Chapter Text
“Yeah, look, I’m not getting on one of those. She’s not either.”
Despite Roland’s complaints, he still walked alongside Salvador, with Elena a pace behind them.”Hoho, don’t worry Arnold, I have more than enough to pay for the both of—”
“Price isn’t the reason I’m complaining…” Roland cut in. Of his time and experiences in the Library, little had unsettled him more Than the WARP trains and their ongoings. Even if, at the end of the day, That was That, and his memories of the detour would be wiped, it wasn’t something he wanted to subject himself to, for a multitude of reasons.
Firstly, he wasn’t sure if he could wrangle his sanity for two-thousand years straight. Having an end goal in sight would help— knowing it’s not an eternity as an immortal in a pitch black void might raise the morale of the other passengers, but what would the point be?
Secondly, he wasn’t sure how Durandal would act. If the strength he gained by ‘killing’ those inside was the permanent kind, then it might actually be worth the while. Then again, he’d have to test that theory– and the last thing he wanted was to get on that train with Elena without a proper way to benefit himself, which led him to his third point.
Love Town. The taboo reception of the library which had caused a fair share of discomfort among them for a fair month. And the cause of Love Town happened to be next to him.
Elena would be the most dangerous thing there be a landslide, any suicidal or insane fixer Roland encountered he figured he could deal with, with the whole immortality thing, tying them into a neat little bundlewrap of gore wouldn’t be all too hard.
But Elena? The reason she hadn’t been able to make the creations she did in the outskirts was because the human corpses she worked on here were far flimsier than the bloodfiends out in her den. The invitation had shown he and Angela the surgery process to create Tomerry, and if Elena had more than the twenty minutes she spent before Pluto had fetched her, The Library might have needed all the floors it had at the time to defeat her craftsmanship.
Mix that with the experience she’d undoubtedly garner over the two millennia and she might as well be a Goddess. With no way to actually predict how she would act under the circ*mstances, it’s best to have her completely avoid it all together.
His little stare down with Salvador had been broken by a little chuckle from the older man, alleviating what little tension there was rather quickly. “Hoho, I can understand why you might not be fond of teleportation. There’s many conspiracies on why it may be dangerous, and perhaps it is, It's not my place to question or confirm it.” Roland felt his shoulders drop, and his hands unfurl in his pockets. “But however sharp your instincts may be, your awareness is lacking.”
Roland followed Salvador’s outstretched hand, which traced to the front of the WARP station across the relatively bustling backstreet road. Roland felt iron drop in his gut; the feeling of dread that sank into his being upon reading the station’s name.
There was an unusually large crowd outside, which roused the interest of both city dwellers. Elena was busy splashing her shoes into puddles, doing her utmost to avoid the new beams of dying daylight. “That’s weird. Don’t people usually… Wait inside?” Roland commented.
Salvador chuckled, “An astute observation.” Roland responded with a slightly annoyed look at the friendly sarcasm. “But yes, there’s no reason why people would coalesce outside other than being forced out. The next train leaves in thirty minutes, and there’s clearly some dispute happening.”
Roland nodded, looking over to the WARP receptionist, and a woman standing next to them one might mistake for security— Roland knew that was a cleanup personnel however. The uniform wasn’t a perfect match to those he’d seen in the Library but they were relatively close. He spotted some other fixers or workshop employees loitering around the other entrances and windows, who must have been the acting security when the cleaning personnel were resting or doing their jobs.
Salvador stilled for a moment, letting out a hefty sigh. “How unfortunate… In the short time I was here, the WARP trains have been cancelled. I can hear the complaints from over here.” Salvador added before Roland could ask.
WARP trains? Down? Roland looked across the street at the angry mob of people. They were never down before. Even during the smoke wars, they were a priority— probably more than ever with how dangerous the fog was to the average person. Roland found himself walking closer to investigate.
“I want a refund!” Somebody called out.
“ —And you’ll get it, when WARP corp has fixed their trains!” An agent spat back. A clerk quickly rushed over to dissolve the situation.
WARP…. Yes, they used to have a few problems in their first few years, like any of the Mega corps. It’d only be two years old right now. The fact that it’s down is probably nothing to be concerned about, and yet…
‘Why so much security? Nobody’s going to be raiding a WARP station. Maybe a train ride beyond what they can handle?’
“No need to look so guarded, boy. A new megacorp like warp was bound to have some issues.” Salvador spoke. Roland would scowl if he could— hadn’t he been grieving about this just a minute ago?
Roland stopped himself from going any further. There’d be no point in investigating further; this was either a common occurrence or they’d be hearing about it for the next week from relentless news reports.
“So what’s the plan then? We can’t get back to V-nest if WARP is down.”
“You’re right. I’ll rent a room for us all; and perhaps it’ll give us a much needed chance to get this young lady her licence– and to reacquire yours. Apologies for dragging you two out here so fruitlessly, I didn’t think W corp would be down at this time of day.”
Elena let out a sigh, overhearing the two. She came closer to voice her complaint. “We came all the way out here for nothing then? What a bother! I could’ve made something interesting by now!”
“Oho, I can assure you there’ll be no shortage of things for you to test and experiment with in the near future, young girl. Come along you two; I know of a nearby hotel we may lounge at.” Salvador took off with Elena a few paces behind.
Roland grimaced. Avoiding WARP trains was becoming more and more of a priority by the second.
~~~
“Sorry but we only have one room available, we’ve been surprisingly busy and—”
“Don’t worry your pretty little head about that, we just need a place to stay to avoid the Night in the backstreets. We’ll be staying in one room, regardless of whether or not more are available..” Salvador explained, doing his best to calm the woman down.
He hadn’t changed very much from what Roland could remember. Nest born and privileged, with a gentle demeanour not unlike Chesed. They were far, far different however. Roland saw what kind of beast Salvador was in the smoke wars, and now, with him in his prime, Roland felt curious at how much that would change. Would technology make a big enough difference for the future him to surpass this time’s Salvador? Or would the younger version lose vigor with age?
“Heyyy~ Stop ignoring me.”
“Huh? Oh, what?” Roland’s attention snapped out of his deep thinking and turned to Elena. She was pointing to a bead maze in the corner of the room. It looked dusty and untouched. He’d discussed buying one with Angelica. Before everything went to hell, anyway.
“What is that? I want it.” Her eyes narrowed into slits as she stared it down like some sort of fresh prey.
“You can’t take it. That’d be theft, and if you’re caught doing thieving, this place would probably cause a huge fuss and get us kicked out and whatever.” Roland overheard Salvador crack a quick joke at their expense behind him, something about family.
“As long as I’m not caught…”
“They cost fifty ahn. You can just buy one if you really want a toy so badly.” What was she, a child? Raising such a fuss— he’d expected her to be a tad more mature.
Elena pouted and huffed, but at least had the pride to keep her protests to herself. Salvador snatched the keys and brought them to the elevator, where Elena did her best to try and hide her panic as they started moving upward. Roland caught the way she leaned against the wall for support though.
“Here we are. 915.” The door was pushed open into the… most average hotel room he’d ever laid eyes upon.
Two beds and a couch, as well as an abysmal view into the smog covering the sky of R-corp. Opening that window would likely be the equivalent of smoking a pack of cigars every breath.
“Now I hate to complain, but perhaps you could consider washing yourselves up? I know you mightn't have had an opportunity until now but frankly you both smell putrid.” Salvador rested his sword by the couch, drawing his phone as he lazed onto it.
“Well excuse me for needing to dri—”
“—for being unable to bathe now. We haven't had a working water system for a few weeks now so we'll be glad to finally wash.” Roland took to covering her mouth with his hand once more, causing a series of unsettled noises from the bloodfiend.
Roland would rather avoid knowing what Salvador thought of bloodfiends, even if he didn't know what they were.
Roland pulled Elena into the bathroom. Spotting a fresh, actual article of clothing in form of a robe, he stuck it on the door. “You know how to clean yourself right?”
“Pft! O-of course I do. It's a simple chore.”
Sounds like the words of somebody who doesn't have a clue on how to use the shower.’
“This one turns it on and off. This dial controls how hot it is. Got it?” Roland took a towel out of the press and threw it at her. She snapped out of her faux-annoyance and tried to shield herself from the towel.
She failed. The white fabric caught her and devoured her whole.
It had been a while since he'd cleaned himself. Come to think of it, it was the first thing he did when he came back in time. That felt like months ago, despite it really only being a week and then some.
He went off to find something that wasn't covered in blood for when they were finally clean. He couldn't wait for a bit of ahn so he could buy a new two-piece suit. Then he could think about getting rid of these sketchy bloodfiend limbs Elena had forced onto him.
[-]
The Finger-Bow-Bell.
A five hour long meeting between high-ranking and well respected members of the brass of each finger all brought to a grand room to discuss their borders, trade, and complaints.
This meeting was rushed, evident from the hasty forces pulled together and the complete lack of two fingers from the hall entirely. Half of the seats stood empty and the building had half the protection as it would if all the fingers were present.
The grandiose chandelier that hung overhead seemed to creak with the gusting winds outside, the dusty windows that hadn’t seen much use as of late were hastily wiped down by Soldatos of the thumb. The red rug had been stained with dirt and liquid in a hasty attempt to clean it
The Sottocapo who represented the thumb had come half dead after a scuffle with a handful of proxies, an eye, arm, and leg missing, his body supported by a much too frightful junior who’d rather die than allow his senior to burden himself with these injuries.
The middle was no better. Their Greater Sister had both of her eyes charred to cinders in the explosion that destroyed most of district seventeen, wrapped tight in bandages. Two trustest older siblings stood at her side, one acting as eyes and the other as her mouth, for her vocal cords had been sliced through by a proxy.
The Pinky, who’d suffered the least from the Index’s actions, had two of their vanguard with little more than cuts and marks upon their uniforms health, sitting in their designated seats. The shield of trust; bucklers tightened on their hips and a solemn, but ultimately uncaring expression at their injuries.
“...And there is a reason for our presence, Lady Beatrice?” The Thumb was the first to speak. The middle aged man combed his hair with his hand l, blunderbuss strapped loosely to be snagged at a moments notice.
The sister’s voice was weak and shallow, unable to emit anything more than a slightly pained groan of words. The sister at her side leaned in to speak; “The actions of the index are not to go unpunished. Not only will their actions lead to an inevitable war between the fingers and nests, it’s—...” The speaker paused as the sister took a deep breath. “It’s resulted in the deaths of many of our siblings… and we seek the deepest retribution the book of vengeance offers.”
“The Thumb finds little reason in retribution with the recent deluge of open lands. The index has not yet crumbled, but surely their forces have been broken after the battle of Q corp. I had slain a plentiful number myself, and the amount that would be caught up in that blast…?” He scratched his beard thoughtfully. “Enough casualties of soldiers of such magnitude would have any Finger scrambling to pick up the pieces. Losing a finger to the Nests will only slow us all down; we must think in the long term and not allow the wings an inch on the Backstreets. It is impossible to claim every inch of the Index's land so therefore we should assist–”
The greater sibling slammed on the grand oval table, sending cracks coursing through it. “The Middle will not forgive the Index’s actions, even under threat of war with the Nests!” The big sister roared out her elder sibling’s words. “The book of retribution demands retaliation and I— we refuse for the deaths of our siblings to be for nought!”
“Were you to speak so brazenly on behalf of a superior, we’d have cut your tongue out, and sliced your frontal lobe out for such a transgression.” The Sottocapo replied. “But yes, I can understand your reasoning. It’s not that I believe we are incapable of retribution against the proxies, only that such a thing will need to be delayed until a better, more reasonable opportunity arises.”
“That’s absurd! The Middle cannot make exceptions— The only time fit to retaliate is while they still remember their transgression! Surely you—” The sister was cut off as the Greater held her wrist, pulling her in close and muttering a few reprimanding words into her ear before releasing her.
The sister held her words and sank back into position. She’d surely get punished for this, if only minorly. She still didn’t want to; she let her emotions speak for her, and why shouldn’t she? She lost friends to those index scum, the book would guide her fist through however many Proxies or proselteyes she needed.
She was forced to hold her words for the rest of the Finger-Bow-Bell.
Beatrice had a scalding look by the end. The Pinky had taken the side of the Thumb with their Noblesse Oblige mentality. A three-fingered Finger-Bow-Bell was a joke in her opinion, especially when the decision might have come to an all out war throughout the City. There had been skirmishes between the fingers and Nests of course, but they’d cooperate as much as they would skirmish. A full out war between the City and the Backstreets might have called for the intervention of the Head, Pinky had explained. There’d never been an event like it before, so it’d be hard territory to attempt and predict with the head being so ominous and all. Not to mention how some of their ‘aquisitoned’ sub-signulatirites would go against the more modern variants.
It was after taking a short stroll, kicking a can down a street in thought she’d come to a conclusion.
The complete evisceration of Q-corp could only be caused by a non-corp party. One of the fingers, maybe? The Ring and Index seemed the most likely.
Q Corp had been under the protection of a few parties at the time. Zwei section 1 East and E Corp more specifically. The Zwei's clashes with the index brought far more than they bargained for, and it might end up in their favour if they tried pushing the Eastern parts of the City.
It could have been a Nest too, but preservation was a damn useful singularity to have. The Ring fit the shoe the best because of their artful tendencies. The obliteration of a Wing would have absolutely fit under a category of a magnum opus of sorts.
Second came the Index. She'd heard from a few sources about the supposed dead White Bullet assisting the Index, and whilst Beatrice had never faced a color before she'd sure as hell heard of him. Not as legendary as the Red Mist, but using millions of millions of ahn and weeks of preparations he could hardly be too much of a threat.
Until further news reports about the Red Mist and Purple Tear came in. The fact Hana had called the two strongest fixers –Possibly ever– on him meant he was doomed to die. Or perhaps it would have been a part of his plan to fake his death a second time? Considering the whole ordeal happened less than three hours ago details could be very erranous. She was getting her info from a seven affiliate after all, and the situation was controlled by Hana.
“S-Sister! Please mind yourself.” Beatrice felt her arm be gently guided in an effort to move her steps, something she complied with hastily.
“What is the problem, Daiyu?”
“There is dog manure in the way. Please allow me to go through the book of vengeance, so that I may righteously discipline the owner of the mutt that inconvenienced us so.”
Beatrice sighed. It was all the same. “Go ahead.”
Maybe she'll find something to brighten her life again soon enough.
