kind are sure to appear! Though I see my most dependable assistant-assistant has beaten me to the punch— or headbutt, rather? Yes, fine sleuthing, Jack! He gets it from me, you know." Hildibrand added as an aside, slipping next to Dour Meadow's shoulder and nodding proudly at him.
The puzzled Roegadyn nodded, strained smile determinedly fixed in place, "Indeed, it was quite the blow! But much as I enjoy the vigor, I'll have to ask you lot t' save any future fisticuffs for the ring…? Preferably far outside my office?"
Recovering, Briardien shakily pushed himself up with his hands. His glasses flashed as he raised his head, locked in on his target.
"Ideally, there will be nothing of the sort at all, Mister Meadow." He began, rising to his feet and literally jumping in before Hildibrand could continue to speak, "For you may be in grave danger. As my… colleagues have no doubt informed you, I fear you and your establishment may be the target of a heist. I hear tell that you have rather expensive prizes planned for this event, no?"
And Dour Meadow's grin at last turned genuine, "Ah, I see now what yer angling at! Indeed, we've spared no expense in making the Mythril Cup the most lucrative tourney this Coliseum's ever seen. The victor will receive a true treasure from our sponsor's collection─ the Warden's Grace, a ring fitted with the largest sun sphere ye'll find outside o' Qarn."
That prompted the would-be investigators to look among each other, eyes locking as they conveyed their silent confirmation. Or, Briardien's and Ellie's did. The eyes of the Mistbeard mask didn't convey much of anything. And neither did Nashu's, really.
Dour Meadow plowed ahead regardless, "The second and third-place prizes are nothin' to sneeze at, neither. But if you're here labourin' under the delusion that such beauties lie unprotected, then I advise you to think a little harder, lads. The Concern has hired an elite regiment of Stone Torches to watch over the vault day an' night." He punctuated his final remark with a large finger shoved at Briardien's nose.
Briardien lowered the man's hand from his face, scoffing, "Yes, just as the Brass Blades were so successful in stopping the thief last time… If you want your treasures safe, go fetch them and bring them to me. And be quick about it. I haven't all day."
The Roegadyn's smile strained again, the corners of his mouth twitching just a little, "Fear I can't do that, Inspector." He crossed his arms,"No, if you want to get your hands on the spoils, you'll have to claim them as any other would─ in battle. As a matter of fact, what with the ranks thinned as they are, we're actively recruiting new competitors. The more, the merrier… and the more lucrative, at that."
He tossed his head back in a boisterous laugh. And everyone else's heads were tossed, of course, to Jack Garland.
Jack, shrinking under several pairs of expectant gazes, gave a wearily-resigned shrug.'Twas ever the way, as Alphinaud might say.
"Fine. I'll just have to enter and win it myself. Easy."
Dour Meadow raised an eyebrow, not expecting such quick capitulation. He clapped a hand on Jack's shoulder, guffawing, "Hah! Aren't you a bold lad? I love it! Exactly the sort of gumption I like to see in my competitors. And I love your angle." He looked Jack up and down, nodding, "Yes, a masked man of mystery! Exactly what our dwindling cast of combatants was missin'. Come along then!" He added, strolling ahead and beckoning with a finger, "Follow me and we'll get you signed up right and proper. Do you got yerself a partner yet, or do I need to play matchmaker?"
Ellie blinked, "Partner? Whatever for?"
"You 'journalists' really haven't done your research, have ye?" The co-ordinator scoffed, "This tournament's a doubles game! Got to go at it in pairs."
"Aha!"
And Jack tried not to let his stomach sink too badly as Hildibrand Manderville eagerly stepped up to bat, teeth flashing.
"It seems we have little recourse, then. I, Hildibrand─ agent of enquiry, inspector extraordinaire─ shall do what must be done to secure our victory!" He placed a hand upon his chest, standing tall, "Permit me to join you in the ring, my dear boy!"
Nashu gave a gasp of delight as Ellie sagged, "Seriously?" Her disbelieving frown nearly met the floor, "You?"
"Come now, my dear Miss Ryse! Jack himself can profess my many martial talents!"
If by which the good Inspector meant getting himself launched out of the last fight he was in before it had even started, then yes. And while that had been hilarious before, now it could unfortunately land Jack in serious trouble if it dragged him down. He'd have to play this carefully…
"…Regardless, it does seem we have no time to seek alternatives." Briardian heaved a great sigh, pushing up his glasses, "Let the man have his delusions. You have your part, Mister Garland: commit yourself to the fight, and try to keep the buffoon's empty head on his shoulders. In the meantime, Ellie and I shall keep a lookout for our thief from among the stands. I'm sure I need not tell you that our criminal mastermind will likely attempt to make a move during the hubbub— and when he does, we shall be ready for him."
Joker supposed it was about time he'd had himself a tournament arc.
Technically this wasn't new for him. He'd gone through something similar back when the Thieves were infiltrating Sae's Palace, after all. A veritable mini-boss rush that he was forced to face on his own. Which was precisely why he knew it would be an easy enough undertaking on his end.
Just like then, Joker had every confidence in his solo combat skills, even if he'd have to keep the Primal stuff on the down-low for the sake of his 'Jack Garland' persona (without the capital 'P'). During his time in this world, he'd made sure that he could more than keep his own in battle even without a legion of stolen gods to command. He'd manage just fine with a regular old sword and shield, sure.
No, the only part of this plan he was concerned for was his mandatory doubles partner.
Earlier bravado now lost in the looming face of danger, Hildibrand's quaking knees squeaked like old floorboards as he followed Joker into the central arena. He crept through the iron gate separating the backroom from the main ring, clinging tightly to the haft of a familiar gunhalberd that he'd re-borrowed from his supposed subordinate for the occasion. The inspector flashed a terribly quivering grin at the tiered rings filled with whooping spectators, forcefully prying stiff fingers from his weapon to give a meek little wave.
Joker barely acknowledged the curious stares from the crowd that followed the two odd new arrivals, preoccupied with puzzling over a strange feeling in his chest. Despite his intimate familiarity with the layout of the location, Joker had never actually set foot in Ul'dah's coliseum proper. The adjacent training hall for aspiring gladiators plenty of times, sure. Guildmaster Mylla had more than put him through his paces there when he had first taken up swordplay. And he'd run a few adventuring errands for the promoters and fighters in the general area during his early days in the city. But not the grand arena itself. And yet, as he stepped over the threshold of the ring and cast his eyes over the familiar rows of circular seats spiraling high to the open ceiling above, he realized that he knew this place well.
He reflected for a moment, wondering why exactly such intense deja vu would grip him for a place he'd never been to before now, when he recalled exactly where the distant echoes of cheering crowds and tiered stairs had come from: not his own memories, but those of Nanamo's. Her little head peeking over the highest boxed stand, fingers curled tight as she watched Raubhan's career-defining duels with a hammering heart and bated breath. He had experienced her emotions– equal parts thrumming excitement and anxiety— as powerfully as if it had been his own through that glimpse of her past with the Echo before. And even now did the shared memory rebound into him, leaving him a little dizzy with second-hand nostalgia.
Joker cast his eyes about, at last catching sight of three familiar faces peering amongst the crushing crowds— Ellie, Briardien and a half-asleep Nashu, only still upright on her feet from being wedged between the other two.
The other inspector shot him a surreptitious nod, eyes sharp with focus as he scanned the audience for any sign of suspicious activity. With Mistbeard's mask hiding the direction of his gaze, Joker returned the nod just as subtly. Beside him, Hildibrand attempted to do the same, only for his pompadour, now drooped from fright, to fall into his eyes.
As the poor man struggled to adjust his wayward hair, their opponents ascended the other end of the stage— a couple of gladiators, lightly armored in sparse platemail and armed with swords. A man and a woman, their toned abdominal muscles glistened under the stage lights as they took their places opposite. The man— a wiry young Midlander Hyur with fair, boyish features— raised his eyebrows at the utterly bizarre pair before him, shaking his head.
"Really?" He snorted, "A ridiculous mask and a tuxedo suit… Is this truly the best they can do on short notice? A pair of mummers?"
Joker frowned beneath his helmet. Did he recognize the guy from somewhere…?
His partner shushed him with a chastising hiss. A dark-skinned Ala Mhigan woman, her gaze was instead sharp and assessing, cautiously sizing them up. Her eyes passed over Hildibrand's shaking legs to narrow at Joker.
A loud clap echoed, bringing the audience slowly to breathless silence. Joker started. He forcefully hauled his Echo-hazed mind back to the present. Oh! Oh, right. Yes. Back to Jack.
Dour Meadow took center stage, large hands together as he called the audience to attention.
"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, plutocrats and paupers, open your eyes and steel your stomachs! The final round of The Mythril Cup, brought to you by our ever-charitable friends at Amajina & Sons Mineral Concern─ 'Your concern is our concern'— is about to begin!" The man shouted, voice echoing far and wide,"We, of course, have with us today the victorious pair from the semi-finals. Old crowd favorites: Franz the Fair and Stormblade Avila!"
The noise from the audience returned as a thunderous roar when the announcer waved a dramatic arm in the direction of their opponents. Several women squealed Franz's name. One particularly ecstatic one almost toppled out of her seat from how vigorously she bounced in it, waving her hands.
The Hyuran man grinned broadly, blowing a kiss. And Jack realized at last where he'd seen him before— the frustratingly pampered gladiator who had sent him on one of his first errands in this universe, too lazy to pick up his own sword from the blacksmith's! Small alternate world, huh? Though he doubted the man would've recognized him without the mask regardless.
Finally the high-pitched cheers died down enough for Dour Meadow to continue, "And next, owin' to the need for some last-second rearrangements of today's numbers, we have some new faces with us today— or so I would say, if one o' them wasn't hiding it! Please lend a welcoming round of applause to our exciting and mysterious masked newcomer: Jack Garland!"
His arm waved at Jack now, earning a decent burst of claps and a few cautiously excited cheers. A pretty decent reaction for an absolute no-name, as far as any of the crowd knew. Seemed the hidden face was doing some heavy lifting. Ever eager to please, Jack gave the crowd a bow, earning himself a couple of approving whistles. Hey— he knew from a certain street brawl what a bloodthirsty Ul'dahn crowd liked to see!
"And lastly, his partner… who was that grinnin' fool again? Ah, that's right─ Humberbatch, agent of infamy and imbecile extraordinaire!"
This time Dour Meadow's introduction was given in a single frenetic breath, eager to be over. A scattered and very confused round of half-hearted claps followed. Hildibrand straightened himself, forcing a wide, gleaming grin that failed to cover for how his jellied legs kept threatening to give out from him.
Nashu at last sprung back into consciousness, a bubble of snot popping from her nose. She blinked owlishly into the arena.
"Oh! Good luck, Inspector!" She called loudly, cupping her mouth with her hands, "Good luck, Jorkler!"
"Now: a refresher of the rules for the sake of our notable newbies! Aim to incapacitate yer foes or knock 'em out of the ring. No killin', and preferably keep the maimin' on the downlow, if ye can. Do be tryin' to keep yer buddy in the game. Makes for better viewin'. Now— Combatants, take your positions, and… let the battle begin!"
The final announcement was punctuated with the clang of a gong. And an eager bellow followed from the audience and gladiators alike as the armed combatants rushed each other, weapons raised and faces alight with the thrill of battle.
…Well, three out of four anyway. While Jack Garland threw himself into the fray with as much enthusiasm, sword at the ready, Hildibrand let out his own attempt at a warcry— though it was really more of a frightened sob. He wildly and gracelessly waved Bradamante in the air in front of him like a washing paddle, seemingly more set on bludgeoning than thrusting.
The Ala Mhigan fighter, Avila, made good on her pointed looks, charging headlong at Jack. He grinned beneath the mask as his sword met hers, catching it easily and holding her at bay.
"Hah!" She let out a breath of laughter, lips pulling back from her teeth, "Not bad for such a skinny bloke. Seems I made the right call. Hey, Fair-britches!" She roared to her partner, nodding her head, "Take the pompadoured fool. I'll keep this one busy."
Her partner sighed loudly, "Oh, but I wanted a taste of that one! Very well," He shrugged his toned shoulders, flipping his sword in his hands as he strode casually towards a gibbering Hildibrand, "Not much sport in skewering a shaking leaf, but here we are, I suppose."
Franz lifted his sword in a lazy arc, stifling a yawn as his looming shadow fell over Hildibrand's shivering figure, who somehow seemed so much smaller than him despite his greater height. The inspector's shaking hands almost lost their grip on the rattling gunhalberd's haft.
Hildibrand squealed in fear, face scrunching tight— then yelped as he felt himself suddenly yanked back, the swinging blade missing him by a hair's breadth.
The crowd let out a gasp that was a mixture of awe and disappointment. Jack, one hand still fending off blows from Avila, had pulled his befuddled partner back by the collar.
Franz blinked at the empty air his sword sailed through. Looked at Jack, laughing incredulously.
"What is this, some sort of farce? Are you trying to make a spectacle of this?"
Jack shrugged, twisting on his heel to dodge a relentless vertical swipe from the other gladiator and hauling Hildibrand further with him. The crowed 'oohed' at the fancy footwork as Jack danced around the flashing blade, a whimpering Hildibrand's cheeks flapping as he was wrenched to-and-fro, "Are you not entertained?"
"Come off it, Franz!" Avila hissed. Tossed her shield aside and grabbed her sword in a two handed grip, teeth gritted as Jack continued to dodge her blows, "I gave you the easy job! Take the gibbering idiot down already!"
Franz growled, swiping back his tousled hair. Took another lunge at a very dizzy Hildibrand as he continued to be bonelessly flopped around like a rag doll.
Franz's agitation rose with each missed swipe, both gladiators growing increasingly exasperated as Jack danced around them like it was a performance. Though some were impatiently braying for blood, more than a few in the crowd were amused in the opposite direction. There was a definitely rising burble of laughter now. Franz's cheeks flushed pink.
"You cover for your sniveling partner's incompetence well!" He said between clenched teeth, "Ah, I get it now— is he supposed to be a kind of handicap for you?"
"No." Jack replied, slipping easily under Avila's lunge and again heaving Hildibrand with him, whose eyes had now rolled into the back of his head. Jack's eyes flashed beneath his mask as he took aim, "He's a weapon."
And as both Franz and a barely-conscious Hildibrand blinked at him in confusion, Jack twisted his hold on the Inspector's collar, shifting his feet —- and pelted Hildibrand Manderville at the body of the startled gladiator with all his might.
There was a loud squawk as Hildibrand's thick body collided with Franz's more slender frame, immediately sending the fair gladiator flying. He stumbled back. Desperately wavered at the very edge of the arena, arms flapping, the sole of his boot poised so precariously halfway above the end of the raised platform— before gravity claimed him, sending him collapsing to the floor below with a loud thud.
Hildibrand Manderville, meanwhile, rolled after him, tumbling headlong to the edge himself. And Jack knocked Avila aside with a sweep of his shield that collided heavily into her nose. She staggered back, blood dribbling between her cupped fingers.
Joker pulled up his sleeve. The concealed hooked claw of the grappling hook shot forward, barely catching Hildibrand by the coattail. With a violent jerk, his spinning head came to a stop just above the floor below the ring, the hairs at the tip of his pompadour almost, almost, coming into contact with the dirt. Jack gripped the wire right. With a grunt, he hauled Hildibrand back. And this time the squealing inspector was pulled safely into the confines of the ring before his face planted into the ground— for once.
The audience was a mixture of astonished cries and whoops and screams of outrage. A few women raised their voices in furious protest as Franz rose sheepishly to his feet and began to slink away.
On the stage, Avila stared in utter bafflement between her fingers, sniffling heavily. She gripped her bleeding face tight.
"Y-you useless fop!" The gladiatrix howled at Franz, awkwardly stumbling to the bleachers on unsteady feet, "I can't believe you fell for that! This was supposed to be simple!"
With a face dripping red, she rounded on Jack with a snarl, aiming for his neck now. Temper, temper! A very amused Jack again caught her blade against his own, grin wide with fierce delight underneath his helm. The woman seemed to sense it, somehow. Infuriated, she pressed in harder, face scrunched in a deep scowl, sparks flying between their locked steel.
Having completely lost strength in his legs, Hidlibrand scurried beneath their flashing blades on hands and knees, Bradamante held in his mouth like a dog with a very, very large stick. He scrambled to safety at the far end of the arena while the other two continued their relentless clashes.
But with Jack now free to go (comparatively) all-out did Avila come to the sinking realization that she was actually physically outmatched. With her foe no longer on the defensive, each strike she caught against her sword slowly forced her back. Her feet skidded as she desperately fumbled for purchase, heels perilously close to the edge of the ring.
"No!" She hissed, bracing the flat of her blade, "No, this isn't how this was supposed to go! That man promised me…!"
She twisted her feet sharply, shoulders hunched. Re-angled her blade and repositioned her hands, a palm pressed against the flat. And though Jack continued his assault, he found he could no longer keep pushing her back. She was stubbornly immobile in her new stance, unable to attack but her defenses good and shored.
Jack frowned. Alright then. He'd just need a proper distraction to—
"J-Jehhhck!" Hildibrand bolted upright suddenly, gagging around the haft of the spear in his mouth. Spat it out into his hands, wincing, before trying again, "Jack, dear, we have her on the ropes! Please allow me!"
…Well, that certainly had promise. Jack gave a curt nod, his own feet planted firm as Avila tried to push him away.
"What's the plan, Inspector?"
And Hildibrand raised the tip of Bradamante high— the right way up this time!
"A special technique passed down from father to son! I must simply do as he has done on more than one memorable and horrifying occasion…!" He gripped the haft in both hands, holding it like a pole, "Why, one simply twists their hips like so…"
And thus did the inspector begin to rotate his pelvis around the spear in a series of hypnotically strange gyrations.
If his plan was to captivate, then it was certainly working. Joker and Avila both paused, tilting their heads. The confused crowd leaned forward in their seats.
"What is that oaf doing now?" Avila scoffed, "Some sort of dance?"
Lost in the rhythm, Hildibrand persisted with hips that did not lie. "Then…" He continued, eyes intense with focus, "Do we spin upon a heel…"
He twisted, shoe squeaking, And thus began a series of surprisingly graceful twirls as the inspector spun around the gunhalberd's haft. Each rotation went faster the the last as Hildibrand flipped the spear horizontal, creating a spinning blade. And once his momentum had reached its peak did he screw his eyes shut, face scrunching tight.
"And… skyward, h—hooooo—?!"
With that final fumbled shout did Hildibrand's ankle buckle, slipping and tumbling to the ground as he released his grip on the spear. It went sailing through the air, spinning in a wild arc.
Aliva smirked. Raised her heavy blade like a shield.
And at the same time did Jack Garland's fingers click behind his back.
The edge of the polearm suddenly trailed a dark aura as it was enveloped in foul magicks. The spinning weapon made contact with the flat blade— and erupted.
A shadowy gale tore through the arena with enough force to shake the stands. The audience was stunned into silence as the newcomers' only remaining combatant was blown entirely out of the ring, striking the wall on the other side and slumping to the ground, utterly dazed.
A true display of raw Mandervillian power!
…And maybe just a little touch of surreptitious magic. Not against the rules, surely. And if it was? Well, then whatever. No honor among thieves. Especially when trying to outdo one.
The silence from the stands was abruptly broken by an astonished outcry. Hildibrand slowly opened his eyes. Blinked dumbly, face completely baffled.
"Inspector, that was amazing!" Nashu called over the hubbub, bouncing up and down and clapping her hands together, "I knew you could do it!"
Hildibrand crawled over to the halberd. He scooped it back up, looking down at it in his hands with awe and a bit of concern. Then he remembered himself.
"O-oh, but of course! Exactly as I planned! Hahaha… ha?"
"Well now! What a surprising… and very sudden upset!"
Dour Meadow had again made his appearance, strolling center stage. Though he smiled, his jaw clenched tight, tendons in his neck straining. Perhaps more than a little annoyed at how quickly the match was decided.
But he kept himself professionally composed as he crossed to Jack and Hildibrand's side. Cleared his throat. With some hesitation did he take hold of Hildibrand's sweat-soaked glove and raise his hand skyward.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" Dour Meadow declared with a valiantly repressed grimace as Hildibrand's palm slipped against his, "'Twould seem it is my great pleasure to announce the victors of the Mythril Cup—"
"Hold the festivities!"
Dour Meadow's face fell. He tossed his head about, mask of geniality completely slipping.
"Oh, what the bloody hells is it now—"
And then the ceiling exploded.
Screams followed from the audience. Dour Meadow and Hildibrand scrambled back. Jack stood over them defensively while debris fell, swallowing the ring in a plume of billowing dust. Roof tiles collapsed into the sizeable hole that had been torn from it.
A large silhouette fell to the earth from above with a rattle of clattering steel.
The dust began to settle.
A hen clucked.
Hildibrand and Jack blinked at the figure emerging from the cloud—- a tall, tall man with gray skin and crimson silks and a small armory strapped to his considerable person. And a green chicken pecking at the fallen tiles by his straw sandals.
"Alas, my vengeance is finally at hand!"
Hildibrand hugged Bradamante closer to himself as he gaped like a fish.
"G-Greg…?!"
And Gilgamesh hissed, a hand flying to the katana sheathed at his waist, "I keep telling you, it's not—! Ugh, nevermind!"
"Tis always a pleasure to reunite with old friends, Greg, but your timing truly leaves something to be desired." Hildibrand's voice rose in pitch, very poorly attempting to hide the man's much-desired gunhalberd behind his back— and failing spectacularly, "W-we were just in the middle of finishing up some business today, so if you could perhaps—"
Hildibrand broke off with a squeak as Gilgamesh drew his katana, the steel flashing— then pointed it at the man standing next him.
"Jack Garland!" He cried, glaring daggers. Jack tilted his helmeted head innocently, "You bested me once, but not today! I shall have my revenge when I pierce your chest!"
Someone loudly cleared their throat. Gilgamesh turned as Dour Meadow tapped his shoulder pauldron.
"If you'll excuse me sir," He began, tone forced polite and even with some difficulty, given the man had just trashed a large portion of his stadium, "I'd absolutely be up to welcomin' ye aboard an' all, but I'm afraid the rules say these fights are to occur in pairs. And seeing as you're here solo—"
"Oh." Gilgamesh blinked down at him awkwardly. Lowered his sword, "Ah. I was not aware… Well, that shall not be a problem this time!"
And Gilgamesh threw his hands to the air.
"Come forth from beyond the Rift, my dearest ally! …Um, please?!"
There was a beat. Then the air rippled. A dark, jagged tear tore through the space above the ring, spilling sinister energy. Several people gasped.
Then a figure slipped from it, writhing limbs unfurling from where they had locked tight, before it dropped. It struck the ground, splatting welty upon the arena floor
And from the tear in the fabric of reality came what seemed to be a giant purple octopus.
"Hey, kids!" The octopus cheered, waving two tentacles like arms, "Ultros here! Saw a hole in the sky and thought I'd slip in all slippery-like, if you're catchin' my drift?"
Oh. So it was sapient? Some kind of Voidsent, maybe?
There was a slow rise of confused— and slightly horrified— mutterings as the crowd looked between each other. Even Gilgamesh looked startled, taking a step back.
"What?! You, sir, are not my partner!"
"And you're not mine, bub, but here we are!" The octopus protested, two tentacles like angry fists curled against himself in lieu of hips, "We doin' this fightin' thing or not? 'Cuz otherwise you can just put me right back where I came from, or so help you!"
Gilgamesh froze. Looked sheepishly to the side, "I… I do need an ally…" He scratched at the back of his head, "I suppose this works …?"
"Good!" Ultros crowed, the circular sucker that was his mouth curling into a fang-ringed smile, "'Cuz this fella here is hungry for some action!"
Evidently Nashu was hungry for something else— preferably smeared in a marinara sauce. Even from here could Jack see her sparkling eyes and drooling mouth, leaning eagerly over the edge of the stand as she envisioned the not-ctopus frying on a grill. A disgusted Briardien pulled her back by the collar before she could tip over.
"Very well!" Gilgamesh slapped his cheeks, "You'll simply have to do, you betentacled abomination! Garland— prepare yourself!"
Ever the showman, Dour Meadow quickly recovered from his confusion with an appeal to the murmuring audience.
"Ohoho!" He laughed, throwing his arms wide, "Folks, it seems we have a fresh pair of eleventh-hour entrants! And with aim to play out what sounds to be a grudge-match, no less! Under the circumstances, who am I to deny them? If the teams are sorted, then take your places!"
Gilgamesh's curved fangs looked extra sharp as he grinned wickedly.
"I shall have you know, Jack, that I have been honing myself and have better learned the ways of this world's 'aether'! Behold!"
The air rippled with visibly agitated energy. And when the gong sounded did Gilgamesh suddenly sprout extra arms. More than before, even— a whole eight of them! And with gleaming weapons in each hand.
Jack shook his head. The octopus had eight arms, the Greg had eight arms… This was getting to be much too much.
Gilgamesh pulled his lips back from his pointed teeth. Twirled four of his scimitars between two juggled axes and two crossed spears, eyes filled with feral joy.
"Now— let us fight like men!"
"And octopodes!" Ultros interjected, tentacles flying into Gilgamesh's face as he tried to give him a friendly hug around the shoulders, "Octopi? Octopusses?"
Gilgamesh snarled, tossing Ultros off of himself. He hit the ground with a splat, huffing.
"Fine, fine. Personal quest for vengeance. I get it. I'll just take this one!"
And Hildibrand Manderville's latest squeal of fear managed to reach near-castrati levels as slimy, wriggly tentacles came at him. He put his well-honed calf muscles from years of trying to escape his father's wrath to impeccable use, Bradamante waving as he ran circles around the ring. The cackling purple octopus chased after him, delighted.
Which left Jack with Gilgamesh, he supposed.
It was a familiar dance— albeit one with double the arms from last time. Jack weaved between the flashing blades as Gilgamesh bore down on him with more weapons than any one man should be able to wield at a time without Soul Crystals to hold them. It was kind of cheating, really… And yes, he was aware of the irony.
His feet slid as he was knocked back by a twirling spear, catching himself before he met the ring's edge. Deciding any rules on magic were probably out when a giant octopus got summoned into the fray, he pulled on his aether, unleashing a flurry of sharpened icicles. That seemed to get Gilgamesh going. Greg let out a triumphant laugh as he spun his weapons, the overlapping blades creating a whirling barrier that shattered each one that neared his body.
Meanwhile, Ultros' game of tag did not seem to be proceeding nearly as smoothly as he thought.
"Come back here, you muscled moron! I don't want to kill ya— I just want to strangle ya for a while!"
"Please, no!" Hildibrand countered, tears in his eyes, "I need my trachea uncrushed to deliver clever witticisms!"
Finally, the maybe-an-octopus succeeded in just managing to curl a tentacle around Hildibrand's ankle. Ultros heaved, yanking him off his feet. He crashed to the floor. Brandamente rolled from his hand. It struck the floor outside the ring before Hildibrand could lunge for it, now beyond his reach.
"Ooh, seems Humberbatch has lost his weapon!" Dour Meadow gleefully observed, "Will our bumbling boar be able to grapple his way out of this?"
Hildibrand's lip wobbled as Ultros oozed his way closer, his fang-ringed mouth in a cruel smile. The tip of the tentacle around the inspector's foot snaked over his shoe as he tried to wriggle it off.
"Y'know, seeing as I don't have bones, I think I'm gonna enjoy breaking yours! Let's start with the toes, huh? This little piggy went to market—"
Hildibrand's teeth chattered hard enough to chip them. With astonishing dexterity did he wiggle and squirm and twist his torso, desperately floundering away and flopping to freedom like a fish. Ultros snarled, all out of his arms flailing as they lunged for him. But sheer panic-fueled adrenaline empowered Hildibrand to weave around them in a hypnotic, almost piscine display. Ultros' tentacles slipped and squelched and overlapped as they chased after his slippery body, beginning to tangle together.
"What are you, a squid now?! Get back here and let me— grrrk!"
And Ultros' furious tirade was cut off in a pained choke. He blinked his bulging eyes, only now realizing that his flailing tentacles had gotten themselves bunched together into a tight knot.
"H-hah! You little sneak!" He gasped, profusely sweating ink as he tried desperately to untangle them, swaying this way and that, "W-why, when I get my suckers on you—"
And then Jack had a brilliant idea.
"Hey, boss—" He called from where he fended off two katanas with the edge of his sword, "How'd that move go again?"
Jack grinned at him under his helm. And after a very belated realization finally struck him did Hildibrand beam back.
"…Oh! Ohoho, I see, my brother-in-arms! Why, one simply takes hold of their quarry thus—"
The extremely puzzled octopode let out a startled yelp as Hildibrand reached out, grabbing a tight hold of the knotted mess of tentacles.
"Then twists their hips like so…" The inspector once again began to gather momentum upon a poised toe, rotating in a circle, "Spin upon one's heel…"
Ultros clearly couldn't believe the predicament he was in as he found himself at the mercy of centrifugal force, swung over and over again, eyes threatening to pop out of his head.
"And—!"
Hildibrand released his hands.
"…Skyward, ho!"
And in a surprising display of competence was Ultros sent streaking through the air, tangled tentacles flapping and sounding just as amazed and confused as the rest of the audience.
"Uwaaaagghhh?!"
He zoomed towards the lowest tier of seats. And a large block of the audience was forced to rapidly scramble aside, parting like water as a giant purple octopus crashed into the stands.
"Well now, that's a ring out if I've ever seen one!" Dour Meadow roared. Ultros' bulging eyes spun in circles. He flopped among the staring spectators, coughing dust.
There came a furious roar from the ring. Gilgamesh lowered an axe raised to try to take Jack's head, his fight temporarily forgotten. He used one pair of his many hands to tug on his horns.
"You… you lousy, incompetent cephalopod!" Gilgamesh wailed, "You're pathetic! I didn't even want to pull you through the Rift!"
With a groan, Ultros pushed himself to peer over the stands, the suckers on his tentacles gripping the rails.
"Wha— Well excuse me, you grabby-hands weirdo!"
"Bah, it's no use!" Gilgamesh continued, ignoring him entirely, "I simply cannot work with another! Oh, if only dear Enkidu were here…!"
And Joker, too, became completely sidetracked from their bout as his head throbbed. His eyes widened against a sudden and very intense feeling. A rapidly mounting pressure in the air, like a shift in the atmosphere. A flutter stirred in his heart. He gasped against it, hand to his chest.
Hildibrand turned to him, confused and concerned. He raised a hand to awkwardly hover it at Joker's shoulder as he shuddered.
"I–I say, my good man! Are you quite well…?"
But then he yelped, hand pulling back as a drifting particle of light brushed past his face. Gilgamesh, too, drew back in confusion, watching as spontaneous specks danced around the ring. More and more sprung up from nowhere— gathering aether, shimmering brightly as it rapidly coalesced upon one spot. Began to pool and meld into a shape at Gilgamesh's feet.
—- Into the chicken.
The confused green hen tossed it head back. It crowed loudly, wings spread wide.
And then it shone with brilliant light.
The audience cried out as a pair of curling, black horns rose slowly from the blooming radiance. Claws extended from long limbs. Giant white wings snapped open.
"Enkidu!" Gilgamesh gasped, eight hands clapping together in wonderment, "My dear friend! You've returned to me at last!"
Past the wide wings and spilling red hair was a shapely figure, covered in interlocked scaled armor that shimmered in greens and blacks. Red eyes glared. Talons flexed. A beak snapped.
So Gilgamesh's mysterious ex-friend was a big green bird-woman! That explained a lot. She bore a decent resemblance to Garuda, even. But while Garuda had been more woman than bird, 'Enkidu' was more bird than woman. Which was also attractive in its own way, but— but well, he shouldn't even be thinking about that right now.
Because, also like Garuda, this thing was totally a Primal. Somehow, Gilgamesh had just summoned one into being before them by… feeling terribly lonely? Maybe? Whatever had happened, Joker supposed this was the final nail in the coffin of the Scion's original theory that Primals had to be divine in origin. But even still, this was really something…
Enkidu nodded at her partner, red eyes bright with fondness. And then she threw her head back and howled to the slip of sky beaming down on them from above.
The aetherial winds that whipped up from nowhere were immediately powerful and dangerous. They swirled together, forming a sucking vortex. Poor Hildibrand let out a fresh shriek as he was immediately tossed high on the winds. He flapped his arms, sent skyward, before crashing headfirst through the wooden scaffolding above. Only his legs protruded from the him-shaped hole, twitching weakly.
Naturally, the coliseum was immediately filled with screams. Spectators leapt from their seats, seeking the exits. Bodies pushed and shoved as they all tried to pass one another.
"N-now not to worry, folks!" Dour Meadow cried desperately over the top of the roaring winds, arms curled tightly around a column and feet beginning to lift from the ground, "T-this is, um, all just part of the show! Please remain seated!"
Ultros, too, let out a frightened wail, tentacles wrapped tight around the buckling iron railing that surrounded the seats. His enormous eyes bugged out of his head as he held on for dear life, screeching.
"W-wait, hold on, wait! Waaaaaaiiiiittt—-!" Ultros's scream rose in pitch as his sticking suckers at last gave way with a loud series of 'pops'. And then he was flung skyward, spiraling high into the air and through the hole in the ceiling, into the blue beyond.
"Th-Th-Th-Th-Th-Th-That's all, folks!" Ultros cried, voice fading away until he was but a twinkle of light in the sky.
…Was he allowed to say that? Legally?
Braced against the storm that began to tear chunks from the stone arena, Jack held his ground. He watched the gleaming red eyes fix in him, beak almost smirking.
"I've been waiting for this!" Gilgamesh cackled, his many arms wide, "Enkidu! Let us together exact swift and brutal vengeance, like old times!"
The Primal delightedly complied, flapping her wings and lunging forward, dark claws flexed wide. Gilgamesh followed behind her, roaring as he thrust his lance at Jack's chest.
"You know she's not really your friend right?" Jack shouted over the howling winds, a swiping talon caught against his blade and the tip of a spear against his shield, "She's just a mimic made of aether… And feathers, I guess."
"Cease your prattling!" Gilgamesh spat, taking his spear in another hand and twisting it. It scored a deep line in the shield, forcing Joker to duck down, "Do you think I don't recognise my own best friend?!"
He supposed it was futile to try to reason with a man who'd been so desperate for companionship that he'd turned to painting a chicken. But damn, that was some powerful delusion-based friendship going on here. Jack hissed as he was forced to twist between streaking claws on one side and three different kinds of bladed weapons on the other, pointed tips diving in and out, trying to skewer him like a shish kabob. All the while did the raging winds buffet his body, sending his coattails violently flapping.
Gilgamesh threw himself forward, a spear and halberd tip glinting as they crossed over, lunging for Jack's head. He jumped back, stumbling against the force of the winds as the weapons met with a clang in the middle. Barely twisted in time to raise his arm over his face as Enkidu's talons came for it. The claws snagged on his forearm, tearing a large gash in his sleeve. And as he tried to shake himself free from the wicked talons digging into his forearm did Gilgamesh pounce with an axe.
Jack threw Enkidu off of him with a frantic burst of lightning magic. It jolted through the bird-woman, sending her spasming body reeling back. Leaving him with just enough time to barely leap aside as the swinging axe missed his neck. The edge glanced against the side of the Mistbeard helm. Jack staggered as his head rattled inside it, echoing vibrations almost making him want to puke. How did anyone ever fight in these things?
"Now isn't the time to grapple with your anonymity, you dunce!" Briardien shouted from the stands, one hand holding tight to Ellie's while the other kept a wiggling Nashu pinned against the railing to keep her from falling, "You're fighting a Primal!"
True… He couldn't exactly keep this up while pretending like he wasn't the god-eating Warrior of Light, as much as he'd enjoyed not being him for a good few hours.
And hey, there was already a captive audience— literally, in the sense that any of the gawking crowd still left in the arena were trapped from the exits by collapsed stairs and columns, shredded by the Primal winds. Time to throw caution to the wind and put on a show!
Gold light blazed from behind the eye holes in the Mistbeard helm. Joker cackled as his face melted into blue flames. They spilled out beneath the mask, engulfing him in fire and fury.
Clawed hands gripped the iron helmet, tossing it away. It was sent spiraling skyward, taking to the air on the swirling winds.
And together did They throw their exposed head back in their own primal scream, Garuda's many wings spread wide.
"What amazing special effects!" Gasped Nashu, wriggling under Briadien's arm to try to get a better look, her glasses nearly flying off her face. He let go of Ellie's hand to better stuff her head back down.
Joker flexed his new claws as Enkidu and Gilgamesh both watched him carefully, equally surprised at this new development.
"Oh, um. I didn't know you could do that."
Jack tilted his head, grinning sharp teeth. Oh look at it. A most minor of minor concepts, born from but a single man's pitiful yearning. Pathetic. Nothing at all like their reverent godhood. And They would show it Their might, yes They would!
They raised their hand, calling to the storm. Let the aether flow through them. The howling winds displayed their capriciousness as their allegiance shifted, now keen to obey Them — as they should. The vortex twisted. The arena's tiles buckled as the redirected gales shifted direction, coming loose and cracking into Enkidu's body.
The new Primal shrieked in alarm as she was sent tumbling into the air, wings beating frantically. Enkidu twisted desperately, fearfully reaching for magicks that were no longer hers to command.
Heh, of course! Foolish thing. The winds were Their domain. They would not suffer some paltry poultry to try to claim them in Their place!
Joker and Garuda snapped their clawed fingers. Let the vortex of wind intensify to cutting blades, scoring deep gashes in the Primal's armor.
Garuda's cruel delight swelled in Joker's heart at their foe's panicked face. They lunged forward, grabbing hold of Enkidu's arm. The two harpies grappled in the air, all fangs and claws and feathers as they struck each other again and again amidst the howling winds. The cowering audience could barely get a glimpse of them, such was their speed as they threw themselves at each other over and over.
"P-please do not be alarmed!" Dour Meadow repeated, his arms shaking from the effort to hold himself against the pillar, "This is… highly scripted, yes!"
Joker seized Enkidu's billowing red hair, harshly wrenched her head back before ramming her head into the ground.
"You dared to stand against the wind?!" They snarled together, holding her tightly as their claws sank into her skull, "Dared to try to take it from Us? We'll tear you apart!"
Enkidu desperately writhed beneath them. Gilgamesh shouted a horrified protest, but could not draw closer against the buffeting force that pushed him back. The Primal in the shape of his friend desperately kicked her legs. Threw out her wings.
And They grinned with fierce delight as they pounced upon her wings, cackling madly, fangs bared. With laughing pants on their breaths did they tear into the splintered boney frames, feathers flying as Enkidu bucked and flapped and screeched.
"Oh wow!" Nashu gasped from the stands, "Jorkler's certainly mean when he's green!"
A horrified Briardien gave a stiff nod, looking rather green himself.
Rising desperation empowering her, Enkidu threw Joker off with an aetherial scream that rippled through the air. Kicked a powerful leg against his chest. She slammed him into the lower stands with an echoing crack. The audience still in the seats beneath them dove desperately out of the way as Joker's body cratered into the stone. A gawking onlooker— a Miqo'te man, whose tail was now very frizzed— remained frozen to the spot as the Primal closed a talon around Joker's throat. His limp hand dropped the fried mushroom skewer he'd been munching on as Enkidu bashed Joker's head hard against the wall beside him.
Joker snarled, blood dribbling down his forehead and scrambling for purchase against the crumbled stones. He turned his head.
"Ah." Joker turned his slitted golden eyes, sclera darkened to black, upon the spooked man next to him— and his ruined treat. He cleared his throat. Gave his best attempt at a wink as blood ran into his eye, "Sorry about that. Um, maybe you can get a refund?"
And with an eagle's scream ripping through his throat did he throw Enkidu off of himself.
The dazed Primal hovered unsteadily, tattered wings lopsided. Gathering all of Garuda's anether into one spot beneath his clawed foot, Joker kicked himself off the wall, gales swirling around him as he leapt. Launched himself towards the Primal in one final burst of energy.
Joker streaked through the air, Garuda's feathers melting away and billowing in his wake like streamers as he instead called Zantetsuken to his palm. He pulled it back. Watched Enkidu's red eyes widen in alarm, before the dark blade tore straight through her.
Darkness crackled. Enkidu's feathers shredded apart from tattered wings. Her grasping hands clawed at the illuminated gash that ripped entirely through her torso, futilely trying to hold her body together as aether spilled from it like gushing water.
And then she plummeted.
Joker fell with her, the two of them tumbling back to the ring, trailing specks of shimmering aether.
And as Joker landed smoothly on hands and knees did a small figure collapse next to him in a puff of light.
The aether dispersed rapidly— far too thin for him to grab this time, it seemed. The exhausted ex-Primal dropped to the ground, now light and weightless— and once again but a harmless and very confused green hen. It clucked, tilting its head, before casually tottering away.
And with the Primals' absence did the writhing vortex still, the force of the winds dropping rapidly until they died out into an eerie, silent calm.
The confused and frightened audience cautiously peeked out from where they had ducked under their seats, only for their heads to rapidly withdraw again as an angry howl filled the stadium.
Gilgamesh stomped forward, teeth bared.
"This isn't the end…!" He hissed, drawing a fresh pair of scimitars and advancing towards Joker, "You may have bested Enkidu, but for Gilgamesh, it remains—-!"
And then a metal helmet dropped from the sky, the jutting tip landing squarely upon the top of Gilgamesh's head with an echoing clang.
The giant man wobbled for a moment, phantom chickens running circles around his concussed head. Then he collapsed hard on the ground.
Joker stared down at him as he rapidly shrunk back down to his normal still-too-large-but-more-reasonable size. With a groan, Gilgamesh lifted his head from the dirt. Coughed, fangs jutting in a lopsided grin.
"B-best three out of five…?" He croaked.
Any reply Joker might have given was interrupted by a familiar startled yelp from above.
The backside of Hildibrand Manderville, now free from the rafters, dropped unceremoniously back into the arena. Landed heavily upon Greg, crushing his spine.
Undeniably pinned down for the count, Gilgamesh lay still for a long, long moment. Then he put two of his hands upon the ground. Pressed his forehead so low that Joker had to reevaluate his scale of hardcore Dogeza — Gilgamesh was now thoroughly clearing both Madarame and Gegeruju.
"Please, spare me!" Gilgamesh's forehead struck the floor with enough force to leave a small crater as he gave his best apologetic bow, "There will be no further shenanigans from me, I promise!"
"Oho!"
A familiar head suddenly popped up from beneath a pile of fallen rubble, crumbled stones falling out of his tousled hair.
"Is that a formal surrender I hear?" Dour Meadow crooned, crawling over the debris and flinging himself back into the arena proper.
Now very thoroughly satisfied with the entertainment— and more than eager to end this before any more surprises completely obliterated his coliseum, a very scruffed Dour Meadow staggered to the center. He adjusted his askew tie. Grabbed Joker's hand.
"Ladies and gentlemen, there can be no doubt! Today's winner is most certainly mystery newcomer Jack Garland!"
A weary applause rippled in confused patches among the members of the audience still up to putting their hands together. Someone gave a very weak 'yay'.
Determined to display proper showmanship, Joker gave whoever was still watching another bow. Then he dropped, slumping down beside the flattened Gilgamesh.
Hildibrand took the chance to scuttle off of him like a strange bug. And Joker pat a consoling hand on Greg's back.
"Sorry about your bird."
Gilgamesh grunted into the broken tiles. Shuffled his shoulders in a manner similar to shrugging.
"'Twas clearly not meant to be." He grumbled, voice half-muffled by the ground, "I know, of course, that she has long left me. That it could not truly be her. But I miss her so dearly, and one cannot stop the heart from wanting what it wants."
Joker leaned his head back, exhaling his bangs out of his eyes, "Mmm." He agreed with a hum. Couldn't argue with that.
He heard urgent footsteps heading his way. Probably the others. Joker watched as Gilgamesh found the wherewithal to push himself upright, one of his many palma at his sore back. Joker halted his attempt to hobble away with a raised hand.
"Wait. Greg." Gilgamesh froze with a grimace, "Before you go— some of the stuff you've been saying…" Joker gulped, "It sounds like you're from another world. Too, I mean…"
And Gilgamesh turned back to him with a frown, "Ah? Perhaps…" He replied cautiously, raising an eyebrow, "What are you getting at?"
"Well, it's just…" And Joker looked down, watching his fingers twist together, "If… if you can travel freely between worlds… then… Well, maybe you could…"
But the other interdimensional traveler merely wagged several chiding fingers at him, "Hah! Now, now, friend! I do understand… but that would be a far too narratively unfulfilling solution for your present predicament, don't you think?"
"I mean, yeah, but…"
"Come now, Bartz!" Gilgamesh slapped three jovial hands on Joker's back. It really stung, "Anything that grand an endeavor is surely worth figuring out for yourself!"
Giving up, Joker puffed out air in a motion that vibrated his lips, crossing his arms petulantly, "Fiiiine." He knew a non-essential sidequest when he saw one.
GIlgamesh's teeth protruded in a shark-like smile that was probably meant to be encouraging. And then the bizarre man was off, springing away upon the fallen pillars and along the seating platforms, startling extremely windswept and harried onlookers, until he had jumped clear through the hole in the ceiling and vanished from sight.
"Drat! He got away." Briardien grumbled as he stumbled to a halt next to Joker, snapping his fingers. His other hand was tight around Nashu's, who he had dragged along with him, "But I suppose it hardly matters— he is not our primary target."
There was a loud 'oof'. The sound of crunching glass.
"Oh! Sorry Inspector!" Nashu gasped, withdrawing her foot from where it had been firmly planted upon Hildibrand's face, still sprawled upon the ground as he was, "I thought you were part of the scenery."
"A-an understandable mistake, my dear!" Her boss replied, awkwardly rising and adjusting his cracked monocle, "For I was employing the Manderville art of camouflage! None could have possibly spotted me!"
The broken lens of his monocle popped out of the frame with a 'ping' as Hildibrand grinned broadly.
Off to the side, Dour Meadow was mumbling with the rest of the coliseum staff, who merely shrugged, utterly at a loss. He rolled his eyes to the heavens, silently begging for patience. Waved a weary hand at two small attendants, who ran off.
And once again, the fanciful Roegadyn simply decided to roll with whatever was happening here, taking center stage.
"What a delightful display of camaraderie and sportsmanship!" Dour Meadow did his best to put a positive spin on things as he clapped his hands. It again sounded very forced, "'Twas a battle for the ages indeed, but a worthy victor has risen to claim the spoils! And now, let's take a look at the relic that our champion has won!"
He waved a hand at the door to the staff room off-stage. Glowered, impatiently snapping his fingers.
And the harried Lalafell attendants returned, dodging fallen rubble as they lugged an ornate box into the ring between them.
Dour Meadow brightened, "Behold! From the personal vaults of Master Fyrgeiss himself─ the Warden's Grace, a timeless treasure the likes o' which our realm has never seen! One that's earned the attention of Eorzea's most prominent pilferer, if the rumors are to be believed."
Joker— Jack again, he supposed— stood up as the weary helpers set the golden box before him. Briardien, Hildibrand and Nashu crowded in at his side, fighting for space as they tried to peer inside.
Well, he supposed this was what they had originally come here for. Time to open it up?
With the practiced hand of someone who had opened many treasure chests in his time, Jack pulled back the golden lid to reveal—
An empty velvet cushion.
Briardien hissed. He immediately tossed his head up, scanning the baffled faces of the crowd.
Dour Meadow's cheeks paled. He rounded upon his frightened assistants with eyes bugging,
"W-what?!" He roared, spittle flying, "What have…? Where is the bloody—?!"
"Tut-tut, my dear man. Such language!"
"There!" Briardien pointed sharply as he caught sight of a figure, perched upon the highest tiered seats far above.
Somehow balancing upon the thin railing despite the large body they were borrowing, the Phantom Thief of Many Faces gave a sly grin— wearing Dour Meadow's face this time. Likely to rub salt in the victim's wound, Jack supposed.
Far below them, the original blanched further. Gaped at his exact double.
"W-why do you…? Gods, one of you go check the vaults, right now!"
One of the armed Stone Torches that had burst onto the scene at Dour Meadow's shouting dashed away, scrambling over the fallen columns.
"He's far too high up for me to strike him." Briardien growled, fingers twitching at his pouch of Scalebombs, "Did he somehow know I had come prepared?"
Regardless, the Thief dipped into a deep bow, nimbly manipulating the large Roegadyn body in a manner that was almost uncanny.
"Ladies and gentlemen, inspectors and invertebrates!" They began, adjusting Dour Meadow's garish bowtie, "The opening act dragged on overlong, but worry not─ the main event is about to begin! I know that you paid well for your seats here today, but I can assure you that my performance will not leave you disappointed. Now, I invite one and all to sit back and enjoy the show!"'
"Vile fiend!" Hildibrand howled, shoving Briardien aside before he could try to speak. He pointed an objecting finger, "Mark my words: you have stolen your last treasure─ I swear it on the Manderville name!"
The smirk widened, "A bit late for that, I'm afraid."
And then there, glinting in the sunlight pouring through the hole in the arena's ceiling, was a ring. A brilliant golden jewel sat in the center, shimmering like a miniature sun. The Thief rolled it between their fingers.
"Not exactly as planned, but who can argue with the results? Save for one thing... This ring is a fake."
And before anyone could react to that comment did the Phantom Thief casually let their purloined item go, tossing it back into the arena. Briardien awkwardly stumbled after it. Joker ran ahead of him, snatching it from the air before it could strike the ground.
"But no matter. For this has lead me to the true treasure." And now, in the ring's place, was a key. A simple brass piece, spinning around a gloved finger.
"B-Bloody hells!" Dour Meadow gripped his head, "That's the vault's— …Guards! Seize the fiend at once!"
But the Stone Torch that had run to check the vaults had returned, doubled over and clutching a stitch at his side, "I-It's too late, sir! The second prize─ the Ring of Inquiry─ it's gone!"
The Thief twisted Dour Meadow's own face into a delighted smirk as the real one dropped to his knees, "Until next time, friends! You have been a most attentive audience."
And then once again was their target gone in a flash and a puff of smoke, vanishing before it had cleared.
Briardien was the first to recover.
"A fake…? What is the meaning of this?!" He furiously marched over to Joker, who allowed him to yank the Warden's Grace from his hand. Briardien narrowed his eyes at it, turning it over.
"...Many-faced fiend or no, the man spoke true. This 'sun sphere' appears to be a second-rate replica."
Dour Meadow's hanging head shot up, "P-Preposterous! It's just, ah, the dim lighting!"
He sprung to his feet, sweat beading and hands flapping as Briardien, Joker and Hildibrand stepped towards him, faces dangerously hard. The proprietor shrunk back, his eyes darting desperately to the staff room door.
Hildibrand leaned in, "Have you taken ill, friend? You seem to be perspiring most heavily…"
"L-Let's not be so hasty, friends! I can explain!"
Briardien continued to glower at him as Dour Meadow pressed his back against the wall. Then he pulled back with a disgusted sigh, allowing the large man to scamper away. His scrambling staff followed as he plowed through the door. Pulled it shut tightly behind him, angry shouts from the audience chasing after him.
"Never mind that fool." Briardien crossed his arms, "We have bigger things to worry about. There must surely be…"
He cast his gaze about, seeking a familiar flash of red. And— there. Tucked in the back of a dozing Nashu's pink parka. The calling card, its sleepy holder none-the-wiser.
Hildibrand's head snapped up as he followed his fellow's line of sight. He stepped forward. And Briardien snatched it from under Hildibrand's eagerly wiggling fingers, shooting the man a glare. He flipped the card over, clearing his throat.
"I have enjoyed our little game, but all good things must come to an end." He read aloud, "With the three sacred treasures now in hand, justice shall be served' ... So this is to be the thief's final challenge to us. But what are these treasures of which he speaks?"
Joker scooped up the now rather dented Mistbeard mask (sorry Slafyrsyn) from where it had crash-landed among the fallen debris, dusting it off. Clearly the second prize─ this Ring of Inquiry─ was their Phantom Thief's real target from the start. But that left the question of why. They couldn't have known the first ring was a fake until now, and it was definitely the more lucrative prize, both monetarily and in terms of the fame it would have granted them to snatch it. So there must be some pattern to the items they had stolen. Some meaning.
Briardien seemed to agree. He paced a hand to his chin, "The Treaty-Blade, Azeyma's Virtue, the Ring of Inquiry… All relics with quite a history. Or, to be more precise, relics from the era of the Belah'dians. From the time before Ul'dah and Sil'dih's civil war…"
Joker, who knew nothing of the intricacies of Ul'dahn history, let the inspector at it, plonking his helmet back on as Briadien paced back and forth, mumbling a verbalized string of thought.
"Let us consider his targets thus far: an Ul'dahn collector and her hired thugs, a trading mogul and the Brass Blades, and now a mining magnate and the Stone Torches. Tales of the Phantom Thief's exploits have been winning over the commonfolk by the day, highly amused at his ruffling of the feathers of the rich and famous." He tapped a finger against his brow, "...Could he be plotting some sort of uprising against Ul'dahn authority? Or perhaps the ridiculous fool actually believes in those tawdry old legends… Ellie, you were born and raised in these lands, what insight have you—..."
And Briardien turned to the empty air, blinking as his eyes failed to meet Ellie Ryse at his side.
Nashu suddenly jolted awake, snot bubble popping. She spun on the spot.
"Um, wait…" Nashu said, tilting her head, "Where did Miss Ellie go?"
And Joker looked up. He, too, scanned the coliseum, trying to spot their intrepid reporter. Thinking about it, he couldn't recall seeing much of her before the Phantom Thief had shown—
…Oh.
Briardien stared ahead, eyes wide with horror as he came to the same realization. His face blanched paper-white.
Oh no.
Original Ao3 endnotes:
"Stupid sexy Primals!"
Nashu biting Joker's fingers when he went in for a high-five was based on something my awful bitch of a cat did to me once… (i love her)
Two sketches today:
-A little scribble of the headbutt
-A very dumb Madoka crossover I posted on tumblr earlier (save your boyfriend from the cruel cycle, G'raha!)
I feel like fish and chips now…