Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

[Recorder Click]

Ghosdeeri:

“Right, I’m just putting the recorder on, is that fine with you?”

Paint Buckét:

[shaky, as if she’s been crying] “Hm, oh, I- I don’t know.”

Ghosdeeri:

“I can write this as a transcript if you’d be more comfortable with that. Or have you write it down yourself.”

Paint Buckét:

“No, no, that’s fine. I wouldn’t want to cause you too much trouble, and I’ve- I’ve tried writing it down, and it’s never worked.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Right, yes, I see. Now, I would like to remind you of our privacy policy if that soothes your nerves.”

Paint Buckét:

“I’ve read it. Several times, before coming here. I know it word by word.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Of course. Now, if you don’t mind, your name, faction and gear please.”

Paint Buckét:

“Oh, yes.”

[Paint Buckét shifts to speak to the recorder]

Paint Buckét:

“I am P.Buckét, from Playgrounds and my gear is the paint bucket.”

Ghosdeeri:

“The date today is the 29th of October, 3099 AS, making this case PLGRND-2910-PNTBKT. And what is this statement regarding?”

Paint Buckét:

“My, uh, my employment under- under Flipside. Look, I don’t know if I should be here - it’s not going to end well for me if they find out about this-”

Ghosdeeri:

“Trust me, they won’t find out. We’re actually quite well-hidden from the panopticon, and I know better than to try anything against the Raging Inferno. I’d lose too much knowledge if I did.”

Paint Buckét:

“The… what?”

Ghosdeeri:

“The panopticon? Oh, the Flipside Tower, sorry, slip of the tongue.”

Paint Buckét:

“Oh- oh okay.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Now, if you could start at the beginning?”

Paint Buckét:

“Yes, yes sorry.” [she clears her throat] “It uh, it all started about three years ago, after I decided to move to Crossroads, looking for work mostly. See, I’m a make-up artist, and I’d been getting by pretty well doing it for minor celebrities across Playgrounds. It's a nice, cushy position that means you are less likely to be slaughtered. But Spray Paint - he’s uh, he’s my younger brother, wanted to move to Crossroads, and I guessed it might be better for us, so we did.

“That’s where I found the job opportunity. An opening for a make-up artist to work with Flipside. This was, about three years ago, so they were still on the cusp of Inpherno wide stardom, but I had heard of them, and I met all of their qualifications, so I put in an application and crossed my fingers.

“Eventually, I got a letter that I was accepted to interview, and by none other than Lord Firebrand himself. I found that a little strange. I was expecting to be interviewed by their manager or something, but I guess that maybe it was some kind of family run thing, and Firebrand was their manager. Should have seen it as the red flag that it was, I realise that now.

“But anyways, I went to his estate, and got taken up to his office. It was a grand place, all white and gold, with rich mahogany and a roaring fireplace. It made the room suffocatingly hot. Maybe I should have noticed the scorch marks on the surface of his stone desk, the fact he had his assistant handle all the papers he needed to look over, maybe that should have been another red flag.

“But the interview got underway, and he asked all the normal questions, how long I’d been doing things for, what made me want this job, what kind of thing was I used to, all very standard, red tape kind of stuff, that I answered with Interview honesty, I’m sure you know the kind.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Somewhat, yes.”

Paint Buckét:

“Well, yes, it was like that. And in the end, he smiled widely and said I’d gotten the job. I was overjoyed of course, and he extended his hand out to me for me to shake, and I took it. His fingers closed around my arm like a vice and-”

[Paint Bucket rolls up her sleeve]

Ghosdeeri:

[shocked, concerned] “Good gods, are you alright?”

Paint Buckét:

“Yes, yes, I am now. At least I think so. It was a long time ago so it’s healed up pretty well.”

Ghosdeeri:

[cautious] “I see, now, please, continue.”

Paint Buckét:

“O-of course. I- gods it was so painful. It was the worst pain I’ve ever experienced, and after the fact I was tended to by his assistant, Umbrella. They made it very clear the terms of my employment contract, and described what exactly happened to the previous make-up artist before me. And I could see a slight gleam in their eyes at my fear, before they finished patching me up, telling me that I had a week off to recover before getting to work.

“I should have quit there. Maybe I could have quit there, never speak about it again, but would people ask questions about the burn, about the scar? What stories would I have to make up to justify it? And it was a really high paying job. So when my week break was done, I packed up and went to meet Flipside.

“The only one of the two I can describe is Microphone. He’s short, shorter than I am, and has little of grandfather’s face. He always wears yellow, a bright, sunny yellow that matches his horns. But the most notable feature about him is his eyes. They’re always wide open, and it always feels like he’s looking right into you, even if his back is turned. And they never change. They always seem to cut and scrutinise no matter how much he smiles.

“He knew all about me from the second we met. Before Umbrella even introduced me. And every comment he made was both compliment, judgement and criticism. I was always being analysed by him, and I knew that if I ever decided to speak about something they did, he would know, and he would tell his grandfather.

“He once asked me to tell me about myself. I spent twenty minutes telling him my entire life story, details, secrets, embarrassing truths and hidden lies. All of it, and he drank all in. I answer every question he asks me like my life depends on it, and I can feel them being wrenched from my throat. I try to talk to him as little as possible because of this.

“But he is, toothless, compared to his brother.

“I only ever knew him as Violet, because that’s what he introduced himself as. And I can’t describe his face. I can describe trends, his outfit choices, the general idea of him, but never any details. It’s like they slip through my fingers. He’s tall, but I can never say how tall. He likes to wear purple to match his brother, but never a consistent shade. And his eyes are dead and glassy, but I could never tell you what colour they are.

“And his face would always change. So would his horns, though his horns less so. I suppose he had to let them grow before getting them re-carved, but horn-styling isn’t my job, that honour goes to Skipper. He became completely unrecognisable every couple of weeks, and I’d have to double check that it was the same guy. I think I’ve introduced myself to him, gods, twelve different times because I didn’t recognize him.

“There is also the fact that I’ve helped him change faces. I don’t think the thing under that skin was ever an Inphernal. And I can’t describe it. It’s plastic, I know it's plastic, maybe some metal? It reminds me, faintly, of those horrid Biografts, you know the ones?”

Ghosdeeri:

“I presume you met Carnage coming in?”

Paint Buckét:

“Yes, yes I did. Well, it reminded me of that. I have gotten, very good at using modeling clay, and making sure skin probably fits the contours of something it really doesn’t want to stay on, and stapling flesh. In short, I’ve gotten really good at appeasing that thing’s desire to be someone completely different every few weeks.

“It confuses even us sometimes. General consensus amongst staff is to call him ‘the other one’ because nobody knows what his actual name is. You can ask anybody else on the team about Violet, or Dom, or whatever he introduced himself as, and there will always be someone who stares at you, because they don’t know who you’re talking about . And it’s not like you can show a photo either, because again, he always changes.

“Now, that alone probably wouldn’t have been enough for me to come and risk my life to talk to you. But…”

Ghosdeeri:

“But?”

Paint Buckét:

“I know where he gets his new faces. How he gets them. And he made me do it.

“I don’t usually go to the places they perform, but Microphone insisted that I come this time. It was not the place I would have expected them to perform at, but because they were, the place was packed. It was some dingy bar downtown, and it was me, Umbrella and a couple of the security guys.

“Things went as normal, until Violet approached me after the show, gesturing to someone sitting at the bar, and told me to go talk to them, and get them to follow me into the alley. I felt a ball of ice form in my stomach, but I nodded and did as he asked. I don’t know what I said, but they did end up following me.

“I didn’t watch them getting knocked out, until the box cutter was shoved into my hands and Violet told me to - well. I protested, and I remember him glare into me, so sharply that I knew he was weighing up whether or not I was worth it too. So I did it. It was so messy, and disgusting, and awful, but he seemed satisfied.

“But I can’t get the blood out.”

Ghosdeeri:

[deep breath in, then out] “Thank-you for that, Ms. Buckét, that, that doesn’t sound fun.”

Paint Buckét:

“It- it really wasn’t…”

[Paint Buckét sits up sharply] 

Paint Buckét:

[panicked] “Oh, gods, what am I doing here, I shouldn’t have come- they’ll find out! I have to- Gods I’m so stupid.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Calm down, you’re alright.”

Paint Buckét:

[panicked] “No, no, I’m not! I have to- I have to go-”

[Paint Buckét suddenly stands up, and begins to walk out]

[Ghosdeeri stands up as well]

Ghosdeeri:

“Ms. Buckét - please”

Paint Buckét:

[panicked] “No- no, sorry- goodbye.”

[Door clicks shut]

Ghosdeeri:

[sighs] “Well then.”

[Recorder Click]

[Recorder Click]

Ghosdeeri:

“Decided to do a little follow-up on this statement, though most information I could find around Flipside was mentioned in case PLGRND-0412-BMBXGR3.0, however, I was able to track down the fact that the small entertainment company they are apart of does have the parent company of BlackFlameLimited, which I should have expected given the twins parentage.

“Looking into Umbrella on the other hand… well, it shows a little promise. What few employment records I was able to find did bring up the interesting detail that they were previously under the employment of one Illumina… the Waiting Machination… Hm, that is something.

“Recording Ends.”

[Recorder Click]

Chapter Text

[Recorder Click]

Ghosdeeri:

“It’s on now.”

Ghostwalker:

“Mm, good, I suppose. Something to keep things safe I assume.”

Ghosdeeri:

“I suppose so. Oh, while I’m still stood up, do you want anything to drink? I have tea and coffee - no sugar though.”

Ghostwalker:

“Tea would be lovely.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Of course, give me a second.”

[Ghosdeeri busies herself making the tea]

Ghosdeeri:

“So, are you just passing through, or was there something more you wanted to talk about?”

Ghostwalker:

“I suppose I did want to talk to you at some point. A few things have come up, and I thought you might want some answers.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Tell me a time when I don’t.”

Ghostwalker:

“Mm, I suppose you are right there. I suppose the Eye makes you ever more curious.”

[Kettle starts to boil]

Ghosdeeri:

“You know me. There is always more stories out there to observe and preserve. I happily take them all.”

Ghostwalker:

“Mm, suppose you are right there.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Indeed.”

[Kettle boils, clicking off]

Ghosdeeri:

“There we go.”

[Ghosdeeri pours water into each of the mugs]

[She stirs the cups]

[Footsteps]

[Ghosdeeri sets the mugs down]

[She settles down in her chair]

[Takes a sip of tea]

Ghosdeeri:

“Now, what do you want to talk about?”

Ghostwalker:

“I guess… I wanted to make a statement. It is a long time yet until the ritual can be enacted, but there has been a lot of movement, so I suppose providing you with a little clarity would assist things.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Yes, it would… And… ritual?”

Ghostwalker:

“I’ll get to it. Now, do your little thing, and I can explain.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Right,”

[Shifts to face the recorder]

Ghosdeeri:

“Case NEU-3110-GSTWLK-TSLNTND - statement of Ghostwalker, otherwise known as the Silent End, regarding his development into such. Statement recorded direct from subject, 31st of October, 3099 AS. Statement begins.”

Ghostwalker:

“Alright. On many occasions I have tried to remember a time before this certainty, before the apathy, before all that was once a inphernal was choked out of my body and replaced with some icy certainty that tells me that everything and everyone is marching along to the inevitable waiting jaws of death.

“But I don’t think there ever was a time. I was the oldest of our siblings, because as much as the Raging Inferno put himself forth as the head of the household - I was to be the heir at first, that was until it became very clear to my parents that I had no passion for business, and instead went on to study and excel in academia - so they had more children, most of whom I did not care for.

“I suppose for the longest time death called to me in a strange, bizarre way. Maybe something had tainted my blade long ago, perhaps its previous owner, if it even had one - so that the End could find its way into the core of my being - but I would always spend so long pouring over texts about entropy, the philosophy of death, all the things that are and aren’t talked about in the eye of society. I even did it myself, wrote a book I mean, but it was never published.

“I would also often conduct a look at the physicality of death. I would take in older animals that I found and take care of them, observing them until they died as pleasantly as they could, and then conduct small autopsies. And how beautifully fallible is the mortal body? It still fascinates me, seeing all the different ways it can suddenly fail, and lead you to death, and how often people fear that very fate.

“Of course, after I was done, Venomshank would always steal the bodies, and watch them as they rotted. We were always polar opposites. I was the kind to study something from the point of view of a curious academic - he was a sycophant who lay at the feet of rot and mould, always so repugnant and sticky. I believe I had a distaste for him. Perhaps I still do. Now he is but another leg to the plans my brother is weaving.

“There is, of course, the matter of Illumina. He was always someone who caught people in webs as he spun them, and very much liked a good grasp and control on anything. And I was his focus, the oldest, the perfect puppet for so many of his games.

“I did as he asked, because I did find quite the kinship with him, as he was as much an academic as I was, and he quite enjoyed the same peace I often found myself hunting for. Thing was, I could see many of the lies he spread, that a lot of the time he didn’t tell us quite the condition of many of our dear siblings. Such as young Darkheart.

“He’d been spiralling, if you’ll excuse the pun, and had begun talking of a green door. One none of us had ever seen but him. And well, one day he simply vanished, disappeared into thin air. Our parents had always been so very distant, so they only cared as soon as it became public, when Venomshank began to slip as well.

“It all began to crumble from that moment onwards. Illumina’s habits seemed to become more vicious, and one by one, we fell away to the different powers. Windforce fell to her death and became one with the Uncaring Vast, Firebrand rushed off to blaze our parents' lives down in his Raging Inferno, Venomshank kept sinking deeper and deeper into his obsessions, spurred on by something you know as the Madenning Nightmare. And Illumina convinced me to run off with him, to go elsewhere, away from our siblings. I must have been scared at that point, as I agreed to go with him.

“I can’t place the line where Illumina became the Waiting Machination, I just noticed that something had changed, and I was trapped. Maybe I felt fear and panic, maybe it was the same quiet apathy as always. But I came to the conclusion that I had to escape, because I didn’t want to be around that kind of person anymore.

“Maybe the fact that the idea of dying came so naturally to me should scare me more. Perhaps my brother had seemingly left it my only option. Perhaps his manipulations ran so far back into our history that I thought myself stuck by his side, and that the only freedom was the complete destruction of the spirit, of complete and utter oblivion. Or perhaps I had drowned my mind so much in thinking of death and how we have mythologised it, I thought it was no small consequence.

“And so took matters into my own hands. And I died. And was then reborn. I’m not sure what it was, what, called me to the serve the End - perhaps I always had, in my own way. Maybe I had gotten used to the looks of fear and slight… disgust I got when I spoke about my observations and theories with my peers. But can I say either way? Sometimes these things just choose us, and you should know that.

“I found the book not too long after, its pages inky black, with the words written in old blood, and written in it I could see the fates of hundreds, thousands scribed there. And so, I began to find them, those with names that called to me, and gave them confirmation, closure, whatever it was to them. I have only ever seen one of them die before my very eyes - but I do still follow them, ensuring that they take care in their lives, to gently remind them.

“It is honest, simple work I suppose. And at times I have considered digging up my old manuscripts and getting them officially published, or perhaps the book before me is my manuscript now, and any paper I could find that would be the same black and red that I see before me now. It has also been quite a while since that book was put to paper.

“I believe things may be changing now. The Raging Inferno had ritual that failed, maybe fifty years ago at this point, and he seems to want to try something again. He has some wild fervour within him to see this world scorched anew, that all of the fears - enmeshed as they are - should be drawn through into the world as one. A sentiment I believe I have seen before, and you may have as well, as I’m sure the church has many different outreaches, and some may have come to you.

“I know by right that I need to be a part of this ritual, and some of that is, in many sense, personal obligation - because I know for me to exist, means the end of the world. When that would be, I do not know, but at least, to some extent, the suffering would be temporary.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Right, okay. That’s… something.”

Ghostwalker:

“Mm, I suppose it was.”

Ghosdeeri:

“And, what do you know about this ritual?”

Ghostwalker:

“Very little, I'm afraid. I am only vaguely aware of its motions. I know it involves an avatar of each of the powers. I know it is planned to take place on the grounds of Banlands. I know that my siblings are raising offspring into different moulds for the ritual. I know that Illumina seems to be its current, main conductor. But I know none of the finer details.”

Ghosdeeri:

[sighs] “Right. So I’m back at square one. Can you think of any way to stop it?”

Ghostwalker:

“I suppose if you pulled out one of the members mid-way through it may work. The Raging Inferno and the Waiting Machination can always delay things, so you would have to attack them once the ritual has started, and then find a way to destroy all of them so they wouldn’t attempt it again.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Noted… Say, is it possible that you could get some of the… others, to come talk to me?”

Ghostwalker:

“I suppose I could arrange something. Send someone your way if I can find them.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Ah, thank-you.”

Ghostwalker:

“It is no problem to me.”

[Ghostwalker stands up]

Ghostwalker:

“Now, I must be off.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Of, course. Thank-you for your time as always.”

[Recorder Click]

Chapter Text

[Recorder Click]

Ghosdeeri:

[shakily breaths out]

[She continues writing]

[Static buzz slowly fades in, getting more intense]

Icedagger:

“Hello?”

Ghosdeeri:

[a little startled] “Oh, hello… the Forsaken Frost I presume?”

Icedagger:

“S’pose. It’s what the others call me anyways.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Right. The Silent End sent you, didn’t he?”

Icedagger:

“Who? Ghostwalker? Yeah, yeah he sent me. I didn’t want to come, not really, but it's not like I have anything better to do.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Right, okay. Now, do you mind telling me your story?”

Icedagger:

“My… story?”

Ghosdeeri:

“Yes- your story. When did all of… this, start?”

Icedagger:

“Oh. Oh alright… I guess it started when I was really little. I was the youngest of my siblings, ten years younger than even Darkheart, and all of them really didn’t seem to like me from the moment I arrived. They would always overlook me. I was too young to participate in the ‘big kid’ games Darkheart and Venomshank played, to young to understand the things Ghostwalker and Illumina talked about, too young to learn about the family business, and Windforce just wanted nothing to do with me, I think she saw me as a nuisance.

“I was eleven, when Darkheart disappeared. I had seen him rant and rave about… something to do with a door, but Illumina always hurried me off when he saw me, saying that this was not the place for little kids. I didn’t think of myself as a little kid, not at the time, and I wanted to know what was happening with my brother. But then he vanished, and when I asked all the adults about it, they just shook their heads and told me that I wouldn’t understand.

“It was like that for so long. When Venomshank vanished, nobody talked to me, only Ghostwalker occasionally came over to me to ask me how I was doing, but even then I was roundly ignored. And I didn’t understand why, I know it was because I was a kid - but they were my siblings, they could have at least told me what was going on.

“But they didn’t. Windforce left - no note, no explanation, I wasn’t even allowed to see the newspaper, even if I could see the pain and distress on my siblings’ faces.

“I was fifteen when our parents’ estate was burnt down. When they were killed. Not like I really knew them, I was raised by my siblings, and even then, I spent most of my time alone. And in that loneliness, especially after mom’s death, I began to feel the cold. That pleasant chill. I wanted for people to see me, love me. I still do. But people hurt.

“Illumina ensured I knew that - he and Ghostwalker ran away, leaving me behind with Venomshank. Firebrand did, because I knew it was him that did that to our parents. Venomshank did most of all. He clung onto me so desperately after our parents’ death, never too far, never letting me out of his sight. It felt like I was suffocating, because between all of that, I had to see what he was working on - and too think that a person could let that happen to themselves - or even think about it- I didn’t want to be around for that.

“So one day, when I was old enough to take care of myself, I stole as much cash as I could stick into my pockets, and ran to the docks. There I bought myself a fare to Blackrock. It was nothing like it is now, especially back then, and most people rarely strayed away from the few warm cities they’d built.

“Mist hung heavy over the water there, on the journey, and the entire trip, people passed over me like I was a ghost. Which I was used to. I took it as a breath of fresh air - nobody cared enough about me to hurt me. And I was free of Venomshank. So I would just sit on the deck, and stare across the water, silently dreaming of the life I would make for myself out there. And maybe the mist got a little thicker, and maybe I felt a little lighter.

“That boat sank on the jagged rocks on the coast. Nobody but me survived. I spent a whole week shivering on the shoreline, not sure how to proceed, where to go. But still, the mist coiled close to me. I’d made my choice, I’d chosen the lonely feeling over my family. And I was… happy? There was no chance of me going back now, no matter where I went the fog followed.

“So I travelled further, all on my own. Sometimes somebody would find me on the road, try to help me, and I’d run away. I didn’t want anybody to find me, to take me back to that horrible man. And they’d vanish when I ran, especially if they tried to catch me. Sometimes I can still hear their voice, echoing through the mountains, still looking for me. I don’t want them to find me, I want to be alone.

“Eventually, I found a place where I could stay, far, far away from anybody, from anyone that could hurt me, and I have lived there for years. There is a small cave I’ve made home, with warm blankets, all the food I could ever eat, and nothing but the snow, the fog and the pine trees. Sometimes Ghostwalker passes by, drops of food and books, and news, then leaves. And sometimes I go out to other places, travelling alone on the roads, hoping no other traveller tries to help me.

“Because I don’t want to be found, not anymore. I’ve seen what inphernals are capable of. I don’t want to be a part of that, so I stay in my mountains and I don’t ever leave.”

Ghosdeeri:

[quietly] “Thank-you, Icedagger. Say, do you remember any particular Inphernals?”

Icedagger:

“What? No- not really? Unless, you’re talking about someone specific?”

Ghosdeeri:

“Oh, uh, teal horns, antlers really - missing an eye? Probably about, ten years ago?”

Icedagger:

“It, rings some bells. But I don’t remember them very well. I don’t remember people, just their voices.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Right. What do you know about your family's plans?”

Icedagger:

“I don’t know. Sometimes Ghostwalker tells me stuff. I think we have something big planned, and I’m a part of it somehow. I don’t want to be.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Do you even know about your nephews?”

Icedagger:

“Oh - kinda. I met - I met Ban Hammer once. Killed someone in my land. Didn’t talk to him though. I don’t think he would have listened to me. And he left once his quarry was dead. As for any others… I don’t know. Sometimes Ghostwalker tells me about them, but never much.”

[Long pause]

Ghosdeeri:

“I see. Thank-you for telling me, Icedagger. I know this can’t have been easy for you.”

Icedagger:

“Oh, thank-you.”

Ghosdeeri:

“You may leave now.”

[Static slowly fizzes out]

Ghosdeeri:

[sigh] “Well, then. Don’t know what I was expecting… Should I feel bad for him? He has likely led to the disappearances and deaths of hundreds of individuals, but as I’ve always said, the Lonely isn’t like the other fears, not quite. It lets you create the trap, and it embraces you like an old friend, because it is the only one you have. It is its nature.

“Is it like that in the same way documenting is my nature? Or was that something instilled in me? The line is, hard to tell apart some days. And I don’t. I’ve had one paranoid spiral, I do not need another any time soon.

“Either way. I forgot to mark this. Case NEU-0511-ICDGGR-TFRSKNFRST - Statement of Icedagger, otherwise known as the Forsaken Frost, regarding the events that led up to his current situation. [clears throat] Well, I suppose that is all then.”

[Recorder Click]

[Recorder Click]

Vine Staff:

“Oh- there you are! I’ve been meaning to ask you about something - Gods it’s cold in here.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Mm? Oh, sorry, didn’t see you come in. And we had a visitor associated with the Lonely, so it might take a while for the cold to dissipate.”

Vine Staff:

“Oh, alright.”

Ghosdeeri:

“What is it you wanted to know, anyway?”

Vine Staff:

“Oh it’s just… in the last few statements I’ve listened to you mention this… Asclepius guy? I just want to know more about him.”

Ghosdeeri:

“I’m not sure how much I can tell you there. He has effectively sworn me to secrecy about his true identity, and he mostly sends his requests through Traffic. Or in supplies we get from Lost Temple. From what I understand he’s part of the Church of the True Eye, and is currently under watch with them - so he’s only able to give small bits of information.”

Vine Staff:

“Huh, I see… So, he’s a healer then.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Based on the lack of subtlety… probably. Traffic was the one who met him really, and even he can’t say much about it. Just that he met him.”

Vine Staff:

“Alright then, I was just curious, that’s all… also uh… what was with that, other guy?”

Ghosdeeri:

“The Silent End? Oh, we’re friends, go back quite a long way… don’t worry, I’m not seeing anyone else.”

Vine Staff:

“I mean, you kind of see everyone, all of the time.”

Ghosdeeri:

[brief snort of laughter] “Good point. In any case he was just giving his statement, that’s all.”

Vine Staff:

“Well, alright… you continue being all mysterious.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Don’t kid yourself, you like me being a mystery.”

Vine Staff:

[flustered, playing it off] “Pfff, no, ‘course I don’t, why would you think that.”

Ghosdeeri:

“I can see right through you dear.”

Vine Staff:

[loving sigh] “Yeah.” [beat] “Actually, on that note, I have to get to work, my shift starts soon and Slingshot would kill me if I’m late.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Alright, have fun.”

Vine Staff:

“I will.”

[Vine Staff kisses Ghosdeeri on the cheek, then hurries off]

Ghosdeeri:

[loving chuckle] “Love that woman.”

[Recorder Click]

Chapter Text

[Recorder Click]

Ghosdeeri:

[on edge] “There is a door. It’s not supposed to be here. I would have known if it was. Dark green. Black handle. I have a visitor it seems. The question is whether or not I invite them in. Part of me knows it's a horrible idea… but the part of me that is the Eye wants to know more.”

[Ghosdeeri knocks on the door, two short, firm knocks]

[Door creaks open, accompanied by a whine of static that persists]

Darkheart:

[sing-song, lethargic tone] “About time Archivist, we’ve been standing here forever. You’d think you’d be welcoming to someone willing to give you a statement. Aren’t you all about preservation?”

Ghosdeeri:

[on edge, irritated] “You are correct about that. What do you want?”

Darkheart:

“Us?” [he chuckles - a sound that echoes ever so slightly] “Well, we suppose there’s a lot we want at any one time. But we’ll make it simple, you’ve managed to draw some attention from the others, and we wanted to check what all the fuss is about before anything untoward happened.”

Ghosdeeri:

[aside] “The others?” [to Darkheart] “ The Silent End and the Forsaken Frost? Because I’ve known the-”

Darkheart:

[He laughs a cackling, spitting laugh, the static swells to a piercing pitch with it, and sounds as if the laughter is shifting and wobbling into other voices] “Oh, oh no Archivist, not them. They are by all means completely toothless, no, we’re talking about the Raging Inferno, [with some bitterness] the Waiting Machination, and of course, the Rotting Filth.”

Ghosdeeri:

[gasps softly]

Darkheart:

“Indeed. Quite the spot you’ve found yourself in, we’ll say. You could almost say you’d need protection-”

Ghosdeeri:

[sharply] “No. Don’t think I don’t know what a deal with an entity of the Spiral will be like.”

Darkheart:

“Hm, smart. You know, we wouldn’t say brains is a massive part of being an Archivist funnily enough. But you do have a good head on your shoulders, so we give you that.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Who’s ‘we’ in this scenario?”

Darkheart:

“Hm? Oh, well, we thought you could presume it, but we are both this glorious vessel, and the corridors. We are separate yet intertwined, so calling us a ‘me’ or an ‘I’ would be denying our nature, wouldn’t it?”

Ghosdeeri:

[under her breath] “I suppose that can be considered.” [out loud] “What exactly do you want?”

Darkheart:

“Mmm, now, we’re not sure that’s a question we can answer. What’s exactly in this situation? We suppose we want to cause terror, but don’t we always, isn’t that our nature as what we are? No, we suppose we want to play to what you want. We are at your humble service.”

Ghosdeeri:

[cautious] “Right, fair enough. Say, what if you give me a statement?”

Darkheart:

“A statement? Why, what would we talk about? We’re not exactly something you want a statement from.”

Ghosdeeri:

“The face you wear then. Darkheart.”

Darkheart:

[bitterly] “The Darkheart is a sword. We are not a sword. And we do not wear his face. He became us, yet he is not us. It’s quite simple.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Are you going to give it then? If he is you, there must be some memories of him left in you.”

Darkheart:

“You would be right about that. Go ahead then, we’ll bite.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Case NEU-1111-TDSN-TMDNNNTMR - Statement of the Distortion, most often known as the Madenning Nightmare, regarding Darkheart. Statement begins.”

Darkheart:

[deep breath in and out] “Well, we suppose it’s only fitting we begin with Darkheart’s origins. He was the youngest of his siblings, until Icedagger came along, but nobody cared about little Icedagger, so he was always a little bit of an outcast. Sure, Darkheart did become the item of interest for his brother, Venomshank, but that is hardly a position we’d want to be part of.

“He was marked with the Spiral from spawning. That entire family was marked in one way or another, so no wonder things happened like they did. But we weren’t drawn to him for a long while, and he lived his life as normal.

“He did however, carry a penchant for causing chaos, and could lie so fluently through his teeth that any story became believable. He would twist and spin and warp reality to his pleasure, and had on one occasion, driven a kid he knew completely mad. It was only natural that he would be the catalyst for a catastrophe of godly proportions within his family.

“He drew our attention when he was fifteen. He was no longer the youngest then, and he was sick and tired of all of his siblings, no longer playing his games, or being able to listen and believe him. That’s the problem with being a pathological liar, you get caught enough times, people start doubting everything you say without evidence.

“The only person who still believed him, was Venomshank. And Venomshank was marked so deeply with the Corruption, even deeper than some of his siblings. He was a horrible, sticky man, who loved so all-consumingly and whole-heartedly that you became suffocated in the sugary, putrid joys, and if you decided to detach yourself, it was all his fault, and he would not understand what he did wrong.

“Being that close with that kind of person, and them being the only person who ever really cares for you is not a nice place to be. You lose your feelings, you doubt every single one of them. Walking on eggshells. Getting choked out of your own mind.

“He saw our door the same day he began drawing fractals. When he began to see the immateriality of the world. When he began to lean back on the truth that only his thoughts were certain, and even then he doubted that. He walked through life in a dazed haze, and we seemed to be the marked symbol upon everything. But he never got the courage to open us.

“Well, until he hit his twenties. Maybe that’s when he decided it was enough, and his curiosity got the better of him, and he opened our door. And we welcomed him in, let him wander, eternally lost in our corridors, until they melted away into spiralling fractals, and he fell into us, and dissolved into the same universal concept of madness that is us.

“And so. He became us. But we did not become him. Anything that was once Darkheart was lost, and echoes of him rippled through our entire being as we claimed him for our own. And thus, began our new campaign of destabilisation and madness. And our linchpin was the precious little Venomshank.

“He was devastated by his brother’s death, nearly went mad himself. If he wasn’t already, so obsessed with letting colonies of maggots grow and spread. So, we taunted him, in our way. Sat in dimly lit spaces, chiming to him that we were what took his brother, and all he needed to do to get him back was open our door.

“Eventually he caved, and rushed into us, screaming his brother’s name. We did not realise how difficult he would be to digest. He was more rotten than we expected, and we eventually spat him back out, under some bridge on the other side of town. From there, we changed our angle.

“We appeared to him, as his brother. And he was so grateful for it. His family may be dissolving around him, but he still had his brother. Now, we never lied to him, I should mention, but we told him exactly what he wanted to hear. That we cared for him, that we didn’t think his work was horrible, that it was, in fact, beautiful, and of course, that nobody understood him, and the way he worked.

“He lapped it all up, and when we thought it was right, we twisted the knife and vanished once again. Don’t know what happened in that time, but the next time we saw him he was subsumed with rot and insects, and called himself the Rotting Filth. But he still greeted us as a brother, and we still wanted to play with him. He was not prey, no, but he was a tool.

“So, we tailed him. Sickness has a habit of driving you to the brink of madness, and we were happy to find those susceptible to our influence within that range that he always swept across the factions. We occasionally caught up with family members as well, and we are aware of what they’re plans are, and honestly, we don’t know what to think of it.

“We do find the idea of it quite entertaining, but we’re not so sure about the method. Either way we’re currently quite happy to watch their efforts, maybe throw in a little complication just for fun, but otherwise we are not unwittingly hindering it, not like some of the other rituals. Plus, we have met the Rotting Filth’s little brat and we can say he is exactly what we expected.

“Some other matters may be B.Zuka. We found him quite entertaining, a servant of the Slaughter, yet surprisingly well-reasoned. We just waited for the moment he snapped well and truly, but we left our door open and let him traverse our corridors how he pleased. Shame what happened to him that so soured our relationship, but I should have expected as such. [chuckles]

“Well, I suppose that’s all of interest to you, if I am correct?”

Ghosdeeri:

“Yes, it would be. Now, can you leave?”

Darkheart:

“Tsk, fine, fine. Just know this was your decision, Archivist. My door is always open to you.”

Ghosdeeri:

“I’m taking that as an insult.”

Darkheart:

“Fair enough.”

[Door creaks slowly shut, and static whine fades with it]

Ghosdeeri:

“Well, that was something.”

Lightblox:

[concerned, calling] “Mom?”

[Footsteps, getting closer]

Lightblox:

[again, louder] “Mom, are you alright? I heard voices and-”

Ghosdeeri:

“Just someone paying a visit, that’s all darling.”

Lightblox:

[quietly] “Oh, alright.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Say, do you mind finding me Case NEU-2304-DRKHRT?”

Lightblox:

“Oh, yes, of course. I can do that.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Thank-you dear.”

[Recorder Click]

Chapter Text

[Recorder Click]

Ghosdeeri:

[clears throat, shuffles of paper] “Case NEU-2304-DRKHRT - Statement of Darkheart, regarding a door that was not there. Statement given the 23rd of April, 2847 AS, statement read by Ghosdeeri, the Archivist. Statement begins.”

[Static fades in, continues over the rest of the statement]

Ghosdeeri:

“I’m still not entirely sure this is all real. I think I saw it on the way in, but I’m not sure. Is any of this even real, I suppose that’s impossible, ‘ Cogito Ergo Sum’ and all that. But are my thoughts even real in this, this madness. But yet it is here, coiled in the base of my chest, that uncertain certainty.

“It sits at the end of the hall. It’s a pleasant thing and it matches quite well with the paint we have there. Illumina had it painted a lovely baby blue, and so the black frame pops right out, nice and stark as a border to this dark green monolith. It is quite a beautiful door, worn around the edges to show it has been used a lot. And such a gorgeous handle, iron I think, studded with green gemstones, emeralds I believe.

“I want to knock on it. Hear the vibrations ring through the certainty of its wood and it to be opened by a pleasant smiling figure. But it isn’t a certain object. Our house has never had a door there, that spot has always been a blank wall, leading out to the garden, with a window looking towards the lake.

“But still it sits there, its wood shining dully in the light, and I want to see what it wants, what it sees in me. My family does not believe me, why would they? I have gotten so very, very good at making up stories for them, so why would they not think this was just another one of those? I suppose that is only reasonable. The only one who believes me even slightly is Venomshank.

“My fingers are tracing impossible lines, marked into the wall of my room, and it feels as if they go deep, deep, deeper, until it no longer feels like I’m sitting in my room. What colour are the walls? I swear they are a sickly yellow, but they only ever seem to be a dark green. The same as that door, even with the same gloss.

“Venomshank is worried for me. He has that usual, stilted simper to him. He is worried, and it is eating him alive. I do not want it to be. He is so, so quiet. I must have hurt him, poor thing. I must speak to him. But not now, now the door is waiting.

“It is open sometimes, just a crack, just a bit. It is open and I can stare into the corridor beyond, that infinite stretch of black and green. The longer I look at it, the more it seems to break apart and smudge, like an abstract painting, twisting and spiralling away until I am back here, my fingers tracing out intricate lines of black ink that spider out from a central point, always there, always repeating. I want to reach into them, let them pour out over my skin and make me part of that infinite, ever repeating thing.

“Have they already? I see it on the tips of my fingers, and tracing their way up my arm in the way the patterns shape and snap and twist within my very veins. The door is open, it is there in my mind, and it calls to me in a voice that isn’t. A sound that is silence, a silence that speaks in a thousand howling voices that tug me towards that infinite expanse of nothing.

“Firebrand says I’m crazy. He has always said that, I think he looks down on me for lying. If only he knew how boring this world really is. Venomshank gets it, he knows. He sees the little things, you know, he can look right down at a surface and dream of a thousand lives living there. All I see when I look down at the surface of the wood is something that writhes and twists.

“It is on every surface as I look. Dark and pulsing and waiting to be released. It is my walls, and I trace them deep, deep, deeper into the wall paper, to cut them free and let them out into this world, to unravel this falsehood and show me the truth. Perhaps I speak the truth, perhaps when I speak the truth I perpetuate the lie, the thing that exists all in nothing. And I must find those truths. Or perhaps there is no truth.

“I am in the hall again. The door is waiting for me. I knock, and it is so loud, echoing through the house that I am surprised nobody hears it. And slowly, it creaks open. The face that looks back is my own, and I usher myself inside, stepping onto the ceiling of soft carpet and looking to the floors so neatly lined with mirrors that it is as if the entire world repeats to eternity and back.

“I am so beautiful in those mirrors, blending softly away into a million colours that bleed from me, paint running down a canvas. And I melt away, caught in that mirroring, dancing fractal pattern. It is so perfect, it cuts every edge of my being until it shines, I fall away, I die, I become.

“But I am still in my bed, looking down the hall towards that door, my fingers twisting and looping the carpet by my bed to into a hundred warped and changed forms, though my fingers seem so long, so sharp in the darkness, where I cannot see whatever form I have taken, staring out to that door of smooth wood.”

[Static fades out]

Ghosdeeri:

[shaky breath] “Statement ends.

“Well, there we go. I forgot to mention at the start of this statement, but it is written in a tight, looping spiral across several pieces of paper, so it can be very hard to follow, though the Eye did greatly assist with this endeavour. And as I have come to notice with a lot of Spiral cases, Darkheart appeared to have been living in the past and future simultaneously. This is still a valuable insight into his mental state before being consumed by the Distortion however.

“Now, otherwise, this statement was taken on 23rd of April, about a hundred and-”

[Door suddenly slams open, and Traffic stumbles into the room]

Ghosdeeri:

[startled] “Traffic! What the hell is it?”

Traffic:

[out of breath] “Somebody- somebody in reception- covered in- covered in blood- asking for help- for- for you.”

Ghosdeeri:

[shocked] “Oh. Oh dear, Traffic, what do they look like?”

Traffic:

[out of breath] “Uh… gods- Uhm, he had uh, teal horns - kinda like antlers-”

Ghosdeeri:

“Oh gods, hang on, I’ll be there immediately.”

[Recorder Click]

[Recorder Click]

[Ghosdeeri carefully soaks a bandage in antiseptic solution]

Ghosdeeri:

“You’ll have to tell me eventually.”

Medkit:

[through gritted teeth] “I know, I know. I just, can’t think too hard about it right now.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Fair enough. But I do want to know at least the base overview of what happened. You have to be in quite the spot to come to me for help.”

Medkit:

[dryly] “Heh, suppose you’re right on that fact.” [yelps sharply, hissing through teeth]

Ghosdeeri:

“You’re the one who insisted on me soaking these in disinfectant.”

Medkit:

[irritated] “Yes, I know I did. Doesn’t mean it can’t still bloody hurt. I need to make sure this doesn’t get infected, should have treated it earlier in all honesty.”

Ghosdeeri:

“But you didn’t.”

Medkit:

[irritated] “Wow, thank-you for that amazing inference Ms. All-Seeing-Eye, I wouldn’t have made that connection without your help.”

Ghosdeeri:

“I’m trying my best here. You are the one here who isn’t talking. I am trying my best to not compel you, given your past experiences with Father Overseer.”

Medkit:

“You know about him?”

Ghosdeeri:

“You talked about him in your statement.”

Medkit:

“Right, yes I did. Still remember it huh?”

Ghosdeeri:

“I read it recently, and yes, it is almost impossible for me not to remember.”

Medkit:

[disgruntled] “Joy. But it was… it was Sword.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Sword- The Singing Slaughter?”

Medkit:

“Sorry?”

Ghosdeeri:

“That’s one of the names he goes by, the Singing Slaughter. He left a statement before going to find you.”

Medkit:

“I- I see. Well he did find me. Which I suppose is evident.”

Ghosdeeri:

“He did this to you? I was under the impression he rarely expressed anger towards you.”

Medkit:

“He didn’t. But… well, spend a couple of months away from him, and even in a place like the Church, seeing him again made me realise how… violent he really was… I saw a room of people who called each other family tear each other apart with him as the conductor. What else was I to do but run?”

Ghosdeeri:

“You are a being of the Lonely, I suppose.”

Medkit:

[softly, almost mournfully] “Yeah, yeah I guess I am.”

[Ghosdeeri soaks another bandage then applies it to Medkit’s wound]

Medkit:

[yelps softly, hisses through his teeth]

Ghosdeeri:

“So, if I must ask, what made you decide to come here?”

Medkit:

“You were the only good option.” [laughs dryly] “Sure, could have gone to Zuka, but Rocket’s close with Sword and I can’t- I don’t want to see him again. I have looked into the eyes of death on more than one occasion, and today it wore the face of a friend.”

Ghosdeeri:

“I see. But I can give you sanctuary, at least until you recover enough. You can still see?”

Medkit:

“Yes, yes, I checked, damage is superficial over the eyelid. Of course, that is under the assumption nothing gets infected.”

Ghosdeeri:

“With the amount of antiseptic you insist on using, I doubt that.”

Medkit:

“This wound has not been dressed for almost four hours, and was delivered by claws that were coated in the blood of several Inphernals, so forgive me for being cautious.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Fair enough. So, Sword finds you, and attacks you?”

Medkit:

“It wasn’t, it wasn’t quite like that. I did- I did run away. Escaped into the Lonely and hoped to whatever gods call this blasted place home that he wouldn’t find me. He did, somehow, and I tried to break through to him, but he just wouldn’t listen. Then, this happens.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Fair enough.”

[Ghosdeeri stands up]

Ghosdeeri:

“Do you need help with applying the dry bandages?”

Medkit:

“I should be fine, thanks for your help.”

Ghosdeeri:

“It is my pleasure. I’ll just insure Pwntatious-”

Medkit:

“Wait, Pwnatious, as in the Pwnatious family? One of the richest in Blackrock?”

Ghosdeeri:

“Yes. The Third. Moneybags if I’m not mistaken.”

Medkit:

“Well fuck my life I guess. Only place I come to has a Blackrockian as the bloody receptionist.”

Ghosdeeri:

“I’ll make sure they don't not talk. Don’t worry.”

Medkit:

“You better.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Of course. Now, I can ask Lightblox to prepare the spare room for you.”

Medkit:

“Fine. Thank-you.”

Ghosdeeri:

“No problem, Asclepius.”

[Recorder Click]

[Recorder Click]

Ghosdeeri:

“Pwntious, I would like to speak with you.”

Lord Pwnatious:

“Mm, oh, yes of course. If it’s about that traitor I have already got my family on line if you want to-”

Ghosdeeri:

[sharply] “Hang up the phone.”

Lord Pwnatious:

“What?”

Ghosdeeri:

“Hang, up, the phone.”

Lord Pwnatious:

[stammers briefly, before shakily] “Sorry, I have to go.”

[Pwnatious sets down the phone reciever]

Ghosdeeri:

“There, not so difficult, was it? And yes, I did wish to speak with you about our visitor. He is not to be disturbed.”

Lord Pwnatious:

[protesting] “But, do you have any-”

Ghosdeeri:

“I know all about it, Moneybags. More than probably even you know. So, tell me, what do your parents think of you?”

Lord Pwnatious:

“They- they are quite proud of me I’d think. And they have given me everything I could need to survive.”

Ghosdeeri:

“And you know this?”

Lord Pwnatious:

[their voice falters]

Ghosdeeri:

“Truth is- Your father hates you.”

[Static flares up with an insistent whine]

Lord Pwnatious:

[gasps]

Ghosdeeri:

“You were what he sacrificed his gear for. You were what tore away his purpose, leaving him with nothing but the artificial gear that has never quite felt right in his hands. He tries to bury it, but really, he sees you as a pure, weak, disappointment, hardly worth the name ‘Lord Pwnatious the Third’.”

[Static flares up even louder]

Lord Pwnatious:

[pleading] “Please, no, no, I’m sorry.”

Ghosdeeri:

“No. I will bury that thought so deep into your mind that it is all you can think about if you even think about telling them about Medkit. Now, call them back up and tell them it was nothing.”

Lord Pwnatious:

[whimpers, but makes a confirming noise]

[Pwnatious picks up the phone again]

Lord Pwnatious:

[regaining their composure] “Hello, sorry about calling earlier, I was a tad too hasty. It’s actually already been dealt with! Nothing for you to worry about! [pause] Carnage is out currently, but he’ll be back in a few minutes. Alright, talk to you later, bye Mom.”

[The phone is set down]

Ghosdeeri:

“Good, thank-you. That is all. I do trust you to keep your promise.”

[Recorder Click]

Chapter Text

[Recorder Click]

[Squirming of insects can be faintly heard]

Ghosdeeri:

[hostile, disturbed] “I am asking you to keep the mask on.”

Venomshank:

[his voice is raspy, and seems to echo strangely] “Now, where’s the fun in that. I would think me giving my statement you would-”

Ghosdeeri:

[hostile] “This is audio-only. I get the point.”

Venomshank:

“Hm, well, fine. Maybe you will change your mind later, but who am I to deny the request of someone like you. We are in a friendly conversation after all.”

Ghosdeeri:

[under her breath] “I’d hardly call this friendly.”

Venomshank:

“What was that?”

Ghosdeeri:

“Nothing. Now, shall we get to your statement please?”

Venomshank:

“Oh, of course, of course, I am at your service, Deeri.”

Ghosdeeri:

[hostile] “Do not call me that. And name, gear and faction please.”

Venomshank:

“Oh, but of course! I am the Venomshank, after my weapon, though some do call me the Rotting Filth, and what good are factions. Just a way of dividing us so we cannot be part of the glorious hive we were always meant to be.”

Ghosdeeri:

[shakily] “Right, today’s date is the 26th of November, making this Case NEU-2611-VNMSHNK-TRTNFLTH - Statement of, Venomshank, otherwise known as the Rotting Filth regarding…”

Venomshank:

“Everything I suppose. What is there not to talk about, to share!”

Ghosdeeri:

[quickly] “Regarding his life. Statement begins.”

Venomshank:

“Ah, yes, but where to start? There is so very, very much for me to talk about. Do I tell you of the complexities of the life cycle of the common fly? The glorious beauty and fascinating variation of the common moulds and fungi? The ways at which a poison works on and affects the body? Alas, I do not think I have the time.

“So, I shall speak on my life. On hearing that beautifully signing sweetness of rot from childhood. Everywhere around us is thrumming with life, the dirt under our feet, the air we breath, even the very surface before us. There are a hundred, thousand, tiny little lives, all teaming away in their multitudes, and I always wanted to find them, be embraced by them.

“I got in trouble numerous times as a child for digging holes in the garden, and collecting handfuls of worms and showing them to my siblings. I named each and every one of them, and kept them all in little jars, until they died and their shrivelled, dehydrated corpse became home to a new form, one that was white and furry. It was sad, but I would take the dead ones out and stare at them, watching the glorious decay spreading out across their surface.

“I was joined, I so hope, by my brother Darkheart. He seemed to be the only one to understand me, and would constantly tell me about when our eldest brother, Ghostwalker, had one of his little projects. He too, would find the bodies of dead animals, though he never seemed to want to share his fortunes, denying these dead souls of the glorious freedom found in rot. Because is it not our place to fall back to the earth from which arose, and let the worms and mould do their work?

“It all went wrong of course. When Darkheart left us. But no, he didn’t leave, he was taken. Behind that door, the one that seemed to steal him away from me. It sat in that corridor, mocking me. What was it to steal my family from me? So I followed his voice into it, and got lost for years in those spiralling halls until I emerged, shaking and wrecked, far from home, but not far enough away to be found.

“From there, I watched our beautiful family fall apart. It was all the fault of that damned door. It’s what made us fight so much, because it took away Darkheart, one of us, and disturbed the balance of our hive, or colony. Because with him gone, the rest of us began to change. Windforce left, Firebrand vanished. And eventually, even Illumina and Ghostwalker went. I remember Illumina looking at me with such contempt, what did I do to provoke his anger? I still wonder about that.

“My brother did return. There was something different about him, yes, but the door had returned my brother, purer than he was before, and he praised me for what I truly was. Because of course, nobody understood my work. They still kept leaving, running away from me. Were we not family, were we not meant to stick together? Soon it was just me and Icedagger. And I kept him safe. But he could not see that and he ran away. And I was alone, with nothing but Darkheart.

“Even he left. I tried to find him, but I could not. He had simply vanished into thin air and I was truly alone, a bee without its hive, an ant without its colony.

“But as I drowned in despair, I realised I had a family right there, in my hands. I had long cultivated hundreds of different colonies of mould, flies and entire breathing ecosystems built on the gently rotting flesh of hundreds of gifted animals I had gathered over the years, and did they not sing to me? Did the feel of their tiny bodies upon my skin not make me feel as if I was home? Oh, I had a hundred, thousand poisons to pick from to join them, so I took my fancy and let myself be claimed.

“There is something so beautiful about feeling your skin peel away as maggots begin to burrow and crawl through gangrenous flesh. Was it horrifically painful? Maybe so, but it was the completion of everything I wanted. Once I stopped vomiting, and once the mould got its foothold, it all slowly faded away, and I could feel all of my children crawling through my flesh, finding their nourishment within it.

“Alas, I still feel them now, squirming through my bones and finding still yet uneaten patches of flesh and organ. Someday I will fall, stripped clean of anything that could keep me going, and my children will spread across the world, and they shall show it the true glorious truth I have always seen.”

Ghosdeeri:

[cautious, clearly disturbed] “And… your son?”

Venomshank:

“Ah, Sword. He was not really my idea at first. I have my children, and I have had Sisyphus from even before my ascendance. But it was Firebrand who came up with the idea. He seemed to become more cordial around me after I found my true purpose, so perhaps he too sees the glory of the rot and mould as I do.

“He called us all together, gods, almost fifty years ago now, oh how time flies! And he began to speak to us about the ideas he had for a grand ritual, one that would bring all the fears crashing into our world, that would allow them to sink into us in more ways than they do even now. He said it so beautifully and sweetly, telling us we needed to create our seconds to come up with us to represent those we did not already have.

“By gods the prospect was beautiful. I have always dreamed of a world where the holy rot and mould is everywhere. Every leaf is white with fungus, every log is crawling with beetles and grubs, and I wanted a world where that was even slightly possible. I had already begun spreading my word, through fang and blade, and this gave me something to strive for. So I amassed my hive, my army, as you would so reductively put it. And I waited for them to emerge.

“Unfortunately, they did not, twenty years passed, and so far, only the Hidden Shade and the Chasing Justice were borne by my siblings, and I took matters into my own hands. I created life in those fountains of energy, and carried him quickly home. I chose the Slaughter, because I believed it would be the easiest for me to cultivate, to develop and grow.

“He is all I could have ever asked for. He has grown into his role so beautifully, and I can hardly imagine that he is only twenty-four. He seems as if this life has always been meant for him. And I do not care how he plays his song from here-on-out, be it the fiddle-master in the back of the bar, or the war-monger charging forth coated in the blood of his enemies, all I ask is that he shall help the world see what I have always seen, and to understand it.

“He has so recently flown the nest, of course, and I do miss my house being home to another Inphernal, but it is for the best for him to forge his own path, he was never meant for my hive, and I have to remind myself of that fact.”

Ghosdeeri:

[on edge] “Right, thank-you for your time. Now, if you could leave?”

Venomshank:

“Oh, but there is still more for us to discuss I’m sure-”

Ghosdeeri:

[angrily] “That wasn’t a request. Get. Out. Of. My. Archives.”

[Pause, accompanied by the chitter of an insect]

Venomshank:

[a little irritated] “As you wish.”

[Venomshank stands up]

Venomshank:

“I shall see myself out shall I?”

Ghosdeeri:

[angrily] “Yes, you better.”

[Footsteps]

[Door swings open]

Venomshank:

“Well, it has been a pleasure talking to you Archivist.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Get. Out.”

Venomshank:

[Chuckles]

[Door swings shut]

[Long, still silence, only broken by the sound of the tape whirring]

Ghosdeeri:

[begins to sob]

Ghosdeeri:

[choked up] “Gods, fuck- fuck- fuck- It wasn’t him, it wasn’t him it wasn’t him-”

[Ghosdeeri sets her mask aside with a dull thump]

Ghosdeeri:

[beginning to cry] “It’s not him it’s not him it’s not him, it’s, not him-”

[Ghosdeeri slumps onto her desk, the beads on her horns audibly clattering]

Ghosdeeri:

[muffled, between sobs] “It’s not him, it’s not him, it’s not him. It can’t be him, there’s no way.”

[Door slowly clicks open]

Traffic:

[softly] “Yo, Deeri, you, uh, you alright.”

[Ghosdeeri sits up]

Ghosdeeri:

[collecting herself] “No, no I don’t think I am. Do- do me a favour and call Vine Staff for me.”

Traffic:

[concerned] “She’s the uh- the uhm, the healer girl right?”

Ghosdeeri:

“Yes, yes that’s her.”

Traffic:

“Alright, I’ll uh, go get her then.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Oh, and uh- after that- go- go keep an eye on Medkit. He’ll freak out if he finds out the Rotting Filth came by.”

Traffic:

“Sure thing.”

[Door swings shut]

Ghosdeeri:

[sighs shakily, before seemingly noticing the recorder] “Ah, sorry, hang on.”

[Recorder Click]

[Recorder Click]

[Ghosdeeri sets down a cup]

Vine Staff:

[concerned, gentle] “You feeling better now?”

Ghosdeeri:

[softly, a little shakily] “Now, yes. It’s still- I’ve had worse.”

Vine Staff:

“Sooo, you going to tell me what happened? I haven’t seen you in this state in… ever really. Quiet mourning, sure, but tears? What’s up?”

Ghosdeeri:

“Do you know the Rotting Filth?”

Vine Staff:

“Oo, no, not personally, but I’ve heard of it. And I’ve looked through a few statements here mentioning it. Why?”

Ghosdeeri:

“It’s a- it’s a long story.” [she takes a sip from her drink] “But, to put it simply, it turns out it’s a spitting image of the closest inphernal I could call a father.”

Vine Staff:

“Oh, and they’re…?”

Ghosdeeri:

“Yes.”

Vine Staff:

[softly] “I see… It’s the bird mask isn’t it?”

Ghosdeeri:

[wearily] “Yes, yes it is.”

[Ghosdeeri picks up the mask, the buckles clattering] 

Ghosdeeri:

“This is all I have left of him aside from feathers and the memories. Memories I swore to bury with him. And I managed. Until today.”

[Vine Staff shuffles in her seat, then hugs Ghosdeeri]

Ghosdeeri:

[mournfully] “The one thing about having a memory like mine, I cannot feel nostalgia. The pain is as sharp as the day I first felt it. There is no warm, fuzzy clouding, just the truth as it was. And that truth was knowing his choice before even he did.”

[Pause]

Vine Staff:

[slightly muffled] “Yeah, must be.” 

[Vine Staff pulls back] 

Vine Staff:

“Can’t imagine being able to remember all the stupid things I’ve done in crystal clear detail.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Oh, don’t get me started. You have no idea.”

Vine Staff:

[lightly] “Maybe I do, maybe I don’t, you’ll see.”

Ghosdeeri:

[lightly] “I doubt that.”

Vine Staff:

[laughs]

 [Kiss]

[Pause]

Ghosdeeri:

[softly] “Thank-you darling.”

Vine Staff:

[lightly] “Anytime Deeri.”

[Recorder Click]

Chapter Text

[Recorder Click]

[Background chatter and clatter of a restaurant]

Ghosdeeri:

“It’s on now.”

Medkit:

[taken off guard, clearly eating something] “Mm?”

Ghosdeeri:

“The tape recorder is on. Did you forget why we’re here?”

Medkit:

“Mm.” [he pauses, chewing, before swallowing and speaking again] “Honestly, at this point, yeah, pretty much. It’s just been months since I’ve been here and I forgot how good it was. So please, remind me.”

Ghosdeeri:

“We’re here to talk about Sword, the Singing Slaughter, what have you. Because after the Rotting Flith’s visit last week I have been wanting to find him. And you are the best person to go to about that.”

Vine Staff:

“Also because you need to get out of the Archives. Even I could tell you were going a little crazy there.”

Medkit:

[offended] “I was not , for the record. I just think you should all have taken cleaning up after the rot god himself a little more seriously. I’m not having any kind of infection occurring when I’m still in this state.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Vine does have a point, as do you, there were just, other issues at hand, and I believe you guys had it handled.”

Medkit:

[haughtily] “Well, for the record, Pwnatious did absolutely nothing, and I still couldn’t see at the time.”

Vine Staff:

“Fair enough. And say, if you’re so concerned about contamination and whatever, why did you take your gloves off?”

Medkit:

“Because I am eating. And the gloves have all of the contamination from the rest of the day on them, therefore, I take them off so I do not contaminate my food. It is quite simple.”

Vine Staff:

[skeptical] “Uh-huh…”

Ghosdeeri:

“Look, can we get back on topic? Medkit?”

Medkit:

“Mm, right.” [he takes a bite, before continuing] “I suppose the best place to look would be his old place, but then that means coming into contact with the Rotting Filth, which I doubt any of us want to do again. That leaves Rocket… I’d say finding Zuka. He has a gear replacement shop in the upper layer, can’t miss it, it’s right under the struts of the Flipside Tower.”

Ghosdeeri:

[thoughtfully] “Well then… I shall make arrangements immediately, you are fine staying back to look after Lightblox for me?”

Medkit:

“What, the kid? Sure. Does mean I’m running ship alone with Pwnatious of course, but what can you do?”

Ghosdeeri:

“I can assure you, him and Carnage will be no trouble to you, and Lightblox has enough experience taking statements that I don’t think that will be a problem either. I can also pay you quite well if that is what you need.”

Medkit:

[skeptical] “And where are you getting the funding for that?”

Ghosdeeri:

“Let’s just say I know when to make some very wise investments into failing businesses and enterprises. Plus, we do have a couple of sponsors, mostly from Playgrounds, and one from Thieves’ Den which has been very loyal throughout the years.”

Medkit:

“Fair enough. 5,000 bux per month.”

Ghosdeeri:

[moments pause as she considers] “That is doable.”

Medkit:

“Good, now excuse me, but I have stew to finish.”

[Recorder Click]

[Recorder Click]

[Door swings open, accompanied by the ringing of a bell]

Zuka:

[calling from within the shop] “We’re closed.”

[Door swings shut]

[Ghosdeeri steps into the shop]

Zuka:

[calling from within the shop] “I thought I said we’re- oh, it’s you. Here for follow up I imagine?”

Ghosdeeri:

“Something along those lines, yes.”

Zuka:

“Look, I’ve given you a statement, what more could you want.”

Ghosdeeri:

“I’m here to ask about Sword.”

Zuka:

[pause, lowly] “You’re straying on dangerous territory there.”

Ghosdeeri:

“I’m aware, however, I think it is within my-”

[Zuka launches himself over the desk, tackling Ghosdeeri and pinning her to the ground]

Ghosdeeri:

[grunts in pain]

Zuka:

[angrily] “Look, I’ve already given you a statement, I’ve told you what I want to. Rocket’s told you what he needs to. I’m not coughing up my life story because you want to go chasing bloody shrikes.”

Ghosdeeri:

[strained] “And where is Rocket, if I can talk to him?”

Zuka:

[he pauses, before sighing angrily] “Don’t know.”

[Zuka stands up, letting go of Ghosdeeri and stalking away]

Ghosdeeri:

[curious] “You don’t?”

Zuka:

“No clue, he ran off with Sword almost a month ago, and never came home. I just… I think he’s still alive, he’s just so caught up with that fucking siren to realise his fathers back here worried sick . I-” [he bellows in anger]

[Zuka punches the nearest wall]

Ghosdeeri:

[pause] “I can help you find him.”

Zuka:

[skeptically] “You will?”

Ghosdeeri:

“Yes.” [she stands up] “If you give me the information I need, I’ll be sure to bring your son back to you.”

Zuka:

“You want my statement, in return for my son.”

Ghosdeeri:

[noise of confirmation]

Zuka:

“Psh, fine. I’ll tell you everything you want to know, but make bloody sure that my kid gets home to me safe and sound.”

Ghosdeeri:

“I can make no guarantees on his current state, but I do promise to not cause any further harm.”

Zuka:

“Good. Now, say your little thing, and I’ll talk.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Case NEU-3011-EXPRKL-BZK, Statement of Exponential Rocket Launcher, otherwise known as B.Zuka, regarding his relationship to two of the entities known as the Great Terrors. Statement recorded in person by Ghosdeeri, the Archivist. Statement begins.”

Zuka:

“Alright. It would be cliché to say it all started when I was a kid, cause it really didn’t. It started in the military, being given all the power over somebody’s life in the middle of the field, that kind of power goes to the head of young reckless Inphernals like me. Especially with a gear like mine. I could decimate any battlefield I felt like. All of it, gone in an instant.

“You’d think it would be the Desolation that reached out to me first, but no, it was the Slaughter. I loved getting down and dirty with the enemy, ripping their throat out with my teeth, feel the warm blood on my hands. Still get the shakes when I think about it. Those are the moments I am least proud of but they are the times I was more me than whatever hollow shell is left.

“Don’t know when I ‘crossed the line’ as it were. All I know is after some point, I couldn’t go long without feeling the heat of battle, otherwise I got shaky and weak, like I hadn’t eaten. Which I hadn’t, I suppose, if I’m getting my terminology right. I bathed in blood on those battlefields and I loved it.

“So one day, I got promoted, brought up to join the big boys, and I met the Rotting Filth, and the Maddening Nightmare. Don’t recommend meeting either of them by the way.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Ship’s already sailed on that point, I’m afraid.”

Zuka:

“Has it? Huh, explains a lot actually. But either way, met ‘em, and I hated the Rotten Filth from the moment I met him. He was just so… repugnantly chipper, so stickily positive that you felt his mood cling to you, drag you along to shed false smiles just to keep the beast happy. And that’s not even to mention the smell. Like week old milk, roadkill and carrion all mixed into a horrible, sickly sweet stench.

“And of course, the insects. Ants crawling over his chest in continuous rivers, maggots squirming across his visible flesh, the centipedes dripping from his sleeves, and the flies swirling around his head in dense clouds. His glove squirmed when I held it, and I felt a hundred tiny shapes pulse through it.

“I’d fought alongside his soldiers - his hive before. And never liked those things that masqueraded as Inphernals, just as much rot and insect as their leader, the proverbial hive king. That’s how I recognised Subspace for what he was after his little underground adventure. I also lost the arm to the Rotting Filth, but that’s for later in the story I think.

“Then there was the Maddening Nightmare. It seemed to have a fondness for me, and I it. It first presented itself as a regular Inphernal, sure it had the wing, and the horn, and the smile, but it seemed friendly enough. We struck up a bit of a deal, and I could travel its corridors without any harm, not sure what its side of the deal was, but the idea of being able to rush in and out of battle as I saw fit was too perfect for me not to take up.

“It was a beautiful few, reckless years. Then the war ended, and I was left sitting on my laurels, itching for action. The hunger tremors didn’t want to go away, and every night in my dreams I would hear this pounding thrumming music, and I saw the bloodsoaked battle-field, tossed up with blood and mud. I was still cordial with my two friends, well, the Maddening Nightmare at the very least.

“Met the Raging Inferno once. Shook its hand, bore the mark. I wore it with pride then. ‘Course it was agony, and I couldn't hold my gear for weeks after the fact. Still have the scar actually.

“I was told of the fears through the Nightmare. It told me all about them, and well, as you can imagine, that shifted my idea about what serving them would be like. I saw it as something honourable, and so, I let myself indulge. Whenever the need struck me, I’d pick up my weapon and go on a short rampage somewhere far away, then come back home through those corridors. Blackrock was always ready to cough up enough money to cover for me, at least at the time.

“Then, things began to sour. I found myself with the Rotting Filth’s fangs deep in my arm, some impulsive bid to invite his friend into his own delight in squirming, pulsing things. He stood over me, cooing over the spreading gangrene and the few bursting, crawling maggots that bubbled up from my flesh. It was the greatest terror I have ever felt, and I got the arm amputated, before that squirming, sticky sensation spread through my entire being.

“I watched that arm dissolve into maggots and beetles the second it was cut from my body, and I knew that maybe I should… reconsider my relationship with my employers. And my friends. So, I sought out places like this, read about as many of the niche theorists as I could, and I realised that being friends with the manifestation of fake friends itself was not a good idea.

“Of course, Subspace happened, and I went on a long rampage through Playgrounds where I met Rocket. Next month, I was fired from my nice position, and I took it lying down, because I was truly tired. My fighting years were over and I knew I was not the same Inphernal as years prior. There was no joy in the fight anymore, just the cold, sharp need to cause violence, feel that fear hot on my knuckle, but never anything more.

“And then of course, the Rotting Filth began to regularly visit, trailing with him the Singing Slaughter. I thought it at first his attempt to lift me back into my old status, but I wasn’t having it. I felt sorry for the kid, he was just a kid really, and he was already serving the thing I had been since my twenties. So I distracted his dad, and hoped that Rocket could cool his tempers long enough that no mayhem would be called for. I was wrong of course.

“Now there is also the matter of the Broker… let’s just say I’ve been friends with him for a while now, and I have no real will to help him with anything, spiders be damned. If he wants the end of the world, lord knows I’m throwing myself at the feet of the Chasing Justice not to be a part of it, no matter what he says. Rather dead than a torturer I say.”

Zuka:

“Well, there you go.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Thank-you for that. And I promise I will find your son.”

Zuka:

“You better. Now get out of my shop.”

[Recorder Click]

Chapter Text

[Recorder Click]

[Background chatter and clatter of a bar]

Ghosdeeri:

[whispered] “Update- got sidetracked. I noticed that Flipside was projected to play here, I thought I might sit through a show, see if I could catch one of them for a statement, given I seem to be collecting the statements of each of the terrors. Vine Staff is with me currently-”

Vine Staff:

[whispered] “Hi.”

Ghosdeeri:

[whispered] “And Traffic is currently nowhere to be seen, so I can only hope that he’s safe.”

[Chatter dulls a little, and a voice can be heard speaking on a microphone]

Announcer:

[slightly distorted, far off] “And next up we have the sensational duo themselves- Flipside! Let’s give them a round of applause!”

[Roar of a crowd with cheers and whoops of excitement]

Ghosdeeri:

[whispered, overlapping] “There going on now, talk later.”

[Recorder Click]

[Recorder Click]

[The soft sounds of a city at night, door swinging open and then shut]

[Footsteps]

Ghosdeeri:

“Excuse me sir.”

Valk:

[curtly, chipper] “Sorry, I don’t do autographs.”

Ghosdeeri:

“That’s not what I’m here about, Mike.”

[Footsteps come to a halt]

Valk:

[brightly] “Sorry?”

Ghosdeeri:

“I think you know why I'm here. So, why are you?”

Valk:

[brightly, slightly cautious] “Because my show just finished silly. That’s why I’m here.”

Ghosdeeri:

“A top chart artist like you, in a place like this. I know what you are. So why don’t you come straight with me?”

Valk:

[coily] “Mm, oh, now that is nice. So, freeing, almost makes me actually want to tell you.”

Ghosdeeri:

[aside, angry] “Should have known, idiot.”

Valk:

[coily] “What was that?”

Ghosdeeri:

“Nothing you should be concerned about, and you’ve yet to answer my question.”

Valk:

[giggles] “Ah, you are right there, and since I know what all these… theatrics are about… sure. But you know that, don’t you? Several… unknown faces in the crowd tonight, and maybe a good story to boot.”

Ghosdeeri:

[hostile] “Oh, you.”

Valk:

[coily] “Indeed. Though it's not me, is it? I can hardly do anything, little old me, but… well there is a fire in every home, is there not.”

Ghosdeeri:

“You wouldn’t.”

Valk:

[coily] “Oh, I would. I’m here for my brother first and foremost. And you want him more than me, don’t you.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Should have expected you to know as much. And what if I do?”

Valk:

[giggles] “Look, I just can’t have anything happening to my dear brother, so I’m going to sate the beast before that. Am I clear? Look, I’m offering you a statement, that has to be something?”

Ghosdeeri:

[disgruntled, reluctant] “Fine. Fine. Go ahead then, what is it you have to say?”

Valk:

“Ah, I’ve always wanted to do this, you know? It’s always seemed so fun, so freeing, just letting loose everything that has ever happened to you all in one go. And I don’t need to tell you how comforting the feeling of the Eye’s compulsion is. It’s like being embraced by an old friend, and I can’t help but tell him everything that’s happened since we last saw each other. [happy sigh]

“Our father was a wretched man, you know that? He was the Hidden Shade, all darkness and terror of the unknown. There wasn’t a night that I could sleep safely without hearing something shifting about in the darkness. Because there was always something there, whether it was our father scampering around the halls at night, or one of his many friends that crept in through the windows and dined with him under the broken bulb in our kitchen.

“By the time my brother came around, I was afraid to even leave my bed half the time. Nothing had ever attacked me, but I’d seen the shadows with long, arcing claws, the black maws dripping with dark saliva, the multitudes of staring eyes winking out of the shadows of my wardrobe. But now I had someone to sit next to, someone who could assure me that there was nothing wrong, that nothing was going to happen to me, and in that terror, I began to find as much knowledge as I could. If I understood these things - then they couldn’t hurt me.

“There was never any light in our house. The blinds were always drawn tight, all the bulbs were broken, and any torches brought in were weak and soon died. Even so, I began to steal my father’s books, push open the blind in my room just enough to let sunlight stream in, and for me to read. It was a silly bit of rebellion, I know, I hardly understood anything in those books, but the thought of knowing was a giddy one for me, and even more was the fear of getting caught.

“And as time went on, I began to fear those beasts in the darkness less and less. Our father wouldn’t hurt us with them, why would he harm his own children? That would be a silly thing to do, wouldn’t it. I think he always loved our mother more, even if she was foolish to show some kind of love in return. But I began to see, more and more, how their relationship strained against each other. The fights, the long periods of silence, the times where either of them would vanish for days on end, and then return and fall back into another fight. At least when father was gone, we saw the light, and slept easy.

“She died the first time we left the house. We were going to visit my grandfather’s and for the first time we were somewhere else, far away from our father. He was curled up in the basement of that grand place, and we each had our own suites, but I didn’t really want to separate myself from my dear brother, and he seemed to share the same sentiment. There was a massive library there, with hundreds of tomes that whispered to me about forbidden knowledge of all kinds, but I only had so much time.

“It wasn’t long after that that our mother had her final dance. We were more explicitly under the watch of Umbrella, our lovely caretaker, and they stood us aside, and let us watch. And I certainly did. It’s surprising how liquid flesh can look when exposed to temperatures that hot - how quickly bones can blacken. I drank in every second of her skin peeling back like paper, the fire licking along quickly charing flesh, until there was nothing but concentrated ash and suffering. And that was when I think my eyes truly opened.

“There was more to this than knowledge, and I think you know that as well as I do. We are the silent watchers, those who drink in the suffering of those around us and use it to push us onwards, and those that see what our eyes were never meant to see, for ill or good. And no one should see death at the hands of the Inferno. But I did. And I still do.

“Afterwards, it seemed my father’s tricks didn’t quite have the same bite as before. I began to know what I was up against, listen and observe in the darkness and begin to understand some of the shape of them. Once I began to understand them, well and truly, I knew that they were frail, spindly apparitions of the darkness. And it seems my father knew that too, and pulled back from me, more and more. He was scared of me, I believe, which was funny to think of, because I have never been… particularly intimidating.

“Nothing much changed over the next few years, sometimes Umbrella would visit, and give me strange tomes, books not seen by any other person’s eyes but mine. Books that spoke about the creatures far beyond us, and most of all of my master and its ravenous hunger. My little collection of horror.

“It wasn’t long before my brother came to me, and asked me to forget him. Forget his name, his face, his voice if I could. I didn’t understand at first, but he explained the importance to me, and I agreed. He was my brother, and I found it very sweet he’d come to serve my opposite, the Stranger.

“He killed our father the week after. I watched it all, as best as I could through the dark, until he was finally struck down with a scream that echoed through that tiny space. My brother had cut free his own identity the night before, and messily stitched our father’s over his own. Then we fled to our grandfather’s and he welcomed us all into his domain, and began to set us up for life.

“Overtime, my powers developed even further, the more I learnt, the more I sought, the more I Knew. The more I could learn secrets, the more I gained knowledge, the more I could draw from the lips of my servants. Umbrella assisted in my studies of course, and eventually I settled to go down a path where I could meet as many people as possible, learn as much as I could, all to spite the memory of my father. He would be rolling in his grave if he could see me now.

“So, music it was. Our tower was under construction, and soon I could gaze over the whole of Crossroads, and to the factions beyond. I can see everything, I can know everything, and my father is dead, buried and desecrated.”

Ghosdeeri:

[shaky breath] “Thank-you.”

Valk:

[brightly, showman like] “Oh, but it is my pleasure.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Sure it is.”

[Door swinging open and then shut]

[Beat]

Dom:

[hostile] “What’s going on here?”

Ghosdeeri:

[overlapping] “Nothing you should be concerned about.”

Valk:

[overlapping] “Oh, just the Archivist paying us a visit, that’s all.”

Dom:

[slowly] “Really? Gods, you haven’t been speaking to it have you? We’ve talked about this.”

Valk:

[sing-song] “And why wouldn’t I brother? What is it going to do? It and its girlfriend don’t exactly have our publicity.”

Ghosdeeri:

[lowly] “Don’t you dare bring her into this.”

Valk:

[coyly] “Oh, I’m sorry, but you were the one who brought her here. So don’t blame me.”

Ghosdeeri:

[irritated] “Fine. Fine. But keep her out of this, and tell me one more thing.”

Valk:

“And that is?”

Ghosdeeri:

“Where is the Singing Slaughter?”

Valk:

[giggles] “Oh, I can’t say! He moves around aaaaaall the time, but last I checked, [chuckles to himself] he was in the north of Crossroads, so you can go there, just follow the violin music.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Thank-you, that’s all I wanted.”

Valk:

“Good. And tell Vine Staff I say hi.”

[Ghosdeeri slams her staff into the ground, and prepares to summon assistance]

Ghosdeeri:

[lowly] “Keep her name out of your damn mouth, voyeur .”

Valk:

“Rich coming from my fellow.”

Ghosdeeri:

[lowly] “We are nothing alike, face it.”

[Recorder Click]

[Recorder Click]

[Sounds of city at night, footsteps]

Vine Staff:

“You alright?”

Ghosdeeri:

“Yes, I’m fine. There’s no need really.”

Vine Staff:

“Deeri, I insist, you said it was a bit of confrontation.”

[Footsteps come to a halt]

Ghosdeeri:

“A verbal confrontation, I’d be surprised if an avatar like him decided to throw a punch. I would have won that for the record.”

Vine Staff:

[exasperated] “Fine, fine, you’ve just seemed a little off after it.”

Ghosdeeri:

“He threatened you specifically darling. I just… don’t want anything happening to you.”

Vine Staff:

“Okay, do I look like I’m going to die anytime soon.”

Ghosdeeri:

[laughs softly] “You’re right on that one there, just… stay safe, we can’t see non-lethal injuries.”

Vine Staff:

“I know, I know, I’ll be safe, promise. Now, don’t we have a Terror to find.”

Ghosdeeri:

“And Traffic.”

Vine Staff:

“Yes, and Traffic, let’s go.”

[Recorder Click]

Chapter Text

[Recorder Click]

Medkit:

[sigh] “Now - most of the staff is out, Pwnatious left ten minutes ago, so it’s just me and Lightblox. Which is fine. I’m perfectly fine with that.”

[Medkit takes a sip of tea]

[He sets the cup down]

Medkit:

[sigh] “Now, I found this spare tape recorder, and I presumed the Archivist might want the full story of why I’m here. My continued statement if you will. [shuffles] 

“Of course, there is a lot to get through so I do want to say that I do this not because I want to, but because I know it is inevitable. I’ve lived in the view of the Eye long enough to understand that it gets what it wants in the end, always. So I am telling you now, through this, so I don’t see you in my nightmares. Now, shall we begin?

“Ah, hang on. [clears throat] Case LTM-0512-FAK-MK - Statement of First Aid Kit, otherwise known as Medkit, regarding numerous encounters with the supernatural. Statement given in person. Statement begins.”

Medkit [statement]:

“Shall I begin with the thing that happened only a few months after giving you my statement? I suppose I should. The only way I can describe it was… unfortunate. There were several places I would frequent, places where I could fade into the background and not be noticed late at night. They were nice, but they weren’t going to last.

“I saw him… it? There. Tall, thin, ghostly, standing under the light just across the road. I didn’t really know what to think at first, just that it was strange, eerie. Then he showed up again, and again. I don’t know what inspired me then, but I decided to go speak to him… confront him. I should have known.

“I was always, always out of the loop with the supernatural up until now, I thought it was stupid kids stories told by our caretakers to get those of us that didn’t care about the threat of authority into bed. But I should have recognised the stories of ghosts, I should have overheard them under whispered breath at the church, I should’ve known the Silent End when I stared it straight in the face and tried to ask it what it wanted.

“But I didn’t… do I need to tell you what that was? I’m not stupid, I’ve listened to your little audio archive, I know you speak to that monster on the regular. I know when, how and where I am to die… except I don’t. It is there, solid and concrete in my mind, a horrible icicle that sits heavy in my stomach, yet the details blend through it like sand. It has done wonders for my nerves let me tell you. Every fight, every confrontation, everything, my life flashes before my eyes and I plead to whatever cursed things consider us a plaything that it will be quick.

[heavy sigh] “Someday I’ll properly know, I know that. Just waiting for it to happen. Can’t escape the Termination Of All can you.

“Next on the agenda I suppose, would be the Chasing Justice… hm, a lot of time missed out there, but you can guess what all that was filled with, mind-numbing work, paranoid spirals about mould, self-isolation, falling deeper and deeper into the fog.

[static buzz begins to build] “It’s so quiet there you know, I can actually think. And it is so deliciously cold. Nothing can find me there. Nothing. [He wraps his arms around himself] I am safe in that basking realm of clear, crystal white. I am alone. I cannot be hurt, I cannot be harmed. Nothing can see me there. Nothing can touch me… Well, that used to be the case anyways.

[static buzz faded out] “I’m getting sidetracked. I suppose I should start the tale of the Chasing Justice with a little… additional context. You know Scythe, I’d hope you would, so I’m not going to explain much. She has this habit of… training us. Giving herself a little bit of a chase, and us the fright of our lives, and I was her favourite target of course. I was always waiting for that target to land on my back, for me to run. I suppose you could say that has made me very… flighty, but it has saved my life before.

“And well, you know what that is, I suppose. I was in Crossroads, I believe I was heading back home from a trip out to Lost Temple. I was tired from the trip, and was thinking of just blending into the crowd for the time being until I got back to my apartment. I’ve gotten very good at disappearing into crowds, not quite falling into the Lonely, but still calling on its protection I suppose. What’s another face in the crowd?

“Those stupid ID checkers. I know it’s routine, I know it was due, but it just happened to be at the wrong time. I didn’t even realise he was there until I glanced over my shoulder and locked eyes with him from across the station.

“It’s hard to describe what that felt like. Staring right into the cold eyes of a predator, suddenly scenting prey. I saw that toothy smile split his muzzle, and all I could see were those eyes, as if they had become the entire world, burning with a hunger I knew all too well.

“Of course I ran, I was so used to it, what else could I do. And I am, really fast, if need be. I ran as fast as I could go and I felt him move more than I saw and heard him and I felt the horrible jaws of the Hunt lock onto me as prey and I-

[pants for breath, static buzz flares up, then slowly recedes]

[shaky sigh, much calmer now] “I was hunted. That’s what happened. I was chased through the streets of Crossroads, and I could feel him hot on my heels. I was a fool to think I could outrun it without the help of the Lonely. I was always caught in those mock chases.

“This was not a friendly chase of course, no mock tussle at the end where the dagger would fall away and it was all just fun and games. This was the real deal, the teeth were sharp, they bit deep, and in my panic, I fired. It did the trick. I heard him fall back, but I didn’t look. I just vanished, slipped away and continued on my way home that way.

“My fur doesn’t grow around that scar. And soap in open wounds hurts more that I can even emphasise. But it, by some sheer miracle, didn’t get infected. And I was left on the marker to be killed on sight by the Chasing Justice and that little sycophant pack of his.

“Then things got worse with the Church. I had a ‘rebellious streak’, I just didn’t want to be spending my life surrounded by people who wanted to end the world . Yes, I hear the call of my master, who doesn’t, but this is my punishment, this is my relief, I have sent too many people into eternal suffering to fuel my own ends to drag the Inpherno down with me. I do not want to be responsible for the suffering of others, I just don’t.

[shaky sigh, static buzz raises then fades]

“I was called to a meeting with the Father. Not a confessional, not at the time, but I went. They told me all of what they thought of me, and as usual, I faded out. It was at that moment they must’ve realised what I was. I was marched through those halls, and I was made to gut my entire story onto those black marble stairs, and I couldn’t stop, of course I couldn’t stop. My life story, told to a room of sycophants who lapped it all up.

“Then I was pinned down, and marked with their symbol. [He rolls up his sleeve] It was so horribly painful. I know why they do it on the lower arm, easier to hold that part of you still so that they don’t slip up with the needle. I’ve done my best to keep it clean, stop it from getting infected, they don’t exactly tell you how to take care of a tattoo you didn’t want, do they. But I keep it covered, because I know what it’s meant to be; a window for the Ceaseless Watcher to gaze through me, a mark of my new avatar-hood. Maybe that’s the case. But was I an avatar at the time, or just somebody waist deep in the fears? Lines are blurry, indistinct.

“I met your friend not long after that. I was not allowed to leave Lost Temple, but I had enough agency, and enough freedom with the Lonely to go to other towns in the area. I must’ve recognised the patch he has on his shoulder as yours, because I got to talking, and well - you know the rest, smuggling copies of documents into supply shipments, or to people I know will get them to you. I’m still just another face in the crowd a lot of the time.

“It was… nice, I guess, getting to know some of the members of the Church more. The record keeper lost his brother at one point, and swore off speaking names as… some sort of payment to him. There’s Dollmaker, she’s a lot like you, and she gave me a little doll, said that it would look over me and bring me good fortune until my end. I still have it actually. Don’t have the heart to throw it away - even if it could be a vessel for… It .

“He obviously appeared a month ago, Sword. Don’t know how he found us, not even the Chasing Justice or one of his lackeys has found us yet, and half of us are on his kill-on-sight list. But well, he did. Marched right into the hall during one of the morning meetings. He demanded me, and well, of course they disagreed. They seemed amused by him, in fact. So the Broker tried to spread his little web out to him. He promised he could let him see me, if he just gave up his role and joined us.

“He didn’t listen, of course, he just took up his instrument and began to play. It was beautiful at first - I hadn’t really heard him play before, but that quickly soured when I felt the murderous rage build in my chest. I knew what it was, I’d seen it in him so much, and I tried to pull away from it, to stop my fingers twitching to the handle of my revolver. And one by one, the people around me fell into the dance.

“People ripped each other to shreds. I saw teeth at throats, claws drawing blood over the marble, horns locked in violent wrestling matches. Some fell easier, those already touched by the Slaughter, or the Hunt or the Desolation, and only a few had the sense to run so they would not hear it. I was among them, slipping in and out of my sweet peace to shake off the effects of that horrid music. And eventually, I decided it was best if I stayed there.

“Somehow he found me, stepped into my sanctuary, dripping with the blood he’d shed, so thick about him the base of his cloak was black with the stuff. And he called out to me, he looked, but I did not want to emerge. I called this man a brother, and… well, now he was truly a monster, no better than the Chasing Justice or the Silent End.

“I did talk to him, of course. He had once been my brother, and I wanted him to understand that I didn’t want to see him anymore. He seemed to think that this was a curse bestowed to me… but we all make our choices, don’t we? So I told him to go, that he wouldn’t understand, which he didn’t… Maybe I thought appearing to him directly would finally make him understand… I was wrong. [long beat]

“He’ll find his way out of there. I know he will. Maybe he already has. Maybe it’s for the better that I left him there, but I was not thinking straight at the time, I just had to get here. So I hitched a ride on a supply train to central and made my way here. And now I am stuck with nowhere else to go… Sorry at any point if this ends up bringing unwanted attention to you, I am a very wanted man it seems. I can challenge Scythe in that regard…

[weary sigh] “Well, there we go, that’s all I have to say.”

[Door opens suddenly]

[Static buzz flares up, then fades]

Lightblox:

[softly] “Medkit? Oh, I thought you were… Why’s the tape recorder on then?”

[Static buzz flares up, then fades]

[Medkit dusts himself down as he reappears from the Lonely]

Medkit:

“Sorry, you startled me.”

Lightblox:

[quietly] “Sorry.”

Medkit:

[sigh] “There’s no need. What did you want?”

Lightblox:

“I just wanted to know if you knew where the statements from the 3060s were?”

Medkit:

“They should be… second floor, room to your left as you come up the stairs. It’s in chronological order up there.”

Lightblox:

[softly] “Thank-you.”

[Door clicks shut]

Medkit:

[sigh]

[Recorder Click]

Chapter Text

[Recorder Click]

[Distant violin music, overlaid with a static crackle]

Ghosdeeri:

“There he is.”

Vine Staff:

“That’s it? No, that’s not right.”

Ghosdeeri:

“I’m afraid it is. Can you not hear it, calling you to dance?”

Vine Staff:

“No, I can hear it well enough, I just thought that- never mind.”

Ghosdeeri:

“You thought it would be more difficult?”

Vine Staff:

“Yeah.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Well, I’m glad it wasn’t. You might want to cover your ears for this. You too Traffic.”

Traffic:

“Whu? Oh, yeah, sure.”

[Recorder Click]

[Recorder Click]

[Violin is much louder, as is the static buzz]

Ghosdeeri:

“Here we are. Gods I feel… [deep breath in and out] Keep it together.”

[Loud bang on a metal door]

Vine Staff:

[gasp]

[Muffled shout, desperate sounding, scratching at metal]

[Loud crunch, scream, trails off into choking]

Vine Staff:

[hushed, rapidly] “Oh gods oh gods oh gods oh gods, that was someone wasn’t it?”

Ghosdeeri:

“Sounded like it. Stay behind me, and ignore the urge to dance.”

Vine Staff:

[hushed] “You mean violently murder people?!”

Ghosdeeri:

“Something like that, yes.”

Vine Staff:

[hushed, angrily] “Perfect, just, perfect. Remind me why we’re together again?”

Ghosdeeri:

“We hold the same curse and we have a surprising amount in common. I can list them if you want.”

Vine Staff:

“No, no, it’s fine. Let’s just, get this over with.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Of course, of course. Traffic?”

Traffic:

[dazed] “Hm, oh, yeah, cool. We can go.”

Ghosdeeri:

[irritated sigh]

[Fire door being opened, music swells in loudness]

Ghosdeeri:

[yelling] “SWORD!”

[Music comes to a slow, whining halt]

[Beat]

Sword:

[lowly, slightly distant] “What.”

Ghosdeeri:

[slowly] “I’ve come to talk to you.”

Sword:

“Yeah? About what? I’ve given you my statement, haven’t I? Not like I could tell you anything you don’t already know.”

Ghosdeeri:

“...You’ve changed… You’re not an inphernal anymore, are you?”

Sword:

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Ghosdeeri:

“You… ascended, for lack of a better term. I saw you over a year ago. A lot can happen in that time. Like what happened with Medkit.”

Sword:

[realisation, lighter] “Medkit? You know where he is?”

Ghosdeeri:

[slowly] “No. Not currently. He came by the Archives a month ago, but left as soon as he recovered. I don't know where he is now.”

[Beat]

Sword:

[angrily] “OH FOR FUCK’S-” [howls in anger]

[He throws his sword to the ground]

Sword:

[shouting, angry and desperate] “I GO THROUGH HELL FOR HIM, AND WHAT DOES DO? TRAPS ME IN THE LONELY AND RUNS THE FUCK AWAY! [calmer now, though still shaky] I thought we were brothers.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Now, you don’t mind telling me what happened?”

Sword:

[lowly] “What?”

Ghosdeeri:

“How did we get… here.”

Sword:

[snorts] “Fine, fine. I’ll bite.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Good, now can you tell me what happened since you last saw me?”

Sword:

[snorts] “Guess I have no choice, nothing better to do either. Hm, well, I found him. He was deep in Lost Temple, and even with the help of my Uncle it took us a long time to actually find that place. But I did, eventually, after months of effort. And after all that work, it was shockingly easy to just stroll into that place.

“Sure it was grand, grander than grand even, but only when I actually got to their temple. The area itself didn’t seem like anything remarkable, just a small desert village under the shelter of the cliffs. But that temple, it was wrought of green marble, and the doors were inlaid with gold. That’s where I knew he would be. And turns out I was right.

“He was just, standing there, at the end of the atrium, surrounded by hundreds of those- unholy cretins. They all turned to look at me at once, and I felt the force of those hundred gazes, curiosity, fear, accusation, I didn’t care, because I saw my friend right there, just within my reach, so I called for him, and my cry was met with laughter, and this… spider scuttles forwards, arachnid bodies crawling from his mouth as webs dripped from his lips. He tried to spin a web, I could tell it, but what are honeyed words to a bladed song.

“It was only natural. I bask in that violence. So many tumbled forwards in an instance, and many more soon found themselves part of the stamping dance. It was one of the most beautiful songs I have ever played. But Medkit didn’t stick around to hear it. Maybe that hurt more than him leaving, but by the time I’d noticed he was gone, his trail was ice cold.

“I had to find him, and… I did. Several people raised their weapons to me, but they stood no chance, not to me, and eventually I found the last echoes of his entrance to the Lonely, and managed to tear my way into it. Maybe that would have been a death sentence, I’ve been told that enough times in these circles, but I had to find him, had to help him out. The Lonely is a curse I wouldn’t want my worst enemy to face, let alone my best friend.

“He didn’t emerge immediately. He told me that I didn’t understand, his voice echoing from the very fog that surrounded me. He told me to leave, to go back. That he was safe there. Which, bullshit! And I told him as much, and at that point he finally emerged, looking over to me, and told me something specific.

[static builds] “‘Maybe you think so, but it’s all I’ve ever known. I wouldn’t expect you to understand that.’

“I don’t know what he took me for! And it was my fault that I lashed out, yeah, but he left me no choice. He was in the depths of the Lonely, and I needed to get him out, he’d only suffer more if I didn’t. So I yeah, I attacked him, tried to remind him about what the real world is like, how much better feeling something to nothing is… And he ran. Trapped me there so I had to wander through that infinite expanse of mist, looking for my way out. I found it eventually, tore my way through an existing exit here, in Crossroads, and made my way home.

“Dad seemed to be expecting me. He asked me where I’d been, and I told him. He didn’t seem to happy at first, and that hurt. I’d hate to disappoint my father, but suddenly this light came on behind his eyes, and he told me to come to a warehouse on the other side of Crossroads, and to invite Rocket there with me. Then he left, and I didn’t see him again until the end of that week.

“The warehouse was empty, and it was just me and Rocket. I knew what my father wanted then. It was my time to ascend! And I’d have to do that by killing my only other friend. But I wasn’t going to kill him permanently, I was going to give him that leg up as well, to help him into his own skin as something great and powerful, but it wouldn’t be pretty for either of us.

“Still, I began to dance. It was like I was dancing with myself. With who I’d left behind in the fog. And it would be a dance to the death. The space around us burned, and the song that dripped from my lips poured through me so completely, and beautifully that our dance was like that in a play - until the last notes came to a shearing, singing end. A death in blood and fire, just what he wanted.

“I felt it then, the song filling my very being. It’s like I’d cut down the last barrier between me and the Slaughter and it finally filled me, and I became just what my father had always wanted me to be. And it was glorious, being embraced in that fury, that complete sense of violence, that it knew and it understood me . My father showered me in applause and welcomed me into his new life.

“Now, there isn’t much to do. I’ve been trying to find Medkit. I need to rescue him. I know that, so I’ve been trying to find information, information that you’ve let get away. Any members of the Church I can find, any potential lead, I’ve even talked to one of Ban Hammer’s pack. But so far, nothing, even with Rocket’s help.

“I think he’s happy, Rocket I mean, he’s still helping me, in any regard, getting rid of whatever I leave behind, and getting whatever information he can find. I think he’s thinking of going back to Playground some time soon - but I don’t know. All I know is that I am finding Medkit one way or another.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Thank-you for that, Sword. And next time you see Rocket, tell him that his father is worried, he wants him to come home.”

Sword:

“Yeah, sure, I’ll do that. Now get out of my sight.”

[Recorder Click]

[Recorder Click]

[City ambience, footsteps]

Vine Staff:

“But that’s it? He’s going to come here eventually, and what are we going to do?”

Ghosdeeri:

“I doubt he actually will. And in any regards, Medkit has proven himself to be very good at hiding, and I have had a space in mind, just in case the Chasing Justice came by again.”

[Creak of a door swinging open, city ambience fades]

Vine Staff:

“Alright, alright, fair enough. I just worry, alright. He could have seriously hurt us, and he seems hellbent on finding Medkit - I just don’t want that to happen.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Neither do I to be fair. Good afternoon Pwnatious.”

Lord Pwnatious:

“Afternoon!? You call this afternoon!? This is good evening if anything!”

Ghosdeeri:

“Arguably it’s both, depending on your definition of what evening is. The sun is setting, yes, but it is only about 16:32.”

Lord Pwnatious:

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. [beat] Look is there something on my face? Can you two stop staring at me like that!”

Ghosdeeri:

[overlapping, coolly] “Oh, sorry, it’s nothing.”

Vine Staff:

[overlapping, hurried] “Oh, oh no, you’re fine, don’t worry.”

Lord Pwnatious:

“Good. That traitor is probably skulking around here somewhere.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Good to know, thank-you for your time Pwnatious.”

Lord Pwnatious:

“Yeah, whatever.”

Traffic:

[a little dazed] “Look, I’m going to go to bed to sleep this off. It’s been a wild day, so I’ll catch you two later.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Alright, goodnight.”

[Door being pushed open]

[Door swings closed]

Ghosdeeri:

[sighs]

Vine Staff:

[quietly] “So, you saw them too?”

Ghosdeeri:

“How could I not? Nothing we can do I’m afraid. Seems our mercenary friend has finally gotten to them.”

Vine Staff:

“Our who?”

Ghosdeeri:

“Oh, I haven’t shown that statement, have I? I’m sure I can get the tapes to you.”

Vine Staff:

“Right, okay.”

[Door being pushed open suddenly]

Medkit:

“Ah, you’re back. This came in the post while you were gone.”

[Medkit holds out a letter, which Ghosdeeri takes]

Ghosdeeri:

“A letter… don’t get many of those.”

[Ghosdeeri opens the envelope, unfurling the letter]

[Long moment of pause as Ghosdeeri reads]

Ghosdeeri:

[shocked, reading] “You have been invited to an early centennial celebration on the 28th of December, hosted by Lord Firebrand himself - or as you may know him - the Raging Inferno. This will consist of a feast with the rest of the terrors, festivities through the night, and may lead to further answers for you. You are permitted to bring one other person of your choosing, and it is requested that if gears are to be out, they are not to be used. Please dress according to the power you align with as enclosed. Yours faithfully, Umbrella - on behalf of Lord Firebrand, the Raging Inferno.”

[Moment of considerate silence]

Vine Staff:

[coy] “Plus one you say?”

Ghosdeeri:

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea - this is the Raging Inferno we’re talking about. He revels in destruction and-”

Vine Staff:

“Pff, I’ll be fine. Don’t want you facing him alone, do I?”

Ghosdeeri:

“I’m serious, dear. This could come with serious consequences.”

Vine Staff:

“I know that. But those could be for you as well. And, again, I want to be there to support you. I know the Rotting Filth is going to be there.”

[Ghosdeeri considers, shifting the letter in her claws]

Ghosdeeri:

“Fine, I suppose you are right. And there’s nothing I can do to convince you otherwise?”

Vine Staff:

[smug] “Nope.”

Ghosdeeri:

[fondly] “Very well.”

[Recorder Click]

Chapter Text

[Recorder Click]

[Crunch of shoes on gravel]

Ghosdeeri:

[heavy sigh]

Vine Staff:

[awe, hushed] “Wow, I mean, wow. This place is massive! And look at the gardens! They must look beautiful in the summer!”

Ghosdeeri:

[softly] “Probably, the Raging Inferno is a very well off man. This estate alone costs more than two thirds of all the rent in every tenant building in Crossroads.”

Vine Staff:

[awe] “You’re joking!”

Ghosdeeri:

[chuckle] “I wish I was. That’s what two and a half centuries of successful business will do. I’ve never found it appealing personally.”

Vine Staff:

“Yeah.”

[Gravel changes to stone]

[Footsteps come to a halt]

Ghosdeeri:

“Do you want to do the honours?”

Vine Staff:

“Not really.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Fair enough.”

[Two knocks on a heavy wood door]

[Door swings open]

Umbrella:

“Ah, Lord Firebrand is expecting you, please come in.”

[Door swings open further]

[Footsteps shuffling in]

[Door swings shut]

Umbrella:

“This way please.”

[Swift footsteps]

Vine Staff:

[hushed] “That’s Umbrella right.”

Ghosdeeri:

[hushed, softly] “I would presume so, given their gear.”

[Footsteps come to an abrupt halt]

Umbrella:

“Just through here, once you are done speaking with Lord Firebrand, a servant will escort you to your quarters. You are expected at dinner at roughly nine o’clock, and festivities should continue until three tonight, though you may retire at whatever time you please, am I clear?”

Ghosdeeri:

“Of course.”

Vine Staff:

[noise of confirmation]

Umbrella:

“Excellent.”

[Door swings open]

Umbrella:

[calling inside] “The Archivist has arrived sir.”

Firebrand:

[from within the room] “They have? Excellent, excellent! Bring them in! Bring them in!”

Umbrella:

“Of course sir.”

[Footsteps]

[Door swings shut]

[Footsteps hurriedly rushing past then coming to a halt]

Firebrand:

“Ah, Archivist, it is good to see you! Glad you got our letter. Please you and your… partner, take a seat!”

[They both take a seat - the chairs are clearly leather]

Firebrand:

“Ah, it sure is good seeing you in the flesh, or- roots I suppose.” [he guffaws loudly] “But either way, I have heard quite the few stories.”

Ghosdeeri:

“As have I. Wax, is it?”

Firebrand:

“I prefer tallow mixed with the charcoal and ash of shattered dreams personally, but yes - wax.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Thought as much. I’m sure this about your grandson.”

Firebrand:

[with a laugh] “Straight to the chase.” [more serious] “But yes, it is. I would hardly want to torch your life on your spawnday would I, so I suppose I’m offering some limb of support. All I am saying is that I’m perfectly happy to get rid of your little, Archive. No skin off my back.”

Ghosdeeri:

[lowly] “I wouldn’t if I were you.”

Firebrand:

[lowly, almost mockingly] “Oh really?”

Ghosdeeri:

[forcefully, matter-of-factly] “August 22nd, 3089 AR, Lost Temple, City of Brook Burn. A rather ornate piano made of mahogany, golden trim, and keys stained with soot and ash. Currently kept in a locked crate under several kilograms of decomposing leaf matter under the floor of the main study. April 24th, 2944 AS - A leatherbound book found in the ashes of a Thieves’ Den house, causes the person reading it to combust, as well as anything precious in its vicinity. Currently in the locked cabinet with other books of its kind in my office. Both have the power, and ability, when burned to completely level that side of Crossroads with little problem. You can risk one building, but an entire area?”

Firebrand:

[long pause as he considers it, talons clicking on the surface of his desk] “You are a very smart Inphernal, Archivist. I suppose you had this plan from the beginning.”

Ghosdeeri:

[stand-offish] “And why should I give you that information. Perhaps I’m just aware of the destruction that which I contain can cause. I am one for preservation, after all.”

Firebrand:

[slight chuckle] “Maybe you are right… And if I may ask, who is this… lovely lady to you?”

Ghosdeeri:

“I’m going to assume Microphone has already told you that information.”

Firebrand:

[slightly amused] “Right on the money again. Gods, I forget what avatars like you are like. And yes, I know some passing details of your relationship with Ms. Vine Staff here. I also know of young Lightblox, and good old Traffic, and your fondness for a particular… fugitive. And, tip from me, Lonely aligned people don’t make the best friends.”

Ghosdeeri:

[icy cold] “You keep all of them out of this. This is between you and me. None of them had anything to do with this.”

Firebrand:

[amused, dangerous] “I’m afraid you brought them into this. What is an Archivist without her assistants? I’d certainly love to find out! Plus, who am I to forsake my dear nephew of a good hunt, that’s what Windforce raised him for!”

Ghosdeeri:

[lowly] “Good luck with that.”

Firebrand:

[lowly] “I accept the challenge.” [brighter now] “Of course, I’m going to be putting all of it off, at least for a little bit. Say, February is good for you?”

Ghosdeeri:

[hissed] “Perfect.”

Firebrand:

“Excellent, excellent. Now, I’m sure there is something that you in particular want to know. So I’ll give it to you. Heaven’s know that my grandson has given me enough practice.”

Ghosdeeri:

[shocked] “You’re… offering me your statement?”

Firebrand:

“Of course. Didn’t think that I would get away with not doing that in your presence, the great and powerful Archivist! So, go on.”

Ghosdeeri:

[disgruntled] “Fine.” [clears throat] Case NEU-2812-FBRND-TRGNNFN, Statement of Firebrand, otherwise known as the Raging Inferno, regarding his ascension into such. Statement recorded in person by Ghosdeeri, the Archivist. Statement begins.

Firebrand:

“Ah, where to start… where to start. I suppose with my dear old parents. I did love them, really, but well, they weren’t exactly around for most of that time. For the most part it was just me and my siblings, and I only ever really got along with Windforce at that.

“To call me the oldest would be folly. I wasn’t, not really, that title goes to dear old Ghostwalker - but I might as well have been, given I was the one my parents immediately favoured, and I was the only one with anything really in the will. And that, I think, was because I was the only one who even showed a shred of interest in the workings of the business I would one day inherit.

“Of course, more siblings came, each one more irritating and useless than the last. Until eventually, they stopped at little Icedagger, and we were left with that. Time passed, and I began to take pleasure in the more cut-throat side of business, see it was much more fun gambling shares of companies, watching the rise and falls of business as it passed me by, than to push numbers around a piece of paper. And slowly, over time, I began to build a great amount of wealth, and a small circle of influence around it, more than my parents could ever hope for.

“That’s when Darkheart pulled his little stunt and scurried off into the Distortion, and we all crumbled away around him. First it was Venomshank, and I think that was the first taste of fear our parents felt, one of their sons, found under a bridge screaming about doors and missing brothers… oh, that was something so delicious to see, them suddenly caring for us the second we became… detrimental, to their public image.

“See, there is more than one way to destroy someone’s life, and that, that seems even more powerful than simply torching the whole thing then and there. But… there was a lot more work for me to do, either way. So I began to pool my reserves, establish my connections, and then set out to complete my plan.

“It started with the media. I began to feed stories through. In my time of doing that, dear Windforce had gone on to join something so much grander than any of us could have thought off, and well, it certainly wasn’t a good look for our dear parents.

“Then, when almost every news article began to talk about the controversy around my parents and their company, I struck even closer to their hearts. I’m sure you remember the mansion here before? Of course you do. It was surprisingly easy to convince the staff to shut off some fire suppression systems, and… for me to spark a match.

“Ah, the fire was glorious that day. It torched the very heavens, and I sat in its white-hot heart, slowly scraping together the ashes and wax and molding it to my flesh, slowly replacing that which burnt and sloughed off. And of course, there’s nothing like a fire to destroy everything that someone has, all of it, gone in the blink of an eye.

“So now, my parents were homeless, had their reputation in tatters and I was fully brought to the level of destroyer, what more was there to do. I suppose it was the wait. I began buying up all the shares in their company, building my own public image with tearful conferences about how horrible they had been to me and my siblings, and eventually buying the whole thing out-right. Then, I tracked them down, scared and afraid as they were, and melted their hearts out of their chests and turned their ashes into yet more building for my new form.

“And then, I got to thinking. Why just one? Why not more? I had already begun building my empire, and the new manor was already erected on the site of the old one. I had my staff, all living in fear beneath me, for I found that sometimes you can just lie to get your way, but some part of me wasn’t satisfied.

“In my dreams I saw a land of torched, barren earth. I heard the broken, screaming cry of a dying, lost world, where people had to crawl across land as desolate as their lives, looking for something that could even approach a home, something to call their own. And I was to be king of that world.

“But how was I to go about that? I presumed the best way was to concentrate so much suffering into one spot that it called forth whatever I served, and it would join me on ashen wings to rend the earth barren as it scorched its way across the surface. And what better way to do that, but with prisoners. Those who had everything taken away from them.

“So, I built what was to become Banlands, had every prisoner from several high security prisons brought there - the more crooked the trail, the better, and spent years constructing the paths of fire and agony that would sprawl from its heart. And I did set everything alight, all in one go. And the smoke stained the sky black, the screams wound with the crackling of flames, and I saw it there, in the distance, as the sky turned deepest pitch, and the water to boiling fire, what the world could be.

“It was taken from me.

“I didn’t know how, not at the time, all I knew is that my beautiful world of fire had been drawn up and away. I figured it out eventually, kicking through charred bones and staring in anger at the black sky - that the fears are not single separate entities, but horrible, conjoined twins, always fighting against each other to be free, and to bring out one was to bring the others with it. But how should I go about doing that…

“All of my siblings had fallen to different powers, and that made almost half of those that watch above us. So why didn’t we raise the other half? So I gathered all of us together, and I called for us to spawn our own children and create a world fit for all of us. And everyone agreed.

“Soon, my son was spawned, and so was Ban Hammer. I let Windforce have whatever remained of my attempt, see what came out of it, and I turned to tend to my own son. I first intended him to be either the Slaughter, or the Buried, someone who could help me in my own dirty work, but apparently that was not to be the case. For he was reedy, hardly a fighter, and while he spent most of his time tucked into tight spaces… that by necessity meant they were dark. And he found his love there.

“I then pushed him that way, made connections with as many people as I could, and raised my little beast of the dark, until it was his time to fly the nest and make his own life. Shame that did come at the cost of his life… but two for one isn’t half bad you know? Sure, we lost the Dark… but we can always cultivate it again.

“Oh, and last but not least, this wonderful chap here. They were recommended to me by Windforce, and they have served me quite well, though sometimes I do wonder if they were put in place to keep me in check. [chuckles]

“Is that all you wanted?”

Ghosdeeri:

[hostile] “I think that would be all, thanks sir.”

Firebrand:

“Of course. Umbrella, you wouldn’t mind showing these lovely two ladies to their rooms.”

Umbrella:

“Of course not sir.”

[Short footsteps]

[Door clicks open]

Umbrella:

“This way please.”

Ghosdeeri:

[sigh] “Come on darling.”

Vine Staff:

“Oh, yes, alright.”

[They stand up]

[Short footsteps]

[Door clicks shut]

Umbrella:

“Thank-you. I do advise that you do not cause any more trouble for yourselves.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Oh, don’t worry, I gathered that.”

[Recorder Click]

Chapter Text

[Recorder Click]

[Ambient chatter, sounds of cutlery on plates]

Vine Staff:

[cautious] “Are you doing alright?”

Ghosdeeri:

[of guard] “Mm, yes, fine.”

Vine Staff:

“Right, just you put the uh, the recorder out.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Mm, oh, yes… that could mean a lot of things honestly.”

Vine Staff:

“I hope so.”

[Brief silence, cutlery scraping on plates]

Vine Staff:

[chewing] “Are you going to eat? This is actually quite nice.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Mm, oh, sorry. Don’t have much of an appetite right now. That’s all.”

Vine Staff:

[swallows] “Yeah, I- I guess so. I mean…”

Ghosdeeri:

“Yes… I shouldn’t have brought you.”

Vine Staff:

“No, no it’s fine. It’ll probably be fine. We’ve got a month to prepare, right?”

Ghosdeeri:

“Thing is, I don't know if he has the patience.”

Vine Staff:

“I hope so. Or, not, or… you know what I mean.”

Ghosdeeri:

“I know dear, I know.”

[Sudden burst of raucous laughter, roughly six people, Ban Hammer being amongst them]

Ghosdeeri:

[disgruntled] “And of course we’re still dining with wolves.”

Vine Staff:

[cautiously] “Yeah… Really glad that-”

Ghosdeeri:

[curtly] “I’m glad our good friend didn’t come either. Who I’m surprised to see is the Forsaken Frost.”

Illumina:

[cutting-in, monotone] “Oh, he was hard to find alright. Took both me and Ghostwalker quite a bit to get him to come here.”

Vine Staff:

[put out] “Sorry, but who are you?”

Illumina:

[monotone] “The Archivist hasn’t told you? I’m the Waiting Machination, Illumina as some still wish to call me.”

Ghosdeeri:

[hushed, to Vine Staff] “I wouldn’t, he’s a spider, he’ll do anything to get into your head.”

Illumina:

[monotone] “That is no way to speak about one of your hosts.”

Ghosdeeri:

[sharply] “Last I checked we were invited here by Lord Firebrand, not you.”

Illumina:

[monotone] “Mm, perhaps you are right in that regard, continue.”

Ghosdeeri:

[grumbles something unintelligible under her breath]

[Recorder Click]

[Recorder Click]

[Buzz of cicadas and chirrups of crickets]

Windforce:

“That recorder of yours on?”

Ghosdeeri:

“It is now.”

Windforce:

“Good, cause there’s only so long I can avoid my brothers out here, and I’m sure your girlfriend will worry if you're out here for too long.”

Ghosdeeri:

“She’ll survive.”

Windforce:

“As will all of us. Now, I know you want something from me. Something you’ve gotten from all of us.”

Ghosdeeri:

[muttered] “Well, not quite all of you-”

Windforce:

“That’s what I’m doing here. Completing your collection. So?”

Ghosdeeri:

“Of course. Case NEU-2812-WNDFC-TNCRNVST, statement of Windforce, otherwise known as the Uncaring Vast, regarding…?”

Windforce:

“Whatever it needs to regard. Life. My slow descent into madness. Religion. Does it really matter?”

Ghosdeeri:

[attempts to cut in, but gets spoken over]

Windforce:

“See, I was always like this, in one way or another. I think my mother was happy that she had at least one child to call a daughter at first, until my personality showed itself. And then she didn’t like me quite as much. Most of my siblings didn’t and I returned the sentiment tenfold.

“I was firmly, and quite squarely, the middle-child for most of my time with our family. As soon as Darkheart came along at the least. And that left me being one of the most forgotten, at least for a time. I made sure my name was known, I made sure that every kid my age knew I was trouble, and not to mess with me. Because most of the time, they were puny and scrawny and weak.

“I got older. Our family became bigger, our parents more distant, and us more fractious. We splintered off into our little groups, and I found my lot with Firebrand. He seemed so thrilled to have someone to talk to that would listen to him, and he would happily tell me of all his business plans. It seemed so stupid to me. Why bother about money, about legacy? Were we not just a group of inphernals with a poor lot in life and nothing much to do?

“We went on holiday once, to Playgrounds, and I remember sitting through my first storm. My first real storm, where the windows rattled in their panes and the rain flooded all the drains. I was told not to go out, but I did. I felt the wind tug on me, try to toss me around like a ragdoll. I almost let it. To feel the weightlessness as I surrendered to something so much more massive than me, so much more powerful.

“Safe to say when Darkheart vanished I didn’t care. Never liked him, because he and Venomshank were a package deal, and Venomshank was too concerned with lives so much smaller than him - irrelevant to us, as we are irrelevant to the heavens above and the tides of nature. And as I began to sit in the crumbling fall of our family, I noticed the spider in our midst.

“Illumina has always been so very concerned in our family. He has always loved making himself the centre of attention, even when he was as much a middle child as me. He threw his lot in with Ghostwalker, and he seemed to pull that old fool along like there was no tomorrow. He lied as much as Darkheart did, but he didn’t do it out of love for the act, he did it for the skill itself.

“I was grander than his schemes, I knew that. I would have dragged him through the heart of a hurricane to make him see that, and I so dearly wanted to. If not to teach him a lesson, but to feel the screaming winds upon my face again. My dreams were of infinite storm clouds, and being tossed upon the backs of winds, and held up by my beautiful sky. My sky of storm clouds and nature’s fury.

“I never hit the ground. I don’t care what anyone says, I was away in the lightning the second I jumped and I have yet to come down. The wind is so strong up there, and I am weightless, I am nothing to her, and she loves me so deeply for it. And I make sure that she has her meals. As if Firebrand can reign fire and terror here, I can bring ozone and storms to Playgrounds.

“I believe it was after his ritual that he told us all of his plans. I didn’t mind the idea. Sure, at first the thought of a child didn’t enthuse me, but the more I thought on it, having a little version of myself, to grow and raise into the shoes of something that may one day bring about my perfect world of infinite, endless storm… I had to.

“And that’s how little Ban Hammer came into the picture. My dearest, darling son. He has grown so well, and it was only fitting to let him become the ruler of a land that seemed almost made for him - if it wasn’t already made for suffering. To think he shall be the ruler of our ritual site, the collector and master of some of the most crucial elements. I cannot begin to express my pride.

“He is all I could ever ask for within a son, and some day, maybe, I shall give him a sibling, someone to serve my antithesis, someone to hold the side of things he does not occupy himself with… but that is all from me I think.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Thank-you for that, ma’am.”

Windforce:

“Eh, don’t mention it. Now, better get inside before the entertainment starts, ‘heard we’ve got a new act to view.”

[Recorder Click]

[Recorder Click]

[Polite applause and a few muted cheers]

[Whine of a microphone being taken up]

Firebrand:

[slightly warped by the speakers] “As always, thank-you to my grandsons for the wonderful performance tonight! It is always a pleasure to host them in person. Of course, there are a couple courts of order to be dealt with as of this centennial. But first - soon it shall be the year 3100! To think! It has been over two hundred and fifty years since most of us began our mission. Ah, how the time flies. But our first court of order - let’s welcome Axe into our family - yet another member of Ban Hammer’s pack!”

[Polite applause and a few cheers, louder this time, one clearly being Ban Hammer]

Firebrand:

[slightly warped by the speakers] “In addition to that, Venomshank informs me that his son has completed his ascension and can now sit amongst us as one of us. Please, give a warm, warm welcome to the Singing Slaughter!”

[Polite applause]

Firebrand:

[slightly warped by the speakers] “He shall be playing for us later tonight. And our last court of order, is our lovely new guest. May the Archivist and her plus one please come to the stage?”

Vine Staff:

[soft gasp]

Ghosdeeri:

[quietly] “Oh, gods… come on.”

[They stand up]

[Footsteps]

[Sound of footsteps change to stairs, then wood]

Firebrand:

[slightly warped by the speakers] “Everybody, please give them a warm welcome.”

[Polite applause, murmuring]

Firebrand:

[slightly warped by the speakers] “Now, I’m sure we’re all familiar with our little Archivist friend, as almost all of us at this point have told her about our stories. Of course - some of us are more willing to share them than others - but it is all part of our plan, I hope. That does, however, also mean she is quite the thorn in our side. Say, what’s your name?”

Vine Staff:

[meekly, scared] “Vine Staff, sir.”

Firebrand:

[slightly warped by the speakers, with relish] “Vine Staff, please step forwards.”

Vine Staff:

“What? No, it’s, it’s Ghosdeeri you want, right.”

Firebrand:

[laughs] “No, please, come forward.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Don’t. You have no idea-”

Firebrand:

“Scared, Archivist? I thought you were completely unshakable.”

Ghosdeeri:

[hurried, scared] “This isn’t - you gave us-”

Firebrand:

[smoothly] “This isn’t what you think it is. Promise.”

[Slow footsteps forwards]

Firebrand:

“There we are.”

[Firebrand lunges, grabbing onto Vine Staff and pulling her into a hug]

Vine Staff:

[gasp, then starts screaming in pain]

Ghosdeeri:

[shouting, desperate] “NO!”

Vine Staff:

[Still screaming] “STOP STOP! LET ME GO! Let me go!”

Firebrand:

[to the room] “May this be a lesson to any who think of crossing us.”

Ghosdeeri:

[screaming] “LET HER GO!”

[Firebrand tosses Vine Staff to the ground]

Vine Staff:

[sobbing loudly, still yelping in pain]

[Hurried footsteps]

[Ghosdeeri drops down by Vine Staff’s side, carefully lifting her up]

Ghosdeeri:

[desperate, on the verge of tears] “Look at me, look at me. You’re alright, I’ve got you - I’ve got you.”

Vine Staff:

[still gasping in pain]

Ghosdeeri:

[angrily, to Firebrand] “You monster.”

Firebrand:

“Pot calling the kettle black my dear.”

Ghosdeeri:

[angrily, practically growling] “You and I are nothing alike.”

Firebrand:

[coily] “Maybe so.”

Vine Staff:

[whimpers]

[Ghosdeeri slowly scoops Vine Staff up into her arms and stands up]

Ghosdeeri:

[softly] “I know dear, I know.” [harsher, to Firebrand] “You’ll regret this.”

Firebrand:

“Will I?”

Ghosdeeri:

[snorts]

[Footsteps rapidly retreating]

Firebrand:

[seemingly notices recorder] “Oh?”

[Footsteps approaching]

[Stamp - sound of breaking plastic and flames burning up - Recorder screeches, then cuts out]

[Recorder click]

Medkit:

[grumbles something unintelligible, then; hostile] “What do you want, huh? It’s late, and I’m tired. So why am I turning you on? Hm? What is it you want?”

[Door suddenly slamming opening, Ghosdeeri rushes into the room, carrying Vine Staff]

Medkit:

[shocked] “Great ones! You can’t just-” [pause, then quieter, shocked] “Oh. Oh gods.”

Ghosdeeri:

[desperate, panting for breath] “Help me!”

Medkit:

[shell-shocked, stammering] “I, uh, uh, g-get her onto the sofa. And- c-cold- Just get her onto the sofa.”

[Ghosdeeri carries Vine Staff to the sofa, setting her down]

Vine Staff:

[quiet yelp of pain]

Medkit:

[shaken] “How- how did this happen.”

Ghosdeeri:

[out of breath, quickly] “Firebrand- I should’ve, I should’ve known - he was- Gods.”

Medkit:

“Right, right of course.” [pauses, trying to speak] “I don’t know how much I can help - I’ve never - I’ve never dealt with this before… you’re going to have to take her to the nearest hospital.”

Ghosdeeri:

[pleading] “Just do something to tide her over then. Please.”

Medkit:

“I can-” [gulps] “I can try.”

[Medkit summons in his gear, carefully setting it down]

[Opens the clasps of the briefcase and pulls something out]

Medkit:

[shaky] “Vine? Can you hear me?”

Vine Staff:

[weak noise of confirmation]

Medkit:

“Alright, focus on my voice, alright.” [He begins to hum. The tune is slow, almost like a lullaby, and his voice falters several times throughout. It is accompanied by a faint, high-pitched hum, and a rise in a still, ambient static.] “There - that’s… that’s all I can really do. It should’ve taken the edge of the less severe burns.”

Vine Staff:

[whimpers, but it’s clear she is in less pain]

Ghosdeeri:

“Thank-you. Now, can you do me a favour and call her brother. He should be Shuriken in the red notebook on my desk.”

Medkit:

[hesitant] “Sure, I can do that.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Thank-you.”

[Ghosdeeri careful picks Vine Staff up again, pained whimper from Vine Staff]

[Hurried footsteps]

[Slower, more measured footsteps, door swings shut]

Medkit:

[softly] “Fuck.” [on the verge of tears] “Of course. Of course. It’s never simple. Never simple is it… get close to someone they get hurt. Inphinity hates me specifically. Or maybe… no, no that’s stupid you- you don’t. But… common denominator… no, no the common denominator is the fears. It’s not- it’s not you. This isn’t- this isn’t your fault. Okay, not your- not your fault. You did everything you could. You did everything you could.”

[Slow footsteps]

[Medkit slumps heavily into a chair]

[He shuffles, wrapping his arms around himself]

Medkit:

[to himself] “Book. Have to tell,” [collecting inhale and sigh] “Have to tell, her family. So let’s get that done, shall we? Just, just do that.”

[rustling of paper getting flipped through]

Medkit:

[to himself] “Shuriken, Shuriken, Shuriken-”

[paper rustle stops]

Medkit:

[to himself] “Ah, there we go, know that’s…”

[beep of phone buttons being pressed]

Medkit:

“Thieves’ Den locality, [too low to be intelligible], O-nine, seven, six, seven. Call.”

[Dial tone, it rings out three times before getting picked up]

Medkit:

[louder, false calm] “Hello, I’m calling on behalf of Ghosdeeri, the Archivist. [pause] Yes, I work for her, this is Shuriken right? [pause] This is, this is about your sister. She’s currently being rushed to hospital. Yes, I know. Look, sir, I’m just the messenger. I don’t know, the nearest one to here? Right - thank-you. Goodbye.”

[Sets phone down]

[Thud as he slumps against the desk]

Medkit:

[barely controlled sobs] “Gods fucking dammit.”

[He sits back in the chair, taking a shaky breath, then notices the recorder]

Medkit:

[disgruntled] “Oh. You.”

[Recorder Click]

Chapter Text

[Recorder Click]

[Low sounds of a hospital room, Shuriken is snoring in the background]

Ghosdeeri:

[quietly] “What? Vine?”

[Stands up from her chair]

[Footsteps on tile floor]

[Ghosdeeri’s claws click on the edge of the bed frame]

Ghosdeeri:

[heavy sigh]

Illumina:

[monotone] “I might have some answers.”

[Ghosdeeri turns around rapidly]

Ghosdeeri:

[hostile, defensive] “You. How did you get in here? Only family members are allowed to visit.”

Illumina:

[monotone] “Safe to say I have a back entrance. That friend of yours is very easy to puppet. An imparted will perhaps? Or has he already been marked by the Mother? I can’t say. That’s your area of expertise I believe.”

Ghosdeeri:

[hostile] “You… hasn’t he already been through enough? You put the guilt of letting you in onto that as well?”

Illumina:

[monotone] “I don’t know quite what he’s been through. I only know what I am allowed to know. Maybe you should know this.”

Ghosdeeri:

[hostile] “Oh, forgive me, but as far as I’m aware, you’re the puppet master, directing everything from behind the scenes. I’d think you’d talk to that voyeur of yours.”

Illumina:

[monotone] “Young Microphone has his uses. But he doesn’t trust me. He does, however, trust his dear tutor. But he doesn’t know everything. Medkit has only lived here for a short while, I should remind you.”

Ghosdeeri:

[hostile] “I know that. But I wouldn’t put it past a fellow to be that invasive.”

Illumina:

[monotone] “I suppose you are right in that. But Medkit is just a means to an end. He is of no consequence to us. We don’t need to know anything about him. Umbrella should get what they need, and we can use him to finally remove a particularly difficult thorn in our side.”

Ghosdeeri:

“The Church of the True Eye.”

Illumina:

[monotone] “Indeed. There were others, but I gathered they would be… less swayed by our manipulation. That they held… latent hostility from their upbringing. Medkit was an outsider, and he is so… careful. Yet so reckless. Both sides of paranoia, I suppose.”

Ghosdeeri:

“You’re no better than them, you know? Maybe you want slightly different things. But it’s still the end of the world.”

Illumina:

[monotone] “We know that. But why would we want a world ruled by the Eye? As much as it is the fool, the ironically blind scholar, we have all we need here. And it is easy to shape and sculpt the path of fire. And perhaps the Inferno forms patterns similar to webs.”

Ghosdeeri:

“So what? [wildly gestures at Vine Staff] She’s just collateral? She suffered all because of your stupid plan.”

Illumina:

[monotone] “She was an unfortunate accident. Umbrella cannot control Firebrand all the time, they have to be a lot more subtle with him than they have to be other people. And unfortunately you have to break a few eggs to make an omelette.”

Ghosdeeri:

“You’re making a very unwise enemy here.”

Illumina:

[monotone] “I don’t see what you mean. You would try to stop us no matter the cost. You don’t fear death like others would.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Of course I don’t. I’ve made peace with my own demise. And that of others. Doesn’t mean I can’t still recognise suffering.”

Illumina:

[monotone] “As can I. Unfortunately, the Mother’s plan does involve a good deal of it.”

Ghosdeeri:

“So what is this master plan of yours? You seem so assured in it.”

Illumina:

[monotone] “I would like to remind you that a plan should be flexible. So most of our work is still in motion. Some details are, however, currently locked neatly in place.”

Ghosdeeri:

“And what are the details then?”

Illumina:

[monotone] “That Banlands is the site for the ritual, that the family at present is what we will be using, and the fact we must eliminate any… opposition. So, take this as a warning.”

Ghosdeeri:

“A warning? For what?”

Illumina:

“To not meddle with our affairs, again. The Silent End likes you, so I will not hurt you, and you do not fear death. But safe to say, I can have in order a world of pain, hurt and loss in store for you if you ever decide to… complicate things again.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Of course. On one condition.”

Illumina:

“Oh, I see what you want. For me to tell you everything you want to know about my life. Well, can’t say I didn’t expect this. Shall I begin.”

Ghosdeeri:

“Yes, you may.”

Illumina:

“Mm, it all begins in the beginning of Crossroads. I do not know, or care, what region I technically belong to, I just know that our parents lived here, and I am as much a Crossroadian as any member of this city. That has changed of course, but that is later down the line of our story. I was neither oldest, nor youngest. There was Ghostwalker, Firebrand and Windforce above me, and later Venomshank, Darkheart and Icedagger below me. I was the centre of a massive family.

“Our parents were always distant - I think you well understand that fact - which left us to care for ourselves, and I got very good at learning how to twist things right to my conditions, to get everything that I wanted, and needed. What I wanted was never much, of course, a little attention, knowledge, and I managed to get that from Ghostwalker.

“He’s a simple man you understand. He was breezing through life, slow and steady, caught up in his theoretics and thoughts, and I was right behind him, seeing what I could make him do with that little bit of motivation. I found I could do quite a bit, but I never went as far to sully his reputation. I didn’t want to do that to my family, unlike young Darkheart. They could dig their own graves however.

“I didn’t care for Darkheart’s theatrics at first. He was a madman as far as I was concerned, just lying to make himself feel better. But I saw what he could do with those lies, how he could twist and turn everything into his way of thinking and seeing the world, with as many words as it took. And in that, did the Mother reach out to me, and I understood what lying truly meant.

“For me it began as white lies. I wouldn’t tell Firebrand or Ghostwalker what was happening with our two youngest brothers - well, youngest at the time. Because I wanted to see what happened with them. Both of them were so interesting, Darkheart and his lies, but also Venomshank and his… infatuation with insects and all that is, was and will be rot and rotten. So - nobody stepped in, and they were left to fester.

“I began to see in my older siblings other little perversions. Ghostwalker’s theories always had the shadow of death looming in and through them. Firebrand was cruel, destructive, and had a simple love for the burning heat of fire. Windforce loved her storms, her overpowering winds. And when Icedagger came along… silence for him. I saw each and every one of them, and I began to push each of them just a little further.

“I found new and more morbid philosophers for Ghostwalker, I began to find more dead things to leave around the place for Venomshank to find, I turned over both Darkheart and Icedagger at every opportunity. The door was a happy accident, and a wild card. It served to push my mission, but led to Darkheart’s thread spinning out my hands, I shape my web around him as much as anything.

“Slowly, we began to fall afterwards. I managed to get Firebrand into the perfect position to start his media torching with an old reporter friend, tugged the right strings amongst his staff to get them happy to comply, and navigated his advisor to a time when a highly flammable substance could be snuck into the basement of their manor. Firebrand and our parents, in one neat, stitching motion.

“Next, Windforce. She wasn’t hard to push. I made my manipulations obvious, like I was trying to cling to her side, trying to tug her into my web. And in turn, she played right into it. Soon, she fell from the tallest building at the time and joined her place amongst the tyrants.

“Then, was Ghostwalker. Similar to Windforce I made my strings obvious. I wanted him to see that he was manipulated, while drowning him in the loops of his own theories, and pulling him away from Venomshank and Icedagger - leaving them alone - but together.

“That was the thing with them, Venomshank would choke his younger brother mad, and when he ran off, he would sink into desperation in his loneliness. The fact that Darkheart returned to twist that knife was a very happy coincidence indeed. And finally, Ghostwalker took his life and returned as something other… in a way at your hand. And that left me.

“It was hard to say when I shed Illumina, like an old moult, maturing into my new form, another ticking, waiting form. But I know it happened, and I began to plot anew. Whatever the Mother wanted of me, I would do. There were so many webs to spin. So I began to interfere with the rituals of other powers. I could not see this world, so interesting and complex as it is washed in a world of fear… not a single fear, that was.

“Firebrand eventually came to us with the proposal. A ritual that would call all the powers into the world at once… well, it was certainly worth a shot, wasn’t it? It was certainly a web to spin, wasn’t it? And how we have spun. It, of course, is our duty to remove annoyances like you… and like the Church, and any number of various vagabonds, would-be heroes and zealots.

“Some elements we can’t control - like when our fellows bring about their kin to fill in their niches. We are still waiting on three now. Firebrand seemed to think that two for the price of one is a good deal - but is it a good deal if neither share the niche of that that was lost. I wouldn’t say so, and it has made my job so much harder.

“Now… if you know what’s best for you, my precious archivist, you will stay out of our business for the foreseeable future. May young Vine Staff be a warning for you, and may those that flee my wrath find their place at your door to tell you their tale.”

[He scuttles quickly out of the room, with a swish of his robe]

[Ghosdeeri falls back on the bed-frame, sighing heavily]

Ghosdeeri:

[cautious] “Vine Staff?” [beat] “Right… I’m sorry darling. I shouldn’t have brought you into this. I know it was bad news I just…” [sighs] “ Maybe it would have been worse. But I could have gone alone. I should be the one here.”

Shuriken:

“You’re right, it should be you.”

[Ghosdeeri whips around suddenly, startled]

Ghosdeeri:

“How long have you been awake?”

Shuriken:

“Couple of minutes. Long enough to see that thing scurry off.”

Ghosdeeri:

“The Waiting Machination.”

Shuriken:

“Yeah, whatever it was. And you are right, you shouldn’t have brought her with you- what did the doctor say? Fourth degree? That doesn’t just happen out of nowhere.”

Ghosdeeri:

[quieter, beaten down] “I know.”

Shuriken:

[indignant] “Yeah, whatever, I’m letting you stay here because you and my sister are close - but I don’t want you here, and I-”

[Shuriken draws his gear]

Shuriken:

“-can get rid of you anytime I please.”

Ghosdeeri:

[disbelieving, almost amused] “I highly doubt you’d be able to-”

[Shuriken throws- well - his shuriken at the wall]

Ghosdeeri:

“I see… Well, threats of violence will get you nowhere with me, unfortunately - plus I’m sure gear-based violence of any kind is strictly disallowed.”

Shuriken:

[hurried, seemingly catching himself] “Right, yeah, sorry.” [clears his throat, more serious] “All jokes aside - my sister is coming home with me- not going to that… creepy library of yours.”

Ghosdeeri:

[long, considerate silence] “As you wish. It’s better actually. She’ll be in a familiar environment, more familiar than the archives at the very least, so it will be easier for her to learn to navigate.”

Shuriken:

[pompous] “Good!”

Ghosdeeri:

[to the side] “Of course.”

[Recorder Click]

Chapter Text

[Recorder Click]

[Soft sounds of a city at night, distant, and the sound of crickets]

Ghosdeeri:

[long shaky sigh]

[Ghosdeeri picks up the bird mask, placing it on her knee]

Ghosdeeri:

[slightly shaky, then gaining confidence] “Case- Case NEU-0101-ZMBSTFF-GSDR, Statement of Zombie Staff, otherwise referred to as Ghosdeeri, regarding her life and upbringing.

[Ghosdeeri picks up a cup, taking a gulp of the liquid and sighing]

Ghosdeeri:

“I’ve never told anyone this full story. Bits and pieces of it, yes, but never the whole thing at once. I suppose it only seems fitting to speak it here, at the base of the tree I memorialise my people and mission. Because this story is burnt into my mind, as all things are. But I have buried so much of it, and now is the time to bring it back to the surface, so I can give it the burial it deserves.

“It all begins in Thieves’ Den. I was spawned there, first of January, 2785 A.R., 4:08 AM, a clear night, with stars so bright and clear that I have yet to find a spot that gives the same feeling. It would soon break to be a very fine day. And for the first fourteen hours of my life - things were normal. Then I fell asleep.

“I awoke in dream to an amber washed world. It is a colour which I cannot describe as anything other than the old lamps they used to use here in Crossroads - only fitting I suppose that they have vanished, getting replaced with something clearer and brighter - and that the light of my dreams is a dead light.

“I could speak of every vision I saw then. The man who sold papers at the end of the street, with his upper-right incisor replaced by shimmering metal - lying prone with the tendrils at his heart. I could tell you of the victims of the small flash flood that would rush through the village’s river - leaving three on the edge of its bank, coughing up darkness as it slithered into their lungs. I could tell you of all the viens that snaked into the forest where I dared not go.

“But that is neither here nor there. They are dead. But it was the fear of that knowledge that is what really embedded itself into my core for so long. That I could foretell the death of others, and the only outside marker, was an arm made of wood. It was never clear to me if I was the first- but I was not the last- that much is evident.

“It seemed like I was the first, for it was treated as a rarity, an oddity to be cured, and I so desperately wanted that, for it to all go away, and for me to just be a normal kid - but even my gear was infected by the Roots.

“Perhaps that’s how I came to Ghostwalker’s attention. Now - for those that peruse these archives and have stumbled upon this in conjunction with others - I do not mean the Silent End. I mean the mythological figure of Ghostwalker - the original wielder of that blade. He was to be the last of his kind, eventually, at the very least.

“He was even then the figure of death. Maybe the End had already settled in his heart, perhaps he was so incapable of fear that none dared touch him. And when he came into town, you almost certainly knew somebody was going to die. But he stumbled upon my case, and decided to take me under his wing.

“His training was rigorous. He made it clear to me that I was to serve as the documentarian to the world, that I would be the one to keep track of everything and everyone that came by me. So I learnt a hundred ways of record keeping, and slowly, but surely, began to develop into the position of Archivist. I may have been marked with the End since spawning, but the Eye can certainly watch over the End, the death of all.

“One of the tales he told me was of how the fears entered the world. He said that the world once did not contain these powers, but at some point, something forced its way through, right here, on this very island - right in the basement of what was to be my archive.

“It was a rotten presence - so he said - that forced its way, bloated and screeching into our world, and settled somewhere else. With it came a soldier of the frontier of terror, a man that was not Inphernal - who carried no horns, but stood and spoke the same, and he told Ghostwalker and all his siblings of what he had come from - of a world ruled by fear and hunger. A world that those above us craved for.

“It tore that family apart, and one by one, they slowly faded off. Firebrand, Illumina, Linked Sword, Icedagger, Windforce, Darkheart, eventually leaving just two - Venomshank and Ghostwalker himself. It is said that you can feel Firebrand’s kindness in the crackle of a hearth-fire, see Illumina’s observance in the reflections cast by light through crystal, Linked Sword’s bravery in the hearts of soldiers, Icedagger’s joy in the freshly fallen snow, hear Windforce’s determination in the howl of the wind and see Darkheart’s cunning in the smile of every trickster.

“And… well, that was my life for almost ten years. Learning beside an apathetic master, who served to preserve the legacy of his family. And I grew to hold onto that - and maybe because of him - I might be a monster now, something only intent of consuming and keeping knowledge… if it wasn’t, for Venomshank.

“He came to us one night, worn ragged by the wind, and dripping with despair. Ghostwalker consoled him, as best he could of course, but I was so, deeply interested in my newfound family. And he seemed to take an interest in me. I learnt so much from him, just as much as I learnt from Ghostwalker. He taught me how to fight, how to strategize, and most importantly, how to love, and how to empathise.

“There is an old legend that Venomshank took on the emotions of Ghostwalker to prevent his turmoil of his role as bringer of death, gaining twice as many in the process. I do not think that this legend is true, but its sentiment felt accurate. Venomshank was more my father than Ghostwalker, and he seemed to know that, and was happy to shower me in love and affection, and to give me something other than Ghostwalker’s passive indifference to idolise.

“I still remember his laugh. Warm as morning sunlight, and his smile was like the breaking of dawn.

“It was June tenth, 2803 A.R., 19:05 when I saw the roots wind into his heart.

“I knew he had always struggled with the burden of the knowledge of the fears in his mind. For as much as he was joy and empathy, he was also terror. He could see which ways the fears pulled him, and I suppose it was only a matter of time before that broke him. I had seen him in his worst states, trying to hide them from me, ironically, and I knew that he ascribed too much of himself to each of them. He stopped summoning his servants after a point - he became more reclusive, spent more time around just us, it was inevitable that he would join the rest of his siblings.

“I still knew before him though.

“I remember the night he left so clearly. He came up to sit on the edge of my bed, and stroked through my hair, told me he loved me. I hugged him so tightly in that moment, desperately pleading that he wouldn’t go, that he would stay. But I knew that he wouldn’t. The Corpse Roots are never wrong. So we wept together, and he left.

“Three hours later, Ghostwalker returned, and with him, he carried my father’s mask, and the tiny, frail body of Sisyphus.

“I spent four hours digging a grave in driving, howling rain, as if every one of the old deities was grieving the loss of their brother with me, as I tried to make something I knew my father would be proud of - to give the only part of him I could bury a proper burial, a safe rest in the earth where he belonged, and when I placed that lifeless, feathery corpse. It seemed so wrong, this powerful man, so full of life, commander of the fields of battle and the cursed undead, reduced to dying with a whimper. The only body left to bury that of a bird.

“It wasn’t the same with him gone. Part of me broke that day, and I swore to never forget his memory, his legacy. And after that, my memory began to clear, like a bit of wetted sea-glass. It seemed, not long after that, that Ghostwalker began to consider my own fate.

“I remember waking up one day with the veins at my throat, cold as ice as they pumped frigid fear into me. That soon I too would meet my end. Even after all these years I can't tell whether I felt fear or relief then.

“The last thing Ghostwalker did as the embodiment of death was to kill me.

“I can still remember the feeling of the blade across my throat, the taste of my own blood on the back of my tongue, the painful spasms as the last of my life left me. And the suffocating darkness beyond that. I hope that my permanent death will be nothing like that. This horrifying awareness of nothing. You cannot move, you cannot see, you cannot hear, you can only think. And that moment felt like an eternity, even if it was only a year.

“Afterwards, I crawled free of that tree, changed forever. Both Archivist, and Heart of the Corpse Roots. The last remnant of the deity’s legacy. For Ghostwalker had gone as well, and with the emergence of the Silent End only a decade later… I can only imagine.

“But I know what those things are. Twisted, perversions of what was. I have never met most of the deities, but I have known and I have met Venomshank - that thing is simply a vessel of the very thing that led to my father’s death pretending to be him, darkening his name in something horrid. My father does not deserve to share a gear with that monstrosity. The Silent End is a different matter - he is in many ways not much different than Ghostwalker himself, but there are differences. I hold no grudges towards him.

“I could tell you more - the relationships I had with various others afflicted with the same curse, how I came to meet Traffic, the founding and construction of this Archive, how and why I took in Lightblox, how I met Vine Staff… but you already know that story.

“But… I think that’s a tale for another day. There is still so much left to tell. But they are not part of this story. This statement.

“As for now… Happy Birthday, Dad.”

[Recorder Click]