Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Krat is quiet. She seeks through the wreckage of a home that had once been home. She was never the best at using paint without any sort of guidance, of being grounded in something physical, but she had to do it now. Going in person would be a death sentence.

Her mind lingers on the front door before seeping through the wood and “stepping” inside. Eerily, it’s just how she remembers it to be. She supposes that it all had happened so fast that nobody would have been able to go back to his home and claim any of his belongings.

Up the stairs now, quickly. She’s gone up them before, this isn’t that much different, is it? She just has to ignore that she had used her feet to move herself up the steps a long time ago. Her vision warps, brown railing mixing with warm beige wall, and she sees the hints of golden colors that always accompanied her painting.

He didn’t paint like the rest of them did, but she feels that beating of Chroma. Maybe, maybe…

Yes! There it is! Hidden behind a shelf filled with books that would survive a tumble! He must have moved it in front of the door every time somebody came over or he wasn’t home. To hide the family art like it was a shame, and it was a shame to him, wasn’t it? To be unable to harness it in the way that they could?

No. Focus, focus. There’s the Chroma, but is there anything salvageable? Does it just exist like dust particles in the air of the room so dutifully concealed? Or maybe, a miracle upon miracles, there could be…

A Canvas.

He had a Canvas.

Oh, does she plunge her projected fingers forth into the exposed corpse of something left to rot with the giddiness of someone starved. It’s warm and it’s a splash of chaotic color and it’s him . There’s so much unformed Chroma here that she only needs to add a dollop of her own to begin sculpting the muse.

This is so much more than she could have ever wished for. A skeleton of a project she’ll never know the purpose or intention of. But a skeleton she can use.

She gets to work at once.

“Verso… Verso, wake up. Come on, wake up. Please tell me this worked…”

Oil-based paint was still running over every crevice of the body as hazy eyes cracked open. The irises were silver at first, before gold rivulets seeped under his eyelids, and when he blinked again, they were an icy blue, slightly more aware now. The clothes, ramshackle and more comfortable than practical, were blessed with color much more slowly, the threads of paint splashing into various sections and slowly spreading out dark purple and gold fabrics.

A stoic, analytical gaze focused on the ceiling. The curtains were drawn and the lights were off, leaving the half-baked form drenched in darkness. He was lying back against something made of hardwood. A droplet of gold paint fell against his forehead framed by dark curls, and the word “floor” appeared in his mind.

A hand twitched, a skeletal structure of paint lining the knuckles before it spread to form fingerless gloves. It stilled, then slowly spread out the fingers, bracing them against the floor. With the support underneath his palm, he began moving to sit up.

The voice in the back of his head gasped. “It worked! You’re moving! I can’t believe… Verso, you’re alive!”

Alive. What a strange word. And what a strange voice to accompany that word. Excited and youthful, feminine in nature. Familiar and comforting, yet unknown and concerning.

“Please. Please talk to me. Do you remember me? Anything?”

He… Verso … finished getting to his feet. Paint dripped onto the ground, but most of it quickly dried before gravity could claim it. He rolled his shoulders, finding them… aching? No, that wasn’t the right word. He felt no pain, and there were no bones that could ache. All that was underneath was paint and Chroma.

“No reaction,” the voice mused, sounding sorely disappointed. “I guess that’s a no. I should have expected that, considering how disjointed your Canvas was. You were abandoned mid-painting, and another Painter had to finish the job. That can’t be conducive to any kind of muse, much less you.”

You. Me. Verso. I. It all rang in a hollow head, and Verso had to shake it out to dispel an ache he felt was brewing.

Somehow, the voice knew what the motion was for. “Sorry. This is all probably a lot. I’ll explain everything, I swear. But right now, we—or, rather, YOU need to leave, before the puppets or something worse finds you. This room is safe and hidden, but you can’t stay in here forever.” Her voice dropped to a murmur, as if speaking to only herself. “How in the hell do I get you all the way to—”

“Name,” Verso interjected.

There was an audible stutter in the voice. “What?”

“Your name.”

“I… Right. I haven’t introduced myself. My name is Maelle. And I guess I’m your Painter now. Which means it’s my responsibility to get you to safety.”

“You sound nervous.”

“Well… Yes, of course I’m nervous! I’m about to direct you through a Frenzy-wrought city when you’ve just been born! The chances of you being killed are quite too high for my liking, Verso.”

At the sound of Maelle’s voice pitching from stress, Verso couldn’t help but huff out a laugh. “So, where do I go?”

“Right, right. One step at a time.” Maelle gave a long exhale. “I’ve been to the house you’re in before, and I remember a sword hanging above the mantle. You need to exit this room and get it before you leave. Going outside unarmed is asking to be killed.”

Verso’s eyes have adjusted to the lack of light at this point, and they look about. The workshop looked less like a workshop and more like a studio, with how barebones the painting supplies were. Only one easel was set up, the canvas attached to it splattered with an ugly mix of gold, black, and blue. For some reason, looking at it brought Verso a sense of fondness.

Looking around a tad more, Verso found the only door of the room. He stepped forward and laid his hand on the knob before turning and pulling it open. Though instead of opening the way into the house as a whole, he found himself staring at nothing but dark oak wood.

“Right!” Maelle cursed. “Right, the bookshelf. Your Painter didn’t want this room to be found, so he blocked it off with some furniture. I actually didn’t know it existed until sensing the residual Chroma.”

Verso tested a slight push at first. Nothing. He decided to immediately escalate to a firm kick, and that did the trick, sending the bookshelf toppling forward and crashing against the adjacent hallway wall.

“You bouffon!” Maelle scolded as Verso stepped out into the hallway. “What if one of them heard that? I don’t think you can just brawl a frenzied puppet, now, can you?”

The hallway, just like Maelle, sent a strange mixture of emotions through Verso. His feet autopiloted to one closed door in particular, ignoring all others and the staircase heading down that he passed by.

Just as he moved to open the door, Maelle piped up again. “Hey! The mantle’s downstairs.”

“You didn’t tell me that it was downstairs,” Verso grumbled, though dropped his arm and turned on his heel.

“Oh, good,” Maelle ribbed. “Your emotions sound to be quite intact. Seems that you’re quite the functioning muse, despite the circumstances.”

Speaking of emotions, the confounding mix of them continued as Verso descended down the steps. The rest of the house was cramped, a harsh contrast to the workshop he had just emerged from. The way to the front door was relatively clear and only four strides away from the staircase’s end. A nearby dining table was set for two, though both plates were empty and only one cup held what had to be a disgustingly cold steeping of tea, half-drunk and the rest left to stain the cup. Hanging right above the soot-caked fireplace, surrounded in a red velvet mantle, was a sword and an accompanying plaque.

Carefully, Verso reached up and took the blade off its hooks. The blade started off as a dark, metallic hue, but had a golden fade nearing the end of it. Inspecting the golden hilt and pommel, he secured the weapon in his grasp before reading the plaque.

What he saw made him chuckle. “The Verleso?”

“Fits you, doesn’t it?” Maelle returned.

Just as Verso rolled his eyes, the front door to the house came apart in a shower of wooden splinters. As some bits rained on him, he turned to see a massive humanoid figure clad in law enforcement uniform lurching through the doorway, hunched forward and clicking like a broken wind-up toy. Before he could move, either forwards or back, the porcelain head of the figure swung to look at him, red eyes glaring.

“I told you!” Maelle yelled as the puppet lifted the giant baton in its hand. “I told you they would hear you!”

“What the fuck is that?!” Verso raised his voice for the first time to properly exclaim how much he wanted this thing to not cave his skull in, weaving to the side to avoid such a fate when it swung at him.

“That’s a puppet, it wants to kill you, and there’s no reasoning with it otherwise! Get the hell out of here and towards an open area before it smashes you into a pile of paint!”

The policeman puppet was way too big to try to weave around. Verso vaulted over the dining table, sending the silverware clattering, as he broke for the kitchen window instead. “I thought you told me to get the sword to fight these things!”

“The small fry, not that!” Despite being in Verso’s head, Maelle still had to yell to be heard over the puppet pulverizing the table into another pile of woodchips.

Verso didn’t hesitate to even try to open the window. Turning his body mid-vault, he crashed through the window shoulder-first, making sure to wrap his arms around his head to protect himself. He felt the paint within him swim at the impact of hitting the alleyway wall, then the floor, in a nasty heap. Just overhead, the policeman puppet made a horrific, screaming noise, urging him to pick his sword back up and scramble to his feet.

Just narrowly, the baton passed overhead. If Verso had been fully righted, his head would have been ripped off his shoulders. A curse leaving his mouth as he did, he ran for the exit of the alleyway as the policeman puppet began ripping apart the wall to go in pursuit, only to nearly crash into a much smaller, candelabra-swinging puppet swiftly turning to look at the commotion.

That was small fry enough for him. Not giving the puppet a chance to respond, Verso sliced into it with his sword, sending oil and something blue and dusty splattering along the walls. A shrill cry erupted from its mouth before the red eyes dimmed and it slumped over.

As he ran out of the alleyway, his eyes landed on an overwhelming sight. The street was choked with blood and bodies alike. Carriages were left abandoned, corpses hanging off the side or stowed under as if the victims had tried to hide. And wherever Verso looked, he could see roaming puppets, clutching rough approximations of weapons and gnashing their plastic teeth together.

“Verso, the big one!” Maelle cautioned, reminding Verso to clear a good distance between him and the alley.

As the policeman puppet ripped itself through the tight alley, Verso called, “What do I do?! Run?!”

“It’ll just keep pace with you! You need to use your Chroma!”

“My what?!”

“Okay, so you’re not as intact as I thought! Usually, muses are painted knowing what Chroma they can channel—”

“Just catch me up on it!” Verso interjected, swinging his sword to block a stop sign about to rocket down onto his head.

“Right! Right! Um…” Verso shoved off the puppet attacking him before leaping to the side as the policeman barreled at him. “Chroma is the manifested will of a person, and a Painter can infuse their muse with a certain type of Chroma!” Verso parried the baton trying once more to take his head of. “Chroma can have different forms, such as healing or offensive or…” Maelle blundered for a moment more before finally screaming, “Just think about blowing that thing up or hitting it really good!”

Verso moved his sword overhead to block as the baton once more tried to aim for the head. Was he ugly to this damn thing or something? It wasn’t much of a looker itself. Sparks flew from the baton as it ground down on the Verleso, forcing him to take a knee.

With a grunt, Verso rolled to the side, the baton crashing down into the ground. He didn’t want to think about how easily it left a dent in the street. But seeing the puppet leaning forward, its back bared, he moved to strike, digging the sword into the exposed area.

The recoiling attack as the policeman straightened up got him right where the ribs would be on a person. Verso felt his body catapulted a solid fifteen, crumpling into a carriage and falling down atop the corpse of a woman wearing a fine dress. He slipped in her blood as he struggled to stand, the policeman rapidly approaching.

“Verso!”

“Dammit, dammit, I KNOW!” Verso grabbed the blade, swinging half-blindly when he saw that damn baton coming down again.

Gold tinted the edges of his vision as his sword lit up. His body moved in a way that elicited that emotional cocktail of familiar unfamiliarity again. He counted one, two, three, four, five swings illuminated by golden energy carving into the policeman puppet, dicing open its chest cavity and exposing its interior of springs and spraying oil all over Verso.

Maelle made no callout this time. She knew that Verso had gotten the hang of it. Plunging Verleso into the beating, blue-tinted heart before him, Verso twisted it and watched it pop, raining blue dust and oil all around.

Wisely, the muse backed off as the puppet collapsed into a shower of golden sparks, body falling apart like a broken toy. He didn’t want to be crushed by the flying parts. Black and light blue pooled around his boots as steadily, the same hues dripped off his body.

The last frenzied puppet attempted to swing at him from behind. He stabbed his blade into their neck without looking and, with another twist, popped the head off like a corpse.

Slowly lowering the blade, he asked, “Was that…?”

“Chroma,” Maelle slowly confirmed. “Seems like despite the rough start, you got the hang of it.”

Verso didn’t respond. He slowly lifted his head, looking down the ruined street. Now that the danger was over, he was registering for the first time that it was raining, and quite heavily at that. Lightning illuminated far horizons, and distant shapes moved in the fog, brandishing weapons that he knew would be aimed at him the second he approached.

“Welcome to Krat, Verso,” Maelle said, as if she could sense his distant gaze. “It’s probably only going to get worse from here.”

Chapter Text

Krat was in an abysmal state. Though that needed no repetition to anybody, much less Maelle. She had probably watched it collapse in on itself, and was now trying to pick through the ruins just as much as Verso was.

Now that he wasn’t embroiled with death barreling at him with a several-ton steel baton, questions could begin running in Verso’s mind. Questions that were only enhanced by the fact that every corner he turned, he had to cut down either a puppet or their robotic dog and all he had to show for it were barricaded windows and doors.

“The Puppet Frenzy ripped through everything,” Maelle said, as if she could guess what Verso was thinking. “If there was a job in Krat, at least one puppet was helping do it. So when the Frenzy started and they all turned against us, there wasn’t a chance for so many people.”

“You keep talking about this Frenzy,” Verso noted, boots hitting against soaked streets. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. And by all accounts, it should have been impossible. Both puppets and muses are restricted by the Grand Covenant.”

“What’s the Grand Covenant?”

“A series of laws baked into either the programming or the painting of a created life. Neither puppet nor muse can break said laws.”

“What are they?”

“Oh, I’m upset that Clea being so hard-on about knowing the laws is coming in handy now. The first law is that all puppets and muses must obey their Creator. That means either their manufacturer or their Painter—in our case, I am your Painter, so you must obey me. The second law is that puppets and muses cannot harm humans.”

“Well, we can already see where the Grand Covenant stopped working.”

“There’s more. The third law states that puppets and muses protect and serve humans and the city of Krat. Even if the second law failed somehow, the third law should have kicked in and, at the very least, caused a puppet civil war. But it was like a simultaneous glitch, a madness, that hit them all.”

“You’re saying that both puppets and muses abide by the Grand Covenant. But only puppets went crazy. What about the muses?”

“They…” Maelle somehow sounded even sadder than before. “When the Frenzy started, it was like the puppets specifically targeted both Painters and muses. Before I knew it, I was… the only Painter of my family left, with no muse to protect me.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, Maelle.”

“Finding you was a hail mary. I think some part of me just wanted to see that homestead, one last time, before I died. I didn’t expect to find you, much less be able to finish your Canvas.” Maelle giggled, but it sounded hollow. “Did you know that there’s supposed to be a whole ceremony and everything with making your first muse? But I can’t even say if you count, since I just finished another person’s job.”

“If it makes you feel better,” Verso offered, turning a corner artificially made by a crashed carriage, “I consider you my Painter.”

“You don’t know any other Painter, Verso,” Maelle teased.

Verso chuckled. “Can I at least try to make you feel better before you shut me down?”

“Sorry, sorry. Gut instinct.” She still sounded slightly better, so Verso considered his job done.

As he headed along the path, only ruin still welcomed him at every turn. Maelle had to be right in that there wasn’t much of a chance to fight back when the Puppet Frenzy began. All he encountered were servant puppets, holding pieces of wood and candelabras still dripping with semi-fresh blood, and the only other voices he heard besides his and Maelle’s were crackling broadcasts from nearby radio stands left to play ad infinitum ( “The recent—Frenzy—is believed—momentary glitch—” ). Rain and oil alike soaked his canvas flesh, and the earlier blow to his side had a dull throb to it that flared with every step.

“Hold on,” Maelle suddenly said. “I sense some lingering Chroma up ahead. Only somebody with a particularly powerful will can leave behind residual Chroma. That, or a muse.”

“Can a muse not have will?” Verso asked, readying his sword as he peeked around the corner.

“Not truly. Muses can only use Chroma because their Painters created them with it. That’s also why muses have the emotions and sentience that puppets don’t—you’re made from pure ideals and will, not flimsy programming that’s now bitten us in the ass.”

As Verso emerged from the corpse-choked streets and alleys, a faint melody drifted towards him, faint enough that he was surprised he was hearing it. It was a disjointed, jaunty tune that was a dissonant backing to the destruction surrounding him, and judging by the repeating notes and staticky squeaking, whatever was playing it was broken to high hell.

“Is that carnival music?” Maelle wondered as Verso approached the sound.

Verso found himself approaching what seemed to be a ramshackle setup, surrounded by broken carnival decorations. Upon seeing a shifting figure standing off to the side, he immediately raised Verleso, readying to attack, but when the backpack-wearing individual raised their lantern in a greetings motion, he stumbled.

“Hello there!” The stranger’s voice was surprisingly cheerful. “Welcome to Krat, visitor!”

“You’re… not a puppet,” Verso remarked, completely lowering his sword.

“And neither are you!” The stranger returned. “I’d guess that you were a Stalker, with the way you hold that sword, but as I’ve said before to the last Stalker lookalike, that whole operation’s gone kaput, with nothing but wannabes and amateurs left to fight the Frenzy.”

“I’m not a Stalker, no,” Verso confirmed. “I’m just trying to get to safety.”

“Safety? Well, then, you took a wrong turn. The festival up ahead’s crawling with puppets, and is helmed by a particularly nasty one. Knowing that didn’t stop the last fellow, though. He repaired that there Stargazer and ran off ahead.”

At the figure’s gesturing, Verso looked to the side. Clicking and whirring while butterflies of shimmering blue floated off from it was a mechanical device of some kind. To Verso, it resembled a budding flower, with the way the metal plates looked like they’d unfold in a blooming fashion.

“That’s what has the residual Chroma,” Maelle pointed out. “Stargazers are air filters, basically. They sap Ergo out of the air in order to make it more breathable for us humans. I guess right now, they serve as good emergency devices to fend off the Ergo-powered puppets.”

“So if it’s this Ergo it’s focused on, why is there Chroma?” Verso asked, approaching the Stargazer.

“I don’t actually know. I don’t know much about Stargazer intricacies. My best guess is that somebody with Chroma interacted with it. But now that the Chroma is there, maybe I can try interacting with it and use it to heal that injury you still have.”

At that, Verso sat down in front of the Stargazer, grunting as he did. He didn’t need to breathe, but the noise felt nice to make. “You think it’s that “Stalker” that the person mentioned?”

“You’re right. If they fixed the Stargazer, and left behind Chroma… Maybe they’re a Painter!”

The Stargazer spun a bit faster, the ring of metal hovering around it giving off a bright flash of blue mixed with gold. Immediately, Verso felt the bruising of his canvas flesh vanish in an instant, and his slouched sitting got a bit more comfortable. Along with that, he felt significantly more clean, and looking down confirmed to himself that he was no longer soaked with puppet oil and that only rainfall drenched him now.

“You know,” somebody piped up, and Verso looked back at the stranger, “I’ve only run into one type of person that talks to themselves aloud, and it’s usually when they’re talking to their Painter. I never thought I’d see a muse out and alone at a time like this.”

“It’s not really my choice to be separate from my Painter,” Verso responded. “Anyways, you mentioned this other person that you saw. Did they seem like a Painter to you?”

“Hah! If they were, they must be a really stupid one. They raced towards the festival with no muses, only a silk shirt and a steely gaze. My guess is, they thought they could make a mad dash towards Hotel Krat. Sorry to say, friend, but they’ve probably been pulverized by the Parade Master, at this point.”

“He’s right,” Maelle remarked. “Whoever they were, they probably just ran off to their death.”

“You don’t even want to check to see?” Verso focused his gaze on the Stargazer, wondering if that could be akin to locking eyes with his Painter.

“You need to keep moving for the manor, and that’s a long distance to cross. Risking injury now, even with a Stargazer around, will cause more harm than good.”

The first law of the Grand Covenant was that all puppets and muses must obey their Creator. Maelle was Verso’s Painter. Therefore, he must obey her command. Indeed, he can feel a compulsion in the back of his mind willing him to stand, turn, and move back into the alleyways to continue the trek to the manor.

And yet, something else called to him. A sense of worry for the stranger who’s run off to die. A Painter, having landed themselves in trouble and potentially seeking a miraculous rescue. He couldn’t just leave them to their fate.

“Just a quick peek,” Verso said, moving to stand, “and then we’ll keep going. Alright?”

Your paint flows steadily.

Maelle was silent for a long moment. When she spoke up again, she sounded genuinely flummoxed. “I… Alright. Just a quick peek. But if something’s happening, don’t get involved, okay?”

“Okay.” Verso offered a quick wave to the stranger, who seemed slightly surprised, though raised the lantern again in return, before he moved for the path leading further to the tinny, broken music.

Said path was a flight of stone stairs that led up to an already-open steel gate. And said gate didn’t look like it had been properly pushed open. Instead, the bars were bent inwards, as if a powerful strike had forced them open. Verso rolled his shoulders and straightened his back a bit before moving forward, Verleso clenched in his dominant hand.

The bright, glowing letters of “KRAT FESTIVAL” were what welcomed him first. Well, the “KRAT” was painted on the welcoming sign, and the S, I, and V of “FESTIVAL” were broken and unilluminated. The other letters flickered and cast off sparks, looking like they’d burn out at any moment. Cardboard cutouts of performers and jesters of all kinds were long soaked by the rainfall, a couple sloughing downwards in their waterlogged states. And that music was more grating than ever, blaring from abandoned speakers and making Verso wince with how broken it sounded.

For a “festival”, it was in a rather small space. The plaza enclosed by stone archways could hold maybe a hundred or so people if it was completely empty, and the wooden stage in the center made it drop to about seventy. And on an initial glance, Verso only saw one figure within it.

His back to the entrance that Verso just came from and about ten paces ahead, it appeared to be a young man, with short black hair and a silk shirt soaked by the rainfall. In his right arm was clutched a saber. His left arm shimmered from water, visibly metallic in its making. And as Verso moved to call out, his voice died in his throat, as he heard a faint clicking that he had become familiar with during his trek through the puppet-infested streets.

“A puppet?” he questioned aloud to himself.

He saw a change in the puppet’s stance. The head did quickly turn, but not in the snap reaction manner of when other puppets noticed Verso’s presence. It was more of a turn belonging to somebody rightfully on edge, wary of their surroundings. If Verso wasn’t hearing the springs moving under the skin of the puppet, he’d presume that it was just another survivor, taken by surprise after hearing somebody sneak up on him. But the semi-devoid look in the eyes of the puppet as they locked onto Verso gave him another haunting tell that this was no human friend.

“Verso,” Maelle warned as the puppet lifted his saber—not to perform a frontal attack, Verso quickly realized, but to ready for Verso to attack him . “I think we should back away. Swiftly.”

Verso heard Maelle, but didn’t acknowledge her. His brow furrowed at the puppet, and he lowered his sword as he took a step closer. The puppet in turn slightly lowered his saber, but still had it lifted enough that he could make a defensive move if Verso decided to go on the offensive.

Something was stirring within his paint. Muddled sensations came boiling back up. Just like Verso’s name. Just like Maelle’s voice. Just like the house.

Why did he feel both happy and horrified to see this puppet?

The festival’s wooden stage was smashed to bits, destroyed cutouts and abandoned jesters going flying. Both tore their gazes from the other to see the hulking figure of festive costume and spindly hair ripping its way through the flimsy setup. Claws of iron snapped back and forth as red eyes glittered and a warped laugh erupted from the too-tall puppet that looked more fitting for a nightmare than a plaza festival.

The puppet, having been closer to the sudden reveal, fell back to Verso’s side. A show of either implicit trust or a reliance on Verso determining that there were bigger fish to fry. He positioned himself so his back was turned to the muse, sword readied in his right hand.

“Fair enough,” Verso returned, somewhat copying the motion and moving Verleso into a reverse grip in his right hand to do so.

“Verso, what are we doing?” Maelle warned.

“Apparently, fighting alongside one puppet to fell another,” Verso responded as the much larger puppet righted itself, hands snapping open and closed.

PARADE MASTER

Chapter Text

The back-to-back stance didn’t last for long. The Parade Master barreled across the small plaza at them. Verso rolled to the right while the puppet went left. The Parade Master’s claws scraped into the ground where the both of them had been. For a giant monstrosity, it sure moved fast.

The two much smaller creations circled around the Parade Master. It took no time in swinging downwards strikes that they both weaved through. They must seem rather puny to the big thing, Verso mused, like ants chipping at it with their swords.

The Parade Master shouted something in a language Verso couldn’t understand before sweeping its arms at the two. Both scrambled back, though got nicked for getting too close and personal. Getting cocky was a luxury neither could afford in a situation like this.

Could the puppet get cocky? Verso had yet to ask Maelle if puppets could display emotion. Maybe he should after this—His thoughts were interrupted by the necessity to parry when the Parade Master tried to claw him in twain. He decided to swear off on getting distracted for the time being.

Though now that he was looking, both he and the puppet were trying to perform the same strategy. They darted about nearly identically to each other and moved for the back of the Parade Master. Considering it was just putting them in the same spot to be a two-for-one hit, that wasn’t working out.

“I’ll distract it!” Verso offered, moving to stand in front of the Parade Master. He had seen the puppet’s attempts at guards, and they were nothing as refined as his. It was better off him being the target.

“Verso, you have no way to heal!” Maelle was vehemently against this, especially when she saw Verso nearly buckle from even one successfully parried frontal attack. “One good strike, and you’ll be ripped apart!”

“Then I won’t let it hit me!” said the muse already bleeding gold paint.

“You’ve already been hit, you bouffon!”

Verso ignored her, twisting his body to only receive a glancing strike from another plunging attack. The Parade Master was quick, too quick, but maybe that was because it was pushing itself in its craze for paint. Maybe if Verso parried just right…

He saw it! The staggering motion from another parry landing just right. A grin on his face, Verso quickly coated Verleso in golden light and delivered a series of quick blows. One, two, three, four, five, and on the fifth strike, the Parade Master made an extreme stagger backwards.

The puppet’s strikes were just as quick, though had a blue illumination rather than a golden one. Seeing the chance Verso had handed to him on a silver platter, three carving attacks dug into the Parade Master’s back. Now it was catapulted forwards, falling onto its hands as a cry of pain left its mouth.

Verso was presented with its head in quite an appetizing way. Another flurry of golden assaults erupted from his innate Chroma, same as before. While two similar attacks in a row left him feeling strangely depleted, he saw the way that the Parade Master’s head was carved up by his strikes and deemed it more than a worthy expenditure.

Another roar emitted from the Parade Master, once more in a language Verso knew nothing of. As it staggered up to its feet, it tossed aside the cage-like weight on its back, smacking aside the puppet behind it as it did. Verso fell back and watched as the Parade Master grabbed onto its long top hat and began pulling. Sparks erupted from its neck, and its chest cavity glowed a fierce, lava-like orange.

With a wrenching of steel frame, the head covering of the Parade Master was yanked off, revealing the bare-bones exoskeleton underneath. Suddenly, the Parade Master had an impromptu club, which it quickly put to work by using long, sweeping attacks to force both its foes back.

So a pincer maneuver was suddenly out of the question. Verso grunted as he stumbled, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see the puppet staggering as well. Said puppet quickly held up a container filled with what looked like purple electricity, however. As the energy flowed into the puppet’s body, a good portion of the puppet’s damage was suddenly healed.

“Well, at least one of us can put his ducks in a row,” Verso grunted, getting back to his feet and shaking off some paint.

Unfortunately, Verso couldn’t change his fighting strategy. He had no ranged weapons. And judging from the way the puppet was running back in, he didn’t either. Verso ran back in, ducking under the club as he did and sliding to cut across the legs.

As he slid by, the Parade Master bent down to watch him sail by, trying to blindly swing the club at him. The puppet took that as a chance to leap onto its back, digging in his saber to stabilize himself. He dragged the saber down the back in a single strike, ripping apart what tattered remains of the red overcoat the Parade Master still had, as another angered shriek echoed in the plaza and the puppet went soaring from being grabbed and tossed like a rag doll.

And he left his sword in the Parade Master’s back. Great.

“Don’t tell me you’re going for it,” Maelle groaned as Verso spun around and started sprinting back at the Parade Master.

“Oh, I am,” he responded, sounding just as annoyed in himself as he ducked under one swing, grabbing onto a handful of overcoat and dragging himself onto the Parade Master’s back.

As he grabbed onto the abandoned saber, he felt a good score rake across his back, sending gold splattering onto the ground. He grunted as he wrenched out the saber, dropping off the Parade Master’s back but leaving some glancing attacks with Verleso and the saber as he did.

“You’re about to drop!” Maelle warned.

“So’s it!” Verso didn’t fall back, running in again with both blades brandished.

He swung both sword and saber for an overhead parry as the Parade Master brought both fists down on him. As it staggered back, he refused to buckle under the impact, crossing both blades before him. Coated in another golden sheen, though slightly dimmed this time, Verso struck a deep X-shaped cut into the bubbling chest of the Parade Master, making it fall backwards even further.

He hadn’t noticed the puppet sprint across the plaza, but suddenly, he was by Verso’s side. Without a word, Verso tossed him back his saber, and he caught it as he continued running towards the Parade Master. Leaping at the last second, he slammed the saber into the dead-center of the X, sparks spewing out and scorching his face.

With one last cry, the Parade Master didn’t right itself again. The club clattered onto the ground as it fell upon its back with a heavy thud. Its chest cavity cracked open under the saber’s might, revealing the quickly-dimming heart of Ergo nestled within its springs and wires.

Quiet fell upon the plaza. Gingerly, the puppet removed the saber and, before stepping off the corpse, pulled out the heart of Ergo and cradled it in his mechanical hand. In comparison to Verso, who was soaked with his own painted blood, the puppet looked relatively fine, likely due to the healing items he had on hand.

Speaking of, the puppet looked back over at Verso. Once more, as they locked eyes, Verso felt those emotions swim about in his head, making him lightheaded. Or maybe that was the paint loss. Regardless, he must have made a pained grimace, because the puppet made a visible glance at his wounds.

“I’m fine,” Verso assured him. “Still capable of standing, at least.”

“Yeah, for the next ten minutes,” Maelle scolded. “You need to fall back to that Stargazer, quick.”

As Maelle spoke, the puppet stepped around Verso. He turned to watch him hurry across the plaza, heading for the opposite exit. Strangely, his feet were already moving to follow after, as if the idea of the puppet leaving his field of vision was out of the question.

“Verso?” Maelle’s voice grew more confused, perhaps even tender.

Emerging from the plaza, Verso found himself following after the puppet onto a series of stone steps. As Verso looked up, he identified the end of the pathway to be a giant building looming overhead, glistening gold and blaring “HOTEL KRAT” done onto them both.

“The Hotel?” Maelle wondered aloud. “This puppet seems to want to go there really badly, but why?”

“Well, I think I’m about to find out,” Verso said, still tailing the puppet heading up the steps and through the rain.

Turning off the steps, the puppet and Verso found themselves on a lamp-lit walkway towards the massive front doors. A picture of elegance and surprising cleanliness in comparison to the rest of Krat, though the illusion was somewhat broken by the dismantled bodies of puppets strewn about. The puppet slowed to a jog, and while he made a glance towards Verso catching up, he didn’t stop moving or acknowledge him otherwise.

“There’s only puppet corpses,” Maelle noted. “I don’t have a good feeling about this, Verso.”

The two came to a stop before the illustrious green and gold doors of the hotel. Elegant symbols depicting an “A” were stamped on each of the double doors. They were easily three times their height and six times their width, and Verso felt dwarfed by it.

Just as the puppet lifted his hand to knock, a deep voice crackled to life, deafening to Verso’s more sensitive ears. “WELCOME TO THE SANCTUARY OF THE GRAND COVENANT. PROVE YOUR IDENTITY. WHO ARE YOU?”

“Uh-oh.”

“What do you mean, uh-oh?” Verso whispered to himself, rubbing the canvas flesh below one of his ears.

“There’s one more law of the Grand Covenant I didn’t mention before. Law Four states that—”

“We’re both humans.”

Verso looked at the puppet in surprise. Or more exactly, he looked at himself bleeding gold paint before looking at the puppet in surprise. Maelle’s voice stuttered out, struck into silence.

“GRAND COVENANT’S FOURTH LAW: PUPPETS AND MUSES CANNOT LIE. WELCOME TO HOTEL KRAT.”

Verso blinked, comprehending the words upon recovering from how loud they were. A puppet cannot lie. And yet, he was standing next to a puppet (he knew the other was a puppet, he could even hear the springs clicking even faster than before) who just lied.

“Did you…?”

The puppet ignored him at first, moving to place one hand on the door he was standing next to. But he didn’t push yet. After a moment of standing in place, he looked at Verso.

“P.”

Oh. He was waiting for him. Verso lifted a paint-streaked arm and placed it onto the door that he was standing besides.

“Verso,” he returned.

The puppet—P—nodded. Then, he began pushing his door open, with Verso doing the same half a second later. Given their weight, they took a moment to budge, but they eventually did, revealing the courtyard walkway heading up into Hotel Krat proper. Once the doors were opened enough, both stepped through, letting them slam shut behind them, as they began walking towards the hotel, stride matching stride.

Chapter Text

The Estella Opera House almost always rang with the notes of the Pianist of Krat. He was no Painter, but he still expressed a story of colors and vividness that no normal musician ever could. Every performance of his was packed, every bow met with rapturous applause.

Still, even if you see the entire population of Krat ten times over, you notice regulars. And in fact, whenever he’d sit down to begin playing, he’d look to see where he was sitting this time. Maybe with his father, maybe with his friend, maybe alone… But it felt like every time he was to play, there was that certain gaze upon him.

He had the faintest guess that if his “secret” admirer wasn’t there to watch, he’d feel it. Likely miss it. But still, he wanted to wait and see if that admirer would work up the courage to speak to him.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to wait, though.

P ignored the strange man coming in three steps behind him into Hotel Krat. If one had a problem with Verso tracking in paint, that would be his problem, not P’s. Besides, there were more important matters.

“I’m so happy to see you.”

Happy. A human emotion. His eyes locked onto the woman standing before him, clad in a blue overcoat and white dress. Her voice was the one that had been accompanying him since his awakening, directing him to Hotel Krat. The smile was… warm? A greeting of sorts. He gave a slight nod back.

“I am Sophia,” she said, hands clasping gently before her. “I’ve been waiting for you, searching all over the city of Krat to find you.” Her head then turned slightly, looking upon Verso much more fascinated in the massive Stargazer in the hotel’s lobby than the conversation playing out. “And that must be the muse I sensed before.”

P turned his head slightly to watch Verso as well. A hand was being raised to touch the Stargazer, and ribbons of blue and gold magic were wrapping down the arm, swiftly beginning their healing touch.

“I felt his Painter interact with my Chroma, use the Stargazers to heal him,” Sophia said. “I may greet her eventually, but not now. We must focus on finding Geppetto.”

Geppetto. Father. P’s springs clicked a bit faster, and Verso’s head turned slightly. That muse was of incredible hearing.

Sophia ignored the glance, which was easy to when Verso returned his attention to the Stargazer. “He was last seen on Elysion Boulevard,” she continued. “All of Krat is dangerous for humans, and that neighborhood is one of the scariest. Perhaps, if this muse is willing to help, it would be a wise choice to bring him for assistance.”

Assist. Yes. Verso was an accomplished fighter, swiftly proving himself against the Parade Master just outside. P would be foolish to not at least try to get him to come along to help.

Almost in tune with his thoughts, Gemini on his hip crackled on. “Did you see the way he fought? He ripped that puppet apart! He must have a powerful Painter as his master.”

“Speaking of a Painter, there is one here,” Sophia pointed out. “Perhaps it would be wise to show this muse to her.” As she spoke, she lifted her cupped hands, and nestled within them was a glittering pocket watch. “But take this before you go. Krat is a labyrinth of peril right now, and with the Chroma of his Painter and I intertwined, this should protect both of you, if needed.”

Taking the pocket watch, P looked it over. Almost like he expected it to, it had bronze wiring twisted into the shape of a butterfly on the ground. Popping it open, he looked at the hands declaring both hour and minute: 5:33 A.M.

“Be careful, clever one,” Sophia concluded, clasping her hands back together again.

With a nod, P looked more directly to where Verso had been, only to find nobody there. It looked like he needed to go searching. Leaving Sophia where she was standing, P headed off to look for the muse.

“Have you ever been to this hotel before?” Verso asked, walking slowly down the hall to take in the full splendor.

“Never, but I see it lives up to everything I’ve heard about it,” Maelle answered. “It’s so illustrious. No wonder there were always rumors that the rich and famous would visit Krat for the hotel and nothing else.”

Verso passed by an open doorway for a moment, though backpedaled when his eye caught on something inside. A wheelchair’s back faced the doorway, with whoever sitting inside facing a large painting of a woman overlooking the decadent room. But that wasn’t what attracted him—rather, the nearby piano just off to the side had an almost sirenic pull upon him.

When he lingered for a moment longer, a voice piped up from the wheelchair. “Don’t be shy. You can come in.”

“Ah. Sorry, ma’am.” Verso stepped inside. “I didn’t mean to intrude on your thoughts.”

Turning her wheelchair around, an old woman in a green dress faced Verso. An IV bag hung by her side, connected to her left arm, while her face looked pale and scaly on the right side.

Maelle softly gasped. “Oh, dear… Poor old granny…”

“Hm. You look familiar, but this confounded disease makes my vision rather untrustworthy.” The old woman rolled herself a bit closer, but seeing her struggling to do so, Verso quickly closed the distance so she didn’t have to. “I certainly do not recall you having been here before. But no matter. Unexpected guests are welcome. We don’t insist on reservations. I am Antonia, and this is my hotel.”

“Thank you, Miss Antonia. I don’t want to be rude, but my Painter seemed sad when she saw you.”

“Oh, she must have seen my face.” Antonia touched her right cheek. “Petrification Disease is a mournful thing, for certain. No cure, only a wonder on how much time you have left.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry, ma’am.”

“No, I’m sorry for affecting the mood.” Antonia smiled as Verso knelt before her. “Such a polite boy you are. Your Painter made you with quite the set of manners.” Her smile cracked as she was forced to cover her mouth with her hand and cough into it.

A knock came from the open door, and Verso looked back. P was standing in the doorway, mechanical knuckle against the frame. With an almost bashful smile and wave, Verso stood up.

“Ah,” Antonio mused, squinting at the newcomer. “You must be Geppetto’s puppet. Forgive me, but I was just delighting in the company of this muse.”

“Geppetto?” Maelle suddenly exclaimed, jolting Verso back to attention.

“Who is Geppetto?” He asked Antonia.

“Ah, you do not know? You must have been freshly painted. Geppetto is known as the father of puppets. We would not have been able to see the golden age of Krat without him.”

“If he’s the father of puppets… Aren’t all puppets Geppetto’s? Why is P here special?”

Instead of Antonia answering, a laugh came from P’s hip. “Really?” Verso gave a quizzical look to a lamp glowing green attached to P’s belt. “After watching him not only resist the Frenzy urge to rip you apart, but also after watching him fight alongside you? It’s not crossing your mind that P’s a tad unique?”

“And who are you?”

“Oh. Name’s Gemini. I’m P’s cricket guide. When he’s lost, I light the way. Pleased to actually meet you. And speaking of Geppetto, we actually went after you because we got the good recommendation that we should ask you for help.”

“Help?” Verso put his hands on his hips.

“Geppetto’s out there in Krat, and we have to find him. We got a good tip on Elysion Boulevard, but we also heard that it’s dangerous. Which means that it’s probably a good idea to bring a friend!”

“Hold that thought.” Verso looked slightly to the side. “Maelle?”

“I really want you to come back, but… Geppetto made the puppets. If anybody knows why the Frenzy has occurred, it would be him. Not to mention, I’m curious about this puppet friend that you’ve made.”

“Geppetto holds the answers for everything, is what you’re saying.”

“Pretty much. You have a good grasp on your Chroma, so it’s not like I’m allowing somebody green to go into danger. But at the same time…” Maelle sighed when her words failed her. “You can go, but be careful, alright? Don’t get killed fighting a battle that isn’t your own.”

“I won’t.” With that, Verso looked at P. “Alright. I guess I’m coming with you.”

“Well, hold on now,” Gemini interjected. “We also got told that there’s a Painter in the hotel here, and that it might be a good idea to pay a visit to them and anybody else here before we head back out. Might as well get acquainted with home base!”

“You really are a guide, huh?” Verso gave a small bow to Antonia. “I hope you don’t mind if we poke around a bit.”

“Oh, no. Not at all. Go right ahead. Make yourselves at home.” Antonia turned her wheelchair back to the painting she had been admiring earlier. “Lune can be found just a few doors down. You’ll know who she is when you see her… or maybe even hear her.”

Verso shrugged at P at that, though frowned when he got no response. All the puppet did was turn and walk out, with Verso following a second later.

It wasn’t long before Verso realized what Antonia meant. Walking out into the hall, he picked up the sounds of a guitar drifting from another nearby open doorway, slow-played and more plucked than strummed. P almost walked in a different direction, though upon noticing Verso heading in the direction of the guitar, he turned and went in pursuit.

The room that he was led to had the distinct smell of ink in the air, and the liquid visibly stained what ramshackle tables were set up. Two women were inside, both wearing similar gear. The one with short black hair sat atop a box, her bare fingers strumming a melody on an ink-stained guitar in her hands. The one with short brown hair and a flower tucked behind her ear stood behind one of the tables, a piece of fabric that constantly shifted in color held in her grasp.

The black-haired woman looked up first as the two walked in, and her nose crinkled. “Oh, wow. I can smell the fresh paint on you. How did a Painter find time to make a new muse at a time like this?”

“And a hello to you, too… Lune, right?” Verso walked up to her.

Setting aside the guitar on a nearby stand, instead of hopping onto her bare feet, Lune glided down onto the carpeted floor, green flecks of paint warping the air around her soles as she did. Landing with a soft, barely imperceptible noise, she looked Verso up and down.

“Sorry that these are your first waking hours,” she said. “People say that the first day of a muse is quite formulative for their personality. Are you at the very least equipped?”

“I’ve got a sword, some Chroma, and… that’s about it,” Verso admitted.

Lune sighed. “So that’s a no. You don’t even have Healing or Energy Tints?”

“I… don’t know what either of those are.”

“They’re stimulants, basically. Healing Tints replenish a muse’s health, while Energy Tints replenish their Chroma. The only thing those cure-alls can’t fix is a thinner weapon. I think I have a few spare vials for both. Hold on.” Lune turned back towards one of the tables. “Amandine! Take a look at these two!”

The woman that was still tooling with the color-changing fabric glanced over. Immediately, a scowl formed on her face as her eyes swept over the two. In particular, she focused on their threads, and Verso himself looked down at the ramshackle threads.

“Are you planning to go out looking like that?” Amandine scolded. “Comfortable as you may be, not only do you give us muses a bad look, you’ll surely die from the first hit you take once you set out. Especially you!” She pointed an accusatory finger at P, and as he blinked, she flicked down her red-framed sunglasses to give him a more scathing look. “You’ll certainly attract all kinds of unwanted attention with a shirt like that.”

“Amandine here’s the last muse I’ve got, but she’s got the weaving to make up for it,” Lune explained, gesturing to the other woman. As she did, she held out half a dozen bottles to Verso, three tinted red and three tinted blue. “She can give you both stylish and protective sets of clothes that won’t tear so easily.”

Verso took the bottles from Lune and inspected them. The liquid within sloshed slowly, having the consistency of paint. He made sure to gingerly tuck them away to not run the risk of breaking them.

Just as he was done with that, what felt like a current of green paint splashed against him. He yelled out as his body was wrapped in a cocoon of Chroma, Amandine whisking her finger back and forth with pursed lips.

“Lean, yet firm build… Preference for blacks and deep purples… Fingerless gloves, those can be kept… Ooh, it’s a bit chilly out, so let’s put some fur on the trim…”

Amandine flicked her finger up, then clapped her hands twice. The Chroma splashed away in a great wave of energy that left the distinct scent of fresh-cut grass and flowers in the air. Verso staggered for a moment, wobbling on brand-new boots, before he regained his footing and looked down at a layered outfit of purple fabric wrapped around his waist, a fur-trimmed cloak hanging over his shoulders, and a good measure of wrappings around his arms that were defensive, yet not too eye-catching.

“Whoa,” he said, turning his hands over.

“Another happy customer left wordless at my flawless execution and delivery,” Amandine declared, a cheeky grin spreading across her face. “Now…”

P put his arms up as if to defend his face as sweet-smelling Chroma flowed over him. Now that Verso could actually see what was happening, he saw glimpses of bare puppet skin between the folds of Chroma as the previous clothes were whisked away, and quickly turned his head in order to not catch anything rather untoward.

“Now, let’s see, you did look fetching in white, but I believe that black or a rich blue might be more of your color. Maybe I can try the Gommage line on him, he’d look dashing with a white rose lapel!”

“We’re dressing him for a mix of practical and stylish, not fully stylish,” Lune chided Amandine.

“Oh, fine, fine.” Amandine suddenly gasped. “Oh, I’ve got it! Nevermind what I said about blue, let’s try some red !”

With another two claps, P was left standing in an entirely new outfit. It was somewhat similar to Verso’s, but with deep red pants and an open coat over a dark blue vest, it was enough of a departure that they were rhyming rather than being exact.

As P turned this way and that, showing off the outfit, Amandine adjusted her sunglasses in a show of checking P out. “Oh! Oh , I am a fashion genius. You work that crimson uniform, my dear puppet friend. Honestly, Lune, once this all settles, we should become seamstresses. All the competition is dead, anyway!”

“Amandine,” Lune scolded.

“Whaaat? It’s true. Anyways.” Amandine waved her hands, turning away. “My work is done. Continue whatever you were doing.”

“... Right.” Lune looked back at Verso, hands on her hips. “I didn’t catch your name, by the way.”

“It’s Verso.”

“Verso?” Lune mulled on that for a moment before making a “huh” noise. “Odd name to give to a muse. Who’s your Painter?”

“Her name is Maelle. Would you know her?”

“Maelle… No, doesn’t strike a bell. But I’ve never been within the active community of Painter society. Probably how I got skipped over when the Frenzy started. We’ve probably just been in different social groups.”

“Anti-social?”

“Not really. Just because anyone can be a Painter doesn’t mean that just anyone is allowed within the upper graces of the Alchemists and nobility. You could be the most determined, willful person in Krat and conduct Chroma like it’s nothing more than a limb extension, but that doesn’t mean anything if you were born to commoner parents.”

“And did that happen to you?”

“Well, you can say the bitterness does come from personal experience, but I also speak on behalf of a lot of good people that I know could have made names for themselves if allowed. But enough about me. Is there anything else you need?”

“Maybe one more thing,” Verso admitted. “We’re heading to Elysion Boulevard. How do we get there?”

“Oh, easy. Head back out into the lobby and up the stairs in the back. Though I’d recommend stopping by Eugénie before you go. She’s a weaponsmith, and I think Geppetto left something in her care.”

“Thanks.” With that, Verso turned and followed P out, who was already off on his merry way.

As they re-emerged into the lobby, Gemini crackled to life again. “You know, that was the first Painter I’ve ever met. I mean, Sophia can use Chroma, but she’s never called herself a Painter.”

“Considering that Chroma is a person’s will and ideals, I think anybody can use it if they have the determination to,” Verso noted. “Lune made the Painter title sound more like an achievement than something you get the second you learn how to control it. But who’s this Sophia?”

“She’s the one that found P. I guess… You could consider her his Painter?”

Maelle made a wordless grumble in the back of Verso’s head. He decided to not press his luck on asking about that.

Being the one in the lead, P found what had to be the weapons workshop first. True to its name, it was littered with basic weaponry, both in progress and fully completed, with a full set of swords on display right next to a workbench. Said workbench was occupied by a surprisingly diminutive girl with an apron and some glasses. Leaning against her stool at first, she brightened up upon the two of them turning the corner.

“Oh! Um…” The girl looked between the two a tad nervously. “Which of you two is P?” P pointed at himself while Verso pointed at P. “Wow… I heard about you from Geppetto, but to see you in person… It seems you’ve already visited Amandine. I hope she wasn’t too much of a personality.”

“She wasn’t,” Verso assured her. “You must be Eugénie. Lune said you could help us out.”

Eugénie smiled brightly at Verso. “That I am, and that I can.” As she spoke, she knelt down, rummaging through what was under her workbench. “Geppetto left me something to give to P, in case he came by. Let me find it…”

As Verso watched, his attention was drawn by a meow. Perking up a bit, his eyes went to an orange tabby sitting on a pillow nearby, watching. Before he could stop himself, he was stepping over with a smile, reaching out a hand to say hello.

Instead of welcoming any pets, the cat hissed at him. He paused mid-stride, recoiling his hand. The cat continued to grumble at him, lashing its tail back and forth, before jumping off the pillow and darting away.

Maelle, of course, had to laugh at his expense. “Guess it decided that you looked more like a dog person.”

“Guess so,” Verso mumbled.

“Are you pouting? You’re pouting, aren’t you? You’re genuinely upset that you couldn’t pet the kitty.”

Ignoring her, Verso looked back at Eugénie and P. As he did, his eyes landed on P’s mechanical arm, lifted up and flexing. Right away, he could tell that it wasn’t the same arm he had on before. While there were more minute details such as a coloration difference, the arm-mounted grappler attached to it was the biggest giveaway on that.

“The sound of it alone,” Eugénie admired, and Verso had to agree—it was certainly a symphony of clanks and whirrs as P made sure it was properly set. “That craftsmanship comes only from the hands of Geppetto. You must be something else. A custom arm from Geppetto himself is quite an accessory!”

“I’m almost jealous,” Verso agreed, coming back over and hiding the hurt of rejection. “Maybe once we find him, I can get him to make me something.”

“Yeah, but as you said, that requires finding him,” Gemini reminded him. “And speaking of, we better head out. Time’s a-wastin’.”

Almost like literal clockwork, P wasted no time in heeding Gemini’s words, turning and heading off. Not even a thanks was offered to Eugénie for the arm. Verso pursed his lips at that, glancing towards the weaponsmith.

“Thanks, Eugénie,” he decided to say on P’s behalf before following after the puppet.

“Stay safe!” Eugénie called as Verso went around the corner and her workshop went out of sight.

P seemed to be following Lune’s previous directions to a T, heading out an open doorway in the back of the hotel lobby. As Verso followed, the two emerged into a semi-ruined fountain court, with bits of rubble strewn about and the fountain’s water failing to flow. Across the court was another set of gates, currently closed.

Feeling Verso’s building frustration, Maelle said, “Don’t bother grumbling over P’s rudeness, Verso. Puppets aren’t like muses. They don’t feel or care like you do.”

Verso slowed to a stop by P as the puppet made it to the gate first. The latter glanced over his shoulder, as if ensuring Verso had followed. Upon seeing the muse, he looked back and pushed open one of the gate doors with his left arm, stepping through.

“Doesn’t stop me from having my grievances, though,” Verso responded, not too far behind and slipping through before the gate closed on him.

Chapter Text

“Elysion Boulevard… When the Petrification Disease grew to be too much, the people who were diagnosed as sick by the doctors were brought to this district and promptly quarantined. I can’t imagine anybody even thought of them once the Frenzy began. It’s almost ironic, you know? The City Hall is in this district, yet I doubt anybody in charge would have lifted a finger to help the ill.”

With Maelle’s bitter words in mind, Verso looked about. It seemed almost exact to what he had been seeing before—abandoned carriages, scattered corpses, and more deranged puppets than to know what to do with. With a sigh, he readied Verleso and moved forward to go to work.

A screeching noise, metal running against metal, echoed overhead, and a hand clamped tight around his arm. P almost ripped the limb out of its socket pulling him back as a ruined cable car plummeted down into the street, smashing the puppets that Verso was about to charge at to bits. If he had been allowed to move towards them, he likely would have suffered the same fate. As Verso stumbled, he caught a glimpse of a figure darting across the sky, swinging on a rope and swiftly vanishing over the rooftops.

While he straightened himself, Gemini groaned. “The Black Rabbit Brotherhood. I hate these guys.”

“You know them?” Verso questioned.

“Yeah, and I wish I didn’t. They used to be pretty well-known Stalkers, until they tossed that aside and became thieves and criminals instead. If you ask me, I’m almost upset the puppets didn’t get ‘em.”

“It sounds really personal between Gemini and this Brotherhood,” Maelle commented as Verso and P began moving again. “I wonder why.”

“I’m not keen on asking on your behalf,” Verso responded.

A cricket-like noise came from Gemini. “Are you still talking to your Painter? It’s kind of weird, just hearing you talk to yourself.”

“Just assume that I am every time I talk out loud to myself,” Verso returned. “She’s a bit of a chatterbox like that.”

“Hey!”

Verso must have cringed, because Gemini remarked, “I don’t think she liked you calling her that. So, what’s it like having a Painter? Being a muse?”

“I… can’t say. What’s supposed to be different?”

“I don’t know. Having a presence in the back of your head all the time, watching everything you do and feeling everything you do? At least, that’s what I’ve heard about it being like.”

Verso scoffed. “It’s not that extreme, is it?”

“Well, he’s kind of right,” Maelle admitted as P jumped back from a robotic dog leaping out of a nearby alleyway. “Muses are extensions of a Painter. Since you’re at least partially made from my Chroma, it’s sort of like… I always know you exist?”

“Be straight with me.” Verso decapitated a puppet running at him. “Do you feel whenever I get hurt?”

“No! No. God forbid, that would suck, wouldn’t it? It’s more emotions, ideas, and senses than anything. The mental stuff.” Maelle whistled. “And speaking of, look a little more left, will you?”

Stopping in place, Verso turned to look at the building he was passing by. It looked to be an outfit boutique, a series of stylish threads framed by splattered blood on the display window. If Verso had to guess, Maelle was looking at the pink and white dress with the poofy sleeves.

He was wrong. “Look at that suit! That’s a gorgeous white color! If I wasn’t scared of what would happen to it if you carted it across the city, I’d ask you to grab it!”

Verso chuckled, shaking his head and looking towards P having stopped in place. “She’s making me look at the suits right now.”

Gemini chortled. “Small wonder.” He continued on as Verso and P got moving again. “Elysion Boulevard was a regular “rich people row”. You wanted fancy boutiques and shops? No place better. Those outfits probably cost a pretty sum of Ergo.”

“Did you ever come here, Maelle?” Verso couldn’t help but wonder.

“Maybe a few more times than ever necessary,” Maelle admitted with the shame of a child having been caught eating too much dessert.

As they progressed on, weaving through puppets, Verso couldn’t help but wonder what Maelle looked like. Would she actually wear that suit well, or would she look like a child wearing her father’s wardrobe?

“HEY!”

Right. Mental stuff.

“Hmm,” Gemini chirped, unaware of the scolding going on a few feet from him and P. “Looks like the commotion around here’s closed off some of the streets. Do we want to try wading through the rubble, or going for the rooftops?”

“Rooftops might be a good idea,” Verso noted. “It’ll give us an aerial view of the surroundings and could give us a better chance at finding Geppetto.”

It was like P didn’t even wait for Verso to change his mind or elaborate further. The puppet was off in an instant towards the closest set of ladders that led upwards. Verso stood in place as P quickly dipped out of sight once at the top, waited a moment, then peeked back down at the muse.

“Do you, like…” Verso fumbled with his words. “Ever acknowledge what somebody is saying before going off to do your own thing?”

Only a blank stare answered him.

Verso went up the ladder. And even before his feet were on the tiles, P was off again, gunning right for some puppets lingering twenty feet away with his saber ready.

“P, for god’s sake—” Verso started, watching the puppet with more annoyance than actual concern.

The puppet lunging out of the side with a bloodsoaked chimney sweeper took P by surprise. Right in front of Verso, the sweeper was plunged into P’s side, ripping it open in a gory mess of oil and spring. Taken by surprise, P staggered back and in turn slipped, going tumbling off the side of the roof.

“P!” Verso leaned over the side, yelling down at the sprawled body laying on his back.

Before Verso could watch to see if P got back up, he had to roll to avoid a candelabra swung at his head. Gritting his teeth, he jumped to his feet, drawing Verleso and swinging hard enough to slice the first puppet in twain before kicking into a backwards swing to nick the second.

The very chimney sweeper that shoved P off the roof slammed into his side, catapulting him back. He choked up paint while he staggered back, trying to ignore the urge to buckle and clutch his abdomen. Sword still raised, he smashed it down on the sweeper-wielding puppet, knocking it flat onto its face. He raised his boot and stomped its head in before it could get up.

The commotion had attracted the wrong kind of attention. A shot rang out, and a bullet sank into Verso’s shoulder. He barked out as he scrambled for cover, the puppet having shot the gun making its jerky motions to reload. As he pulled out a Healing Tint, however, a grappling barb sank into the puppet’s head, and it was sharply yanked down into the street, where a distinct smashing noise was heard. Well, at least P was okay.

With the covering fire eliminated and a Tint gulped down, Verso ran back out. The second melee puppet immediately moved to take a swing at him, which he dodged. Verleso sank into its side, twisted, and popped it into two distinct pieces.

Standing there and wiping the paint from his mouth, Verso watched P climb back up the ladder. He was still visibly torn open, though an empty Pulse Cell in hand indicated that he had made moves to fix that. Despite being soaked in oil, that expression was still just the same.

“You—” Verso pinched the bridge of his nose. “Can that at the very least be a lesson to not run off ahead? That could have been fatal, you know.” He stepped forward, almost angered by the sound of P’s springs still clicking on calmly. “Stay close, got it?”

“Got it,” P responded.

The springs sped up for a moment. Verso blinked. He remembered the last time he had heard that.

“Did you just lie to me?” he asked as the springs slowed back to their normal speed.

P paused. After a moment of consideration, he said, “No.”

The springs sped up again.

“You know I can hear your springs speeding up, right? And the only other time that they sped up was when you lied at the hotel doors.”

For once, P’s expression changed. His brow furrowed, just the slightest. His eyes darted to Verso’s right ear, then the left. He didn’t say anything else, but Verso suddenly found himself under a surprisingly alert gaze.

Then his eyes went behind Verso. He quickly grabbed the muse and shoved him behind him, almost sending him over the roof. Verso yelled out and turned to question just what the hell that was for before he noticed what had alerted P, and his voice died in his throat.

One of the nearby windows of a building taller than the one they stood upon was creaking open. But instead of a human or even a puppet poking their head out, some strange, wooden creature with a head full of bushy, several-inches long… hair? Bristles? was sticking its head out. Its mask-covered face looked around slowly before locking onto the two, P already ready to pierce it through the head with the grappling.

[Hey!] the thing called, slow and almost sleepily. [You need to keep it down out here. The missus is trying to sleep.]

Verso blinked. He knew that what the creature was speaking wasn’t English. And yet, he could understand it perfectly.

“Um… Sorry?” he called. “We’re dealing with puppets trying to kill us.”

[Well, could you deal with them a bit more quietly? It is too early in the morning for any ruckus, if you ask me, and I’m sure anybody else here would agree.]

“Well, hold on,” Verso called as the creature started pulling back in. “Don’t you know that the city’s falling apart? The Frenzy and all that?”

The creature looked back at him. [Well, of course I know that. But that’s not my problem. My problem is the missus. And the missus needs her sleep. Now, good…]

“Morning.”

[Yes. Good morning to you, and good day.] And with that, the creature shut the window.

That just left Verso and P standing slightly bewildered on the rooftop. P was looking at Verso, who was looking at the window. Slowly, Verso looked over at P, opening his mouth to attempt some sort of explanation, but unable to get anything out.

It was actually Gemini who eventually spoke. “I guess it makes sense that gestrals are here, given that this is where the sick people were sent.”

“Gestrals?” Verso repeated, looking towards the lamp.

“The Painters made a rather hapdashed species of muses in order to care for those that caught Petrification Disease. Considering how many of them needed to be made, the Painters didn’t want to bother expending all their Chroma on finer details, so they just made… you know, weird wooden dolls that aren’t really that bright. That way, the sick could have caretakers without risking exposure for those who could catch it.” Gemini chirped for a moment. “You know, I had no idea what it said. I guess only muses can understand… whatever they’re saying.”

“Well, not that bright or not, I’d rather not continue disturbing a sick woman trying to sleep, so let’s maybe get a move on.” Verso began to move, but stopped and looked back at P. “And for the love of god, stay close.”

P only offered a nod. But for once, instead of running ahead, he kept pace with Verso.

Running along the rooftops and through broken-down doors, Verso could see glimpses of lives that had been lived in the boulevard. Beds still made, portraits hanging crooked on walls, rich red carpet that likely concealed a fair amount of blood… As the morning began to lighten ever so slightly, the sun breaking through the clouds, he wondered if at least some of the people managed to make it out or at least to some form of safety. Nothing much to do about it except continue on and see if maybe this fabled Geppetto could shed some light on why this happened or maybe even a way to stop it.

The way wasn’t as smooth as he had hoped. There were more of those chimney sweeper assholes hiding around corners and stabbing the shit out of them the second they came into view. By the time they found the broken Stargazer nestled within the remains of one of the homes, almost all of Verso’s Tints were exhausted, and P’s own healing items were nonexistent.

Verso watched P assemble the Stargazer. When the man from before mentioned it being repaired, he expected the puppet to have to manually put the pieces together. But watching the pieces fly together at P’s touch was arguably more interesting than just sitting there and watching him put it together piece by piece.

Sitting down by the Stargazer and feeling Maelle’s Chroma flow through it, Verso watched the empty Tint bottles start refilling. He looked them over, as if viewing from a different angle would reveal just how the Stargazer could do that.

Gemini accurately guessed what Verso was thinking. “The way Sophia describes it, it’s less the Stargazer refilling restoratives and more it setting them back to a time when they were filled. But I guess it’s the same result.”

Verso lowered the bottles. “Your Sophia sounds quite powerful.”

“She sure is.” Gemini sounded almost prideful at that.

A clattering off to the side caused both Verso and P to look. They didn’t yet shoot up to their feet and ready for a fight. They instead watched the open doorway leading into the rest of the abandoned apartment, watching a pile of wooden floorboards shift and clatter before sloooowly being moved by something underneath.

A wad of gestral hair poked up from between the boards. It seemed that a small gestral was emerging from a hole in the wall. It looked around for a moment before noticing the two sitting by the Stargazer and it paused mid-motion, much like a deer that’s spotted hunters.

Verso chuckled. “We’re not frenzied,” he assured the gestral. “We won’t harm you.”

Just the act of speaking seemed to significantly cheer the gestral up. In fact, it moved even faster to climb out of the hidden hole. A little rucksack of clattering bits and bobs shook on its back as it scampered over, small feet thudding against the carpet. Though instead of going to Verso, it completely skipped him over, going to P instead and getting quite close to Gemini. It made grabby motions for the lamp, but P quickly shielded his guide with a hand, warding the gestral off.

Looking at P, the gestral pointed at Gemini. [How much for the lamp?]

Verso gave a short burst of laughter. “It’s asking how much Gemini will cost,” he explained to P.

“What?!” Gemini exclaimed, and the voice coming from the lamp seemed to scare the gestral back several paces. “I’m not for sale! Not for any price!”

Undeterred, the gestral put its hands on its hips. [A good merchant always knows how to barter and when. How does 17 Ergo sound?]

“I’m not even sure a puppet can run on that little Ergo,” Verso pointed out to the gestral.

[Then 18!]

“I’m going to cut you off there. Gemini isn’t for sale. He’s a friend of ours.”

[Oh.] The gestral looked at Gemini, then back at Verso. [He is a very noisy friend.] But accepting defeat, the gestral sat down next to the Stargazer and began taking off its rucksack. [But no matter! A good merchant knows when to go on to the next ware.]

“And can we get the good merchant’s name?” Verso asked, watching the gestral spread out what had to be pilfered jewelry, molding bakery food, and bits of puppet innards.

[Oh! I am Noco, the best gestral merchant in all of Krat! And before you ask, the mister said I could go and sell my wares while he took his nap. He is taking a very long nap, so I’ve been very busy with customers!] Verso winced towards P, but held off on explaining why. [I have such good wares, all of the puppets try to rob me! But I am very quick, and I do not let them even get close to catching me. Now, then. What catches your fancy, new customers?] Noco gestured to the heap of… garbage was the kindest way that Verso could put it.

“Uh…” Verso looked over at P. “This is Noco, and he’s trying to sell us stuff.”

“Sell us… stuff?” Gemini sounded like he was trying to stop himself from being mean. “You mean moldy bread and springs still dripping with oil?”

“Yeah.” Verso shrugged. “I mean, the jewelry’s nice, but… I won’t lie, I worry where he got it.”

[You don’t need to!] Noco assured Verso. [I asked the people taking naps out in the streets, and they did not say no, so I had permission to take them!]

“He robbed the corpses, didn’t he?”

“He robbed the corpses,” Verso agreed in a mumble under his breath. Raising his voice for Noco to hear him, he asked, “So, what’s with the jewelry? How much for that?” To him, those were the only valuable items, and he wanted to at least try to entertain the wandering gestral.

[Ah, the jewelry!] Noco shoved aside foul-smelling pastries and unearthed a blood-soaked ring with a ruby gem set in it. [How about this one? 1,200 Ergo!]

Even Verso, in his infancy as a muse, knew that was an exorbitant price. As Maelle guffawed, he managed to keep a straight face. “Maybe a bit out of our price range. Is there anything cheaper?”

[Cheaper, cheaper… How about this necklace?] Noco next lifted a silver bead necklace with an aquamarine pendant. [800 Ergo!]

“I know for a fact I’ve seen a necklace like that being sold for 200.”

“Cheaper?”

[Hrrrm. You are a stingy one. The cheapest I have is this bracelet.] Noco lifted a bracelet that was made of a simple gold and looked to have been bent inwards by a bludgeoning attack. Verso shuddered to think what the arm that had been wearing it now looked like. [500 Ergo.]

“That’s not even wearable at this point. Verso, I think this gestral is trying to swindle you.”

Seeing Verso’s twisted expression, Noco changed out the destroyed bracelet for a lapel pin. It seemed to resemble a white lily, two gems curving to resemble petals, though it looked like a third gem had once been set to mimic the stamen. It was missing now, leaving only the socket where it was supposed to be. [What about this? 650!]

“Alright, you’ve done your browsing and none of this is worth the Ergo you’ve gotten from the puppets. Just give him a tip and let’s move on.”

There was that compulsion again. The painted desire to obey Maelle. And admittedly, she had logic in her words. None of this was useful for them. But at the same time, Verso felt bad for asking about so many options only to not take a single one.

“That lapel pin looks nice,” Verso said, fishing out what Ergo he had scrounged from destroyed puppets. “Can we haggle? I’ll take it for 500.”

[Hm. 649.]

“550.”

[648.]

“580.”

[647.]

“585?”

[Deal!] Noco extended the lapel pin, and once Verso took it, made grabby hands until a hearty helping of Ergo was placed within his palms.

Your paint flows steadily.

“Verso,” Maelle whined as the muse looked over the lapel spin. “You know you just got scammed, right?”

Gemini was on the same wavelength. “Did you just buy broken and overpriced jewelry with almost all of the Ergo you had?”

“Why not?” Verso shrugged.

[What about you?] Noco looked at P. [Do you want anything?]

“He’s asking if you want something, too,” Verso translated.

When P shook his head, Noco hummed. Eventually, he said, [You know? I like you two. So I want to let you in on a mercantile secret. I have a very special item for sale, but it’s too big for me to carry around. I’ll tell you where it is for 200 Ergo.]

Raising an eyebrow, Verso looked between the two. “He says he has something else, but he can’t carry it because of its size. So he’ll tell us where it is for 200.”

P frowned and looked at Noco. Then, back at Verso. Then back at Noco again.

“50 Ergo,” P said.

[199 Ergo.]

“70 Ergo.”

[198 Ergo.]

“80 Ergo.”

[Deal!] Noco once more stuck out his hands, and P handed over a fistful of Ergo. [It is a weapon that is very shocking to the touch. Go back outside, and look for an overturned carriage with somebody sleeping underneath it. I’m sure that if you ask, they’ll let you have it.]

“That’s… actually very useful.” Verso looked pleasantly surprised. “Thank you, Noco.”

[Consider it my customer loyalty program! Now, I must be off.] Noco began pulling his things back into the rucksack to be tossed back over his shoulder. [There are many customers to visit, after all. Good…] He paused, tilting his head.

“Morning.”

[Good morning to you, and good day!] Noco popped back onto his feet and scampered back towards the hole he had come from, diving in and disappearing swiftly.

Verso couldn’t help but chuckle, watching Noco go. While P’s own expression didn’t crack, he saw the puppet’s eyes lingering on the hole the gestral had vanished into. Verso took that as a win in terms of expression.

Noco’s information was surprisingly accurate. Once they were done at the Stargazer, the duo went back out into the streets, fighting back roaming puppets and checking under carriages. There seemed to always be a body underneath one—somebody who hid yet still bled out—but when they heard the crackling of electricity from the grip of one, they knew they had found what Noco was talking about.

Reaching under, P pulled out what seemed to be a rather large electric baton. The head constantly dispersed static shocks from the coil atop it. P swung the blunt weapon a few times, seemed to get comfortable with the weight, then held it out to Verso.

“I think I have my preference in bladed weapons,” Verso replied. “Besides, you’re the one who bought the information. You keep it.”

As P nodded and lowered the weapon, Verso picked up the sound of faint coughing. He was immediately alert, looking this way and that. Some of the nearby windows were illuminated, indicating that people were inside, and the noise seemed to have come from a nearby one.

“Hello?” Verso called, approaching the window.

The haggard voice of a boy, trying to speak mid-cough, was what answered him. “Oh. Who’s there? You’re not Murphy…”

“No, I’m not. My name’s Verso. Are you okay?”

“As okay as I can be… Dorrami went to get me some food, but he hasn’t come back yet… But I’m not hungry, no matter what he says…” A small shadow shifted in the window, whoever was talking moving to get a closer look at Verso. “Sorry, I’m being rude. I’m Toma.”

“Hi, Toma. Who’re Murphy and Dorrami?”

“Dorrami’s my gestral. And Murphy… he’s a super cool police officer. As a puppet, even the Petrification Disease can’t get him. I wish I was like him…” Toma’s shadow hunched over as he coughed. “You should leave so you don’t catch the disease from me…”

“Don’t worry. I’m a muse, and my friend here’s a puppet. We won’t catch the disease.”

“Oh. That’s nice… Then if you can, may I ask you something? Dorrami’s taken a long time… He said he would go see if the people at City Hall had food… If you can, can you check up on him? I’m starting to miss him, even if he is slow and clumsy.”

“That might be a bit out of our way,” Maelle mused. “We can’t really go gestral hunting. And I’ve got a feeling Dorrami’s long gone.”

Still, even though Maelle was probably right, Verso still smiled at Toma’s shadow. “If we go in that direction, we’ll be sure to keep an eye out for your gestral. Okay?”

“Thank you… He’s big and round like a pear, and he calls me Toto. You’ll recognize him in an instant. Now, I gotta go rest… I gotta be strong for when Murphy comes to play again…” With that, the shadow departed from the windowside.

Your paint flows steadily.

Maelle sounded both sad and slightly annoyed. “I suppose there’s a decent chance of Geppetto being at City Hall… I feel guilty for giving the boy hope, though. Dorrami’s most definitely gone, and this “Murphy” is likely just another frenzied puppet.”

“Not to be that person, but…” Verso even stepped away from the window before continuing. “It doesn’t sound like he has long left. I want to at least try for him.”

Maelle went quiet at that. Still, Verso felt that she was still there, watching what he did. He shook his head, slowly exhaling before continuing on, P close behind after giving a lasting look to Toma’s window.

They ended up on the rooftops again before long. It felt like they had crossed the entire breadth of Elysion Boulevard with nothing to show for it. No sign of Geppetto anywhere, only puppets and the occasional gestral either wandering about or manning the doors and windows of their charges.

It seemed like not a single gestral understood the threat of the puppets. And indeed, the puppets did attack any gestral they saw. One time, Verso and P turned a corner just in time to see a puppet crush a smaller gestral. Instead of turning into a pile of wood like Verso thought, the gestral exploded into pink Chroma, splattering the puppet with the same color of paint. And just like that, the puppet kept trucking on.

They witnessed a few more gestral deaths with differently-colored Chroma explosions. They were also able to save a couple, though the gestrals seemed to barely acknowledge the heroic rescue. They’d instead ask where the closest apothecary, bakery, or other essential shop was, and then blindly wander off again. It felt like a vain effort to try and escort every single one they came across to safety, so the two had to let it be. It left Verso to worry if Dorrami even got close to City Hall, and if not, how they would be able to find where he died.

“You know, I always heard that gestrals didn’t have much going on up there,” Gemini noted. “But this is something else. I guess the Painters didn’t bother with survival instincts.”

“Mass production of the gestrals meant a lot of expended Chroma,” Maelle added. “If a Painter had the career of gestral-making, they treated it like the worst job known to man. But somebody had to do it.”

“Were Painters forced to make gestrals?” Verso asked.

“Some,” Maelle slowly answered. “Not usually the big names, though. I think the only exception would be the Levoleu family. They invented the gestrals. Though once the Petrification Disease kicked off and major production began, they had other Painters begin doing it. Gestrals are easy enough muses to make, after all.”

Verso wanted to question further, though once more, he found himself distracted by the sounds of another living person. That being the sounds of a woman softly weeping to herself. Looking from the rooftop vantage point, he could see another illuminated window, this one with the figure of a woman sitting by it. Interestingly enough, P was already moving to investigate instead of ignoring it and letting Verso investigate it all on his own.

As Verso joined up with P, the woman sniffled, having noticed the shadows. “Oh? Who’s there?”

“We’re friends,” Verso answered. “We’re not frenzied puppets.”

“Thank goodness… Though perhaps a part of me reveled in the idea of having a quick death.”

“A quick death, huh? Then I’m going to guess that you have Petrification Disease?”

The woman gave a sobbed chuckle. “It must be your first time in the Petrification Disease quarantine zone. Pretty much everyone who is still alive here is infected. For most, this is their last stop.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, ma’am.”

“The sympathy is delightful, but nothing can be done about it.” The woman sighed. “My family took my baby from me and sent me here. They said it was for my own good, but it was heartless just the same. A baby must be with its mother.”

“Where did they go?”

“To Krat City Hall.” Verso and P exchanged a look with each other. “If you could, good samaritans, please go there and bring me my baby.”

“Verso, are we just going to be making a shopping list of things to do once we get to City Hall?” Maelle lambasted. “Even if the baby’s still alive, we shouldn’t expose them to the Petrification Disease.”

“Giving a dying woman comfort here,” Verso muttered to himself before speaking up again. “Sure. We’ll see if we can find your baby.”

“Thank you so much, kind ones. I can finally see my sweet Elena’s face again. Please hurry. Hard scales are spreading across my eyes. Before I lose my sight…” The woman coughed. “Please…”

Your paint flows steadily.

“That marks three times now in the past hour or so that I’ve advised you on something and you haven’t followed my orders,” Maelle grumbled, and while she sounded mostly annoyed, there was also a rather contemplative touch to her tone.

“I thought you said that muses couldn’t disobey their Painters,” Verso teased as he and P stepped away from the window.

“I did.”

Verso’s step faltered for a moment. Maelle’s voice was firm and unshakeable. She had recited the Grand Covenant, and wholly believed that Verso must abide by it.

“What is happening to you, Verso?” Maelle questioned more to herself than him.

Verso didn’t answer, standing in place on the street. He didn’t lift his head as he heard the sounds of P opening a set of gates a slight distance away. Instead, he looked down at his hand, imagining the Chroma flowing underneath.

“Hey, buddy!” Gemini called. “We’re coming up on the City Hall! We just have to cross the Alchemist’s Bridge, and we’ll be there!”

The hand being inspected closed into a fist. Verso felt the paint underneath the canvas flesh slosh and harden at the motion. When he looked back up, P was standing next to the gate, watching and waiting.

A strange sense of shame was bubbling in Verso’s gut. He pushed it aside, dropping his arm and moving towards P.

“Sorry,” he said. “Needed a quick talk with my Painter. That’s all.”

And right away, that feeling got worse as he bit his tongue. He recalled the fourth law of the Grand Covenant: a muse cannot lie. And yet, that had slipped out so smoothly that it seemed almost like the truth of the matter. That it was really just a quick, nothing-to-worry-about conversation.

It wasn’t that the guilt was stemming from being able to do it. It was more that he didn’t feel guilty over it. He felt nothing disobeying Maelle or lying to P, and that lack of feeling sorry was what was causing the churning of his paint. Another cocktail of complicated feelings—he’s had nothing but those upon his creation.

What was happening to him?

Chapter Text

“Come out, Geppetto! You’ve got a lot to answer for!”

As they took their first strides across Alchemist’s Bridge, Verso stuck a hand out in front of P. The puppet immediately stopped. Verso couldn’t imagine that P didn’t hear what he was hearing—whoever was yelling was loud enough that their voice echoed from the other side of the bridge.

“Found him,” Verso muttered before breaking into a much quicker stride than before.

The scene that they were coming up on was surprisingly subdued. It was only one individual yammering and banging his fist on a carriage door. Though strangely, the figure was wearing a rather realistic donkey hood over their head, with tattered robes accompanying it.

“You know what caused the Puppet Frenzy, don’t you?” the individual continued as the duo quickly approached. “You’re their maker—practically their father! You and the Alchemists, scheming together. Tell me the truth!”

“Hey!” Verso called, grabbing the individual’s attention. “What’s going on over here?”

“This isn’t your problem,” the individual snapped. “I’m here for the old man. Get lost!”

Stepping forward, Verso grabbed them by the shoulder, pushing them back from the carriage. “Oh, I think it’s our problem.”

The donkey-wearing man shoved Verso’s hand away, stepping back. He made a move to brush off the shoulder, though paused. His gloved hand pulled back, and he stared at the gold paint on his fingertips.

“Paint?” He looked at Verso. “I know what you are. You’re a muse, aren’t you? Is your Painter master aligned with Geppetto?”

The sound of a drawing weapon echoed on the bridge. P stepped up to stand by Verso, his sword brandished at the man. He looked between the two for a moment as Verso shrugged and copied the motion with Verleso.

“So you’re both on his side.” The man snarled under the donkey mask, and reached over his shoulder to drag out a large sword. “And you both deserve nothing but death!”

MAD DONKEY

“Verso, wait!” Maelle warned. “We don’t know if you can disobey all of the Grand Covenant! That’s a human!”

As the Mad Donkey attempted to swing the sword downwards onto Verso’s head, he dodged to the side and looped around the back. Sword alighting in golden Chroma, he landed a sharp, singular strike in the Mad Donkey’s back, leaving a burning red mark.

“Answer’s yes!” Verso answered as the Mad Donkey swung around to face him.

P immediately charged for the mark Verso left behind and slammed the electric coil right into it. The Mad Donkey yelled out in pain under his mask, back arching and providing Verso the opportunity for the good and reliable five-strike Chroma attack.

Wrenching himself away from P, the Mad Donkey rolled out of the pincer formation around him, but all Verso and P did was run after him. Judging by the panicked yells the man was making, he was swiftly realizing that he openly bullied into combat some very capable individuals.

The Mad Donkey attempted to get some distance before turning and swinging his sword. He did manage a sweeping blow on P, but Verso was able to wiggle out of the swing’s radius before slamming the pommel of Verleso into the Mad Donkey’s side to throw him off-kilter. Verso fell back in order to quickly consume an Energy Tint as P took up the frontal assault, slamming the electric coil into the Mad Donkey’s head.

As P dodged a desperate swing, Verso went back in with another series of Chroma attacks. Judging by the blood flowing onto the ground, they scored deep. The attack did leave him open to a rather grievous slash from the Mad Donkey, however. Verso grunted as he fell back, clutching a chest bleeding hefty amounts of gold paint.

“I’ll kill all three of you, then string you up on the bridge!” The Mad Donkey yelled, charging at Verso and taking advantage of his injuries to land a deep blow to his leg and make him buckle.

P jumped in front of Verso before the Mad Donkey could land a third strike. Parrying with the electric coil, he jabbed their opponent straight in the chest, giving Verso time to down another Tint, this one Healing.

As soon as Verso wiped his lips free of the paint-like substance, he darted around P, raising his sword one last time. “Let’s finish this!” He grunted, landing a marking blow right on the Mad Donkey’s chest.

Just like with the Parade Master, P took the opportunity and ran forward. The coil was implanted into the Mad Donkey’s chest, and a powerful electrical current ran through his body. A series of garbled noises erupted from under the mask until P pulled back, removing the coil stick in the process.

Gasping for air, the Mad Donkey staggered forward. His hands came up to his chest, almost trying to cradle his broken ribcage, before he fell forward face first. He did not get up again.

As P stared down at the blood splashed onto himself, Verso heard the sound of a carriage door popping open. He turned his head towards the carriage just in time to see its door fully swing open.

A figure clad mostly in dark grays and blacks, save for a vibrant blue scarf around his neck, held his bowler hat tight to his head while he bowed out of the carriage. He picked his way down the carriage steps before his boots hit the bridge ground. He righted up, lowering his hand from his hat, and looked towards the two. His monocle twinkled in the lamplight surrounding the bridge, and his silverish-blue eyes seemed to search for something.

“Oh my god,” Maelle said, audibly in awe. “That’s him, isn’t it?”

Verso and Geppetto locked eyes. For a moment, Geppetto’s eyes widened, and his movement stilled. But only for a moment, as he looked down at the gold paint splattering Verso’s body and immediately relaxed again. His gaze then went to P instead, and softened even more as the puppet seemed to finally register reality and look up from his bloodstained form.

“Finally,” Geppetto said, “we meet, son.” Verso stepped to the side as Geppetto came forward, taking P by the shoulders. “It’s a dream come true, seeing you like this.” He didn’t let go of P, but did look over at Verso. “And a miracle to see a muse still alive.”

Verso smiled. “And it’s an honor, for both me and my Painter, to meet the father of puppets.”

“Please. Just call me Geppetto. At a time like this, there is no need for formalities.” Geppetto finally released P, stepping back with a sigh. “I am sorry for what just unfolded. That Stalker, like so many others, had been driven mad by the city’s affairs. But at the same time, anybody would be foolish to not acknowledge that he had the right to pursue me. I invented the puppets, after all. I should take responsibility as their maker.”

“Do you know what happened?” Verso asked. “The Puppet Frenzy, the Painter massacre, any or all of it?”

Geppetto motioned for peace. “One step at a time, my boy. First, the puppets at City Hall must be taken care of. Won’t you help me?”

“He’s asking us to help!” Maelle cheered. “It’d be an honor to! You better say yes, Verso.”

As Geppetto’s smile warmed further, Verso answered, “Of course. We’ve got reason to go there, anyway.”

“Then you should take these.” Geppetto withdrew a handful of items and held them out to Verso. “They belonged to a Painter friend of mine that has unfortunately departed, and they have no use to an old man like me.”

Verso recognized the Tint vials, one red and one blue. With a nod and a smile, he took them, and as he did, he also felt something small and metallic placed within his palm. Shifting aside the vials, he looked down at a key.

“That will let you into the City Hall through the bridge door,” Geppetto explained, passing what looked like a Pulse Cell to P. “Truly, I wish to hear about all your experiences and how you two met each other, but now isn’t a good time. You must eliminate the frenzied puppets at City Hall. We’ll catch up at Hotel Krat once you’re done.”

“Will you be able to get there safely?” Verso asked.

“Oh, don’t worry about me. You’ve likely eliminated the bulk of the puppet threat coming here.” Geppetto put his hand on Verso’s shoulder. “You just worry about taking care of my son, you hear? I know he is capable, but it warms my heart to know that he has a protector.”

Verso scoffed. “The way that fight just went, he was protecting me, sir.”

Geppetto chuckled. Releasing Verso, he began walking past him, back down the bridge and in the direction the two had just come from. Verso gave him one last wave before looking back at P, who’s returned to staring at himself.

“Hey,” Verso gently called. “Are you alright, P?”

After a moment, P looked up. “Yes.”

Verso heard his springs speed up. He decided not to comment on it.

“Wow,” Maelle hummed. “You wouldn’t think of him as the savior of Krat with a humble demeanor like that. If I met him on the street, I would think he’s just a dapper old gentleman.”

“I think we’re going to have a good couple of conversations with him,” Verso noted, starting to move across the bridge. “Get your questions ready, Maelle.”

Chapter Text

Verso wasn’t sure what he expected when he opened the door leading to the city hall. Maybe survivors. Maybe no puppets. Something that was a deviation from what they had been seeing all this time, something to give him hope for Krat. Whatever he was expecting, he knew that upon sighting the sword-wielding soldier puppets and the same level of corpses they had been seeing before, he would be sorely disappointed.

The approach to City Hall was quiet in all the wrong ways. The kind of quiet that has an underlying tension in it, as breaks to that quiet were usually puppet enemies lunging from dark corners. No living people to help, only rubble. There weren’t even gestral’s around, and judging by the splatters of paint about, it was easy to guess why there were none.

It got worse when they found the body.

When Verso saw Antonia and heard the coughing from Toma, he got an idea of the Petrification Disease being nasty, but nothing truly mutilating. That changed when he saw what once had been a human man, leaning against an alleyway wall. It looked like an array of deep, greenish-blue crystals and geodes were sprouting from the corpse. The head and shoulder were long destroyed by the growth. Black, acidic liquid had long flowed outwards along the wall, like ivy growing unchecked.

Verso knelt down in front of the man, eyes glazing over in thought. Antonia. That boy Toma. Everybody still alive in the buildings in Elysion Boulevard. Would all of their fates be this?

“It’s… not a pretty sight,” Maelle agreed. “Usually, the bodies get burned before they get to be this bad. Nobody’s left alive to keep the Petrification off the streets, I suppose.”

“Is there nothing that we can do?” Verso wondered.

“The Alchemists spoke of seeking a cure before the Puppet Frenzy. I imagine the current crisis has put a hold on all that, though.” Maelle’s voice grew bitter. “Why bother looking, now that everyone is dead?”

Verso jolted when a hand found its way onto his shoulder, lightly brushing rather than actually holding on in comfort. He looked over at P standing just a foot or so behind him, who was quickly withdrawing his hand now that Verso was looking at him. The puppet straightened up and waited for the muse to push himself to his feet before turning and moving on, a tad more slowly than he’s ever done.

“There’s no survivors,” Gemini mumbled. “Not even a gestral. I don’t think we’ll find Dorrami or the baby.”

“I think…” Verso swallowed. “They’re likely both gone, huh. I told them we’d help them out, and… How are we supposed to face them now, with nothing to show for looking?”

“I’ll lie.”

Verso looked at P. “What?”

Stopping in his tracks for a moment, P turned to Verso and lifted something within his grasp. It was a broken baby doll, likely a toy meant for a child. One of the legs was missing, along with one of its eyes, and what remained of its clothes were dirtied and torn.

At the sight of such a decrepit item, Verso fumbled. “You can’t… She’d know. She’s not stupid, P.”

P stared at Verso, as if he couldn’t comprehend the idea of such. “She wanted a baby.”

“ Her baby, P. Elena. Who is probably somewhere among these corpses, in a state that I don’t even want to think about.” Verso couldn’t muster any genuine anger at P, and in fact was more disappointed in himself. “I should have listened to you, Maelle. I shouldn’t have said anything to either of them.”

Verso could almost feel Maelle’s brow raise. “Will I get an apology over letting the gestral swindle you, too?”

Verso sighed, shaking his head. He didn’t grant Maelle an answer, instead turning to continue on and leaving P standing there.

The approach to City Hall remained just the same as it was for everywhere else. Puppets, corpses, and Chroma smears. Nothing more than destruction.

The main building loomed ahead before long, looking more and more like a terrifying affair to walk in on. With a remarkably small set of stairs leading to the entrance and a blood-choked courtyard, one might not even think it was the City Hall. Judging by all of the bodies, little to nobody was able to get inside before the puppets attacked, and considering their much more capable arms, it was likely nothing short of a massacre.

Just as they were to enter through the open doorway, Verso noticed a scene becoming quite familiar to him. Another splatter of paint, this one a sky blue, lingered on the ground. But this time, there was something abandoned in the Chroma muck; a basket with a blanket haphazardly tucked over something inside. Against his better judgment, Verso stepped over to take a closer look.

The first thing his eyes landed on was the tag wrapped around the basket’s handle. “TOTO” was like a solid knife straight into his gut. With a trembling hand, he pulled back the blanket to reveal a stale half a loaf of bread.

“Oh,” he mustered. “Dorrami actually found something.”

“He made it all the way to City Hall?” Maelle sounded surprised. “I think that’s one of the most impressive things I’ve ever heard a gestral do.”

“We should take this back to Toma once we’re done here,” Verso muttered, taking the basket and standing back up.

“He asked for Dorrami, not the food. What will you even say to him?”

“We’ll…” Verso paused, then shook his head. “We’ll lie, I suppose.”

“Verso…”

A clicking interrupted Maelle, before anything else could be said. Verso turned, readying himself for a puppet to turn the corner. While one indeed did, he expected to see one that matched his height and was soaked in blood.

Not a small, child-sized puppet in a red dress that promptly capsized upon taking two steps into view.

Verso jumped back, keeping his sword readied and pointed at the puppet. P did the same, taking a few steps closer. Both watched as the puppet slowly lifted its face from the ground, turning its head to look at the two. A garbled noise left its mouth, something that almost pitched into a young girl’s voice, only for it to give out and the puppet to collapse again.

Carefully, Verso leaned forward to get a better look. It looked like the puppet’s back had been smashed in by a blunt and heavy object, ripping open both dress and porcelain-like skin. However, the Ergo heart within looked intact.

“Must have been a puppet that got taken out by the survivors before things really kicked off,” Gemini noted as Verso sat the puppet girl back up.

“It didn’t seem like it was about to attack us, but… had it been hiding?” Verso tilted his head, as if he could discern whatever the puppet’s motives had been through observing the body.

“Well, whatever it intended to do, we can’t really find out anymore, can we?” Gemini sounded like he’d shrug if he had the body to.

Verso looked over the puppet for a moment more. He could take the Ergo from it, but… It felt like it’d be too paltry. He leaned it up against a nearby wall instead, to hide the open wound. Then, after standing up, he got to moving after P into the City Hall proper.

Gemini chirped to life as they walked into the building devoid of furniture or life. “This settles it. I don’t think there’s anybody left in or near the City Hall.”

“These puppets are significantly more well-armed than the ones we’ve fought before,” Verso said, pointing out a puppet that P just destroyed. “They have swords and actual armor.”

“These guys were part of the police force,” Gemini reluctantly agreed. “That probably meant that anybody who made it here was, well… quite literally running to their deaths. Honestly, the boulevard proper was likely a safer bet than here.”

“Guess we should be glad that Toma didn’t decide to come here on his own to find Dorrami or Murphy.”

“Speaking of, I wonder who Murphy is. Maybe he was just a standard police officer puppet.”

“If he was, he probably was what Toma called every standard police officer he saw.” Verso offered nothing more than a shrug as the two approached the currently-closed door that led further into the building. “We’ve probably already destroyed him, unfortunately.”

“Well… at least we have something of Dorrami to show for coming here.” Still, Gemini sounded just as dejected as Verso as P moved to push open the doors. They were clearly heavy, however, so it ended up being that each of them pushed open one of the double doors, much like they did with the hotel’s doors.

Instead of leading further into the building proper, the doors swung open into a central courtyard for the City Hall. Banners of the city emblem flapped overhead, swaying in a steadily-increasing breeze as the two walked out into the open. Instinctively, Verso drew his sword, looking about at the building’s various wings surrounding and boxing them in.

“Nobody out here,” Gemini noted aloud. “Though that lightning looks a little too close for comfort.”

Verso glanced at the building ahead, and Gemini was very much right. Bolts of electricity were crackling around the tower, and at first, Verso thought that they were from the clouds circling ahead. But he first realized that the lightning was happening too frequently in the same place. And he then saw the spindly, mechanical hand slowly emerging from behind the tower.

Extending a hand in front of P before the puppet could go any further into the courtyard, Verso motioned for him to look up as well. The giant claws wrapped around the structure, sparks crackling off its exposed exoskeleton. Slowly, moving around the building side like a spider on a wall, was what Verso could only describe as a police officer puppet born from a nightmare, easily over twenty feet tall and exposed electric coils erupting from its spine.

Creeping around to the front, the giant puppet’s head turned a near-180 degrees, with the chin now pointing up and the officer’s hat down. Its red eyes were locked onto the two that had dared to enter its domain, and its claws sank into the building underneath it, cracks forming along the structure.

“Who approved THAT to be made for the police force?!” Maelle exclaimed as Verso and P readied their weapons.

The giant puppet took the noise as a beckoning. Lunging from its vantage point, the puppet landed on all fours on the other side of the courtyard. Moving akin to a maddened ape, its head spun rapidly as its body sent off waves of electricity. An unintelligible scream ripped from its mouth as P wisely (and quickly) changed the electric coil stick out for his saber.

As Verso readied his own weapon, he noticed something white against the giant puppet’s blue exterior. He squinted at what had to be sketchings of chalk dotting the wrist platings. Just barely, alongside the childish doodles, he could make out a word that started with a “Mur” before it got inelligible.

“Oh, you’re kidding,” he said aloud.

“What is it, Verso?” Gemini asked.

Pointing with his free hand, Verso directed attention to the faded name. “ This is Murphy.”

SCRAPPED WATCHMAN

Chapter Text

Murphy, the Scrapped Watchman, whatever the puppet before them was now. It was out for paint and oil. It scrambled forth on its knuckles, mouth yawning open as if it would attempt to eat the two whole. Verso had to snap out of his temporary bafflement and quickly move so that didn’t happen, and like with the opening moments of the Parade Master, P went the opposite direction.

Though unlike the Parade Master, the Scrapped Watchman seemed rather single-minded. It hurried after Verso, forcing him to dash across the courtyard to stay out of its reach. P followed behind the Watchman, peppering it with sword attacks that it ignored.

“I don’t think it liked that I said Murphy!” Verso remarked, ducking under a haphazard swing of the Watchman’s claws.

“Well, you’re distracting it, so maybe keep saying it!” Gemini advised.

“Murphy! Murphy!”

The Watchman moved quicker than Verso expected. Sharp, steel claws wrapped around his midsection and hoisted him up into the air. Before Verso knew it, he was getting repeatedly slammed into the ground like a doll being the unfortunate victim of a child’s tantrum. Gold paint splattered everywhere while Verso lost track of how many times he made impact with stone. He barely even registered being released and left facefirst on the ground.

P had to run by and grab him under the arm before the Watchman could smash its fist down on Verso and finish the job. Struggling to even comprehend his surroundings, Verso just barely managed to hold a Healing Tint steady long enough to drink its contents.

“Nevermind,” Gemini said. “Let’s not do that again.”

“Yep.” That was all Verso could get out in the moment, focusing more on getting up and getting the hell away from the Watchman’s frontal attacks.

After drawing massive first blood, the Watchman was in a frenzy. Gold paint crackling against its chassis, it lumbered after the same target as before. P took every chance he could to slash it in the rear as it grabbed for Verso again.

Unable to get away in time, Verso moved to parry instead. The giant claw bounced off with a loud clang, sparks and gold Chroma flying up from the impact. As the Watchman reeled back, Verso pressed the temporary advantage, landing a singular strike of Chroma on the arm before him.

Verleso cleaved through the metal like a knife through butter. The Watchman yelled as the hand dropped onto the ground, separated from the body. Lightning blew from the newly-made stump as the Watchman swung back, clipping P and knocking him away in the process. Verso continued the assault, following it up with another Chroma-infused series of blows. Before he could pop an Energy Tint and keep the offensive going, however, he had to parry a flailing strike from the uninjured fist and fall back.

P, meanwhile, continued his own assault. But with Verso falling back, the Watchman finally acknowledged the puppet. It swung around with surprising speed, smacking P in the side and forcing his body to crumple. As he soared along the courtyard, the Watchman lunged after him like a gorilla springing across its enclosure. It landed atop P, crushing his smaller body with its fist going directly into his chest. Thankfully, it lifted its fist for another swing, allowing P to roll away and fall back into a defensive stance.

Before it could scramble after P, Verso finally caught up. Having run across the courtyard, he slammed Verleso into the Watchman’s left leg with another quick strike. Like before with the hand, he severed the foot, causing the giant puppet to buckle. P very much took the opportunity to fully fall back and heal himself with a Pulse Cell.

The distance gained was needed, as the Watchman suddenly screamed. Lightning poured off its body, and Verso got directly struck by a bolt. He staggered back, smelling a weird scent of what had to be burning paint while he did.

“Whatever it just did, your Chroma is draining rapidly!” Maelle warned.

“So it really doesn’t like what I’ve been doing,” Verso grunted, falling back as electricity crackled across his body. “Got anything that can help me?”

“I’ll try dispelling the electricity, but it won’t happen instantaneously. Give me time!”

“Thanks!” Verso narrowly dodged the Watchman lunging at him again.

With the Watchman focused on beating Verso down in his moment of weakness, P ran back in with his saber. A flurry of stormy strikes erupted from the blade, digging into the Watchman’s good leg. As it lurched forward, it scrambled back around to face P, hobbling from its missing parts weighing it down. And did it move surprisingly quick, snatching up P and proceeding to slam him into the ground like it did with Verso.

This time, Verso only allowed it so many strikes before he lept in. Ignoring the hefty amounts of lightning pouring off it, he jumped onto its back. He was already drenched in lightning, so why not? As paralysis threatened to overtake his body, he plunged Verleso into the Watchman’s neck. Electrified oil sprayed up in a geyser, instantly igniting upon hitting open air.

P was released and sent flying into the air as the Watchman writhed. It attempted to reach behind and grab Verso, only to lose balance on its mauled arm. It capsized and fell onto its side. Verso was still knocked off, but he was able to roll across the ground, sword in hand. Lightning just narrowly missed him as he hobbled back, cracks and burns marring his canvas flesh.

As he forced down a Healing Tint, P took advantage of the Watchman’s paralysis. He ran up to its front, getting hit by some exposure to the lightning in the process. He pushed through it, however, landing a series of effective blows on the Watchman’s head and further opening the wound Verso dealt.

“Now’s your chance!” Maelle called as the Watchman reared back. On cue, Chroma flowed back into Verso’s form, the lightning finally dissipating.

Running forward, the muse once more leapt onto the Watchman’s back. Grabbing onto an exposed coil to steady himself, he lifted Verleso up in one hand, bathing it in golden Chroma. The ensuing strike upon the Watchman’s neck created a golden flash that blinded even P standing several feet away. But it succeeded in its task, and with one downwards blow, the Watchman’s head was severed from its body.

As the Watchman crumbled, Verso rolled off its body. He stumbled as he rose to his feet and almost fell forward. P, however, jumped in front of him, placing a hand on his chest to stabilize him. Verso instinctively took P’s shoulder, managing a nod of gratitude.

“You don’t have a heartbeat,” P noted.

“It’s all paint under here,” Verso responded, slowly straightening up.

P seemed to take that as enough. He nodded before looking back at the crumbled remains of the Watchman. Verso looked over as well just in time to see the head stop rolling and land on its cheek.

“Sorry, Murphy,” he gently offered, stepping forward and rolling the chassis over. He faintly recalled P collecting the heart of the last massive puppet, using his sword to crack open the Watchman’s to find its.

As he did, something glittering caught his attention. He paused, his eyes going to a tiny object swaying from around the Watchman’s neck. The necklace it hung on had gotten tangled in the exposed skeleton of the neck, so it hadn’t fallen off when Verso decapitated the puppet. Carefully, he reached down and pulled the faded whistle off the chain. He inspected it just for a moment, rolling it between his fingers, before resuming his task of opening the chassis.

As he yanked out the Ergo heart of the Watchman, a few entangled storage batteries being pulled out alongside it, he looked back. P was in the midst of setting up a Stargazer, some of its parts being harvested from the Watchman’s remains. Seemed that he could just make them out of nothing, as long as the necessary supplies were around.

Coming over, Verso sat down silently. Immediately, Maelle’s Chroma connected with the Stargazer, and the burns on his body healed up. His hands fiddled with the items from the Watchman, carefully untangling the heart from the batteries crackling like they were about to explode.

P moved over a bit to sit beside Verso, instead of sitting across from him. He watched the harvested pieces get moved about. As soon as Verso set down the batteries, he picked them up, looking them over and watching the lightning dance in them.

“This looks too small for Murphy to have used,” Verso noted, twirling the whistle in-between his fingers. “Or at the very least, too small for it to have been given when it was made.”

“It must have been from one of the children who played with it,” Gemini offered. “I don’t think it was just Toma.”

“Seems to have been a lot of them, judging by the chalk on its limbs.” Verso passed the whistle to P, who turned it over in his hands. “Hard to think that something that looked and fought like that would have been so friendly to children, but what do I know? I never met it before the Frenzy.”

“I guess it would be hard to think of any puppet as being friendly for you,” Gemini agreed. “Save for P, of course. You didn’t see what Krat was like before the Frenzy started. I honestly feel bad, knowing that this is your only impression of the city.”

Dnk.

Verso raised a brow, looking away for a second. He swore he heard something hitting against the ground. He shook it off and looked back at P and Gemini, who didn’t seem to have heard anything.

“Well, I guess since you’re our guide, that gives you the go-ahead to guide me on what it was like,” Verso said.

“I don’t think I could ever do it justice,” Gemini joked.

Dnk.

Now Verso was certain he was hearing something. Not only that, he could hear something approaching. That noise was louder, closer than the first. He once more looked in the direction it seemed to be coming from, and didn’t look back that time.

“Verso?” P asked.

“Hold on.” Verso lifted a hand to motion for silence.

Dnk.

The sound of something crumbling made Verso look back at the Stargazer. He caught a glimpse of it disassembling, the comforting blue glow getting rapidly consumed by something black and oily. Both he and P shot to their feet as it fell apart, leaving behind a pile of metal and smears of pitch-colored Chroma.

“What just happened?!” Gemini exclaimed as Verso drew his sword, P doing the same with the electric coil stick. “Is that Chroma?!”

“I said hold on!” Verso lifted a hand towards Gemini, motioning for him to shut up. His eyes were locked on the doors that they had gone through to enter the courtyard. They had been left open, and now, something was walking through them.

The sound that Verso had been hearing was a cane hitting the ground. The one holding it was walking forward, black boots hitting the cobblestone damp from rain and shed oil. The coat hanging on their back, the sleeves unfilled and left to drift with every movement, was similarly soaked by rain, protecting the fine suit underneath but not the hair whitened by age.

The old man, similar in age to Geppetto, made it about five strides into the courtyard before he stopped. With one last dnk of the cane hitting the cobblestones, he stopped. Both hands rested upon the top as he stared at Verso and P.

“Is that a Painter?” Gemini was the one who broke the silence.

Verso silently bid Maelle to answer. But when he reached out, he felt himself stumble, grasping empty air. There was no golden warmth, only a black loneliness. Maelle wasn’t there anymore, and abruptly, Verso felt himself lost.

Unable to muster much else, Verso took a step forward. “Is Gemini right?” he asked. “Are you a Pa—?”

Something cracked against his stomach, and his body went ice-cold. Verso made a whisper of a choked noise before he felt himself catapulted across the courtyard. His body smashed into one of the nearby benches, and yet he was too numb to register the pain.

“Verso!” P yelled, just barely audible over the ringing in Verso’s ears. It was the most emotion he had heard from the puppet yet.

Despite the paralysis setting in, Verso managed to push himself up from the remains of the bench he laid in. Through blurry vision, he could see the old man gently lowering his hand back to lay atop his cane; as if he had only flicked a wrist to send Verso flying. P had turned to watch Verso crash on the other side of the courtyard, but was swiftly turning back to look at the old man, readying the baton.

“I ask you this once,” the man spoke, and a strange sense of fear lanced through Verso’s Chroma. It had to be the way he spoke, as if Verso didn’t normally hear him with such subdued, ice-cold intonation. “I expect you not to answer, but I give you the chance to all the same. Where is Geppetto?”

P readied the electric coil. “I don’t know.”

“So you are his. I can’t imagine any other reason a puppet would be made with the capability to lie.” The old man stepped forward.

Surging to his feet, Verso ran across the courtyard, Verleso readied. Golden Chroma soaked the blade as he swung it upwards.

Black Chroma flew from the clash as the old man raised his cane. Verso’s sword bounced off like the cane was made from metal. Mid-motion, the old man grasped the top of the cane, and Verso saw the glint of steel polished with something as he drew a hidden blade, the cane acting much like a sheathe.

In one fluid strike, Verleso shattered. Pieces of the blade went flying in all different directions as the blade passed through the sword like it was nothing but butter. Verso felt a burning pain erupt in his face as the edge of the blade sliced over the left side of his face, just narrowly missing his eye. He staggered back, crying out as he was left with only the handle of Verleso in his possession.

“Foul mimicry,” the old man only hissed, before Verso felt something sink into his chest and his vision blacked out.

It happened so fast. P didn’t have time to react. In one second, there had been a flash of gold and black from blades crossing. The next, Verso was speared through, the handle of Verleso clattering to the ground.

Before P could move, the old man swung the blade aside. Verso was once more launched, his body hitting the ground and rolling. He ended up crashing against a building bordering the courtyard and falling down facefirst. He made no move to get up.

Something surged in P, his P-Organ quickening. Instead of trying to attack the old man, he turned to run for Verso. Before he could make two steps, a wave of black Chroma surged up, forming a wall right in front of him.

“Perhaps I will ask you a different question,” the old man said, still icy calm. “Who is the Painter that made it ?”

P turned back around. He readied the electric coil stick, straightening his back and staring down the man.

“Not even an answer this time. Very well.” The old man flicked his blade free of golden paint before slowly sheathing it back into his cane and placing it upright at his side again. “I have no quarrel with you, and will treat you mercifully.”

THE OLD MAN

Chapter Text

Delicately. That word seemed to be forgotten as soon as P took a single step, because in an instant, the old man was moving. Globules of black Chroma flew at P in rapid succession, forcing him to dodge and guard as much as he physically could. Paint splattered against him, soaking him down to the springs in black.

Before P could do anything else, the old man snapped a finger. The Chroma on P’s body erupted, sending parts flying as it lanced through anything exposed. In just seconds, P could feel himself staggering back towards death’s door, completely caught off-guard by the assault.

“Interesting,” the old man mused. “That should have destroyed you outright. He must have made you rather durable.”

“How was that treating P mercifully?!” Gemini screamed.

“By making this quick.” The old man did nothing when P cracked open a Pulse Cell. “Why bother with trying to stay afloat? You are a creature of logic. Surely you must realize how outclassed you are.”

P readied the electric coil again. Once more, he charged forward. The old man allowed P to take a few swings before cracking the cane into his side and sending him sprawling.

“If I knew no better, I would think of you as nothing more than a frenzied puppet, with tactics like those.” The old man calmly stepped backwards, watching P use another Pulse Cell. “He made you to be better than them, no? And yet you do nothing to mark yourself as different from them. A puppet is a puppet, I suppose.”

A slight change of tactics, this time. Pulling something from his belt, P tossed it at the old man. A wave of Chroma followed the cane as it raised up to block it, but upon impact, it exploded into electricity, singing the man’s face and causing him to recoil. This time, he was caught by surprise, and P managed to land a single blow with the electric coil before he was forced to scramble back from another cane swing.

“Hm.” The old man sounded almost impressed, dusting off where he had been hit. “Well, that does mark a difference. Congratulations on being the first puppet to land a blow on me.”

A wave of Chroma shot forth from the walls built around the two, fast as a bullet. P found himself ensnared by black paint, wrapping around his limbs and sinking in like the jaws of a predator. Sparks flew up from his quickly-crumpling chassis, but all he could do was struggle.

The old man raised a hand, readying to clench it into a fist. “Goodbye, Geppetto’s puppet.”

Golden Chroma ripped through the wall, radiating off a slab of sharp metal. Verso landed the slab squarely in the old man’s shoulder, making him buckle and bellow in pain. Before any further reaction could be made, Verso hefted the slab and swung twice more. The old man surged back, using his own Chroma to defend his retreat, and P was dropped to the ground.

Verso looked disastrous. The wounds from the old man looked like they were melting the surrounding canvas flesh, making not just gold paint drip onto the ground, but black, purple, and peach, too. The skin was left whitish-grey and coarse-looking, with the line across Verso’s face looking particularly dark. Even some of the coloration of his hair was vanishing, black paint dripping out of the locks and onto his shoulders.

“Verso!” Gemini called. “You’re… You’re melting!”

“Yeah, that’s probably a way to put it,” Verso said, and whenever he spoke, gold paint dripped from his mouth.

A strange feeling made P’s springs react. Something that made him hurry onto his feet and run to Verso’s side. Almost as if in reaction to that, Verso buckled a tad, and P looped one arm around his to keep him upright.

“Already tried the Tints,” Verso grunted. “They’re… They’re not working.”

They both looked at the old man rolling his shoulder, black Chroma rolling over it. When the paint retracted, it was like Verso had never hit him, the wound healed and the fabric restitched. He stared at Verso for a long moment before redrawing the blade from his cane. When he swished it in the air, the same clear liquid from before flew off it, splashing onto the ground.

“You should have stayed down and let the first blows claim you,” the old man warned. “But I feel no guilt in hurrying you along to your cessation.”

As he raised his right hand over his shoulder, all of the black Chroma in the area shot from wherever it had been into a rapidly-condensing ball. He then threw it down onto the ground, creating a wave of Chroma that coated the entire courtyard ground. P felt it splash against his boots, but his feet didn’t immediately explode, so he considered himself in the clear. At least for the next three seconds.

Two, actually, because the next thing he knew, the Chroma underneath him was bubbling. Verso dragged him out of the way just in time for a series of black spikes to erupt from the ground. Suddenly, the two were running, P supporting Verso, as spikes threatened to anchor them down wherever they stepped.

Mid-stride, Verso cocked his body and threw the slab of metal at the old man. The Chroma spikes stopped for a moment as the old man leaned out of the way. He even looked at Verso with a moment of bafflement. P took that as his moment to fish out another item from his pocket and pitch it at the old man. When it made impact, it exploded in a firey wreath, and as he yelled out, the Chroma ground evaporated, rendering where they walked safe for now.

P quickly passed Verso his saber before releasing him and dashing in. Once more, he earned himself only one strike from his thermite before the old man recovered and fell back out of reach. But it was one strike more, no matter if the old man proceeded to heal himself immediately.

The follow-up attack from Verso vastly outclassed him, in all honesty. He didn’t even know what he was looking at, at first, when the surge of white Chroma came flying at the old man. Then he realized it was his saber, with Verso striking forward. As the last embers of the thermite died out, three white-tinted hits landed on the old man. The third slashed down the right side of his face like what had been done before with Verso’s. And as Verso pulled back, some of the black Chroma was dragged with him, and P saw the injuries on his face stabilize to a gray and still-grievous, but no longer melting cut.

For a moment, he wondered what happened. Since when was Verso’s Chroma white? Was it possible for muses to change Chroma colors? And did he heal himself by dealing that damage to the old man? All questions he was forced to put to the side as the old man quickly recovered and swung the drawn blade, forcing the two to fall back.

The old man stepped away, covering his face in pain. P could see his own Chroma bubble up, trying to heal the wound. But when his hand pulled back, blood was still pouring from the injury.

“White Chroma?” he said aloud, audibly stunned. “But that’s… impossible.”

He stepped back, readying his cane. For a moment, Verso held the saber in front of P, ready for another assault. But instead, the old man slammed his cane on the ground, and a cocoon of black Chroma encased him. When that Chroma splashed back down onto the ground, nothing more was left save for a stain. The old man was gone. Both Verso and P looked around, expecting an attack from elsewhere, but nothing like that came to be.

One tense moment passed, then another. Finally, Gemini spoke up. “Did you just… scare him off, Verso?”

“I… I think so?” Verso took a step forward, only to nearly tip over as he clutched his chest in pain.

As P caught him, Gemini said, “Hey, don’t move too much! If that weapon was what I think it was, the more your paint shifts around, the worst it’s going to get! P, we need to get back to the Hotel immediately, and get this guy to somebody who knows their Chroma.”

With a nod, P fished around in his pocket. He recalled Sophia’s words of a necessity to be protected. He pulled out the pocket watch given to him by the woman and flicked it open. The time read 7:27 in the morning.

After closing it, P clenched his hand around the watch and thought of the Hotel. Immediately, a warmth surged through his palm, and when he opened his eyes to look, Ergo was flying off the watch in a swarm of butterflies, encasing his arm and spreading down to him and Verso.

His vision went blue, but only for a moment. It resettled into a splash of deep golden, and when shapes formed, he found himself looking upon the Stargazer of Hotel Krat. Verso was holding onto him more tightly than before, likely feeling the true extent of his injuries set in.

“I’m fine,” Verso choked out—he must be talking to his Painter. “I’m fine. Where did you go? Why couldn’t I feel you?”

Putting away the pocket watch, P took Verso in both his arms, helping support him. Together, they began hobbling for the left wing towards Lune’s station.

Polendina, the butler puppet behind the front desk, moved to greet them. “Welcome back to Hotel—Goodness! What has happened to Verso?”

“Go tell Lune he got attacked by somebody with a thinner weapon, and it’s bad,” Gemini ordered.

Polendina wasted no time in hurrying off. He passed by a rather surprised-looking Sophia on the way, who turned to look at P. He only nodded at her, greatly bogged down in speed by Verso but still trying to hurry after Polendina.

He didn’t need to, as before he could turn the corner, a great commotion began all the way down the ground floor’s left wing. A split second later, Lune was quite literally soaring down the hallway, green Chroma lifting her. She landed a few feet before P, running the rest of the way and scooping Verso’s free arm to put it over her shoulders.

“We’ve gotta hurry this up,” she said, before P’s own feet were lifted off the ground, and Chroma was propelling all three of them back the way Lune had come.

In her room, Polendina was laying a tarp over one of the tables while Amandine was rummaging through a toolbox. Lune motioned for P to help her lay Verso onto the covered table, which he did.

“We’re damn lucky muses don’t have hearts of any kind,” Lune grunted, running over to Amandine’s side. “But organs or not, it’s still a vital area, and a bad place for thinner to be.” Eventually, she shoved her arm into the toolbox herself, pulling out what looked like a giant needle with a trigger. Turning back, she waved her arm at Polendina and P. “Get out of my space! This is about to be very delicate. One wrong move, and I run the risk of recoating him, and that will make this ten times worse.”

“Recoating?” P still leaned to watch as green Chroma filled the needle’s vial.

“It’s when a Painter, well, paints over the muse belonging to another,” Amandine quickly explained to P. She looked as Lune pressed the needle to Verso’s skin, right next to the chest wound. “Not only does it override the muse’s Chroma, which in itself is quite and proper terrible, considering a muse is a Painter’s extension, it harms their creator as well. And sometimes, depending on the difference of power, quite grievously. Why, I remember a story a decade odd back about a Painter who quite literally assassinated her competition by routinely recoating their muses until their creators would just drop dead. Dreadful stuff.”

“What?!” Verso lifted his head.

“Amandine,” Lune hissed, pressing the needle into Verso’s skin while shoving his head back down with her other palm. “Shut up.”

As the green Chroma slowly began flowing in, Verso cried out in pain. Bits of color began returning to his patchwork body, the canvas flesh returning to look like a facsimile of clothes and skin. While the wound on his face seemed to finally settle, a deep, gray scar was left in its place. It seemed that while Lune could heal him, she couldn’t restore him to peak condition.

As Verso’s hand twitched by his side, a compulsion made P move. His hand extended to Verso’s, his fingers wrapping around Verso’s palm. Immediately, Verso grasped on, his teeth grinding together as green Chroma flowed into his body. His veins deepened to a forest hue for a moment before ebbing, and for a moment, his eyes cracked open to look over at P.

Your springs are reacting.

Verso grinned. “So it’s… not just when you’re lying, huh?”

Before P could respond, Lune injected the last of the Chroma. Carefully, she removed the needle and passed it to Amandine standing by. Placing both her hands upon Verso’s chest, she closed her eyes and went still for a moment.

After a few seconds, she exhaled and opened her eyes. “I don’t sense any thinner, and your Painter sounds fine.” She pulled back her hands, and Verso sat up. “How are you feeling?”

Verso put his hand over his chest, feeling where he had gotten stabbed. His face creased in thought, and P watched the new scar crinkle with the motion. He recognized that they were still holding hands, but made no move to pull away.

“Really fucking confused,” Verso eventually answered.

“I’d say.” Lune put her hands on her hips. “Where the hell were you two that you got stabbed by a thinner weapon?” Verso moved to answer, and she held up a hand. “Actually, let’s save that until we head upstairs. Whatever you’re about to tell me, Geppetto’s probably going to want to hear.”

“Geppetto?” P stepped over to Lune, pulling his hand out of Verso’s.

“He arrived here not too long ago, saying that you cleared the way for him. I don’t think he expected you two to come back as wrecked as you are now.” Lune looked over at Amandine. “Amandine, grab my Painter’s tools. I might have to make some Pictos soon.”

As Verso stood from the table, P watched him move carefully. Bits of his hair were still missing their coloration, some streaks left as a sheer white. And little bits of his canvas skin were darkened, tiny bits of black blending into his beard well enough that not just anybody may see. But Verso didn’t sway on his feet and stayed upright, even giving a nod to Polendina giving him a great bow.

Looking over at P, Verso asked, “Should we go?”

A long pause. Then, a silent nod.

Chapter Text

“Close your eyes, come to me…”

The woman sitting on the piano and singing her heart out to those gathered in the opera was supposed to be the star of the show. But his eyes tracked not to her, but to the hands moving along the keys. To the stubbled face with eyes closed in concentration and a smile upon his face.

“Feel alright, just dance with me all through the night…”

It was her face on the poster. Julie, one of the most popular songstresses of the opera, clad in sweet and succulent blue. But many would actually say that they’re just present to catch a glimpse of the Pianist of Krat. He wasn’t usually the backing performer for Julie’s most well-known song, but he’s heard that the previous performer caught the disease, and so the Pianist had to fill in.

“Turn it out, close to you…”

He knew he was staring. He could feel that teasing nudge drilling into his shoulder. He waved his friend off, keeping his eyes locked on the Pianist.

“I feel good…”

As Julie leaned back on the piano, arm reaching back to cup that stubbled chin, he caught a glimpse of those eyes opening, and he swore that they looked in his direction. Or perhaps his ensnared heart was just imagining things.

“‘Cause I just know feeling of you…”

The Pianist smiled at him, and the idea of him imagining their gazes locking vanished in an instant.

“Give it to me, baby…”

Gemini’s light flashed on and off repeatedly as he giggled. “Stop that! That tickles!”

Lune only rolled her eyes, retracting her small paintbrush only for a moment. “At least you can’t wiggle around. But could you dim that light? I can’t see my application that well if you keep blinding me.”

As she sat on Geppetto’s desk, putting the paintbrush back against the lamp, Verso watched Geppetto. The man had taken off most of his warmer clothes, revealing a vest over a long-sleeved white shirt. He was in the process of inspecting P’s bare arm, inspecting the newly-painted sigil.

“It’s not burning him,” Lune eventually said, finishing off the sigil on Gemini with a flick of the wrist.

“Yes, yes, I know. But forgive a sentimental father for worrying about his son.” Geppetto released P’s arm. “Are you sure that this will work?”

“A Painter’s Chroma is an extension of their will, no matter the form.” Lune waved about the gold-tipped paintbrush. “Using Maelle’s Chroma to make the Pictos theoretically means that she can extend her will to the bearer.” Picking up a random book from Geppetto’s desk, she snapped the cover shut and painted a simple sigil on it before tossing it to Geppetto. “And that should do it.”

“Maelle?” Verso called.

“Um… Testing. Can anyone besides Verso hear me?”

Gemini chirped with unbridled glee. “Wow! It worked! You are Maelle, right? It’s an honor to finally meet you! Uh, hear you.”

Maelle giggled. “And quite a delight to finally speak with you, Gemini.”

“While greeting friends that have always been a step away is nice,” Lune interrupted, “I think we’ve got bigger fish to fry. For one, you still haven’t told us what happened.”

“I can’t really say myself,” Verso replied. “We just finished clearing out the puppets in City Hall when this man suddenly appeared. He didn’t give us a chance before he started attacking—with Chroma, I’d like to mention.”

“A mysterious man with both the powers of Chroma and a thinner weapon,” Geppetto noted aloud. “I leave the opinion on that worrying news to the resident Painter.”

“What you’re thinking is probably what I’m thinking,” Lune answered. “That’s somebody who’s incredibly dangerous to both Painters and muses. Why is somebody like that running around at a time like this?”

“Could it have something to do with the massacre of Painters that Maelle mentioned a while back?” Verso offered.

“It could be,” Geppetto agreed, sitting back down at his desk and stroking his beard. “In the chaos of the Frenzy, one could assume that it was the puppets that killed the Painters. But perhaps it is a different story, and this man may have taken advantage of the chaos.”

“If that’s true, then when he cut me off from Verso and almost killed him… He was trying to finish the job,” Maelle muttered.

Verso sighed, leaning against the table. “Things just got a lot more dangerous, then. It’s not just the puppets we need to worry about, but an unknown Painter trying to be the last one standing.”

“Maelle, are you alright where you are?” Gemini asked.

“I’m safe,” Maelle confirmed. “Nobody knows where I am except you all. And as far as I’m aware, it’s going to be staying that way for the foreseeable future. If you two start making a beeline for the manor, this mysterious Painter might see and be able to guess where I am.”

“So rescuing you would in fact put you in more danger,” Lune noted. “I’m inclined to agree with her. Not only would you have to get all the way to her, you’d have to bring her back. And I don’t think that pocket watch of yours can carry more than two?”

“The way Sophia put it, Verso’s the exception and not the standard,” Gemini agreed. “I don’t think we could use it with Maelle.”

“Speaking of that mysterious Painter, there’s something else,” Verso interjected. “During the fight, I suddenly used white Chroma, not gold.”

“A different-colored Chroma than your Painter?” Lune folded her arms. “By all accounts, that should be impossible.”

“It is, but… Verso has two Painters,” Maelle said. “A different Painter, one who used white Chroma, started his Canvas, but didn’t finish it. You using white Chroma must mean that his Chroma still exists within you.”

“Do you need me to explain how much of a terrible thing that is to do?” Lune asked. “Maelle, that’s effectively recoating Verso.”

“I know, I know. But I only did because I knew for a fact that the Painter who started his Canvas is dead. I never would have risked it otherwise.”

“What is done is done,” Geppetto softly interjected, sitting up in his seat and looking at the three humanoids physically within his study. “Verso is here now, and, dare I say, vital to things moving forward.” He looked at P, now that he had the floor. “This mysterious Painter. Were his motivations alluded to in any way when you interacted with him?”

“He asked where you were,” P answered. “It sounded like he was looking for you.”

“Hmm. Yet I am not a Painter. Perhaps, if we follow the theory that he is using the veil of the Puppet Frenzy, he may be attempting to cover his tracks by targeting the possible culprits.” Geppetto furrowed his brow. “In that case, they may be in even more danger than I originally thought.”

“They?” Verso asked.

“There’s a factory just beyond Elysion Boulevard. It is where the puppets of the city of Krat were made, so it very quickly fell under their control when the Frenzy began. My friend, the inventor Venigni, and his son went to shut it down. Neither of them have come back. If this Painter is hunting me, then he may be hunting them as well.”

“It sounds like we need to make preparations to head to the factory, then,” Verso said to P. “There’s some things to tidy up on the boulevard before we head out in full, and I need to see about getting a new weapon from Eugénie.”

“She was already on it, the second you handed over those overclocked storage batteries,” Lune said, putting her hands on her hips. “Not only does she have a weapon for you, Verso, but she’s got a new Legion Arm for P, too.”

“Before you go and finish your business at the boulevard,” Geppetto added, placing his hand on P’s shoulder, “I need to perform maintenance and ensure that your P-Organ is working properly. You could have overexerted it in your fight against the Painter.” He gestured for P to take a seat in a plush chair nearby.

As P did so, Verso began walking for the study exit. “I’ll pick up our wares from Eugénie so we can head out as soon as you’re ready,” he said to P, giving him a short wave before slipping out the open doorway.

As Lune floated after him, P settled in his seat. He laid his hands upon the rests and bowed his head. The position felt instinctual as he felt Geppetto begin to remove the outer armor made by Amandine.

“It seems that this has defended you well,” Geppetto said, and when P looked, he could see his father looking upon the black stains of oil and Chroma that still remained. “You and Verso have been hard at work. Let an old man beg for forgiveness for getting you caught in the crossfire of an enemy that he didn’t know existed.”

P only helped Geppetto disrobe the last of his upper clothing. His body looked human enough—passing to an untrained eye. But truly, it was cold and metallic to the touch, and the hidden seams that peeled open and revealed the P-Organ at Geppetto’s bidding would catch the eye of anyone close enough.

The springs were loud now, unmuffled by the compartment meant to dampen the noise. Pulses of liquid Ergo flowed through the many wires bundled around the P-Organ. It throbbed like a heart, but was nothing more than a mimicry, a power source, rather than anything that supported life.

There was the clinking of a lock as Geppetto opened a box. As he pulled out a white, pointed crystal, he spoke gently. “You must remember something, P. The hotel is the last safe place in Krat. It’s our only refuge in a city full of perils.” He stepped back over, kneeling before his son. “If people like the Painter learn of this place, many will be placed in great danger. So be careful who you tell, especially if they are Stalkers, Alchemists, or Painters and their muses.”

P felt the crystal pressed into his interior. The P-Organ beat faster as the crystal was slotted into place. The natural Ergo of the gem was immediately sapped, and its luster faded before it crumbled into dust that too was eaten.

“Be wary of dangerous people,” Geppetto said, his hands still upon the delicate organ, “and always be a good boy to me.”

As Verso stepped out into the hotel lobby, Maelle spoke up. “I thought it was a reasonable assumption that it was the puppets who killed all the Painters. I never thought it would have been one of our own.”

“I’m sorry, Maelle. This all must be a lot.”

Maelle dryly chuckled. “It’s been “a lot” since all of this started. I think I’m getting used to it.”

As Verso passed by the front desk, who else spoke up but Polendina. “Ah, Verso! It is good to see you awake and aware. If I may, the new style compliments you.”

Verso couldn’t help but chuckle. “What, the scar?”

“It matches your rugged uniform. Ah, do not worry about the paint you spilled on the way in. It comes up quite easily from tile.”

“I, um…” Verso paused. “Thanks?”

“Of course.” Polendina brushed off his rigid, metallic butler’s outfit and righted himself up. “Now, then, I believe Miss Eugénie wanted to speak with you.”

“Just about to head over to her. Thanks.” Verso stepped away from the front desk as Polendina bowed to him, straightening up and resuming his work as soon as the muse was far enough away.

As he approached the workshop, what first greeted him was a meow. The same cat from before scampered out from a hiding spot he was passing by, quickly retreating to the back of Eugénie’s workshop. He paused, watching them go into a different hiding spot, before looking at the one running the workshop and shrugging helplessly.

With a giggle, Eugénie shrugged back. “Spring can get easily frightened,” she explained. “Don’t take it personally. I’m glad to see you’re alright. I saw you get brought in.”

“Sorry that I didn’t say hello when we came in. I heard that you got welcome back presents for me and P, though.”

“I sure do. I’m no Gustave Venigni, but I was able to make a rather serviceable Legion Arm for P. Along with that, I heard that the Painter broke your old sword, so I made you a new one.”

Withdrawing a set of items, Eugénie set them both down before Verso. One was a left arm, colored a dark aquamarine color with gold tints. The other was a blade, thin and long, with a purplish coloration for the blade.

“The puppets get easily fried by electricity,” she explained as Verso picked the sword up. “If you use electric weaponry, it’ll make your life easier.”

Indeed, Verso could almost feel the electric energy coursing through the blade. He gave it a few testing swishes, watching the small sparks bounce off it. With one last thrusting motion, he gave a grateful hum before sheathing the weapon.

“Does it have a name?” he asked.

“I think Dualiso is a good one,” Eugénie offered. “What do you think?”

“Perfect. Thank you, Eugénie.”

As Verso picked up the Legion Arm, he heard the sound of footsteps approaching and springs clicking. He glanced to see P walking towards him, fiddling with the components of his armor. His eyes were set on the floor of the hotel, rather than looking ahead as per usual.

“Hey, P,” Verso greeted, and P stopped in place, looking up at him. The muse lifted the Legion Arm and waved it about. “You good with the grappler, or do you want to try this one out?”

A noise left P’s mouth. One that Verso wasn’t really prepared for. A snort, as if the puppet was building up to laugh. But that was all P did, and no smile accompanied it as he stepped over and took the Legion Arm from Verso.

Still, Verso grinned. He didn’t know in what way, but he considered that noise progress.

Chapter Text

In Verso’s opinion, it was a bad idea to head back to Krat City Hall. But the way to the factory laid on the other side of the building, the door leading ahead locked and only openable by the key Geppetto gave to P. And besides, business needed to be attended to in the boulevard.

Business that Verso feared seeing the outcome of. But business that shouldn’t be left out of fear.

Toma was first. Verso approached the window slowly, paint-splattered basket in hand. The light was still on, but he saw no shadow moving in it. Carefully, he lifted a hand and knocked gently on the window.

“Toma?” he called. “Are you in there?”

One second passed. Then two. Verso felt the paint within him churn. Then, there was the sound of the floorboards creaking as a small figure approached the window.

“Huh?” Toma’s voice was somehow worse off then last they spoke. “Is that you, Verso?”

“Hey, Toma.” Verso leaned against the wall near the window. “How are you feeling?”

“... Bad. I tried to sleep so I’d be strong for Murphy, but… now I can’t see that well, and my head hurts. Maybe I am hungry, and I don’t know it… Did you find Dorrami?”

Verso felt the paint bubble in the back of his throat. “He…” After a moment of thinking, he shook his head. “We ran into him, yeah. He’s as slow and clumsy as you said.” Toma laughed a bit, so Verso found the strength to continue. “He had a cake, somehow, but he had tripped and it spilled everywhere. So he went to go find a new one.”

“That’s Dorrami for you… I bet it was lemon cake. That’s his favorite… I like it too, but he always eats more of it than I do…” Toma coughed again. “I’m happy… I missed lemon cake. I would have eaten the one he spilled on the ground… but Dorrami wouldn’t want that…” Another cough, sounding even worse than last time.

Verso wanted to offer further comfort. Maybe a story that this fake Dorrami would have given him and P. But as he watched the shadow of the young boy double over in the window, he found that words failed him.

A sound rang out behind him. A singular note, carried through a tinny whistle. Verso looked back to see none other than the Watchman’s whistle in P’s mouth. He was blowing hard into the instrument, using his lack of lungs to let the note ring out for as long as possible.

And like that, Verso heard just a modicum of life return to Toma’s voice. “That sound… is that you, Murphy? Verso, is Murphy out there? I can’t see that well…”

Verso looked over at P. His fists clenched around the basket.

“Yeah,” he said, eyes not leaving the puppet. “He is.”

“What’s he doing…?”

P lifted a hand and waved to the window.

“He’s waving,” Verso answered.

“Hello, Murphy…” Toma’s shadow waved back. “Thanks for stopping by… I want to play, but… I feel too sick. I don’t think I can… I need to wait until Dorrami comes back with the lemon cake…” Toma’s shadow sank back into what had to be a chair. “Verso?”

“Yeah, Toma?”

“I miss my friends… Zach and Amelie and Eric… I wish we could all play…”

Verso watched Toma’s shadow fall back into the chair further. He could see the young boy’s head tip back, just the slightest.

“Toma?” he called.

Nothing.

Carefully, Verso pushed open the window. It had been left unlocked. A smell akin to rotten flesh hit his nose as he peered upon a body marred and mutated. Much of the face was left disfigured by scales and dead skin. He reached out, putting a hand to Toma’s throat.

When he eventually pulled his arm back out, P was the one to speak. “Is he dead?”

“He’s waiting for Dorrami,” Verso answered, and he silently thanked P for not questioning further.

Next was the poor woman. Also infected by the disease, also likely to die any day, any hour now. Verso almost wanted to go and find the much prettier girl puppet in the red dress to try and pass off as a fake. But when P approached the window with the broken puppet that he had picked up before, he knew that there’d be no time to.

P was the one who knocked on the window first, with Verso standing by. It took no time at all for the shadow of the woman to appear, moving much faster than Toma did.

She must have seen the shape in P’s hands, because she gently gasped. “Is that her? Did you find her, kind ones?” Before either of them could say anything, she was opening her window, white-coated arms reaching out. “I could sense her from miles away. My sweet Elena! Please let me hold her.”

P passed over the ruined puppet into the woman’s waiting arms. Quickly, she drew herself back into the room, gasping in pure delight. Verso laid his hand in the window, ready to shut it on her behalf once their business was concluded.

“There, there, my baby…” The woman bounced the unresponsive puppet in her arms, like she was soothing a fussy infant. “I missed you so much.” Her scale-covered face turned to the two watching, a weak smile crossing her face. “What do you think? Isn’t my baby adorable?”

P didn’t hesitate. “She’s a cute baby.”

As Verso sought comfort from P’s springs reacting, the woman giggled. “She is, isn’t she? She has her father’s eyes.” She brought the puppet closer to her chest, bowing her head. “My sweet Elena. We’re going to be happy now.” She once more lifted her broken, nearly-blind gaze. “Thank you so much, kind ones. Please accept my heartfelt gratitude.”

Extending her hand to the side, Verso heard a click as the woman picked something up. Then, her arm came back out. She held out a music record to P. The design on it was well-loved, but Verso could make out a woman in a blue dress drinking from a glass, the word “FEEL” curving over her head.

“This is a limited-edition vinyl,” the woman explained. “It’s one of the only records where it’s the famed Pianist of Krat playing the piano instead of the regular musician. Only so many were made. Elena here would be soothed to sleep whenever I’d play it. I hope it brings you similar comfort.”

As the woman settled back, Verso gave her a quiet, “Thanks. Get some rest.” With that, he shut the window, correctly guessing that she would have forgotten to do so.

While the Painter had destroyed the Stargazer in the City Hall proper, there was still one on the approach to the building. Verso sat before that Stargazer now, watching his Tints slowly refill as he pondered to himself.

As he looked up, P was turning over the vinyl in his hands. He seemed deeply contemplative of the new item, yet was treating it as the fragile item that it was. He only looked up when he seemed to sense Verso’s gaze on him.

“There’s a record player in the Hotel,” Gemini eventually offered when the quiet got to be too much. “Once we finish things at the factory, we could go back and play it, to see how it sounds.”

“It sounds like it’s a popular song in Krat,” Verso said. “Feel, I mean.”

“It is! And like the lady said, this record’s quite valuable. Not only is it the original singer, but the Pianist of Krat is playing the piano backing.”

“Who is the Pianist?”

“Um…” Gemini thought for a moment. “I don’t actually know. I’ve never been all about the opera and performing arts, and people usually just say “the Pianist” instead of his name.”

“It’s depressingly impressive, to be known more for your talents than your actual identity,” Maelle said. “From the performances I’ve attended, they always introduced him with his title rather than his name. Even though he’s never hid his face, I don’t think many know who he is.” She sounded surprisingly somber as she spoke.

“That is depressing,” Verso remarked. “I feel bad for the Pianist. I don’t think I’d want a fate of remembrance like that.”

As Maelle hummed, Verso watched a small bug land atop the Stargazer. The end of its body glowed a silvery hue, flashing on and off. He chuckled, moving to wave it away. It fluttered away from the Stargazer and zipped around his hand before flying over to P and landing on his nose.

Verso laughed at the sight as P scrunched his face up. “Looks like you’re making a new friend over there.”

As P waved the glowworm away, it zipped off his face and flew off towards the sidewalk. Verso turned to watch it go, only for his eyes to widen. It was flying back towards a rather large cluster of silver glowworms. All of them were gathered around a white, wall-mounted box reading “POST”.

“What is going on over there?” Maelle wondered as Verso stood. “That most definitely wasn’t happening the last time we ran through here.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

As Verso approached, the glowworms scattered, revealing the mailbox underneath. Verso tested the mailbox door and was surprised to find it unlocked. As P went to stand by him, he opened the mailbox and peeked inside.

Two items laid within the mailbox. One seemed to be a closed suitcase, colored silver with a white handle and accompanying case latches. The second was a sealed letter that had a silver wax seal depicting a glowworm and smelled faintly of woody sage and sea salt.

Verso carefully took out the letter first, staring at the laminated envelope with intrigue. The suitcase, meanwhile, clattered as P took it out and turned it about. He eventually knelt down, placing it on the ground to open it up as Verso used his thumb to rip open the letter and pull out the neatly-folded letter inside.

Poppet,

You need this now, if certain possibilities have become definitives. Take care of it before you retrieve the Venignis - I do see a possibility of you losing or breaking it before you have somebody that can repair it nearby.

Madame Lucciola

Verso looked down at P cracking open the suitcase. As the case opened, he could see the telltale construction of a portable record player. P’s hands hovered over the golden contraption, visibly surprised by the case’s contents.

“A record player?” Gemini wondered. “Well, what do you know? Talk about a coincidence. We were just talking about one!”

“I don’t think it’s a coincidence,” Verso said, holding the letter out to P.

P took the letter from Verso, taking Gemini off his hip as he did. Holding Gemini like a lantern to illuminate the page, his eyes scanned over the elegant writing. As Gemini hummed aloud, the puppet glanced over at Verso with a hint of confusion in his stoic expression.

“Well, that’s creepy,” Gemini noted. “Not only does this show up as soon as we need it, this “Madame Lucciola” knows what we’re setting off to do.”

“Possibilities and definitives…” Maelle muttered.

“Thinking of something, Maelle?” Gemini asked.

“Wishful thinking, yes. What came to mind is surely impossible.” Maelle cleared her throat. “We might as well try the record player out. We have a vinyl for it, after all!”

After passing the letter back to Verso and putting Gemini back on his belt, P swiftly carted the case back over to the Stargazer. He sat down criss-cross, holding up the “Feel” vinyl. However, he paused mid-motion, as if trying to figure out how to set it in. Verso chuckled before sitting next to him, gently taking the vinyl as he lifted the needle. He clicked the vinyl into place and set the needle down before turning the record player on.

Static, for a moment. Then, a voice, sweet and succulent, began to play.

“Close your eyes, come to me…”

Verso immediately felt something close in his throat. Such emotion surged into his body at the sound of the piano striking in tune with the voice.

“Feel alright, just dance with me all through the night…”

He looked over at P, attempting to find emotion coming to his own expression. Honestly, he thought it would be a fruitless search. But he saw the puppet’s eyes were locked onto the record player with a focus he had only seen when there were enemies to combat.

“Turn it out, close to you…”

He knew he was staring. He could feel that questioning nudge drilling into the back of his head. He waved Maelle off, keeping his eyes locked on P.

“I feel good…”

P straightened up slightly, swaying as he did. Verso could see him starting to get lost in the music. However, before his eyes fluttered close, he noticed Verso staring and paused mid-motion instead, looking back at him.

“‘Cause I just know feeling of you…”

P smiled at him.

“Give it to me, baby…”

Your Chroma grows stronger.

Chapter Text

Dear citizens of Krat,

The factory has been occupied by the puppets. Whatever the cause, Venigni Company is responsible for it.

We, Lorenzini and Gustave Venigni, are going to stop those devils. The factory is very dangerous now. Stay out of it and keep safe. The rest we leave to Giuseppe Geppetto, whom our family trusts more than anyone.

God save us all.

Regards, the Venigni Estate

As Verso turned over the hastily-written poster found pinned to the gate, P pushed said gate open. The foggy day prevented the sun from beaming down on them as the way forward, located in the back of City Hall, swung open.

Stepping through, Verso was almost immediately hit with the distant smell of smoke. As they stepped onto a stone walkway, he turned to see not-to-distant plumes of black belching from a giant factory just a brisk walk away.

“Here it is,” Gemini declared. “Venigni Works. Everything you see here belongs to Venigni, the classiest playboy and most brilliant inventor in Krat. Just ask him!”

“And that doesn’t just mean puppets,” Maelle added. “If there’s a piece of machinery in Krat, chances are, it’s patented by the Venigni Estate. That means everything, from telephones to trains and everything in-between.”

“The family must be made of geniuses,” Verso admired aloud.

“It is! Venigni’s son, Gustave, is the one who invented the Legion Arms. So you have him to thank for your hands-on capabilities, P.”

“They’re quite a duo,” Gemini said. “Makes you curious about what kind of people they are that they can rightfully say they’re the mechanical backbone of Krat. Hope we can find them… That is, if they’re still kicking.”

“If they really are geniuses and considering that this is their factory, I don’t have much doubt that they were able to figure out a backup plan for if things went wrong,” Verso offered. Though looking at the puppets practically choking the area, he added, “I just hope it was made with a puppet revolution in mind.”

Perhaps more worryingly, which Verso didn’t mention, was that the puppets crawling through the area seemed stronger than the ones they had fought in the boulevard. None of them seemed to have been freshly-made, eliminating the idea that the factory was now being used to make human-killing puppets specifically. The muse’s best guess was that these puppets were used for more physically laborious tasks than the servants deployed in the boulevard, meaning that they were built with more strength in mind than butlers and chimney sweepers would be.

In particular, while they had seen large strongarm puppets before, they were unarmed and few in number. Now, there were multiple, swinging about giant bloodstained wheels. Their backup wasn’t paltry either, forcing one of them to handle the incoming smaller puppets while the other focused down the strongarm. No matter who it’d be, both Pulse Cells and Tints rapidly ran dry.

“I guess we shouldn’t be surprised that the factory’s a lot more dangerous than the boulevard,” Verso grunted as the strongarm crumpled under one last strike from P’s electric coil stick. “Still, this feels like a massive jump in the threat level.”

“How could the Venigni family have gotten past all of this?” Maelle questioned. “The gestrals surviving through blind luck, I gave enough of a pass. But there are way too many puppets, and if they didn’t have any defensive capabilities…”

As if to answer Maelle, as Verso and P turned a corner on their factory approach, they came across a bend in the street. Lying amidst that bend were puppet bodies, unmoving and clearly dismantled. There weren’t that many of them, and it was clear that the only ones killed were those that couldn’t have been snuck by.

Verso knelt by one, inspecting the rather clean set of bullet holes in the head. “Huh. Whoever took these ones out is a pretty good shot.”

“And a good punch,” P added, and when Verso looked, he could see the puppet holding up a body that had a clean hole through its chest.

“I’ve never met him, but I’ve heard that Gustave Venigni has a Legion Arm himself,” Maelle offered. “This might have been his work.”

“If it was, then it’s probably safe to say that he and Lorenzini got this far,” Verso said. “And the lack of blood makes me think that they weren’t forced to stop here.”

“Then it’s not as far of a reach as I thought that they made it to the factory,” Maelle conceded. “They must have been truly determined to shut it all down.”

“Well, think about it,” Gemini pointed out as Verso and P collected what Ergo remained from the abandoned bodies and began moving again. “The puppets that you mass-produced have now gone crazy and are killing everybody. Wouldn’t you want to risk your life to stop something you might have let happen?”

“I… guess that’s true. Goodness, now I’m thinking of how much guilt they must be carrying.”

“I am, too. Let’s hope that they’re still okay.”

The sound of a telephone ringing nearly jolted Verso out of his canvas skin. As he whipped around, P too was at the ready, having been similarly taken off-guard. Both of their weapons quickly leveled at a nearby telephone booth, ringing loudly and flashing white.

“Who in the hell is calling a public telephone at a time like this?” Maelle sounded like her heart had stopped from fright.

Shaking off the trembles in his body, Verso cautiously stepped forward. Taking his free hand, he picked up the connected phone and put it to his ear. As soon as he did, the ringing stopped.

“Hello?” he greeted gingerly.

“Another fine day in the City of Krat!” Verso quickly pulled back the phone as a loud, crackling voice blared into his ear. “But I wonder, my friend, just where you have been at?” Verso changed ears to continue listening, the other one ringing loudly. “Congratulations! You have been selected from this cast of… a little, for an exclusive, obtrusive, intrusive… transmittal! From me, Arlecchino, the King of All Riddles!”

Verso felt a wince from Maelle. “Arlecchino? Oh, this man has to change his name…”

“Now, you know what I’m called, and why I called you. And I want to know your name—but not ‘till we’re through. For as soon as I’ve learned, that’s one riddle burned. And I do love a mystery, don’t you?” Arlecchino laughed.

“Hold on,” Verso interrupted before Arlecchino could go further. “Are you randomly calling people and offering riddles?”

Arlecchino sighed. “Yes, I know, what a thing to do, when Krat’s on fire, and the city’s humanity is through. But consider it my method of hazing, for a certain detail’s the focus of my gazing. Only the living solve riddles, as everyone knows, that’s a must. When your city is so full of puppets, its seams are about fit to bust!”

“So… only humans can solve riddles?”

“Yes, quite true—and you’re a human, aren’t you?” Now it was Arlecchino’s turn to interrupt any attempt on Verso’s part to speak. “It’s time for the riddle, no more waiting. We thank you for participating!

By morning, it walks on feet numbering four,

At midday just two, no less and no more.

It walks on three feet when the evening arrives.

And if you solve this then I know you’re alive!”

“Four feet, two feet, three feet…” Maelle muttered as Verso’s brow furrowed. “A chair that gets broken, then remade into a stool?”

Verso covered the phone as he pulled his head back. “You’re stretching it way too much, Maelle.”

“A monster,” P offered.

“At least you’re on the right track, but I don’t think that’s it, either.”

“Come on now, human, you’re running out of time!” Arlecchino mocked. “Making somebody wait like this should be a crime!”

“I—wait, human!” Verso uncovered the phone. “Human, that’s the answer! Babies crawl, full-grown people walk on their legs, and the elderly use a cane! Four legs, two legs, three legs!”

Arlecchino laughed. “Correct! But let’s be honest, you only got that because of my slip of the tongue.”

“Huh? Hey, you’re not rhyming anymore.”

“What? Not everything has to rhyme, you know. I’m not a caricature. I’m the King of Riddles! And like I was saying, I inspired you by just so happening to say the answer. You just got lucky and picked up on a cue that I didn’t realize I was putting down.” Arlecchino grumbled for a moment. “Still, a promise is a promise. Arlecchino, tell him what he’ll get! Thanks, Arlecchino. Caller, your correct answer has earned you… a Trinity Key!”

Something made an audible clinking sound as it was abruptly dispensed out of the telephone. Verso managed to catch it before it fell onto the ground, and he looked it over in his palm. It was a simple, small key, with a triangular logo emblazoned on its head.

“Doors and keys and keys and doors,” Arlecchino hummed. “The subject of puzzles and riddles galore! My next riddle won’t be as simple to crack. Arlecchino’s the King, not some riddling cheap-jack!”

An audible tone rang out. Arlecchino had hung up. Verso pulled back the phone, staring at it for a moment longer in sheer confusion, before putting it back on its spot.

Your Chroma grows stronger.

“What was all of that about?” Maelle wondered.

“Somebody trying to find something to pass the time, I guess,” Gemini answered. “I wonder what this “Trinity Key” goes to.”

Verso could only offer a shrug as he let P take the key, who admired it closely. “I guess we’ll just keep an eye out for strangely-locked doors or chests.”

As the two came up on the factory, they found that the way forward would be over a small bridge. Verso supposed that in a normal circumstance, it would be filled with puppet defenders. However, like before, there were only puppet corpses. Verso couldn’t help but feel some level of admiration—if it were only Gustave fighting them back, not only was he a genius, but he was also an incredibly capable fighter.

As they approached, the acrid smell of smoke getting stronger by the second, an automated voice echoed, as if having waited for the two before beginning to speak. “EVERY BOLT YOU TIGHTEN BRINGS PROSPERITY TO KRAT. AT VENIGNI WORKS, WE BUILD THE FUTURE.”

“Yeah, and…” Verso put his hands on his hips, looking up at the massive factory just before them. “Look where it got us.” He gestured to the front doors, visibly welded shut and even barricaded with multiple slabs of wood. “Don’t think we can go in through the front door.”

After shaking his head in disagreement, P looked to the side. He bumped Verso, grabbing his attention and forcing it to land on a nearby fire escape. A silent nod of agreement was shared between them, with P making for the fire escape first and Verso following swiftly after.

The fire escape extended over the walls of the factory, even providing ramparts for climbing back down to the ground. As P slid down the ladder, sparks flying from his Legion Arm, Verso simply jumped off, rolling into the impact. As a result, the two ended up on the floor of the factory’s interior at roughly the same time.

“This has got a decent enough amount of metal to jury-rig a Stargazer,” Gemini suggested. “You guys might as well set one up here, since it’s pretty quiet.”

“Okay.” P knelt at a particularly empty patch of ground.

As he did, Verso looked about. For now, the area seemed empty of puppets. Though something quickly caught his eye—a small room off to the side, its door open and the puppets inside destroyed.

Stepping inside, Verso looked about. It looked to be a weapons workshop, or at the very least where somebody stored some weapons. A large, flaming-red sword slightly shaped like a feather laid alongside a dagger. The table they were on had a bloody handprint on it. A note, similarly bloodied, laid nearby the print, which Verso picked up and unfolded to read.

To those who come after us,

Somehow, Venigni Works is much worse than either of us thought. We knew that the puppets were still being made, but whoever’s running the place now has practically overclocked the production lines. Puppets are being spewed out, and every one I cut down, two more take their place.

It took some convincing, but Papà and I split up. He and Pulcinella went to shut down the factory proper, while I’m looking to see just who took over this place by heading to communications.

The culprit isn’t just some crazed, bloodlusting puppet like every other one. They wouldn’t know how to operate the machinery like this. Something or someone has enough intellect to control the finer operations. A Puppet Frenzy mastermind?

Fire doesn’t work on the puppets, so I’m leaving Danseso and the Salamander Dagger here. If anybody is reading this (and if you are, congratulations on somehow getting this far), maybe they’ll serve you well, though I don’t recommend using them if you’re heading deeper into the Works.

Ciao,

Gustave Venigni

“Somebody who’s masterminding the Frenzy?” Maelle questioned as Verso flipped over the letter, looking at the printed map on the back. “Like the Painter?”

“I think he means more somebody who caused it, not somebody who’s taking advantage of it,” Verso replied. “I don’t like the implications, either way.”

“I suppose if there’s an idea of a mastermind, the best place to look would be the factory where the puppets are made,” Maelle agreed. “I just hope that Gustave hasn’t run headlong into danger.”

Exiting the room with the weapons, Verso felt the Chroma of the Stargazer surge to life in his presence. With a hum, he walked forward, sitting down next to P just as the latter was setting up the portable record player.

“Bit of bad news, P,” Verso said, holding out the bloodstained note.

“What?” P looked over just as he set the needle down on “Feel”. He quickly took the letter from Verso, reading it over.

“Seems like the family split up. One of them went to shut the factory down, and one of them went to find out who was now controlling the factory.”

“Gustave mentions a Pulcinella as well, but Geppetto didn’t mention anybody by that name,” Maelle said. “I wonder who that is.”

“Regardless, it looks like we’ll have to split up to follow their trails.” Verso flipped over the letter so both of them could look at the factory blueprint. “Venigni probably went to the control room, if he plans to shut things down.”

“And Gustave is going to communications,” P said, trailing his finger across the map until he found the room labelled as such.

“I’ll see to that,” Verso said. “You go after Venigni.”

P nodded at Verso. He passed back the letter before setting back down in front of the Stargazer, the piano and guitar of “Feel” drifting in-between them.

Chapter Text

Splitting up in unfamiliar territory could always be considered a bad idea. But time was of the essence, and both sides of the Venigni family needed to be found. So while P headed off towards the control room, Verso began making his way towards communications.

The factory was just as puppet-infested as Gustave wrote it to be. Every hallway Verso turned, there were enemies either blank and freshly-made or those armed with shovels meant for moving coals and not ripping muses apart. They were, unfortunately, primarily used for the latter.

“Do you think Gustave’s right?” Maelle wondered as Verso sliced in twain another puppet with Dualiso. “That there’s somebody who masterminded the Puppet Frenzy?”

“I mean… Think about it. Something had to have happened for all of the puppets to unanimously disobey the Grand Covenant. Somebody having orchestrated that isn’t too out of the question, and in fact might explain a lot.”

“I… I guess so.”

Verso slowed in his stride, identifying a pang of sadness. “Are you alright, Maelle?”

“Not really. If somebody orchestrated the Frenzy, that means they likely specifically targeted me, my family, and all of the Painters I’ve known throughout my life.”

“... Right. The Painter massacre.”

“Who would want to destroy Krat so badly that they’d take out any chance of opposition so brutally?”

“If I can ask… What happened?”

“... A lot at once.” Maelle’s voice grew cold; an unspoken order for Verso to stop his line of questioning. For once, Verso let that compulsion win and shut his mouth.

Silence ensued between then, save for the occasional noise of Verso cutting down a stray puppet. He wondered if he should fill the air with a joke or anything to create noise again. Nothing came to mind, however, and he headed along the path before him, instead, keeping his thoughts to himself as much as possible.

A slight shifting noise. Boots clicking against the ground. Verso stilled mid-step, his hand tightening around Dualiso’s hilt. He heard no cane. Not yet. Still, he had his weapon ready as he whipped around the corner.

A slender sword crossed blades with him. A move to disarm him. He twisted his wrist, sending the sword away, but made no move to attack just yet. He restrained himself, watching the one that he had just nearly attacked.

It was not the Painter, but rather, a woman. She wore mostly crimson red, with a fox mask of an identical color over her face. Behind her was a much smaller individual—even smaller than P, that wore complete black with a cat’s mask. The weapon they wielded, held ready to spear Verso through, looked like a ramshackle lance made out of signpost parts.

As they stood ready, the woman seemed rather relaxed, putting her sword back on her shoulder. “Well, then,” she purred. “You’re not a puppet. An admirer?” Looking down and noticing some golden injuries, she added in a more delighted tone, “Or a muse?”

“... Oh. I’m sorry.” Verso completely lowered his sword. “I thought you were somebody else.”

“Not a scratch on me, so no offense taken.” The woman waved the shorter individual off, and he lowered his spear. “You’re a rather well-equipped muse. Is your Painter a Stalker?”

Before Verso could answer, the shorter individual stepped forward, a youthful, boyish voice coming from under the mask. “You made it all the way here unbothered by ruffians.” He grabbed Verso’s wrist, lifting it up to inspect his arm much more closely. “I’ve never seen a muse before. You look just like a real human, so much that if Red Fox said nothing, I wouldn’t’ve known.” Verso pulled away, but the individual seemed to take no offense. “You’ve got talent!”

“Uh… thanks. Who are you two?”

“Well, as he’s said, I am Red Fox.” The woman placed a hand on her chest and bowed slightly. “And he is Black Cat. A pleasure.”

“Verso.” Verso nodded his head slightly. “Have either of you two seen somebody with a Legion Arm come through here?”

“Oh?” Red Fox reclined on her heel. “Do you speak of the ruggedly handsome mop of brown hair? One who perchance may be the Venigni heir?”

“That’d be him. So you saw him?”

“Ah, so I see you’re following the scent of money, too. We offered him our services of protection, but he politely refused. Said he’d “feel terrible” if any harm were to come our way.” Red Fox giggled. “His suicide, I suppose.”

“He rejected the help of Stalkers?” Maelle questioned as Verso pondered over that. “That… sounds really stupid for him to have done.”

“Keep your whiskers up if you’re heading in there,” Red Fox eventually said, watching Verso scowl. “I wouldn’t die for somebody who wouldn’t offer you recompense for it, after all.”

“Is it true that muses are uneducated?” Black Cat suddenly asked. “That they know nothing about the world when they come into being, just what their Painters put in their Canvas? Like how to walk and talk and swing a sword?”

“Uh…” Verso blinked. “I would say that I don’t really know much about Krat, yes.”

“Do you know anything about the Rose Estate, then? If not… would you want to learn?”

Black Cat sounded suddenly sly. And Verso could hear the tiniest of scoffs from Red Fox, like she was holding in laughter.

“Venigni’s Landmark Guides are the most popular nonfiction work in Krat. They’re little guidebooks on the most well-known establishments in the city and already went for a premium even before the author Medoro went missing.” Black Cat had to jump to loop an arm over Verso’s shoulders, tugging the man down to his height as he fell back onto his feet. “But you’re in luck! I have a conscience and a powerful sense of self-preservation. I’ll let the third edition of the Rose Estate go for five hundred.”

“Ergo?”

“Of course I mean Ergo. What other currency is there, friend?”

“Verso, this is an even worse deal than what Noco showed you. This man is outright pilfering you. Don’t fall for it.”

“350 Ergo,” Verso said.

“Verso!”

Black Cat laughed. “Oh, we’re bartering, are we? 475.”

“Mm… 395.”

“445, and no lower.”

“415.”

As Red Fox let her laugh loose, Black Cat took Verso’s hand with his free one and shook it. “Deal! You were painted with exemplary bargaining skills, my friend.” His voice sounded less sly now and more genuinely amused at the exchange that just took place.

Verso could imagine Maelle’s head in her hands as Ergo and guide switched hands. “Verso…”

“Well, enough about that!” Black Cat patted Verso on the back, finally releasing him and allowing him to stand upright. “We really should be on our way. Enjoy your new read, muse!”

With that, the two Stalkers were quick to resume their departure. Black Cat’s hurried steps matched Red Fox’s long strides, and before long, they were dipping around the corner Verso just came around, vanishing from view.

He knew what he was about to read was going to be borderline crap. Still, looking at the torn-up guide in his hands, Verso cracked it open.

[This month's attraction: Rose Estate]

Warning! This book has been banned, If found please report it to the city. Reading banned books will result in punishment. Are you sure you want to read it?

Verso snorted. He flipped to the next page and looked at the uneven, unprinted handwriting.

- You were warned, but you're reading a forbidden book! You're a bad person!

- Well, you're reading it, so this is what you get

- The roses bloom at the Rose Estate. Don't know the rest of it

- The end

- Reporter Cat

- This guide was made with the support of the Red Lobster Inn.

Black Cat surely heard the bark of laughter from Verso. He unfortunately could not hear the groan of malcontent from Maelle.

Your Chroma grows stronger.

P wondered how Verso was doing. Probably well. He was a very capable fighter. Still, with no eyes on him, the puppet was only left to wonder, wandering through the abandoned factory.

“This place gives me the creeps,” Gemini admitted, “like something’s gonna jump out any second.” He chirped, and his lantern immediately grew brighter. “It’s okay, pal. Gemini’s looking out for you!”

P pondered on some of the many things he’s heard Verso said. He landed on, “Thank you.”

Gemini chuckled. “You’ve been talking a lot more than you did before, you know. I think I know just the muse to thank for that.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m saying Verso’s a good influence on you, don’t worry.”

“I wish it was the other way around,” Maelle grumbled. “He just got swindled again.”

“Wow.” Gemini sounded like he was grinning. “Verso’s not good with money, is he?”

“More like he doesn’t seem to understand the value of Ergo. Some people would kill for 50 or even 10 Ergo, and here he is, blowing 400 like it’s no big deal.”

“Well, why would a muse value Ergo?” Gemini asked. “They run on Chroma, and usually, their Painters handle financial affairs.” A pause, as Gemini seemed to realize something. “Did you paint Verso to know how valuable Ergo is?”

Silence.

“You didn’t, did you?”

“That felt like an obvious thing to know!” Maelle argued.

P tried to ignore the debate going on, but he was sorely distracted by the noise going on in his head. He had gotten distracted enough for one of the blank puppets to get the drop on him, springing from a hook overhead. As he jumped back to get space, his foot hit empty air, and he dropped through an open trapdoor down an entire floor.

Maelle audibly winced as P hit the ground, back of the head first and followed by the rest of his crumpled body. “Are you okay, P?”

“I am okay,” P eventually grunted, sitting back up and ignoring the significant dent in the back of his head. Hopefully, the hair was hiding it.

As he brought down the electric coil stick on the puppet that had fallen in after him, he looked around. The small area seemed akin to an emergency shelter, though the occasional dismantled puppet indicated that if anybody had come down inside, they didn’t find safety. And in fact, much to his surprise, there was somebody inside, alive and breathing and appearing quite stressed.

As P approached the person, he could hear them muttering through their hands pressed up against their face. “I must atone for my sins… Must kill more puppets… More, more…”

P thought for a moment. He remembered how Verso spoke to Toma on Elysion Boulevard, when he was checking to ensure that the boy was alright. “Are you okay?”

“All puppets must die,” the man whimpered. “Every single one… I hear the sounds of springs inside you… You’re a puppet too…”

P stepped back. “... Are you okay?” he tried again.

The individual responded by righting himself up, grasping onto the handle of his blade. Drawing it, he made a clumsy salute of sorts, holding the weapon upright before crossing it over his chest and finally readying it.

“All puppets must die,” he hissed. “Kill the puppet!”

THE SURVIVOR

Very quickly, P was forced to dodge backwards as the Survivor started swinging at him. He lifted the electric coil stick to defend his face, keeping the blade away from his face.

“I wish I knew that surviving is a hell of its own!” The Survivor whined, their blade shaking in their hands as they continued to strike out at P.

P didn’t know why this person was fighting him. He didn’t want to fight another human. He kept thinking about how Mad Donkey’s blood had coated his hand, his saber.

Father’s admiration of him had only dampened the strange feeling that only recently has he identified as “unwanting”. He only knew it was “unwanting” because it was the opposite of what he felt with Verso and Sophia and Gemini—“wanting”.

He didn’t want this.

Maybe if he lowered his weapon, just kept blocking, they’d realize that? So he kept blocking, kept dancing away from their swings.

The Survivor didn’t want this, either. P could identify that. But he just kept swinging and pleading . “I can’t tell what’s blood and what’s oil!”

P could. He could tell the difference very well. And that was a feeling that was something “unwanted”.

He knew a word that was a plea for things to not go on for any further. “Stop.”

Another clash of sparks flew in the air. The electric coil stick crackled with the motion as it swung back. P felt the sword of the Survivor tear through his midsection.

Maybe he didn’t hear him. P yelled louder. “Stop!”

The electric coil stick fell out of P’s hands from a strike to his hands. Before he could move to pick it up, he was scrambling backwards, the Survivor swinging blindly at him.

“I wish I hadn’t run away then!” The Survivor moved to strike for the heart.

The P-Organ. The most precious part to P. The part Father had made just for him.

The salamander dagger from Verso found its way into P’s hand quickly. A second later, into the chest of the Survivor. A choked noise erupted from the human, his sword still held in the air. Slowly, it clattered to the ground as his arms fell to his sides.

“I’m sorry,” he slowly choked out, “Leo.” He fell to the ground, P letting go of the dagger and watching him do so. “I was afraid to die…”

P stepped away from the body, watching the blood pool around the corpse. He stood still for a long, long moment, before kneeling back down and picking back up the dagger.

He recalled the motion that the Survivor performed before attacking. He held the dagger upright for one second, then tilted it diagonally to cross over his chest.

It felt familiar. But just as unwanted as everything else.

Chapter Text

The further Verso went into the factory, the more lost he felt. Much of the layout seemed to be the same, conveyor belts filled with inactive puppets covering the ceiling and smelters dotting the walls. How could one ever memorize where’s where and which door was what?

“I thought the manor was confusing enough, with all of the Canvases and real doors,” Maelle agreed. “But this is… well, a lot. How are we supposed to pick Gustave’s trail back up?”

“At the very least, there could have been signs pointing to the control room,” Verso said, peeking around a corner and intently listening for anything.

As he did, right away, he could hear the springs of a puppet up ahead. But alongside that, there were the noises of somebody talking. Sounding by the way they kept their voice low and panicked, they were speaking to themself.

When Verso began heading down the hall towards the voice, the words became more discernible. “Alright, Venigni. Pull yourself together. You have a duty to this city… and your family’s sterling reputation.”

“Excellent pep talk, Master Venigni. The young master would be proud.”

Checking around one last corner, Verso could see two figures huddled in an alcove connected to the hallway. Both were finely-dressed, though one was a puppet built to look that way. The other wore actual clothes, a deep, rich red with black fur trim. He was fiddling with his gloves, looking to be resisting the urge to bite at his fingernails through them.

Verso decided to clear his throat first, to get their attention. As the butler puppet calmly turned, the man shrieked, jumping a good three feet in the air. As he landed, he put his arms up to protect his bespeckled face, one hand holding onto his hat.

“Easy now!” he squeaked. “No need to kill me! Surely we can discuss this like reasonable…” He peeked through his arms and actually registered Verso’s appearance. “People?”

“Muse, but close,” Verso confirmed, showing off his arms a tad. “Are you Lorenzini Venigni? Geppetto sent us to find you.”

“Hold on. Geppetto’s a friend of yours?” Venigni straightened up, though his hands kept fidgeting. “And you’re a muse…” He then was the one who cleared his throat. “I am indeed Lorenzini Venigni. Who is this “us” you speak of?”

“My friend P. He actually went to find you at the control room.” Verso gestured at Venigni. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I, um… ah…” Venigni seemed to want to tell a more pleasing story than the truth of the matter, but eventually gave up. “I know Gustave had his arguments, and they were good, but… You know, a good father panics the second he doesn’t have his eyes on his son in a dangerous environment! Even if the son is the more capable fighter between the two of them!”

“So… You left the control room because you wanted to find Gustave?”

“Yes! Don’t make it sound so selfish! … Even if it is!” Venigni sighed. “He’s right to think that there might be a mastermind behind the Puppet Frenzy. And he’s one of the most capable people I know. If anybody could find out who or what they are, it’d be Gustave. But he’s still my son, and I’d be devastated to lose him.” He fumbled as Verso tilted his head. “The factory is, of course, my priority—we must take it back.”

“And if P’s still on the right track, he can handle that,” Verso said. “Maelle can tell him that we found you, so he can focus on liberating the control room. But now that you’re here, and you know where we are, we can go to communications together and find your son.”

“Maelle? Ah, that must be your Painter. Well, if this “P” is heading to the control room, she must tell him about Fuoco.”

“Fuoco?”

“Before all this… this chaos, Fuoco was the puppet in charge of the furnace. Was a stand-up fellow, once. Now? Not so much. What preliminary glimpses we were able to get of the control room before my worry for Gustave made us fall back indicates that he’s building an army of puppets—and marching them on the cathedral.”

“So Fuoco’s the one in control of the factory now. Got it. Maelle?”

“You got it. I’ll tell P to be careful and maybe wait until you find Gustave and get the Venigni family to safety before he goes to fight it.”

“Right, then.” Verso motioned for Venigni to follow. “Let’s go find your son, Venigni.”

Maelle must have been focused on Verso when P found the Survivor. When she spoke of Fuoco, she made no comment on P having killed another human. That, or she didn’t want to acknowledge what had occurred. That is good. P did not want to talk about what happened anymore.

Gemini hasn’t said anything, either. That was good, too. P didn’t want to hear what Gemini had to say about all that. But yet, he didn’t want silence.

What did he want? Not Maelle’s voice, not Gemini’s… it had to be Verso’s that he wanted, then. Or maybe even Sophie’s, speaking to him like she had when he first awoke in the abandoned train car.

Before he got too distracted, he noticed a sealed door off to the side. He almost ignored it, only for his eyes to land on a white symbol. He stopped in place, looking at it more closely before pulling out the key from his pocket. The triangular shape on the key was the same as the painted symbol on the door.

Stepping over, P inserted the key into the lock. It clicked open easily enough. As he pushed the doors open, the sound of a piano playing floated out from inside the room. His shoulders relaxed and his mind settled down the second he recognized the instrument. He slowly strode in, admiring the clean interior and fine furniture arranged in another triangle shape.

The only thing that seemed “dirty” in some way was writing on the wall. Underneath a bloody-red triangle was surprisingly elegant writing in either black ink or oil. P knelt a bit and squinted to read the cursive.

Question of the Day: Did this factory worker ever think he would be destroyed like a puppet?

That… was unexpected. A lot more threatening than any sort of final message P thought he’d read. He straightened up, staring at the writing in confusion for a long moment. But eventually, he turned back around to continue looking throughout the room.

Eventually, his eyes landed on a safe in the far corner of the room. Stepping past the furniture surrounding a book in a glass case, he attempted opening the safe. Locked. He changed his grip from the right arm to the left, ripping the safe door off its hinges.

Inside the container looked to be a large glass bottle. A brilliant, blood-red liquid filled the corked bottle almost to the brim. P picked it up and swished the bottle around, watching it slosh back and forth.

“It looks like… paint?” Gemini questioned. “Is that Chroma?”

“I’m not sure,” Maelle answered. “You should show it to Lune, once we’re done here. Maybe she’ll know what to make of it.”

P put the bottle in his pocket for the time being. Something about this room felt strange, despite the calming piano. He didn’t want to stay in it anymore. He quickly stepped out, leaving the room behind.

“So, I gotta ask,” Verso asked, leading the way by outpacing Venigni a few strides. “What was the game plan upon getting to the control room? You had to have known Fuoco was in there.”

“Well… I suppose neither of us thought beyond “pull down the lever and override the systems so Fuoco couldn’t turn them back on”,” Venigni admitted. “It was more of a “we’ll see what happens up until the last step” sort of plan. Which in fairness, is the type of plan the Venigni estate is stellar at!”

“When it pertains to inventing things, certainly. But this is a lot more dangerous than tinkering in a controlled environment. This is—”

Verso’s boot hit a black puddle. At first, he didn’t think much of it, considering it to be oil. Maybe from a puppet Gustave had left behind. But when his foot pulled up out of it, the liquid didn’t run like oil. Most importantly, it didn’t stain the same way as oil did.

Maelle had the same thought as he looked down at the puddle. “Oh, no. That’s—”

“Chroma.” Verso readied Dualiso. “ Putain , he got here before us.”

“He? Who? Is there something I am missing, compadre ?” Venigni craned his neck to watch Verso peek around the corner, abruptly on high alert. “Why is there Chroma in my factory?”

“The long and short of it is, there’s a Painter hunting Geppetto, and he may be hunting you and Gustave, too.”

“What?! And you neglected to mention this?!” Venigni shoved past Verso. “Gustave! Mio figlio !”

“Venigni!” Verso shouted as the inventor practically sprinted down the Chroma-streaked hallway. He looked over at the butler puppet following before shaking his head and dashing after in dead last. “At least slow down so I can take point!”

The hallway that they were running down opened out into a walkway passing over the factory. Said walkway was splattered with black Chroma, though definitely not to the point that the courtyard had been. Thankfully, there was no body either, but as Verso looked at the railing they were passing by, he could see another bloody handprint on it.

“Gustave!” Venigni called again, and when Verso looked, he and his butler were halfway across the walkway.

Biting his lip, Verso started moving again. “Venigni, slow—”

He heard the sound of something massive slicing through the air. His head whipped up and to the side, looking in the sky above Venigni Works. Something large and dripping with black Chroma was rocketing down on him, a shape skin to a sword lifted over its form.

“Verso!” he heard Venigni yell just before whatever it was made impact with the walkway.

The ground Verso was standing on crumbled like it was made of paper. Verso couldn’t help but scream as he plummeted, just barely able to hold onto Dualiso while he made an uncontrolled descent into the factory.

P stopped mid-stride as the factory violently shook around him, a horrific crashing noise up ahead. He stumbled about, but managed to stay upright until the factory’s rumbling ebbed.

“What was that?!” Gemini exclaimed.

Maelle’s voice came panicked. “It’s the Painter! Something just attacked Verso!”

Maelle barely needed to finish her sentence. The feeling identical to what P had felt when he saw Verso launched across the City Hall courtyard surged in him. This one, he was beginning to put a word to—panic.

Dashing down the rest of the hallway, P found himself facing a bright red metal door, a handle attached to the left side. Stuck to it was a sign reading “AUTHORIZED HOMOMACHINA ONLY”. P ignored whatever that word meant, grabbing onto the door’s handle with his Legion Arm and dragging the door open as fast as possible.

Looking inside, P could see that part of the control room’s ceiling was caved in, revealing a hole leading straight out to the open sky. Rubble and Chroma coated the room, preventing a cursory glance from identifying the room’s contents. However, P wasted no time—the second he saw the body rolling to a stop and groaning in pain, he raced over to help him up.

Verso looked dazed, holding his shoulder. P could see gold paint welling up from between his fingers, and when his hand pulled back, there was an open wound on his canvas flesh. He noticed the person helping him up, though, and let himself be pulled to his feet.

“Excuse my dramatic entrance,” he joked.

“Where’s the Painter?” P asked, already looking around and putting his Legion Arm in front of Verso.

The room was half-covered in rubble. P could see that a large, robotic body was buried underneath some of the destruction. Fuoco, he imagined, crushed in an instant by whatever had dragged Verso down here.

Before Verso could tell him just what that was, the Chroma in the room began bubbling. It began dragging itself to the other end of the room, flying into the air and becoming limb-like shapes that attached themselves to a humanoid torso. Some bubbled upwards to form a head shape while other globules fanned dowards to make a shawl that covered the left side of the body.

Stepping down onto the surface, the giant, humanoid shape looked down at the two. Its face was hidden by a helmet-like construction wrapped in black-stained linen, but P could feel an almost intense gaze upon them. Black Chroma bubbled up in one of its two right hands and formed a large, orange-yellow sword.

“That feels like overkill, if the Painter made that to kill the Venigni family,” Verso hissed, drawing Dualiso.

“It’s not for them.” P did the same with his electric coil stick. “It’s for us.”

“You know? That makes a lot more sense.”

DUALLISTE

Chapter Text

Verso had always seen the tougher puppets moving faster than expected. Dualliste seemed to almost stroll towards them, taking its time in approaching and moving through the rubble. Something about that set Verso on much further of an edge than with the Parade Master or the Scrapped Watchman.

Puppets were predictable. They were made of a physical substance of metal and springs. But this was a creature made from Chroma, made specifically to kill him and P. How could one even begin to prepare for something like that?

As he and P ran close, the sword was swung in an impressively-wide arch. Verso just narrowly dodged, while P got a decent hit in his leg, making him buckle. Verso ran to grab the puppet and throw him out of the way before Dualliste’s next swing hit them both. Verso got nailed in the back as a result of his move, but he rolled into the impact and slipped away before the third strike could nail him.

The attack hurt a lot more than he thought. He could hear his paint sizzling as it dripped down his back. He straightened himself up, scrambling to recover and ignore the pain.

“The thing likes stringing attacks!” he gasped, popping back onto his feet and parrying the fourth and even fifth attack coming down on his head.

As Dualliste recoiled from the second parry, Verso charged forward. A single slice of Chroma landed on the arm holding onto the sword. Unfortunately, he didn’t sever the limb like he had with the Watchman. However, he could see Chroma drip from the glowing golden wound. It worked, at least for a moment before the golden wound vanished into the inky black.

Verso suddenly recalled the old man’s wound being sliced into existence by white Chroma. He tensed his weapon, trying to recall just what he was channeling when he swung P’s saber in that moment. All he could remember was desperation, the want to protect P from whoever the strange Painter was.

He wanted to continue protecting P now. He could see the puppet standing just fine on his own, using a Pulse Cell to restore his leg. But that want still burned his body like how the Watchman’s lightning had burnt his paint. It was as strong as those conflicted emotions that had consumed him in his first waking moments.

As Dualliste swung back down upon P, Verso acted. Dualiso blocked the attack, a flash of white shining down the blade. As sparking flames flew from the impact, he ground the blade down to strike out at Dualliste’s arm. Three surging strikes of white Chroma diced the upper right arm to bits, forcing Dualliste to drop the sword to the lower right hand to continue holding it. Verso felt the wound in his back stitch close, healed by energy stolen by the attack.

Some residual Chroma remained, thrumming through his blade and down his arm. As he swung Dualiso down, a flash of white Chroma flew off him, washing over P nearby. While the Chroma left him, he felt a surge of power flow through his paint and take its place. P flexed his free hand, and Verso immediately guessed that P could feel that power spike too.

“I could get used to my original Painter’s Chroma,” Verso noted to Maelle. She didn’t answer, though he still felt her presence.

P himself was more than happy to take advantage of the temporary enhancement. He raced headlong towards the temporarily-staggered Dualliste, jumping forward and slamming the electric coil down into a massive, singular attack. Lightning raced up Dualliste’s body, frying a large portion of Chroma and making black globules fall off in a violent rainfall. Verso joined P’s frontal attack, channeling golden Chroma this time and landing an even stronger series of strikes than usual.

Black Chroma splattered across the room as Dualliste was slowly being torn apart. Verso and P couldn’t avoid all of the counterattacks, especially when they got too close for comfort. But they were able to retaliate promptly, with Verso becoming very used to using the pulse of power to temporarily boost their attacks.

Eventually, Dualliste suddenly moved lightning-quick, raising its sword up. As it slammed said blade into the ground, a wave of fire sent Verso and P flying. Both crashed into the wall on the other side of the room before hitting the ground hard. P got up first, grasping for the dropped electric coil, while Verso took a little longer to sit up.

As they both looked, they saw the Chroma they had scattered across the room floating back into the air. Dualliste’s upper left arm was lifted, extended outwards. The Chroma flowed back into its possession, though instead of restoring the missing chunks of its body, it began forming another sword. The form was pitch-black at first, before a purple sheen overcame the blade, lightning pouring off it.

“Oh, great,” Verso grunted, staggering onto his feet.

Before they could run to close the distance, Dualliste jumped at them. It was a lot faster than before, the blades plunging through the walls as it stabbed forth. Once more, Verso barely dodged, while P got speared through by the lightning sword. As Verso turned, he saw a tremendous pulse of electricity flow through P’s body, making the puppet spasm.

When Dualliste swung its sword, fling P aside, Verso reached out and tried to catch him. Instead, over two-hundred pounds of pure steel slammed into his chest, sending both of them tumbling across the room. Verso felt his entire body seized by paralysis from the impact alone, much less the ensuing pains from rolling along with P continuously crashing into him as they did. He was barely conscious by the time they finally stopped in a corner of the room.

Once more, P got up first. This time, Verso took a lot longer to follow. And right as he sat up, he felt Dualliste’s flaming sword sink into his stomach. He struggled as he was lifted into the air, his hand falling onto the blade in an attempt to stabilize himself.

Then, his insides alit. Flames rocketed down the blade, straight into his core. He felt a critical amount of paint evaporate immediately, with more slowly boiling and searing his canvas flesh from the inside. Golden currents dripped to the floor and followed his body as it was flung to the side like a broken toy.

When he somewhat regained consciousness again, he was lying sprawled amidst some rubble. Dualliste was moving quickly after P trying to sprint for a moment of peace. As quickly as he could, Verso drank not one but two Healing Tints in order to regain the ability to even stand.

Though he was far from P, who wouldn’t receive the benefit, Verso sent another surge of power through himself. He then whistled for Dualliste’s attention, who thankfully turned and looked at him charging. That allowed P to fully fall back and use more than one Pulse Cell himself.

Dualliste raced at Verso, swinging both blades at him. Verso slid underneath, lightning and fire alike just barely singing his nose. He grasped onto Dualiso surging with golden Chroma as he leapt from the ground. Holding it above his head with both hands, he slashed it diagonally across Dualliste.

A sound akin to shattering rang throughout the room. Black Chroma exploded off Dualliste, ripping its skin away and revealing a doll-like shape covered in canvas texture underneath. It staggered back, its lightning sword clattering from its hold as it supported itself with its flaming one.

Another pulse of black Chroma spread across the room from Dualliste’s broken form. Verso became soaked in it, and immediately felt all of his senses severely dampen. The hair that was black with white streaks became white with black streaks as all of his colors inverted. He staggered back, choking for air that he didn’t need. As his eyes struggled to focus, he could see P’s own form similarly distorted, his colors reversed.

“What’s happening?” he choked out.

“Inversion!” Maelle answered. “It’s a powerful channeling of Chroma! Not only does it make you unable to heal, if it’s left on a muse for too long, they can be recoated! You need to finish the fight and expel that inversion, NOW!”

As Verso struggled to lift his sword, he could see that Dualliste was recovering from its broken state. But right behind it, P was moving to attack, getting in one last hit before the Chroma creature got back to its feet and picked up both its weapons.

Something from above crashed against Dualliste’s head—a decently-sized glass bottle. Clear liquid splashed down onto its head, shoulders, and chest. Immediately, paint began sloughing off en masse, exposing more canvas, as Dualliste howled.

Looking up, Verso caught a glimpse of fine red clothing from the very top of the hole made. “There’s your chance, compadres !” Venigni shouted down below. “There’s not really a weakness like an Ergo heart for muses, but it’s as vulnerable as it’s going to get!”

Before Verso could, the mauled Dualliste swung both its blades in a circular motion. Both Verso and P were smacked back, scores of lightning and fire-infused injuries on their inverted bodies. Verso barely felt the wounds—he was losing himself, and fast.

When Dualliste swung again, he forced himself to duck low. When another swing came lower the next time, he jumped. It must know that he was on its last legs and was focusing on him to finish him off.

As the third swing came towards him, Verso put all of his strength into one leap. He cleared the swords, once more cocking Dualiso back. Golden Chroma ripped through the inverted coating over him. Another slam came upon its exposed chest, and once more, Dualliste fell back, its stance broken.

The flaming sword dropped out of Dualliste’s hands. P launched himself forward, grabbing the sword by the handle with both hands. Energy crackled off his Legion Arm as he forced himself to heft it back over his shoulder. At the same time, Verso snatched the sword of lightning, holding it in a similar way.

Both of them ran at Dualliste, side by side. They sprang forward as one, each readying one of Dualliste’s swords. Waves of fire and lightning came crashing upon the creature as both of them swung downwards, the room shaking with the impact.

Dualliste was sliced asunder. Its body exploded into black Chroma. Just as Verso felt his hearing go, everything became too loud again. As P landed on his feet, Verso crashed headlong into the ground, the sword slipping from his hands.

“Verso.” He felt hands grasp onto his shoulders, one still giving off minor static shocks from overexertion. “Are you okay?”

“Is that what recoating’s like?” Verso wasn’t sure who he was asking. “Feeling all of your senses leaving you, your body becoming numb… Did you feel any of that, Maelle?”

After a long moment of silence, Maelle finally admitted, “My hands were growing numb. I could feel myself losing you.” She sighed in relief. “You were right, P. That thing really was meant to kill you.”

“Which means the Painter knew we were coming here.” Verso forced himself to his feet. “Were the Venignis ever in danger from him?” He looked up towards the hole in the ceiling, at the distant figure of Venigni. “And speaking of… Did you find Gustave?”

“No, but I found something he left behind!” Venigni motioned for the two to come up. “Come on up here! You’ll want to see this, compadres !”

Verso looked at Dualliste’s bubbling remains. He stood still as P’s hands left his shoulders. Quietly, he moved to watch more closely how the corpse slowly melted away into evaporating Chroma as P picked himself over the room’s destroyed remains to go investigate the large puppet that had been crushed on Dualliste’s initial entry.

Still covered in Chroma, paint, and oil, the two likely looked trashed in comparison to Venigni’s well-kept form. He indeed made a grimace as they approached, picking themselves over the ruined walkway Dualliste had obliterated.

“Apologies for the delayed rescue,” Venigni greeted. “I needed to find where I had stored my emergency thinner. You never know when any malicious Painter may strike!” He flashed a winning grin, but both Verso and P just stared, so he fumbled over his words. “Ah. Right. Pulcinella, if you would please?”

“Young Master Gustave loved his secrets, especially in the first years of being housed by Master Venigni,” the puppet besides Venigni began as the aforementioned eccentric began typing on the typewriter strapped to his arm. “He had a particular fondness for a brand of cipher devices that the master made.”

“Once your information is locked in one, only you can get it out,” Venigni declared, as if reciting a line for a commercial. “Of course, once people realized the value of a truly unbreakable way to keep secrets, knock-offs flood the market.” He sighed. “The trials and travails of true genius—forever copied, never credited.”

“Venigni,” Verso said.

“Ah, yes, right, right. I never allowed my good Gustave to have such shoddy duplicates, though. He asked for a spare, I gave him ten!” A paper printing from the typewriter, he ripped it off and held it out to the two. “And it seems he used one of them to leave a message behind.”

Verso took the paper gingerly. He held it in-between him and P as they looked at the translated writing.

Papà,

I was right. Upon applying my prototype decoder, I found something within the Ergo wavelengths—unintelligible communications between Fuoco and other puppets. They mostly lead to the cathedral (likely Fuoco guiding the puppets there), but judging by the energy signatures, it goes beyond that. I’d need to gather more records from the frenzied puppets to figure out just what they’re saying.

This is our responsibility. It’s our fault. I know I said I’d be back, but people are at the cathedral. Sophie is at the cathedral. If I can find enough puppets there to begin translation, and figure out who the mastermind is and what their plan is, maybe we can even begin to make up for letting all of this happen.

Ciao,

Gustave

“Sophie?” Verso looked at Venigni.

“My…” Venigni’s natural grin flickered. “Gustave’s fidanzata . When the Frenzy began, she was one of the many city refugees who was sent to the cathedral for safety. With the destruction of the control room at the hand of that strange muse, production here has been rather forcibly stopped. But puppets were still made and sent to attack the cathedral.”

“Is there anybody there to defend it?”

“Some Stalkers, I suppose. But not a genuine force of defense. I can only guess Gustave’s fear for his heart got the better of him, with the revelation that the puppet army’s aiming for the cathedral. But considering that I abandoned my own duties to chase after him, what can I say? Call it a Venigni trademark.” Venigni waved his hand. “But I digress, I digress. I must thank you two for a truly heroic piece of work.” He gestured about. “The factory is ours again!”

Looking at the nearby hole, Verso muttered, “Well, what’s left of it.”

“I’ll take a ruined factory over the puppets being able to bolster their forces, compadre .”

“Ruined or not, this place is still dangerous.” Verso gestured to Venigni. “We need to get you and Pulcinella back to Hotel Krat. And if we’re wrong and the Painter is going after you, we can’t just send you on your own.”

“Are you offering to escort me back? What a gentleman!” Venigni reached out, patting Verso on the shoulder. “Well, who would say no? It’d be an honor to grant you the opportunity to walk and talk alongside the great Lorenzini Venigni!”

As Venigni turned and began walking along the destroyed walkway, Verso could only offer a bemused look at P. He could only shrug before beginning to follow, brushing some Chroma off his body as he did.

Chapter Text

He hadn’t even done a double-take at the man sitting across from him at the bistro. He thought that it was his partner, just settling in. But he hadn’t heard the clatter of him putting aside his weapon and putting his feet up on the table. He looked up from the letter he had been glaring holes into to just take a peek.

Seeing the Pianist of Krat sitting across from him, he froze in his tracks. The written words that he was sending so much hate towards suddenly slipped from his mind as soon as he saw that stubble-surrounded smile.

“What’s your favorite dessert here?”

He stumbled on his words. “My… My favorite dessert?”

“You’ve gone to every performance I’ve done in the Opera House for the past month. It’s the least I can do.”

Stalkers are brave and never overwhelmed by any situation. This felt like the most terrifying affair he’d ever been in. Does he say something? Do something?

“Too frontal?” The Pianist chuckled, and somehow his laugh sounded so much more pleasant than all of the sonnets he’d play in the past. “Maybe I should have asked you your name, first.”

His name? Oh, right. His name. He couldn’t help but laugh at the borderline-absurdity of the situation to him and attempted to play himself off as suave and cool.

“Well, if you must know. My name is

“You look like a duck that got trapped in an oil barrel!” Amandine lifted P’s arm, looking at the Chroma-soaked clothes. “Oh, this is the second time that you’ve come back absolutely wrecked! Lune! Give me more Chroma so I can make their threads stain-resistant!”

Lune ignored Amandine’s tantrum, turning over the vial of red ink in her hands. As Verso watched, she uncorked it and gave it a big sniff. She seemed to ponder that scent for a moment, tapping the cork against her hip.

“It’s old Chroma,” she mused, “Not a kind I’d expect to be bottled, too. Where did you find this?”

“Some weird room in Venigni Works,” Verso answered. “If you can identify the age, can you identify the Painter?”

“If I could, we wouldn’t be wondering who that old man trying to kill you and P is. But the Chroma being this hue of red is remarkable. I can only remember one person’s coloration being this, and…” Lune trailed off for a moment before shaking her head. “Well, it was a long time ago. The point is, this Chroma is something we can use. I could make some pretty powerful Pictos for you out of this, or Amandine can make some new threads for both of you that should protect you a lot better against Chroma attacks.”

“New clothes?” Amandine alerted instantly. “Oh, please say yes to the dress! I’m tired of you two walking in like wounded puppies.”

“Well, I mean… what Pictos can you make?” Verso looked at Lune. “And why just for me?”

“Puppets can’t use Chroma. The Picto Maelle’s using to talk to P only “works” because it doesn’t actually give him any benefits.” Lune folded her arms. “As for the former question, I’ve spent most of my life tattooing Pictos on Painters and muses, and the answer is… Well, it depends on the Chroma. Different Painters have different methods of casting and creation. You probably get your more offensive capabilities from Maelle, for example.”

“Really?” Verso smirked a tad.

Maelle spoke up. “I mean, I’ve always wanted to be a Stalker.” 

“This Chroma is much like Maelle’s, in that case,” Lune continued. “If I made a Picto out of this, it’d probably help with your attacks.” She tilted the vial to the side, towards Amandine. “Take what you need from this.”

The muse leapt forward like a dog being given permission to eat from its bowl. Swinging her arm like directing a current, half of the Chroma flowed from the vial and nailed P right in the stomach. He doubled forward with an audible creak as the blood-red paint swam over his body, consuming his clothes and swiftly changing them.

“An upgrade requires a brand-new makeover! So we did red last time, how about we try some blue? You’d rock any color, with a sweet face like yours, but let’s see…”

When the Chroma pulled away, P was standing in a brand-new outfit. A brilliant blue tailcoat with a contrasting red waistcoat and a bright white cravat gleamed into being. P looked down at himself, lifting his legs and inspecting the gray pants and white socks. He rolled his shoulders, getting adjusted to the new clothes, before nodding at Amandine.

Said muse made a grand gesture to P, looking at Verso in particular for approval. “Look at him! Isn’t he just adorable ?”

Verso chuckled, though tried to hide it by putting a fist to his mouth. “Showstopping.” When P looked at him, he himself made a small pose as if to demonstrate how to show off his clothes, which P copied.

“Anyways,” Lune slowly drawled, turning to look at Verso. “I can use the rest of this Chroma to make a Picto tattoo for you. I can do something simple and just increase your attack power, or do something a tad more complicated.”

“Let’s be basic,” Verso said with a shrug as Lune picked up her needle gun, filling the vial with the red Chroma.

Lune gestured for Verso to step over to the very table he had laid down on before. As he did, she waved her hand, and the Chroma-made clothes receded, revealing a patch of bare skin. She shook the needle gun a few times before pressing it into his skin.

“This will take a bit,” she said, and Verso could guess she was speaking to P. “If you’ve got other business in the hotel, go ahead and do it while I work on this Picto.”

P nodded once. He lingered for a second, watching Verso cringe in pain for a moment. But eventually, he turned and headed out. It was odd—For a moment, P had been intently staring at the needle in Verso’s arm, as if it had been something like Dualliste’s sword piercing into him and not something in the hand of a friend.

When P walked into Geppetto’s study, he didn’t hesitate. “The Painter was at the factory.”

Geppetto, while he turned in his seat to face P, didn’t do so dramatically. “I’ve already heard from Maelle.” He held up the Picto-decorated book for a moment before setting it back down. “The way that it sounds, he wasn’t targeting the Venigni family like I thought. But rather, he expected us to think that way, in order to lure you and Verso into a trap.”

“That muse seemed specifically catered to kill both puppets and muses,” Maelle confirmed. “Puppets like you are susceptible to lightning, and muses like Verso catch aflame easily.”

“Monstrous muses are not an uncommon idea,” Geppetto noted. “There are the gestrals, after all. But such creatures are usually such because the Painter did not wish to bother with the cost of Chroma. A large, powerful figure like what you fought likely expended much of the Painter’s Chroma. Its purpose, in that case, is obvious.”

“Why are some muses identical to humans if it costs so much Chroma?”

“Some Painters, son, want to put that much care into their creations. Some may want their muse to be as lifelike as possible, in order to forget what they truly are. Some may put in the extra effort to show off their technique to others. You must remember that muses are difficult to produce en masse; not like the puppets of Krat. Each one requires some manner of effort, even the gestrals. The Chroma wasn’t just hapdashedly applied to a Canvas, after all. Some then feel obligated to make their creations presentable after working so hard on them.” Geppetto scratched his chin. “I suppose that makes it more of an obvious reason as to why one continues to stick to the Grand Covenant and the other doesn’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“Only a few puppets were graced by human hands. It is not surprising that some broke away from the Grand Covenant. But each muse’s creation was monitored by a human. The Grand Covenant was painted into their very being by a Painter who watched every step of progress in their creation. No muse has true will. Even puppets powered by Ergo have a chance of acting on their own volition, even before the frenzy. But muses are extensions of their Painters, and are thus extensions of their wills.”

“Verso has will.”

Geppetto chuckled. “It seems like he does,” he corrected. “But Maelle and I more believe that Verso’s actions follow the remaining will of his original Painter. Whatever exists of that person, he obeys.”

An unwanted feeling beat in P’s chest. He ignored it.

“Chroma is a powerful thing, son,” Geppetto said. “It is determination itself. And muses are physical conduits of that person’s determination.”

“ Buon giorno ,” Pulcinella recited, bowing to P stepping up to the Venigni-claimed section of the hotel lobby, “and welcome to the House of Venigni.” 

“My… savior, that’s the word!” Venigni opened his arms to P. “It looks like you’ve cleaned yourselves off quite nicely! Though where’s your painted companion?”

“With Lune,” P simply answered.

“A Painter checkup! I see, I see. I have said it before, but I’ll say it again. Without the factory, no more new puppets. The “army” has run out of recruits. My friend, you saved… Well, all of us!” He chuckled. “But listen to me, going on and on about my concerns, and I don’t believe I’ve even introduced myself!”

“... But you did,” P said, very much recalling Venigni reciting his full name at the factory.

“But I didn’t do it properly, compadre !” Venigni took his hat off and performed a deep bow. “Signor Lorenzini Venigni, gentleman, bon vivant, and—at the moment—utterly at your service, my friend.”

Venigni straightened up, putting his hat back on his head. He seemed to watch for P to do or say something. All he did was stare.

“If the name Venigni rings no bells,” he attempted, “perhaps you’ve heard of Krat’s “Prince of High Society”? That is because they are one and the same. Just two of the many names I’ve collected in my three decades here on Earth. While I sincerely believe meeting a Venigni is its own reward, I have not rewarded you in the traditional manner. Which involves…”

Sticking his hand out, Venigni made a beckoning motion. P stood in place, looking at the hand for a moment before looking in his brand-new pockets.

“The Legion Arm, my friend,” Venigni explained.

“Oh.” P reached over and wrenched off the Legion Arm before putting it in Venigni’s hand.

Judging by the startled look on his face, Venigni hadn’t expected P to just full-on hand it over.  He took a moment to compose himself before righting his shoulders and holding the Legion Arm in his hands to look it over.

“This isn’t the exact model mio figlio gave to Geppetto, but I see the base skeleton is still the same,” he mused. “I never thought I’d see any form of it again—and in the flesh, so to speak! You know, when Geppetto spoke of making a personal puppet, Gustave was secretly elated, especially when he was asked to make a Legion Arm for it. And even then, I don’t think he even imagined the entity his work would be attached to.” Venigni’s smile dimmed. “If I haven’t convinced you to go to the cathedral for selfish reasons, perhaps do it for him. He’d be ecstatic to meet you.”

P finished digging into his pocket with his still-attached hand and held out a sizzling flame amplifier. “I got this from Fuoco. Eugénie made a Legion Arm with the last core we gave her.”

“Oh, she did, did she?” Venigni made sure that he plucked the core rather delicately from P’s hand.

When it was a lot hotter to the touch than he expected, he juggled it in his hands. In order to do that, he had to drop P’s Legion Arm. Thankfully, P caught it out of the air before it could hit the ground.

“Ah-tht-tht!” The amplifier landed solidly in-between Venigni’s cupped palms, and he sighed in relief before smiling. “I am more than certain that I can make more than a suitable Legion Arm for you out of this, my savior.”

P pressed the Legion Arm back into its proper place. He offered Venigni a nod before turning and walking out, leaving the genius with the time to make the invention.

“Lune’s probably done by now,” Gemini said. “Let’s go back and check on Verso. I want to see his new Picto tattoo!”

P didn’t actually go back towards Lune’s station, first. He glanced towards the central Stargazer in the hotel lobby. Like he had hoped, Sophia was standing nearby, watching the Ergo in the Stargazer shimmer. He slowed his pace as he walked up to her, stopping once she turned to look at him.

“Hello, clever one,” she greeted.

“You use both Ergo and Chroma,” P said.

Sophia smiled. “I do. But anyone except puppets can use Chroma. I have never used it, though, save for assisting Verso’s Painter in connecting to the Stargazers. Being a “Listener”, one that can hear and wield Ergo, is not as common of a power.”

P wanted to ask… something else. He wasn’t sure what. The urge to question her on something he couldn’t put words to danced in his mind. All he could do was ignore it, nod, and silently move on.

Verso spoke better than him. He wanted to find Verso.

Though before he got to Lune’s station, he passed by Antonia’s room. And from inside, he could hear the piano. He stopped in his tracks immediately and turned to look inside.

Instead of sitting before the portrait and admiring it, Antonia had moved her wheelchair to the piano. Playing said piano was none other than Verso. His fingers moved slowly, as if he was rusty at playing, and he struck a few sour notes. But with a soft laugh from Antonia spurring him on, he kept playing.

P wasn’t sure why. But standing in the doorway, a far distance away, while watching Verso slowly become absorbed in the music. It felt…

Right?

“Ah, there you are.” Antonia’s voice drew P away from whatever he had been thinking. When he looked over, the old woman was smiling at him. “You don’t need to linger in the doorway like you’re not welcome, you know.”

“Sorry,” Verso said, moving to stand from the piano. “Did I make you wait too long?” He gestured to the instrument. “I just wanted to see how it’d sound. I can’t say it sounded good in any way. Definitely not like the record we listened to.”

P stepped over to the piano. He stared at the plethora of ivory keys and tried to recall how it went in “Feel”. It was only a few occasional strikes. How hard could it be?

Striking down all of his fingers made a loud, discordant noise. Both Verso and Antonia startled as P only slightly flinched back. He tried more softly, though a similar, only quieter noise came from the piano. He moved his hands elsewhere, the same effect happening at a lower pitch.

“Hey, now, hold on.” Verso reached down, taking P’s hands. “You’re just hitting it, at this point.” He moved his fingers in-between P’s, gently forcing them to splay out. “Try this.”

P paused for a long moment. Then, slowly, he pressed down. The sound that came out was much more balanced and soft.

“There.” The word was also soft, brushing against P’s shoulder.

P felt his hands close, entrapping Verso’s fingers. The muse paused, but he didn’t pull away, allowing the puppet whatever moment he was searching for.

The Ergo is whispering.

Verso’s hands slipped out from between P’s knuckles, dragging down the back of his palm just the slightest. They were softer than their stature and penchant for carrying swords would suggest. Suddenly, like that, Verso was stepping away, leaving P standing there and slowly uncurling his fists.

“We should go,” Verso offered. “To the cathedral, I mean.”

P nodded. Again, words weren’t coming to mind. Yet, the accompanying feeling was different than the one he had felt before.

This time, it was a soft and maybe even wanted feeling.

Chapter Text

Getting to the cathedral required heading back to Venigni Works. More specifically, through and then past the district the works was located in. But with no more puppets being made, the streets were empty as the two moved forward.

“You play the piano.” P spoke it as a statement and not a question.

Verso scoffed. “I wouldn’t call the noise we made on Antonia’s piano playing.” P tilted his head at him. “As in, there’s a difference between playing an actual song and just making a commotion by striking the keys.”

“Don’t try and take the enjoyment out of it for P,” Maelle ribbed. “You two look to be coming up on the mining shafts that Venigni told us about. Once you pass through those, you should be right at the doorstep of Moonlight Town. From there, it’s just a quick cable car ride right up to the cathedral!”

“Do you think people might still be in the town?”

Maelle thought about it. “Probably not,” she answered. “Frenzied puppets probably started pouring out of the mines in the initial hours. Like everybody else, they probably fell back to the cathedral. Since you can only access it by cable car or by climbing up a steep mountain, it’s a pretty defensible position.”

“Seems inconvenient otherwise, though.”

“Never something the family had to worry about,” Maelle cheerfully remarked. “Papa would just bring us up there with his Chroma.”

“That sure sounds nice to have,” Gemini grumbled. “You Painters have it so easy. Gotta say, I’m pretty jealous.”

“Well… had, Gemini. That power was why we were targeted when the Frenzy began, after all.”

“Oof. Sorry.”

The awkward air lasted as Verso and P made it to the beginnings of the mines. They were cordoned off with wooden boards and signs warning trespassers to stay out or they’d be fined, but neither puppet nor muse liked to regard written warnings. They stepped right past those no problem.

“Verso.” P’s voice echoed in the enclosed space, and it made the aforementioned muse jolt a bit.

“Huh?” Verso slowed his step. He had been moving ahead, leaving several feet of distance between him and P, but paused for a moment to allow the other to catch up. “What is it?”

“I want you.”

Verso blinked. Maelle made an audible guffaw. Gemini chirped several times, but no words came out, as if he was stuttering.

When Verso said nothing, P made a motion towards the ground right next to him. “Stay.”

“Oh. You don’t want me to go far, do you?” Verso quickly moved back to be by P’s side. “Well, well. How the tables have turned. I faintly recall me telling you to stay close not too long ago.” When P said nothing, his smug grin lessened. “This is because of what happened at the factory, isn’t it?”

“You were attacked and damaged. I was not there.” P seemed to think about what he’d say next for a long moment. “You leaving again… is an unwanted feeling.”

“Then we won’t split up like we did again.” Verso patted P on the shoulder. “Okay?”

“Okay.” P nodded back at him, but didn’t start moving further into the mines until Verso did.

By the time they emerged from the mines, it was getting close to evening. The clouds still hung thickly in the sky, with a slight mist clinging to their bodies. Dead grass and an untamed path greeted them as they emerged not into the clustered streets that they had become familiar with, but rather a dirt walkway. And yet, the scent of blood was a familiar tint in the air.

“Looks like Maelle was right,” Verso grunted as they came upon the first few bodies. “The puppets must have come out the way we came and made straight for Moonlight Town.”

“I guess some people just didn’t get to safety in time,” Gemini noted. “Let’s hope that the majority managed to make it to the cable cars.”

Moving ahead a bit further, thankfully, the number of bodies that they could count rapidly thinned out. Entering the town proper, the only ones inhabiting the dilapidated houses were frenzied puppets wielding pitchforks and mining picks. Said puppets were significantly less of a hassle than the ones at the works, and with the Picto enhancement from Lune, Verso found himself able to take one out in a single hit.

As he smashed one such puppet to bits, Gemini whistled. “You’re putting that Picto to good use, Verso. Leave some for P, why don’t you?”

When Verso glanced, he saw that the tiniest of smiles was on P’s face. “I’m okay.” Verso’s eyes snapped to the puppet’s body, looking for any reason for the oil on him being from himself, so P quickly clarified. “You don’t need to…“leave some for me”?”

“Well, we can’t let Verso do all the hard work!” Gemini retorted. “Come on, what are we here for if he just gets through all this mess on his own, no problem?”

P seemed to think for a moment. Then, reaching over to Gemini’s lamp, he drew it shut.

“Heyyyy!” Gemini’s voice came muffled as Verso snorted. “Okay, okay, I’ll apologize! Sorry for worrying about Verso taking all of the thunder!”

As P kept the lamp closed, Verso fell into step with the puppet. “That actually reminds me. What’s the story with you, Gemini?”

“Hmm…” Gemini’s cricket noises filtered out from behind his containment shutters. “Well, I was with P when he was activated. But I can’t say that I was in working capacity. It took me a while to properly reboot. That’s why I didn’t say anything when the two of you initially met, by the way.”

“And what about before that?”

There was a long pause, followed by a short “hm!”. “You know? I don’t know. I think when I returned to functionality, it had the unfortunate side effect of deleting all of my memory logs. But Sophia probably knows! That’s probably something to keep in mind for when we go back to Hotel Krat, P!”

Before Verso could ask something, P held up a hand in front of him to motion him to stop. The two had been walking across what remained of Moonlight Town, moving for the cable cars on the other side. A single figure stood before said cable car, and they in turn were looking right at the two, their hand reaching for the large hammer on their back.

“Friendly!” Verso put his sword away and held up his hands, and after a moment of watching, P copied the motion.

The figure stared at them through their mask of a pug-like dog. Then, slowly, they removed their hands from the hammer. They too made the motion of peace, then motioned the two to come closer. Verso could see P seemed to have a relieved reaction, his shoulders immediately sagging, as the two approached.

“Hey,” Verso greeted. “This is the cable car that goes up to the cathedral, yeah?”

The voice of an older woman came from the mask. “It indeed is. Do you want to go up there?”

“Yeah. Somebody came this way and went for the cathedral, and we came here looking for him. Were you stationed here to guard it?”

“Not by any creed other than my own.” The woman folded her arms, leaning against a nearby support. “I’m sorry to say, but the train isn’t in service anymore.” The woman looked towards the cable car. “The cathedral isn’t the sanctuary it once was. The people who went up there… never returned.”

“What happened? Did the puppet army get up there?”

“I still can’t tell you, I’m afraid.” The woman sounded suddenly haunted. “Even after I’ve spent all this time comprehending it.” Shaking her head, she looked at Verso. “But I do know this: the cathedral is off limits. Forever.”

“Did somebody else come this way?” P asked.

“If you speak of somebody with an arm much like yours, child, then as a matter of fact, he did. He told me that he was searching for his fiancée.” There was a pause, before the woman managed to get out, “She was likely dead even before I crossed paths with him. I attempted to tell him such, but he wouldn’t hear it. Either I would let him onto the cable car, or he’d climb up the mountain with his bare hands, he told me.”

“We need to go after him,” Verso said. “You need to let us on the train.”

Another pause, before the woman seemed to somewhat acquiesce. “If you’re determined to pass, you must prove that you are capable of it. I do not want to send hopeful dreamers off to their deaths.”

“We’re Stalkers,” P said.

“Truly?” The woman looked between them.

While Verso immediately nodded, P set his shoulders and straightened his back. Lifting his electric coil stick, he held it before him for a second before crossing it over his chest. He swung it back down in a salute-like motion before relaxing his body again.

“The Stalker’s Promise,” the woman mused. “So you speak the truth. Interesting. I thought all the Stalkers died when the Workshop Tower collapsed.”

“But you’re still alive, right?” Verso questioned. “Aren’t you a Stalker?”

“Ha! I’m as good as dead, child. A sinner who’s lost everyone she’s ever loved.” The woman stepped forward, gesturing to the side. “The man you’re after has already unlocked the cable railway. Please be safe up there, and… I hope that you may find him.”

“So do we,” Verso murmured. “Take care.”

The woman resumed her guard position, leaving Verso and P to walk up to the cable car. It was small and green, able to fit maybe half a dozen people comfortably. Verso pushed open the doors for them both, and swiftly closed them behind them.

“Where did you learn that salute?” Verso asked as P grabbed onto the car’s lever.

After hesitating for a long moment, P answered, “Somebody in the factory.”

Verso smiled as P pulled the lever. “The two Stalkers, I’m guessing?”

P turned to Verso, brow raising. Before he said anything, the car rumbled and jolted out of the station. Slowly, it began moving up the steep mountain slope along pre-built railways.

It was quiet. Almost calmingly quiet, in fact. Verso sat down against one of the walls, putting his arms across his knee as he sighed. It didn’t take long for P to sit down next to him, and it took only a glance to know that P was very deliberately copying the manner as to which Verso was sitting.

Verso chuckled. “Comfy, right?”

“I think.” P shuffled a bit, moving closer while he took Gemini’s lamp off his belt. He finally pushed the shutters back open, letting the green light wash over the two of them, before putting it back.

Sitting so close, Verso was reminded that P was quite short. The puppet stood almost a foot shorter than the muse. As they sat, he just barely reached Verso’s shoulder, his fluffy hair giving him the extra height needed to hit that mark. That height difference allowed Verso to spot a clump of oil within the locks, which he found himself reaching for and picking out.

P reached up, tousling his own hair, before looking at Verso. He kept his hand in his hair as he tilted his head, almost waiting for Verso to stay something.

Before Verso did, Gemini cleared his throat. “Ah-he-he-he-he-heeeem!” Both Verso and P started, looking surprised. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome aboard the Pilgrim’s Cable Railway! Now, those of you who joined us in Moonlight Town, we hope your preparations for the pilgrim’s journey are well underway. Fascinating town, Moonlight. Just fascinating. Wouldn’t you say, Maelle?”

“Oh, I’d say so, Gemini.” Maelle immediately jumped into a similar announcer voice. “And I’d also say, did you know that back in the day, the cathedral was only accessible via rope and pulley?”

“I didn’t! Thanks for building it on a cliff, St. Frangelico! I kid, I kid. Frangelico. Wonderful saint.”

“Yes, darling of a saint. Anyway, our next stop: The Bridge of Atonement! Make sure to stop and get your fill of a scenic view of Krat in the illustrious, golden evening while you can!”

“It’s been our pleasure, friends, and enjoy the rest of your journey. We’ve been your captains on this ride: Gemini and Maelle!”

Verso put a hand to his mouth to hide his smile. He knew that Maelle could sense his amusement, however.

“How was that?” Maelle chirped. “I think I picked up the baton pretty well!”

“Sure did! When in doubt, let Gemini and Maelle be your guides.” Gemini went silent for a moment, seeming to take in P’s expression. “You… you look annoyed. What’d we do?”

As the cable car came to a thudding stop, Maelle said, “I’m sure it’s fine, Gemini. Let’s get going and find Gustave. And… maybe even Sophie, if it can be helped?”

Chapter Text

The second they stepped out of the cable car, Verso smelt something in the air. Something akin to decay, but at the same time, overpoweringly earthy. He slowed, looking ahead while his hand flew to Dualiso’s hilt.

“Verso?” Maelle asked. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” he answered.

“Maybe it’s all that?” Gemini suggested, likely meaning the puppet bodies they were stepping around to continue forward. “Though I guess puppet bodies are to be expected.”

Something struck the ground hard. Verso’s arm snapped up to stop P in his tracks. Carefully, he peeked through a ruined archway to look ahead. Something vaguely humanoid was slamming its fists down into either the ground or a body underneath its crouching form.

“That’s not a puppet,” Verso muttered, stepping forward. “A survivor?”

“No,” P responded, drawing his electric coil stick. “Something’s wrong.”

At the sound of their voices, the figure stopped clobbering the ground. Its fists fell to its side as its head lifted. At first, it looked to be a human man, wearing a blood-streaked tuxedo and top hat. But his skin was lacking in any color, and his fingers were gnarled. As his head turned to face them, his hat fell off. Revealed was a head cracked open like an eggshell, the skin twisting upwards like tree branches and the yolk inside being an array of blue coloration.

“What the hell is that?” Verso exclaimed as the creature scurried forth, arms swinging wildly.

P hurried forward to take the heat of the initial assault off Verso. Striking forward with the electric coil, there was no visible extreme reaction to the lightning, not like with the puppets. All the creature did was react as if it had been bludgeoned in the side, which it had. P had expected it to be temporarily stunned, and as a result, the creature landed two good blows on him before was able to put up his weapon and start blocking.

Something was making Verso’s paint churn as he looked at the creature. The urge to end it quickly overcame him. Golden Chroma flashed along his blade as he severed the head from the body in one frontal stab. The creature’s body convulsed before crumpling to the ground, the head rolling away.

The two of them looked over the body. Verso still shivered from the revulsion coursing through his veins.

With the sound of metal clattering, P put away his electric coil stick, drawing the dagger again. Looking over, Verso nodded and sheathed Dualiso, drawing Danseso instead.

“Electricity won’t work on them like it does for the puppets,” Verso agreed. “They’re too… fleshy for that.”

“What are you saying that thing was?” Gemini asked. “You’re not suggesting that… that that was a human, now, are you?”

“It wasn’t a puppet or even a muse. But even if it was human, it definitely wasn’t anymore.” Verso looked ahead. “Worse of all, that couldn’t have been the only one.”

P nodded by his side. Already, he was looking ahead, searching for more creatures that looked akin to shambling corpses. However, he only started moving when Verso did so, Danseso held by his side.

Verso’s guess was correct. Before long, the two were soaked in blue innards from the creatures they’d find and have to be forced to fight. For all of their twitchy, slow movements, they ran surprisingly fast, charging at the two the second they were spotted and slashing with an unbridled bloodlust. And once they landed enough of a first attack to stun their target, they would follow it up with even more staggering attacks.

Before long, they were down more Tints and Pulse Cells than Verso would have liked, with the cathedral still a small distance away. He was starting to see why the Stalker at the base of the mountain didn’t want anybody to go up it so badly.

When St. Frangelico falls and breathes his last breath, the angels of God will look after him.

Verso scowled at the age-worn plaque just on the side of the road. Blue fluid dripped off his arms, speckling onto the grass around him. By him, P was just finishing off another shambling creature, and was now pushing the body off the salamander dagger.

“There’s no doubt about it,” Maelle mumbled. “These people are humans. But something’s changed them. They’re acting more like animals.”

“I can’t tell you guys what’s going on,” Gemini added. “But keep those eyes of yours open. We’re coming up on the cathedral, so either it’s going to get better or a lot worse.”

“What does our luck usually put it at?” Verso asked.

Gemini took a moment to answer, but he eventually conceded. “Worse.”

Turning on the dirt path, the beginnings of the cathedral eventually loomed ahead. Immediately catching Verso’s attention were the worn stone columns surrounding the pathway leading into the initial building. Just barely through the open doorway, he could see a statue of an angel, surrounded by still-burning candles.

Verso stepped inside first, boots moving through thin puddles of blood. Devastation had plowed its way through the area as well. It wasn’t bolding well for the cathedral proper, a thought that had Verso chewing on his inner cheek as he stopped before the angelic statue.

The light dimmed for a moment. Verso looked over to see that one of the candles had burnt out, the wick long-wasted. Instinctively, he lifted his left hand to cup his hand around it, as if he wasn’t too late and could somehow nurture the fire back to life.

A moment later, a twinge of something went through his gut. White Chroma flowed from his hand, infusing into the candle and building it back to full. The wick immediately relit with a surprisingly normal-looking flame. Verso pulled his hand back and looked upon his palm. The edges of his fingers shimmered with white before they restabilized into the color of his skin.

“Hm.” Verso could imagine Maelle pursing her lips. “Well, congratulations. You’ve made an infinite candle, lasting for as long as you want it to.”

“The power of Chroma, I suppose,” Verso joked, looking over at P.

The puppet had found a book lying amidst the candles, the fingers of his Legion Arm tracing over the words. Just barely, Verso could make out “Pray, you who are exhausted and injured” through said fingers.

“You looking to pray?” Verso asked.

Looking over, P responded, “I don’t know how.”

“You don’t know how to pray?” Verso smiled, before pausing. “Actually… Maelle, I don’t think I know how to pray, either.”

“Really?” Maelle groaned. “I forgot about so many things when I was painting you… I suppose that’s why it usually takes hours to finish a Canvas. You simply take a knee, clasp your hands together, and pray to God.”

“What do we pray for?”

“I don’t know. Treat it like making a wish. I always have when I’m made to pray. It’s just that God will grant you your wish instead of a shooting star. Though it’s still just as finicky, if you ask me.”

Verso took a knee before the statue and put his hands together, finger to finger, palm to palm. After watching for a moment, P did the same, even bowing his head alongside it.

Several moments of silence passed. Verso wasn’t sure if the words in his head weren’t making an actual proper prayer, but it felt right to do.

Maelle giggled. “THAT’S your wish? Come on, now. That’s so cliché. But don’t tell him, or it won’t come true.”

“Is that how prayers work?”

“Well, it’s how wishes work.”

“You know my prayer.”

“Because by all technicality, we’re the same person, Verso! Whatever you think, I know!”

“Hey, P.” Verso turned his head. “What did you pray for?”

“For you to stay.” The answer was immediate, even with Maelle’s warning.

Verso couldn’t help but crack a grin as Maelle groaned. “Funny. I did the same, but with you.”

Your Chroma grows stronger.

“Do you two understand how gross and sappy you sound?” Maelle questioned as both moved to stand.

Verso couldn’t help but frown. “What do you mean?”

“I… Oh, nothing. You wouldn’t get it. Let’s just go and find Gustave as fast as possible so I don’t have to keep listening to you two.”

Right as Verso turned, stone clattered just off to the side. The smile on his face dropped as he turned. Whipping out the first item he could grab from his belt—a sharpened pipe, scavenged from the remains on Krat’s streets—he threw it in the direction the noise was coming from. If it landed true, they might be able to throw the incoming creature off-balance.

A panicked shriek erupted from around one of the stone columns as the pipe just narrowly whizzed by. “Aagh! Mercy, I beg you! Don’t kill me!”

“Oh, merde —” What was probably a curse erupted from Verso’s mouth as he lifted his hands. “Sorry! I thought you were one of those… things.”

Carefully, the person behind the column peeked out. Clutching onto their black top hat was a young man, shaking from fright. His wispy blue hair concealed his face, and most of the rest of his body was draped in a long black coat. He used a closed umbrella much like a walking cane as he stepped out, and Verso couldn’t help but flinch at every dnk sound.

“I—I’m sorry for not announcing my presence,” the man stammered. “I didn’t… I thought you were…”

“Unfrenzied paint and springs, not… whatever the creatures around here are made of,” Verso assured the man. “Are you from the cathedral?”

“I, um… N—No. I’m not.” The man tilted up his top hat to reveal his face. “My name is Giangio. I’m an Alche…” He trailed off, then cleared his throat. “Pharmacist! Yes, pharmacist.”

“He’s an Alchemist,” Maelle immediately confirmed to Verso.

“Well, Alchemist Giangio,” Verso said, and Giangio cringed as the muse crossed his arms. “If you’re not from the cathedral, what are you doing here?”

“If anything, I was trying to get to the cathedral. I’m looking for the legendary Gold Coin Fruit. I have the Petrification Disease, and I need a cure.”

“Gold Coin Fruit?” Verso questioned.

“The poor man’s gone insane,” Maelle said as Giangio shuffled about in his pockets. “The Gold Coin Fruit’s a legend, a fairy tale cure-all meant to convince children to take their bedtime medication. There’s no cure for Petrification Disease.”

“So you’re saying he’s…”

“Desperate as he’s slowly dying? Absolutely.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re whispering about me to your Painter,” Giangio whimpered.

“I am, and she’s calling you a madman.”

“I’m not! Look, the Gold Coin Fruit might just be a myth, but in the midst of an epidemic, it might be our salvation. C—Can you help me find it? I’m planning to head to the St. Frangelico Cathedral, so—”

“Maybe not.” Verso cut Giangio off. “It’s looking like it’s a dangerous situation in there. You might be a whackjob, but I don’t want you to endanger yourself.”

“Then, if—if you are going that way, let me shadow you!” Giangio followed after Verso as the muse began to walk, P not too far behind. “You two can protect me, no?”

“He’ll get in the way,” Maelle argued. “There’s too many unknowns to bring along somebody who’s not capable of combat—not to mention, afflicted with the Petrification Disease.”

“Maelle’s right. You’d just be putting yourself in harm’s way.” Making it to the end of the small building, Verso placed his hands upon the large exit doors.

“I’m—I’m sure it cannot possibly be so bad,” Giangio stammered as Verso shoved the doors open.

The screeching noises of the puppet language immediately became audible. Verso stopped mid-shove, peeking out through the cracks of the doors. Slowly, looking gobsmacked all the while, he finished opening them, revealing to P and Giangio what he was so stunned by.

The bridge, the last stretch of land between them and the cathedral proper, was choked with bodies. Puppets and creatures alike were mauling each other, even tackling one another off the side of the bridge and barreling down to the ground below. Oil and blue fluid soaked the ground, having even slowly run all the way back to them.

“No, it’s—it’s bad,” Giangio immediately conceded, stepping back and moving behind one of the interior columns again. “I’ll, uh… I’ll wait for you to handle that. Over here. Where it’s safe.”

Chapter Text

Verso and P wisely waited for the initial wave of fighting to die down. From the start, it looked like the puppets were the losing party. Indeed, by the time most of the commotion had dwelled down, all of the puppets were either dead on the spot or cast over the side of the bridge. Some of the opposing creatures were hurt, but not to the point that they looked ready to falter.

Verso let a pulse of power from his Chroma encase him and P. “Stay,” he ordered Giangio just before he began crossing the bridge, P right by him.

As he expected, the moment they started moving, the creatures surged like the ocean tide. There had to be half a dozen that immediately broke from the crowd and charged towards them. Verso swerved, using his free hand to scruff one of them and toss them over the bridge, as P decided to just head-on assault three of them at once.

It was hard to maneuver about the bridge, with so many opponents that moved so fast. Verso was blocking with Danseso more often than he was swinging with it. Just to get room to breathe, Verso had to use multiple flurries of golden strikes. Even that space only lasted for seconds before the creatures closed back in, forcing him to fall back further.

A jet of fire erupted from P. As Verso looked, he could see the silver and red Legion Arm attached to the puppet. From its palm, a flamethrower-like appendage has extended, which was spewing flames that quickly cooked alive the creatures.

“New arm?” Verso guessed.

“Venigni made it from Fuoco’s machinery,” P confirmed, lowering the arm once the last of the initial assault was baked.

“Great. We sure as hell need something like that.” Verso looked ahead at the rest of the creatures beginning to stir and turn. “How much fuel do you have in that?”

P didn’t answer. Already readying the Legion Arm again, he stepped forth and pointed the clenched fist ahead. The jet of flame began again, this time catching the bulk of the remaining creatures. They screeched and moved to run at him, but Verso quickly threw a thermite into the mess and finished off many of those already severely weakened by the flamethrower.

With the detonation clearing out much of the stragglers, that left only a few slipping through the cracks. Verso grunted as one raced through the smoke and flames to tackle him. His back hit the ground as claws dug into where his guts would be. He placed his foot on their chest and launched them up and into the bridge railing. P flying in with the sucker punch to the face finished knocking them over the side.

Pushing himself onto his feet as he bled golden paint everywhere, Verso saved his Tints for now. With a single swing, he decapitated the last straggler, who fell to the floor in a crumpled heap. He put Danseso on his shoulder, breathing heavily, but able to get himself to nod at P.

That just left one more. Almost at the end of the bridge, still a small distance away, a much taller creature lurked. Its entire body looked calcified, with the “branches” from its head twisting into antler-like formations.

Verso nudged his head forward, and P nodded. Both ran ahead just as the large creature turned and saw them. Like with the others, it raced forward with impressive speed, causing both to break and loop around in different directions.

When its arm slammed into P, Verso heard the crunch of its arm breaking under the puppet’s metal frame. But still, said puppet went flying. P crashed against the bridge railing and tumbled over. Just narrowly, his Legion Arm snapped forward, catching himself before he fell.

On one hand, the creature’s left arm was now broken, meaning that Verso only had to worry about the right one. On the other hand, holy shit.

Verso had to scramble back as both broken and unbroken arms were senselessly swung at him. The creature gave him no opportunity to charge back in and land some attacks, continuing to mindlessly attack. And all the while, he kept looking to see P struggling to pull himself back up with his other arm occupied with the salamander dagger.

In order to free said hand, P tossed the dagger. Spinning on his heel, Verso caught the blade in his left hand. He slammed the dagger into the creature’s still-functioning shoulder, ripping forth a marking slash. As it seared the flesh, he followed up with a series of white-coated attacks, energy being sapped from the creature to restore his torn-up stomach.

As soon as P was back on stable ground, Verso tossed Danseso his way. Catching it in both hands, P used it like a greatsword for his first swing, bringing it down in an overhead slash. As the creature stumbled back, he switched to holding it with only his dominant hand.

With the creature focused on P, Verso attacked from behind. A single infused stab into the back, and the creature was thrown forth. P lifted Danseso and plunged it right into the chest. The feathered blade of the sword skimmed past Verso’s cheek as it erupted from the creature’s back, leaving a tiny slice of golden paint.

The freshly-made corpse slumped against Danseso. The smell of burnt flesh wafted into Verso’ nose, and he recoiled. He stepped back, taking the dagger with him. P used his foot to kick off the corpse and swung Danseso to knock the blue fluid off it.

Flipping the dagger in his hand, Verso held it back out handle-first to P, holding the blade between two fingers. P smiled at him, taking the weapon and replacing it with Verso’s sword.

“You two, um…” Both looked to see Giangio scampering up, giving a wide berth of the bodies made. “You two work remarkably well. You put a lot of Stalkers I know to shame.”

“Thanks.” Verso pointed Danseso forward, towards the end of the bridge. “Keep your distance. We don’t know what’s behind these doors.”

Said magnificent double doors he was pointing out were currently closed, the alabaster shimmering in the evening light. After putting aside his dagger, P made it to said doors first, grabbing onto one handle and waiting for Verso to grasp onto the other. After both braced their feet, they began pulling the doors open, P’s Legion Arm crackling with the exertion.

The interior of the church was… surprisingly clean. It definitely wasn’t spotless, with drag marks of blue fluid scattering the area and even a couple of the creatures’ bodies shot dead. But the pews were intact, the chapel was well-lit, and for the moment, there were no hostile creatures inside.

As P knelt by some scattered metal, Verso did the same, just near a disposed-of creature. “Gustave made it this far,” he reported. “The fight on the bridge must have only started recently.” He stepped away from the corpse and towards the completed Stargazer. “He probably went further in, unfortunately.” He grunted as he sat down, his wounds already closing and his Tints refilling.

Giangio himself, meanwhile, sat on one of the pews, watching the two. “You’re, um… looking for somebody?”

“Yeah. He ran all the way from Venigni Works to look for his fiancée.” Verso grimaced. “It’s not looking good for her, even if the mess made in here was solely from Gustave.” He leaned back a bit, pointing at Giangio. “Which means YOU need to stay here, where it’s safe.”

“I wouldn’t want to run into danger like you two seem to be doing,” Giangio agreed in a murmur. “I think I’ll stay right here, until the rest of the cathedral’s safe.”

With a nod, Verso pushed his rejuvenated body back onto its feet. P followed after, and when he watched Verso dust himself off, he copied the motion.

There were two doorways leading into the back of the cathedral. While one was boarded up, the other was still open. And almost like Verso expected it, he could see footprints going through the blue drag marks, heading up the stairs and further into the building.

Entering the next room, right away, the two could see nothing but sheer destruction. Most of the normal routes were closed off via collapsed rubble. More importantly, the entire room’s floor was caved in, leaving a giant pit that seemed to go several stories down. And something was peeking up through said pit, a serpentine-like body visibly tearing into a corpse on the ground.

Their footsteps must have echoed through the area, because the serpent-like thing snapped to attention. Quickly, it withdrew back into the pit, snarling as it did. Verso rushed to the edge to peek over, looking all the way down. There was no sign of whatever that had been.

“Long way down,” he noted, stepping back.

“We could jump.” P stepped back too, though his was less out of caution and more out of perhaps getting a running start.

“Hold on.” Verso put his hand up as P took the first stride forward. “I don’t think we’d survive the drop. One or two stories, maybe. But that’s about half a dozen. I know it’s tempting, but we’re better off taking the long way down.”

“Mm…” P still looked quite tempted.

“Besides, we’re here to look for Gustave and Sophie. We probably want to look wherever we can.” Verso patted P’s back, urging him towards a pile of rubble that led into a cracked-open hallway a floor down. “Come on.”

Another “Mm” grunt left P, but he abided. He let himself be pushed along, Verso keeping his hand on his back like he was guiding a child away from a tantalizing display of candy.

They should have jumped down the hole.

Verso had many complaints about the lower levels of the cathedrals. Why were there so many pools of nothing but blue brine, for starters? Pools that corroded his legs whenever he’d walk through them and hid the creatures that’d surge up and attempt to drag him and P down? And why were there so many giant gears in-between flimsy wooden walkways that would knock either of them down if they mistimed their jumps?

Verso must have had an expression that reeked of malcontent, because as they carefully picked their way over one such walkway, P spoke up. “Should we go back?”

Verso knew the implications of saying yes. They’d be taking their chances by jumping down half a dozen stories, down into the depths of the cathedral. But they wouldn’t be performing balancing acts on decades-old wooden support beams…

“No,” he decided. “This is the safer option.”

“Mm…”

“Stop that. Why do you want to jump down a hole so badly, anyway?”

“I don’t like the creatures.”

“I…” Verso sighed. Of course; taking the quickest route would mean they would run into less of whatever the monsters roaming the cathedral’s underground sections were. Their quick, cleaving strikes were a vast contrast to the slow bludgeoning of the puppets, and he supposed that P had a good reason to not like the change. “I don’t like them either. I don’t even know what they are. But it’s better to pick through them slowly instead of risking our lives and jumping down to…”

Verso trailed off. His eyes had landed on a wall just on the end of the wooden beam they were crossing. It was streaked in crimson, human blood, vaguely forming words penned by a shaky hand. Laying next to it was a body, crumpled and clearly bludgeoned to death. Carefully, he approached, squinting to make out what laid before him.

The archbishop is dead. Those who are still alive must flee from the dead.

Gustave, find me in the library.

Verso placed his hand near the bloody writing. “Sophie.”

“The dead?” Maelle whispered. “She’s not saying that…”

“They’re humans.” P’s eyes were locked onto the rushed, clumsy writing. “The creatures. They’re humans.”

“The refugees that came to the cathedral. There had to have been hundreds, but we haven’t seen a single one.”

“Not living nor their bodies.” Verso fully turned to P. “Because the bodies have kept moving.”

“... What in the name of God happened here?”

Chapter Text

Finding the elevator tucked into the far back of the sprawling basement felt like a deliverance. Even better, when Verso tested the button, he found that it very much still worked. The elevator made a grating sound as it began to descend, but it still very much descended with little to no problem.

As it chugged and rumbled, Verso took a second to lean against the wall and think. He had hoped that Gustave had made it this far. But if the creatures that they have been fighting really were revived corpses, what’s to say that Gustave wasn’t one of them, mutated beyond recognition? All he knew was that Gustave had brown hair and a Legion arm. Given the way the mutated creatures’ heads would bloom open, the former wasn’t even part of the question anymore. If they had killed any corpse that was missing one of their arms, how could they know?

The elevator stopped, jolting Verso out of his thoughts. He looked to see the golden gates automatically draw open, leading out into a clean, borderline-cozy library. Only some of the floorboards were torn up; a remarkable difference compared to the rest of the cathedral.

While the two stepped out, a soft voice hit Verso’s ears. It sounded to be a muttered prayer, but he couldn’t make the words out. He motioned for P besides him to stop, turning his head to the side.

P moved more quietly, stepping towards some wreckage. To make a Stargazer, Verso guessed. He himself turned on his heel, moving in the direction of the voice.

As his boots creaked on the floorboards, he heard a stifled gasp of fear. Immediately, he called out. “It’s okay. We’re not one of them. You can come out.”

After a moment, a hunched figure shuffled out from behind the bookshelf. She was dressed as a nun, her dress stained with some of the blue fluid. Her face was pale, though Verso couldn’t tell if that was her natural pallor or if the situation made her look especially haunted.

“I’m surprised to see somebody who’s still… well, alive.” The woman staggered forward, her hands almost reaching reverently to the golden injuries on Verso. “A muse…”

“Easy.” Verso took her hands, noticing the way she stumbled. “If you’re feeling lightheaded, sit down.” He was already taking her down to the floor before she could act otherwise.

“I… yes.” The nun placed a hand upon her chest as Verso held her by the shoulder. “Where are my manners? I’m Cecile, and I serve the archbishop. I’m the only one left.”

“The…” Verso felt a chill go through his paint. “The only one?”

“Everyone’s dead, from either the Petrification Disease or that monster.” Cecile looked at Verso. “Why did you come here?”

“We came looking for somebody that came through here, looking for his fiancée Sophie. Have you seen him? Or heard him? We know that he’s fired off some bullets.”

“Bullets… Yes!” Cecile nodded. “I heard gunshots not too long ago. Hours ago, I’d say? But nobody came through here. It sounded distant, and from up above.”

“Shit. Then he never came this way.” Verso glanced at P, making sure he was listening, before looking back. “Are you certain you’re the only one left alive?”

“I’m positive.”

“Then we’ve already cleared most of the way. When you get out of the cathedral, make a break for Hotel Krat. It’s safe there.”

As Verso moved to stand, Cecile grabbed onto his arm, stopping him. “Wait! Before I go… Can you do me a kindness?”

“What?” Verso looked back.

“Bring me the holy mark from the archbishop’s quarters. He was a true saint and my savior. If I write his words into my heart, maybe it’ll give me the strength to carry on.”

“If Gustave isn’t here, we need to go find him as fast as possible,” Maelle argued. “We can’t go out of our way to risk our lives for a holy mark.”

On the inside, Verso agreed. But the idea of leaving the poor woman on her own, with no comfort in the wake of disaster, didn’t sit right with him.

“Alright,” he said. “We’ll go find the holy mark. But after we do, you need to leave the cathedral right away. Okay?”

“Thank you.” Cecile took Verso’s hand and pressed it to her forehead for a moment, almost praying to him, before releasing him. “Quickly. I beg of you.”

Your Chroma grows stronger.

When Verso moved back to the Stargazer, P was already standing and watching him. Without saying anything, he made it obvious that he would follow Verso. With only a stop to refill his Tints and heal his wounds, Verso was off, P quickly following.

“How are we even going to find the archbishop’s quarters in this mess?” Maelle questioned. “Given the state of the cathedral, it might not even be intact anymore.”

“We have to at least try,” Verso replied. “If it gets her to leave for Hotel Krat, then that’s what we have to do.”

Even though the cathedral was devastated, the elevators seemed almost miraculously impervious to such. After cutting through more of the walking corpses, the two managed to locate another elevator. When Verso activated it, instead of going further down, they began heading up.

Once more leaning against the elevator wall, Verso lost himself in his thoughts again. He couldn’t understand why recovering one item was so important to somebody. If the archbishop was that important to Cecile, wouldn’t the memories be enough? Why risk life and limb just to acquire a physical item to remember them by?

“Verso…”

Maelle’s voice sounded like she was trying to comfort Verso, but if anything, it confused him. He blinked, looking over his shoulder as if his Painter would be standing behind him. “Huh?”

The elevator stopped, and the doors opened. Instead of leading into another cathedral room, the two were looking out onto an elegant balcony, illuminated by the setting sun. The cloudline hung below, leaving the skyview clear but Krat hidden from view.

What caught Verso’s attention most of all was a figure. One look, and the word “Stalker” came to mind, with the german shepherd mask and the collection of weapons on their back. Standing by the railing, the Stalker seemed to be thinking to themself, not noticing the elevator and its occupants arriving.

“Damn it.” An elegant, masculine voice slipped out from under the mask, a hand rapping against the concealed chin. “I can’t find the way out. Monsters everywhere…”

“Hello?” Verso called.

Starting a tad, the Stalker turned his head. He cocked his head at the sight of the two walking out onto the balcony, then jerked it up and down. It was hard to tell with the mask, but he seemed to be looking them over rather intently.

“Huh,” he eventually said. “That’s odd. I thought I was the only one with a sound mind here.”

“Well, fortunately for you, you’re not.” Verso put his hands on his hips.

“Fortunate indeed! Now, I’m sure I don’t need to introduce myself.” The Stalker tapped on his chest with two fingers, directing attention to a pin of golden wings. “Note these golden wings. Yes, you guessed it…”

Verso and P looked at each other. Then back at the Stalker. In unison, they tilted their heads and asked, “Who?”

“... You don’t know who I am?” The Stalker sounded genuinely surprised. “Preposterous! Everyone in Krat has heard of me. Do you live under a rock?”

Maelle suddenly gasped, making Verso flinch. “Wait! I know him! I know him!”

She didn’t need to ask Verso to pull out a Picto-decorated stone, which he held out to the Stalker. After a moment of staring, he took it and turned it over.

Before he could question the gift, Maelle was immediately talking to him, now making him the one who flinched. “Stalker? Hound mask? A repertoire of ancient weapons on your person? You’re Alidoro the Hound! Treasure hunter extraordinaire! It is an HONOR to meet you! I’ve heard so many stories about you!”

“Oh—Well—” Off-kilter, Alidoro rubbed the back of his head. “At least one of you recognizes legend when they see it.”

“I’m Maelle, Verso’s Painter.” Alidoro’s head snapped surprisingly quickly to Verso, who only cautiously waved. “I’ve wanted to be a Stalker ever since I was young. I can’t tell you the amount of bedtime stories Maman made out of your expeditions to me! I never thought I’d get to meet you!”

“Glad to know that a devout fan has survived this disaster.” Alidoro made a strange, pointed motion with his hands to Verso. Whatever it was, it made Maelle squeal in joy. “And speaking of, I came here to look for other survivors. But it’s been a lonely search, and there’s danger around every corner.” Focusing specifically on Verso, he continued, “Considering that you have a Painter, she must be holed up in a sanctuary of some kind. A clean and comfortable, maybe even… civilized one.”

“I’m actually someplace entirely different from our homebase,” Maelle admitted. “But we can still direct you to the latter! Hotel Krat’s defense systems have held up against the puppets, and even better, we’ve mostly cleared the way to it through Elysion Boulevard!”

In Verso’s peripheral, he could see P having lifted his hands, only to drop them. A strange thought went through his head—had P been attempting to stop Maelle from talking?

“Hotel Krat?” Alidoro mused. “Of course! A haven for all, and it certainly does seem safe and sound, with that “defense system” you mentioned.” He put his hand on his hip. “I have a lot of traveling to do to get to the Hotel, so why don’t you help me lighten my load? Perchance, do you have any rare hearts of Ergo? I’m always in the market for such gems.”

“What are you offering for them?” Verso recalled P’s penchant for harvesting the Ergo hearts of puppets.

“What else? Rare weapons, amulets, and Chroma vials. The latter might be useless for you if your Painter’s off who knows where, but… handy to have.” Alidoro made a motion of flexing. “Quite the smattering of Picto tattoos that they can make! And I imagine that since almost all of the Painters of Krat are dead, Chroma vials are even more rare than ever.”

“Why do you have Chroma vials?” Verso asked as P fished out the three Ergo hearts he had.

Alidoro scoffed. “Well, it’d be asinine for Painters to not sell at least a couple of vials in their lifetime, given their value. Trust me, any vial’s worth its weight in Ergo, and the ones I have are at least thrice that. Instead of the typical common Painter selling their magic to scrape by, I only hold the finest Chroma, donated from pure nobility itself.”

Verso identified the three Ergo hearts that P held out—the one from the Parade Master, the one from the Scrapped Watchman, and the one from Fuoco. The puppet displayed them between his fingers almost proudly, like presenting prized fish.

“My, quite a haul you have there,” Alidoro mused. “I think I have just the items for you.” He reached back, foraging through the back on his bag without looking. “One moment.”

After a few minutes, Alidoro had three items in his hands. One was a Chroma vial, filled with an electric blue paint. One was what looked like an amulet without its chain, depicting a clawed hand stuck on a bullseye. And the biggest by far was a silver sword, one similar in size to Verso’s own bladed weaponry.

“Weapons and gear meant for the worthy!” Alidoro declared as they traded items, the Hound gaining the Ergo hearts and the duo collecting the items. “Sourced from the finest treasure and most powerful Painters out there.”

“Alidoro’s respected in so many circles,” Maelle mused, audibly delighted. “You probably do have a well-known Painter’s Chroma in your hands!”

Somehow, Verso doubted it. As he held the sword and vial, he looked at P, who cradled the amulet in both hands. His expression was contemplative, akin to the face that he had made when debating jumping down the chapel’s pit. He wondered what was going through the puppet’s head.

The cathedral was oddly quiet, even with the number of monsters that the two have slain. Verso couldn’t stop looking at P following alongside him. His thoughts kept trailing back to their interaction with Alidoro, yet he wasn’t sure how to begin questioning the puppet on it.

P’s Legion Arm shot out and grabbed Verso’s left arm. The muse found himself suddenly teetering over the edge of a destroyed walkway. He had almost dropped down an entire story. Verso stepped back, exhaling hard.

The pathway looked to have continued across the way ahead, leading to an elegant, closed set of doors. Now, it had collapsed down to the floor below, leaving the path broken and untraversable.

“Damn,” Verso muttered. “Thanks, P.”

“You need to be more careful,” Maelle cautioned. “That could have hurt.”

“Not too much of a fall. Not a pit-sized fall.”

“Mm…”

Ignoring the noise, Verso put his hands on his hips. “Still, this is the last way forward. If that isn’t the archbishop’s quarters, nowhere else standing is.” He gestured at the giant hole in the walkway. “I don’t suppose either of us can jump that far.”

“You could throw me.” P watched Verso look at him incredulously. “Like you threw the ones on the bridge.”

“P, you’re easily over two-hundred pounds. I can’t toss you five feet, let alone at least twenty.”

“I could throw you.”

Before Verso could argue, Maelle pitched in. “Muses are surprisingly light, considering they’re only made of paint.”

P didn’t need any other argument. He stuck his hands out, making grabbing motions for Verso. After watching in stunned silence for a moment, Verso acquiesced and stepped forward, lifting his hands up.

He didn’t know just how P was about to grab him. Both hands right on the waist was one of the last ways he expected. As he stood stunned, P proceeded to hoist him over the head like he was a steel beam, then chuck him like a javelin.

Verso slammed into the walkway on the other side hard. He did manage to roll into the impact, but the paint within him churned like an upset stomach. He eventually stopped rolling when his back hit the wall on the other side.

“Good landing!” Gemini complimented as Verso staggered to his feet.

“You’re just saying that, Gemini!” Verso grunted.

“... Yeah, you’re right. I am.”

Shaking his head, Verso looked to the doors now before him. They seemed to be remarkably untouched. He placed his hands on them, expecting to be able to push them open with ease. However, they only went in about an inch before there was the sound of something clattering and they were stopped in their tracks.

Verso stepped back, observing the doors for a moment. After sighing through his teeth, he put his right shoulder forward and rammed into them.

As soon as that first strike landed, a scream came from inside. Verso immediately paused. It didn’t sound like one of the risen corpses. It sounded like a noise of fear.

He braced his hands on the doors. “Hello?” He called. “Is somebody in there?”

After a moment, a trembling, feminine voice responded. “What? Who’s there?”

“A friend. My name is Verso.”

“Verso? Like the…? No, it couldn’t be. You must be somebody else. Why did you come here? You’ve damned yourself.”

“Because me and my friend came here looking for somebody. His name is Gustave.”

The voice had been slowly slipping to melancholy, but it suddenly switched to cautious hope. “Gustave? As in, Gustave Venigni?” Verso heard frantic shuffling from the other side of the room, along with soft whimpers of pain. “Why did you think you could find him here?”

“Because he came looking for his…” Verso paused. “Are you Sophie?”

“I am! My name is Sophie! I’m his fiancée!” One bit of wood clattered to the ground, then another. “He sent me here with the rest of the refugees, but… It’s been all horrible. The people, they—” A third piece was moved aside, with a cry of pain sounding to be much louder than before.

“Hey, wait, stop!” Verso ordered. “Sophie, are you hurt?”

“I… yes. One of the creatures got my leg terribly. I used some of my dress to tie the wound, but… It feels numb. I can still walk, but—”

“Stand back.” Verso waited a few seconds before ramming his shoulder against the doors again.

That time, they flew open, scattering what remained of the barricade Sophie had put up. The room smelt foul, decay and blood mixing into a sickness-inducing cocktail. The archbishop’s quarters look to have once been filled with finery befitting a high member of the church, but most of it was ruined and knocked aside.

Standing in the middle of the room was a woman. Her outfit likely used to show some level of class comfort, but was now quite frankly ruined. Her speckled white blouse was stained and her short brown hair was frazzled. Her red skirt was torn to shreds, several inches missing from the bottom and the rest of the fabric smeared with blood and blue fluid. It gave Verso a good look at her right leg, which appeared heavily mauled and hastily bandaged by flimsy scraps. In her hand, she brandished a gold candelabra smeared with blue gunk; cocked back just in case, which Verso could unfortunately understand.

Verso lifted his hands just as Sophie lowered the candelabra. “I’m a family friend,” he softly explained. “Venigni—um, specifically Lorenzini Venigni said that you and Gustave would be at the cathedral. We came here to find you two.”

“Gustave came here?” Sophie dropped the candelabra.

“To find you.” Verso stepped forward, reaching his arms out. “Here. Take the load off the leg.” Sophie took one arm, lifting her injured leg off from the ground. “There we go. How long has it been like that?”

“Probably far too long,” Sophie admitted with a smile.

As they emerged from the quarters, Verso noticed P already jumping down a full story. As he leaned to look, P’s hands were extended, making more grabbing motions.

“That’s my partner, P,” Verso explained to Sophie, helping her to the broken edges. “Careful. He’ll catch you.”

Sophie took a moment to shuffle down as much as possible without hopping down. When she did, P stumbled to catch her, managing to do so but rather awkwardly. He quickly set her down while readjusting his hold. When Verso jumped down, P took one arm while Verso took the other.

“We should get her back to Cecile,” Verso recommended. “She might know how to treat a wound.”

Practically carrying Sophie back into the relative safety of the library, Verso could hear Cecile before he could see her. In an instant, she had abandoned the corner she was cowering in and rushed to their side, helping the two lay the injured woman against an empty bookshelf.

“Do you know how to treat an injury?” Verso asked.

“I am no doctor, but I know how to stitch a deep wound like this closed,” Cecile confirmed. “I will do everything that I can.”

“Sorry, but I didn’t get the holy mark. I can go back and—”

“Forget it.” Verso was stunned into silence by how firmly Cecile had spoken. “This is much greater than any hope the holy mark could have given me. The archbishop saved many a people from their darkest hours. In showing that I can perhaps do the same before my time is up, in a way, I fulfill his legacy.”

“Before your time is up?” Verso questioned.

Cecile lifted her left hand, which only now did Verso notice was bandaged. Unraveling it, Sophie gasped at the sight of the scale-like calcification the muse had seen on Antonia’s face.

“I have the disease,” Cecile confirmed. “It is only a matter of time now before I succumb and end up like those that perished here. But faith has let me live this long. Let it guide me just a little bit longer.” Taking her uninfected hand, she clasped Sophie’s. “What is your name?”

“Sophie. Sophie Venigni.” Sophie giggled. “Well, it’ll be Venigni soon. But I like using it already.”

“That is a beautiful name. Allow it to be spoken in Krat beyond this day, not in God’s realm.” With that, Cecile immediately got to work, both infected and uninfected hands moving along the injury and examining how bad it was.

Kneeling by Sophie, Verso explained, “From what it sounds like, Gustave wasn’t able to make it down here. Gunshots were heard on the surface, but nothing else. But… You know, we haven’t found any shambling bodies that look like him, so I’m hopeful that he’s still alive.”

“He has to be,” Sophie immediately confirmed, and after a moment of consideration, she sat up. “Wait. The Path of the Pilgrim leads right to the Malum District. Could he have gone there?”

“He could have. But why did that come to mind?”

“Gustave isn’t Venigni’s son by blood. He was adopted. And I’m almost certain that the orphanage he lived at was in the Ma—”

A tremendous earthquake shook the area. Verso moved to protect Sophie and Cecile with his body as P readied his weapon. The trembling went on for a few minutes more before eventually and slowly abating.

As P looked around, Verso lifted his head. “What was that?” he asked.

“The monster,” Cecile whispered. “The one that killed everyone and spread the disease throughout the cathedral. It’s been using the pit in the center of the building to navigate around and pick off any survivors.” Shivering, she added, “Its extension… It almost looks like the archbishop. I don’t know if that is him or if it took his body and made him part of it.”

Turning to P, Verso said, “That thing we saw when we first found the hole. If it can reach all the levels of the cathedral basement…”

“It would attack Sophie and Cecile as soon as they run,” P concluded.

“Then we better do what we do best and get rid of the danger.” Verso got to his feet. “You two, stay here, and only go once you’re certain it’s safe. It’s probably about to get noisy.”

The doors before them were quaint. Almost eerily so. But Verso could hear the sound of wind whistling through it. It had to lead out into at least some area of the hole.

Putting his weight against one of the doors, he waited for P to do the same. Once they were both ready, they began pushing them open, slowly stepping through into a wide-open basement.

It looked like it had once held some measure of elegance, with torn paintings and cast aside furniture. Maybe an alcove for the sect to retreat into, once the sermons were said and done. The close proximity to the library suggested so.

Something swung from the hole in the ceiling not unlike a pendulum. It almost looked like a bat hanging upside down, “wings” wrapped about its serpentine form and too many eyes to count peeking from behind them to watch the two walking in.

Its spine-akin body cracked and shivered as it turned midair. It sat upright in a sense, lowering the protective shell. Now Verso could count the eyes; seven in all, framed by a porcelain white mask. Or perhaps the eyes were part of the mask? Given that this creature defied standard humanoid characteristics that the puppets were so fond of, he couldn’t truly say.

He and P stopped just several feet from directly below the creature. Verso kept his hand on the new sword gained from Alidoro, lips pursed in caution. P had yet to do the same, just standing and watching almost in… curiosity?

After a moment, it seemed that the creature had seen enough. It slowly slipped back upwards, out through the hole and out of sight. For a moment, all that was left was a beam of light from the cathedral surface above shining down on the two.

Something white dropped down. Ting, ting ting titititing. It was the mask, clattering to a stop on the stone tiles below. Verso took his eyes from the hole to glance at it, just for a moment.

A massive, toad-like monstrosity crashed down onto the ground, crushing the mask in an instant. Verso and P jumped back as the massive body laid still on the ground for a moment, almost stunned by the impact of the drop. Then, slowly, twisted limbs only vaguely resembling hands twitching, it pushed itself up. Its “head” hung upside down, making its horrific mandibles the top part. A long, blue tongue slipped out, licking over its eyes.

Verso wondered if that was a bestial instinct or if the thing truly was hungry.

FALLEN ARCHBISHOP ANDREUS

Chapter Text

It wasn’t a puppet. It wasn’t even a muse. Shivering before them was a mutated creature that had gorged itself on the dead. Verso felt his paint curdle at the sight before them. But he pushed it down, readying the Holy Sword and giving him and P a power boost before running forward.

The fallen archbishop met them halfway, dragging its fat body across the ground. Its arms came swinging down, forcing the age-old opening move of the two splitting to divide and conquer. While Verso stayed in the front, P struck from behind, stabbing his dagger repeatedly into the creature’s flank and using the Legion Arm Flamberge’s flamethrower to light it aflame.

The archbishop snarled, throwing its body back to catch the puppet in its grasp. Before it could secure its grip, however, Verso cut into it with a series of golden strikes. The archbishop snarled, swinging back and backhanding the muse away. But the damage was done, and P scampered out of arm’s reach with only some bruises to show.

Damn, did it hit hard. One serious strike, and Verso was already opening a Healing Tint. They needed to be careful about getting within melee reach of the archbishop. Thankfully, it didn’t seem to have any ranged options.

The next thing Verso knew, a slimy, wriggling tongue had slapped into his hip. It curled around him, throwing him up into the air. He almost passed through the hole in the ceiling before he began his descent. He caught a glimpse of P dodging another tongue swipe before he crashed headlong into the ground and his vision went black.

A second later, he awoke in a puddle of golden. Before he could comprehend how much paint he had lost, he was rolling. One of the archbishop’s gnarled hands slammed down where he had been lying a second later. Verso got onto his feet and staggered back, drinking another Healing Tint.

Already down half his Tints, and he could see P cracking a Pulse Cell. And they’ve barely landed a few blows on the archbishop. Verso could already tell that this would be a grueling fight.

Flamberge was helping extensively in order to level the playing field. The fire easily made the necrotic flesh catch flame, and it continued burning, sending the archbishop thrashing. Verso took the chance to get in a few strikes of white Chroma, stealing some vitality and stitching back together his broken body.

While the archbishop writhed, rolling on the ground to extinguish the flames, P moved back to Verso’s side. Both of them held their weapons ready, Holy Sword and Salamander Dagger aloft.

“We’re chipping at it, but it’s beating us down faster than we can beat it down,” Verso noted. “I don’t think our typical strategies will work.”

As both moved back in one motion to dodge a swipe, P asked, “What can we do?”

“How much thermite do you have?”

P stared at him for a moment before nodding. Breaking from the back-to-back, he fell back while Verso ran forward. It was starting to become a routine—Verso the distraction, P the true threat just out of sight.

As Verso let loose a strung series of multiple Chroma attacks, P began pitching copious amounts of thermite from his belt. Each one crashed with deadly accuracy upon the archbishop’s backside. It snarled and attempted to turn to P, but Verso only drank an Energy Tint and kept up the frontal assault. He even kept using his white Chroma attack to heal from the burning monstrosity before him.

Verso counted at least five thermites thrown, with each one having the same level of success. A huge portion of the archbishop was burnt away, a bellowing howl leaving its spider-like mouth. Seeing it falter, Verso drank another Energy Tint and kept at it.

As he swung his arm back, a ka-chunk echoed. The blade’s handle had extended, transforming the greatsword into a glaive-like weapon. After Verso grabbed onto said handle with both hands, he carved five blows into the charred flesh.

Cocking the glaive up and overhead, both white and gold Chroma flowed down the Holy Sword. Two more strikes landed, a wave of both Chroma colors slashing into the archbishop. Something harshly throbbed in his chest as Verso staggered back, and he could feel paint dripping down his face from the assault.

“Careful!” Maelle advised. “That looked like an attack that hurt you as much as it hurt that thing!”

“Chroma doesn’t mix well, huh?” Verso hissed as he fell back, drinking his third and second-to-last Healing Tint.

With Verso temporarily out of the way, the archbishop finally focused on the thermite-throwing nuisance. P was immediately guarding and rolling as the archbishop charged at him, clearing half of the ruined basement in just a few strides. But instead of continuing to weave away, P rushed forward and stabbed the salamander dagger into the two-fold blow Verso had just performed.

Hanging off the archbishop, P clung onto the body while the archbishop wildly thrashed. Verso made sure to shift the Holy Sword back into a greatsword before charging forward and slamming it down hard into the creature’s head.

Another tongue lash sent both of them rolling. Verso slammed into a dusty column while P tumbled a few more feet away. Both made for their healing items, Verso using his last Healing Tint while P cracked open one of his last Pulse Cells.

“I’m out of Healing Tints and running out of Energy,” Verso grunted. “This has gotta end soon, P!”

P nodded. Fishing around in his pocket for a moment more, he pulled out a saw blade. Verso was beginning to wonder just how much crap P had been hoarding. But he wasn’t complaining, seeing how P threw said saw blade with surprising effectiveness right at the archbishop’s head.

As the blade embedded and the archbishop roared, Verso went in for the killing shot. He leapt in the air to get a clearer line of sight on the monster’s neck, coating the Holy Sword in golden Chroma. With one downwards blow, he severed the head clean from the body, slicing through the thick, pudgy neck as cleanly as a knife through butter.

Verso landed hard against the ground as one last scream came from the horrific monster. A moment later, as the head rolled away, it collapsed, arms falling to its side and open neck bleeding rivers of blue fluid.

Getting up, Verso stepped back to P. Both of them looked positively gunked and battered. Verso rolled his head to try and alleviate some pains in his neck. Like he expected, P slowly copied him, making him chuckle.

Crrrrrr-rkrkr-rk.

Verso wheeled back to look at the corpse. The cracking noise had come from its back, where bone-white protrusions were beginning to bloom from. Its hands came up, grabbing each side of the broken shell. With a great amount of obvious strain, it began ripping its shell the rest of the way open.

With one last solid crack, the shell was ripped asunder, a forest full of protrusions bursting from its back. The body below fell limp once more as almost dreamy sparkles of blue drifted upwards from the opened wound.

Slowly emerging from the shell was the serpentine figure they had seen before. Drifting back and forth on its spinal-like body like a snake emerging from a wooden basket, its back was to them at first. As it clutched a staff of holy origin to itself, it slowly turned, revealing that the face that had been covered by the mask beforehand was an all-encompassing maw, rows of teeth filling the hole.

Stirring back to life, the monster began slowly dragging its broken body to face away from the two. That allowed the figure to slowly descend, threading through the protrusions, to face the two at more of a ground level. Its spinal body chittered and waggled like the legs of a centipede, one wing-like arm raised behind it while the other brandished the staff.

And then it spoke. “I’m a one-winged angel!” it gurgled, the teeth clicking in their facial hole. “Only I can sense the presence of God!”

“... P?”

“What?”

“That thing didn’t eat the archbishop. It is the archbishop.”

P didn’t have time to formulate a response before the archbishop’s lower body was charging forth, the staff raised aloft. It was a lot faster than before, the serpentine body slamming itself down on the ground as it swung at them. They were forced to break from each other, standing on opposite sides of the archbishop.

This was bad. They had used all of their thermites, and Verso had been borderline-wasteful with his Energy Tints. His eyes scanned over the body, frantically determining the best course of action.

“Aim for the spine!” he suggested to P. “We have to sever him from the rest of the body!”

Verso was used to their enemies being mindless enough to ignore him shouting. But the way the archbishop whipped to attack him made him think that it very much understood what he said. The staff slammed into his gut and sent him sprawling, and before he could get up, there was a popping in his legs as one of the arms slammed down and crushed it with one squeeze.

The pain made his vision white out. Gold that he choked on poured out of his mouth. He felt his body fly through the air, crumpling as it hit the ground again.

“Come unto me, sinner. I will take you under my—”

The scream that ripped from P’s mouth and echoed through the basement shocked Verso out of his stunned state. He lifted his head in time to see P practically lunging onto the archbishop’s mauled back. Hanging onto one of the protrusions, he lifted the dagger and began repeatedly stabbing into the spine.

Verso tried to get up, to join P in the attack before he was overwhelmed. But his vision swam, and he fell back to the ground. It took him a moment to roll over and realize that his leg wasn’t just crushed. The entire limb from the thigh down was missing, golden paint pouring from the stump.

No Healing Tints. No way to get over to the archbishop to land any attacks with his white Chroma. And he was fading fast. He swore Maelle was speaking to him. He could hear her desperate tone. He just couldn’t make out the words.

P was screaming. Maelle was screaming. Just barely, Verso could see a body get flung aside through the haze, crashing down by him. Oil streaked the ground where it had landed and came to a stop.

“Gold!” The archbishop’s shrieking voice pierced through the fog as Verso pressed Holy Sword to the ground. “It will be our grave!”

Both hands braced against the handle of the blade. White liquid poured down, seeping through the minute cracks in the weapon. It soaked into the blade, washing away the dirt and blood, bit by bit.

Verso pressed his only foot against the ground. He gripped the sword tighter. The warmth similar to when he created the pulses of power surged through his very being. But when he sent it out, he felt vitality flow through his broken body. A strange, woody smell hovered in the air as he stood back onto his restored, though shaky leg.

Next to him, P was also clawing his way to his feet. Left with oil and blue fluid coating his body, Verso saw a certain intensity in the puppet’s eyes that left him reeling. Whatever the emotion in them was, it was directed entirely at the archbishop coming at them.

Right. The archbishop. Verso couldn’t linger on P’s current state. He ran to meet the archbishop halfway, using one of his last Energy Tints mid-stride. Before the archbishop could strike first, Verso did, deploying the Holy Sword’s glaive and slamming it into the already-stabbed portion of the archbishop’s spine.

The strength in the swing sent the spine crashing down onto the ground. The rest of the body buckled as Verso put all of his weight into keeping the archbishop pinned. It howled and writhed, slamming the staff into Verso’s unstable leg. He grunted and almost buckled, but kept pushing the glaive down as much as he could.

“P!” he yelled. “I can’t hold him for long!”

P was already dashing to assist. Cocking the dagger back, he slammed it down into the injury they kept aggravating. Another howl erupted, shaking the area and almost knocking Verso down. The Holy Sword dug in was the only thing keeping him upright.

Gold and white Chroma surged down the blade as he dug it in further. P withdrew his dagger, only to grab onto the Holy Sword and begin pressing down as well. His Legion Arm sparked with the overexertion.

As Verso’s arms burned, he yelled out in frustration. The spine was slowly cracking, but far slower than he would have liked. And the body was still thrashing, slamming into him and P as they put all they had into keeping the archbishop pinned.

“Just fucking die already, you morceau de merde !” Verso yelled, Chroma pouring down his face and joining the already-gathered energy on the sword.

P moved his Legion Arm to brace against the pommel of the Holy Sword. With one last scream of sheer anger, a series of snaps and crackles erupted through the Flamberge. The sword sank down two more inches, and there was a terrific crunching noise.

Like that, without another noise leaving it, the archbishop’s mutated body crumpled. The Holy Sword had sunk an inch into the ground, cleaving the spine in two and separating the two bodies in the process.

Verso moved to grab the sword and pull it back up. As soon as it was wiggled out and waved back up into the air, he found himself teetering back even further. The sword fell from his hands as his legs gave out and his back rushed for the ground.

Arms wrapped around him, saving his head from cracking against the basement floor. P had taken a knee in order to catch him in time. Verso could feel the searing warmth of Flamberge against his back while the more lifelike hand held onto his waist. It took a second for his vision to stabilize and for him to blink away the gold rivulets, but when he did, a worried expression came into focus.

Panting, Verso chuckled. “That’s the most expression I’ve ever seen from you.”

“Verso burnt a critical amount of Chroma,” Maelle told P. “He’ll be fine, but… This is the closest muses can get to exhaustion, I suppose.”

P didn’t answer. Reaching his humanish hand up, he swiped some of the Chroma off Verso’s face. It was tender, but all it succeeded in was making a smear. P even withdrew his hand, staring at his fingers, which made Verso laugh.

That laugh peetered out when Verso noticed something from the corner of his vision. Something blue and sparkling was flying up from the archbishop’s body. Despite his weakness, he managed to push himself upright to watch the spark of light spiral up and away, through the hole in the ceiling and up the several stories before whizzing out of sight.

And as that dancing light fled the scene, the archbishop’s body began dissolving. When it glowed blue at first, P pulled Verso close and pointed his dagger, readying for another fight. He relaxed when instead, the body washed away in waves of blue sparkles, leaving a crystallized heart of Ergo where it had laid.

Carefully, Verso reached a shaking hand and grasped the heart. He pulled it back, lifting it between him and P. The wondrous blue light cast upon both their faces, illuminating Verso’s paint-streaked one and P’s oil-soaked one.

Finally dropping his arm back down, Verso laughed. “That looked really bad for a second, there.”

“Yeah.” P smiled. “It did.”

“... We should go tell Sophie and Cecile that it’s safe to head to the Hotel now.”

“In a minute?” P’s hold on Verso tightened for a moment, seemingly unwilling to let go. “You need a minute.”

“Do I?” Verso smiled back up at P, who nodded. “Are you a Painter?”

“I am, and I am in quite the agreement with P,” Maelle answered. “Just… take a moment, okay? Let me restore your Chroma.”

Verso sighed, making it sound a tad more dramatic than needed. “Fine,” he acquiesced, reclining back in P’s arms. He closed his eyes, listening to the comforting sound of springs, as his hands folded over his stomach. “Just a minute.”

He heard P’s springs speed up. He forced down a twitch of a smile and focused on how surprisingly comfortable he was, instead.

Your Chroma grows stronger.

Chapter Text

Sophie and Cecile must have guessed (correctly, at that) that the moment of silence within the cathedral basement was their moment to depart. By the time Verso and P got back to the library, Verso still a bit woozy, all there was to see where the two women had been was a letter delicately placed upon a closed vinyl case.

“They must have already left, huh?” Gemini noted as P forced Verso to sit down at the Stargazer before going to pick up what was left behind. “I hope they make it back safely.”

Verso let his head fall into his hand, feeling rejuvenated yet still tired as the Stargazer restored his Chroma. “I’m sure they’ll be fine,” he assured Gemini. “Both of them seem quite strong.”

With an almost flopping motion, P fell onto his back next to the Stargazer. His legs swung up into the air for a moment before falling back down, and Verso couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. It seemed that P was tired too, despite not needing rest as a puppet.

“I guess it has been a long day, huh?” Verso noted.

“Huh?” P looked over.

“We’ve been running around all of Krat without stopping for the entire day. That would exhaust anyone, even people that don’t need sleep like puppets or muses.” Verso shuffled over to sit closer to P. “So, what did you find?”

After a moment of lying quite still, P’s right arm shot up. Clutched in it was the letter that had been atop the vinyl case. Chuckling, Verso took it and looked it over before cracking the seal and opening it up to pull out the letter inside.

Thank you for your kindness and for saving Sophie. I must confess something to you, before we depart.

I’m a sinner who murdered innocent people in the past. I couldn’t suppress the monster in me. Only the Archbishop saved me.

Of course, he was a human who makes mistakes. Even saints succumb to wealth and power. But if it were not for him, I would not have been at the very place that you needed me, in order to save your friend.

... So yes, I believe that he was a saint. An agent of God’s will, allowing things to happen as precisely as He would want them to.

Thank you for letting me live as a human, not a monster. I do not believe I will make it to Hotel Krat, not with the disease in me. But I will do everything in my power to get Sophie there. God allowed us to save her. He will ensure that her path is safe from here on out.

Go and find Gustave. God be with you and him, as well.

Farewell.

Cecile

Verso held the letter for a long moment. His lips were pursed while he considered the contents. As P finally sat up, he carefully folded it up back to the way it had been before.

“What does it say?” P finally asked.

“A very long thank you,” Verso answered, not hesitating in handing the letter over. “They made for Hotel Krat, but Cecile doesn’t sound sure that both of them will make it.”

P held the letter, not moving to unfold it. He seemed to ponder something for a second, before taking the envelope and sliding the letter back in.

“She will,” he said.

Verso bit back the first thing that came to his mind. From his tone of voice, P didn’t seem like he’d be in the mood to hear such things. So he smiled and nodded, instead moving for the covered vinyl record.

Sliding the vinyl out, Verso admired the cover. It was of a woman surrounded in gold embroidery, white lilies crowning her head. The words “DIVINE SERVICE” were written in a soft, alluring pink just above her.

“Looks pleasant,” he remarked to P, even showing him the record. “Hope it sounds as well to the ears as it is to the eyes.”

P was already pulling out the portable record player, cracking it open. After they both fumbled to situate it properly between them, Verso placed down the vinyl with a satisfying click and P put down the needle.

A guitar was what opened up the song. Verso was instantly reminded of the guitar he had heard Lune playing, just before their first meeting. He wondered if she knew how to play the song they were hearing now.

Just as he got settled into swaying, a second instrument joined. The word “violin” came to mind, and he couldn’t help but smile. Maelle didn’t paint him with many things, but she painted him with the knowledge of any instrument in the world?

He turned to make such a joking remark to P. He stopped upon seeing that the puppet had gone rigid. His eyes were locked onto the vinyl, watching it spin in place. Verso swore that he had been losing himself in the guitar too, so the sudden change in reaction could only be from the violin.

“P?” Verso asked, causing P’s shoulders to hitch and for him to snap out of his temporary state. “Are you alright?”

“... I’m okay.” P still blinked a few times. “What is that?”

“Huh? On, the instrument. It’s a violin.”

“Violin…” P tested the word on his tongue before nodding. “I like it.”

As Verso giggled, another instrument came into play. The distinctly different noise it made caused P to look again, this time with fascination. No sign of that body-locking interest from before.

“And that?” Did he sound almost… giddy?

“An accordion,” Verso answered. “Oh, I think you’d like to see what an accordion looks like. It’s almost a bit silly.”

P chuckled in return. “I think I would like to see, too.” As he spoke, he let his head rest against Verso’s left shoulder, though judging by the way he kept back a tad, he was careful with how much his head weighed.

Verso couldn’t help it. He let his left arm loosely wrap around P, the hand resting in the puppet’s lap. Both of them looked into the Stargazer, “Divine Service” bobbing and weaving around them.

Verso saw an opera house. Gold and white and pure grandness rolled into one structure, an opulence unparalleled. A sanctuary, far away from everything having to do with being a Painter.

It was just him and… somebody else. Somebody that swayed alongside him as they sat at the piano, playing together in a nigh-seamless melody. Every stumble, an almost drunken giggle from one of them and the mutterings of “start over, start over”. To make it perfect or to prolong the moment?

Their eyes held the warmth of chocolate and the mischievousness of cinnamon. Their face was bare of blemishes, save for a smile that spoke of incoming intent. And most importantly, when that intent was realized and they leaned forward, their lips were soft and perfectly made for his.

A slip of the hands. A sour note. Temporarily ignored, to prolong the new moment.

Though when they parted…

“You messed it up.”

“ I messed it up? You’re the one who was looking at me with puppy dog eyes.”

“Oh, so the Pianist of Krat can’t take accountability? I thought you to be a role model, you know.”

“God, you’re a right bastard. I can’t believe I fell for your sweet facade.”

A bat of the eyes. “Hook, line, and sinker.”

Another laugh. Hook, line, and sinker indeed, he thought as he leaned in for another kiss.

Verso blinked awake, the blue of the Stargazer burning his eyes. He hadn’t fallen asleep, had he? No, P was still carefully leaning on his shoulder. He must have closed his eyes for only a few seconds. Besides, could muses even dream?

“No,” Maelle slowly answered as Verso rubbed his eyes. “Are you alright, Verso?”

“You didn’t see that?”

“See what?”

“... Nothing.”

He wasn’t sure why, but Verso looked over at P. The puppet had sat up, looking over at him just as the last notes of “Divine Service” were peetering out. His eyes that held the calm of the ocean and a sweet touch of vanilla were watching Verso almost quizzically. The freckles on his face scrunched as his face grew contemplative. Just for a second, the muse’s eyes trailed down to his mouth before he caught himself and refocused his gaze.

“I’m a weird muse,” he eventually offered to both Maelle and P. “I guess… visions come with that?”

Judging by P’s face relaxing, he bought that. Maelle offered no response.

Your Chroma grows stronger.

“So,” Gemini started once they finally got on the move again, “what in Krat’s name happened here, do you think?”

“You think we could guess?” Verso responded, stepping over some scattered pieces of wood on the cathedral’s surface floor. “All I know is that shit happened.”

“Hm… Hey, it looks like Giangio left, too.”

Verso looked towards the pew that he had last seen the Alchemist. Indeed, the spot was empty, and there seemed to be no indication as to where he had gone.

“Huh,” Verso muttered. “So he has.”

“I hope nothing happened to him,” P mumbled.

“We cleared out all the monsters up here,” Verso assured P. “I’m sure he’s fine. He might have decided to go to the Hotel with Cecile and Sophie.”

“... Now what?”

“Now what?” Verso furrowed his brow. “Well, I guess our best bet is following the lead Sophie provided. She talked about a “Path of the Pilgrim”, didn’t she?”

As they stepped out of the building and onto the bridge, a cool, misty night welcomed them. The smell of the corpses still hung in the air, making Verso’s nose scrunch. But for now, the area was peaceful, any threats having been long put down by their initial arrival.

Looking up at the foggy night, Verso mused, “I guess we were down there for a while, huh?”

“Yeah.” P followed after Verso along the bridge. “But where even is the Path of the Pilgrim?”

As if to answer, a little silver light hit against Verso’s nose. He squawked as the glowworm settled onto his face, instinctively raising his hands and waving them about. P snorted as the glowworm took back off, spinning once, twice around the muse’s head.

“ Fils de pute —” Verso proceeded to actually register the glowworm and paused, arms still mid-wave. “Wait a minute. That’s one of the…”

Once it was properly identified, the glowworm buzzed off back the way it came, across the bridge and back towards solid ground. P was already moving to follow it, leaving Verso to shake his head and go into pursuit.

Indeed, just off to the side of the bridge and decorating the beginnings of a dirt path that they had missed before, was a mailbox. This time, instead of being mounted on a wall, it stood entirely on its own, perhaps standing like a sore thumb. The glowworms clustering it made way as the two stepped forward, revealing the hatch to open the box.

“I don’t remember this being here before,” Verso muttered, looking over the mailbox. “Do you?”

“No,” P conceded, though still opened the mailbox.

Inside, like before, were two items. One was a letter, like Verso expected. The other, which Verso didn’t expect, was a pistol. Narrow and elegant, it was of a dark red color with gold filigree decorating it. Written on the side was a printed statement, the golden letters catching the light of the glowworms; “Per quelli che verranno dopo” .

“If I wasn’t questioning this Madame before, I really am now,” Maelle noted as Verso turned the pistol over while P opened the fragranced letter.

“Me, too.” Verso lowered the gun, leaning his head to look at P reading the letter.

Poppet,

To answer Gemini’s question, what happened here was a manmade tragedy. Those creatures are called Carcasses; resurrected victims of the Petrification Disease.

Those two sentences alone must create questions. But you must remain focused. Head to the Malum District. Gustave is your key to unlocking the best path forward.

Keep the pistol on hand. You’ll know when to give it back.

Madame Lucciola

“Oh, we’re REALLY questioning her now,” Verso confirmed. “How did she know that Gemini would ask about what happened in the cathedral?”

Gemini’s lamp rattled. “I think I just shivered. Did I just shiver? This Lucciola creeped me out so much I did the impossible!”

Putting the pistol on his belt, Verso sighed through his teeth. “Well, if anything, this confirms that Sophie’s guess was right. He must have not found Sophie and thought she would have fled to the Malum District.”

That made P perk up. “Maybe more cathedral survivors are there.”

Verso paused for a moment. Once more, he decided on not saying what first came to mind. He instead smiled and nodded before looking upon the dirt path leading away from the cathedral.

“Guess we gotta go find out.”

Chapter Text

He couldn’t get why his admirer was looking at him in such exasperation. All he did was offer to pay for the book he had been admiring through the shop display.

“You are absolutely horrible with money.”

“What?” He blinked, unable to stop himself from grinning at the sheer audacity.

“I look at something, and you get it for me. I’m running out of room for the sheer volume of gifts you keep getting me.”

“It’s pocket change. I don’t mind it.”

“Oh, right. I forgot. You’re spoiled filthy and thousands of Ergo is a drop in the ocean to you.”

Shaking his head, he took a sip of the coffee in his hands. A fine blend, and apparently expensive, too. His admirer had guffawed at how much Ergo he had paid the barista for it. ( “That’s COFFEE! Is it brewed with the souls of angels? That’s the only way I’d accept it being twenty whole Ergo!” ) Maybe he really didn’t have a proper grasp on how much Ergo was too much.

“Hey!” A third voice called. “When am I going to get spoiled like this?”

Turning, he smiled. Strolling up, a bolt-action rifle swung over both his arms, was a certain cocky, Stalkerish grin. It smoothed out a bit upon being directed to him, but when focused on his admirer, it grew devilish again.

“I don’t know.” His admirer shrugged. “Start kissing.”

“Okay.” The Stalker immediately turned on his heel to him.

He immediately lifted his hands. “Heyyy. Clean yourself up before you even try. You smell awful.”

“Hmm… Fine.” The Stalker swung his rifle off his shoulders, holding it by his side instead. “But this is unfair treatment.”

“If it’s unfair, go find somebody else,” he joked.

“Ha! You’ve already fed us wretched Stalkers.” Ignoring every rule of firearm safety, the Stalker put the barrel underneath his chin and lifted it up so they could lock eyes, blue meeting blue. “We’re like dogs, you know—loyal and never going to leave you alone, now.”

While there definitely weren’t as many Carcasses along the path as there were in the cathedral, there were different types, which worried Verso. Twisted dog-like monstrosities were what first welcomed them, as they delved down the darkened path. Those were dispatched in quick succession by the salamander dagger and the Holy Sword.

What intrigued and perhaps even worried Verso more were the traps. They had been able to stroll freely through passageways before, so it never crossed his mind that traps would be laid out. So when P’s right leg was clamped down on by none other than a bear trap, it was a very rude awakening to otherwise.

“Stop moving, I’m trying to pry it off.”

“It hurts!”

“Yeah, and it’s hurting even more because you’re trying to pull it out! Hold on, just—” Verso reeled back as P pulled out the electric coil stick. “Wait, don’t hit it with that—”

Smacking the bear trap with the coil stick worked just as well as Verso expected it to. A second later, P was lying on his back in pain, having electrocuted himself. At least he had stopped struggling so Verso could finally disengage the damn thing and toss it aside.

Dropping his arms to his sides, he looked at P shakily cracking a Pulse Cell. “You… alright?”

“... No.”

“Fair enough.”

“Are we not going to ask why there was a bear trap here?” Maelle asked. “The Path of the Pilgrim was a well-walked road before the Puppet Frenzy, so no way it’s been here the whole time.”

“Gustave?” Verso suggested as P started to army crawl along the ground instead of standing upright.

“He doesn’t strike me as somebody who’d stop and leave bear traps in his wake, especially if he was so deadset on finding Sophie in the Malum District.” Maelle stopped as they heard another snap, but when they looked, P had jammed a spear he had picked up into a bear trap just a few feet away. “And I guess it’s more worrying, considering there’s more than one.”

Verso shook his head as P started waving around the spear to get the bear trap off. “Seems like somebody rigged this place full of surprises. But considering that they’re still primed, it doesn’t look like they caught Gustave.”

“Too agile on his feet to even notice!” Maelle chirped just as the bear trap went sailing away into the dark, freeing P’s new prize.

Finally, Verso looked over to acknowledge just what P had accidentally found. The spearhead of the weapon looked to be a crystallization of the blue fluid that had been leaking out of all of the Carcasses they had been killing. P didn’t seem grossed out by it, instead waving it around, so Verso had nothing to say except a confused look.

“You sure that’s a good idea to use?” Verso eventually asked.

P looked it over before shrugging. “Why not?”

After a long, almost judgmental pause, Verso eventually shrugged. “If you say so.” He slapped his hands on his knees and pushed himself up. “Well, let’s put that thing to use and keep going. The sooner we catch up to Gustave, the better.”

Along the way to the district, more Carcasses would show themselves to the two. They weren’t limited to human bodies anymore, taking on the frames of the aforementioned dogs and even a bear or two. That was very fun. Especially when it got Verso by the chest and would have broken his ribcage if he had one, but instead popped him like a paint-filled balloon.

It was fine. One perfect recovery later, and he only had minor puncture marks. No Healing Tints needed!

“I’m honestly pretty glad Amandine made our clothes self-repairing,” Verso mused, adjusting his shirt as the two continued on. “Any normal threads would have been thrashed a long while back.”

“... Verso.”

“Hm? Yeah?”

“Why is it that you keep getting hurt and not me?”

Verso blinked. “Well… One of us usually has to take the heat off the other. And you’re more fragile than me.”

P looked confused. “No, I’m not. I’m made of metal. You’re made of paint.”

“That’s true, but think about it. My paint shifts around. It’s not solid like your frame. If I get hit, my Chroma can just move around to absorb it.” Verso was talking out the ass, honestly, but he wanted some reasoning to soothe P’s fears. “Meanwhile, if you take a hit that damages you, there’s nothing you can really do about that.”

“Mm… I guess that’s true. But I still don’t want you to get hurt.”

Something dropped against Verso’s nose. He cringed while a droplet of rainfall slipped off his face. As he looked up, he could see that the foggy clouds were thicker now, dark and stormy.

“Looks like it’s starting to rain again,” Verso mused, feeling more drops beginning to pitter-patter against his cheeks. “Like last night, huh?”

“Hm?”

“When we met and fought that parade master puppet, it was raining in the middle of the night. Like it is now.”

“... It is.” P joined Verso in looking up at the clouds. “I guess Krat is a rainy place.”

A flash of light illuminated the sky. P jolted initially, looking surprised. When a rumbling noise echoed through the path a few seconds later, he readied the spear.

Maelle laughed. “Silly P! It’s just a thunderstorm.”

“... Thunder?” P lowered his weapon.

“A weather condition. You’re seeing and hearing lightning hit the ground.” Another flash of light, and when the rumbling began again, there was less of a pause between the two. “Papa got me into the habit of counting the seconds between seeing and hearing lightning when I was young. That’s how you know how close or far the strike was.”

“The less time, the closer it was?”

“Mm-hmm! And getting struck by lightning is exceedingly rare, unless you’re close to something metal.”

…

“Or, um… are made of… You know, I’ll stop talking.”

“You do that,” Verso agreed, feeling P huddle closer as if the muse’s body would shield him from the lightning. That, or he was planning to take Verso with him if he got struck.

As the rain soaked into them, washing away residual fluid, paint, and oil, they started to come upon actual civilization. Instead of abandoned, ramshackle buildings made from wood, a bridge made of cobblestone decorated with signs of life loomed ahead. And upon crossing that, they came upon a wall with a barred gate that could only be the entrance proper to the Malum District.

Still, something about it made Verso frown. Hanging above the gate and illuminated by a spotlight was a white banner. Painted on it in black was a symbol he didn’t recognize. It looked to be a simplistic rabbit’s head, cradled in a semi-circle.

“Hey, Maelle?” Verso asked. “What’s that?”

“Hmmm… I don’t know. I’ve never seen that symbol before. Gemini?”

Gemini sounded greatly annoyed. “A rabbit symbol? Oh, boy… They didn’t post up here, did they? Oh, what did you walk into, Gustave?”

“Gemini? I don’t think I’ve heard you this angry since we saw…” Maelle’s words trailed off for a moment, and when they returned, she sounded like she had realized something. “Elysion Boulevard. Oh, no. It’s—”

Cutting her off was high-pitched feedback. Verso cringed, cupping a hand over one of his sensitive ears. P looked to him for a moment before focusing back on the wall before them once the feedback fizzled out.

“Ah-hehehehehehe-hem!” A voice that sounded like it was constantly holding a laugh back jumped onto the announcing systems. “Mic test, one, two, one two. WELCOME to Malum District! We’re pulling in quite a crowd tonight, aren’t we? Three guests—with a couple’s deal going on with the last two!”

P lifted his Legion Arm and waved. “Hello.”

Verso stopped rubbing the skin below his ear. “Three? So somebody else came this way?”

“Ooh, ooh! Let me guess—y’here for the engineer? WELL, you can’t have ‘im! Finders keepers! And we’ve got him mighty cozy! In faaact…”

Verso was already tensing up as the sound of a commotion was sounded through the system. When he heard the sounds of muffled complaints, he outright raised his sword.

“Come on, Venigni!” The voice prodded on. “Tell ‘em that the Black Rabbit Brotherhood’s got you posted up in five-star luxury!”

Somebody gasped, as if something blocking their mouth had been removed. “Let GO of me!”

“Gustave!” Verso shouted. “We found Sophie! She’s safe now!”

The sounds of struggling stopped. “Sophie? She’s—?”

“Ah-ah-aaaah!” Gustave’s voice became garbled. “That’s not adhering to the script! Back on the gag goes, unfortunately!”

“We’ll rescue you!” P called. “It’ll be okay!”

“Awwww. Coming to save the princess, brave knights? Well, talk like that’s earned you the title of “intruders”! Which requires a guest list update! Sorry, but you’re going on the blacklist. Which means… death!”

The crazed laughter went on for a moment, alongside Gustave’s muffled grunts. A second later, the announcement system clicked off, leaving Verso and P standing in the rain and mulling over what had just been said.

“Well, he’s right,” Verso grunted. “Guess this became even more of a rescue operation than I thought it’d be.”

“Gemini, they won’t hurt him, right?” P asked.

Gemini groaned. “If I had to guess, money-focused people like them probably think they can ransom him for a heaping of Ergo. So… they’ll probably keep him alive.”

“That is the worst vote of confidence I’ve ever heard,” Verso muttered, marching for the barred gate.

“Dim dam talélam vacarme, s’en va dans Lumi éternam…”

The record spun in its player, only somewhat masking the sound of children playing and eating in hushed tones. Their guardian sat by said player, only tapping a single finger along to a vinyl made in dedication of their orphanage’s savior.

The tense mood was shattered (or perhaps elevated) by the sound of the announcement system just outside crackling on. The very, very annoying voice of the Eccentric came in at full volume, startling some of the younger kids.

“Now here’s a safety reminder for the malcontents in the Malum District!” he chortled. “Some nasty ne’er-do-wells have invaded our territory. Be careful!”

Nasty ne’er-do-wells? Yeah. And they’re called the Black Rabbit Brotherhood. What’s your point?

That’s obviously not what the Eccentric was getting at. A similar announcement had come on earlier, though that one was a lot more positive and lauding of the “crown regent of Krat”. That better not have been the first person that came to mind, or somebody was going to get shaken around for their stupidity.

So more people came. Probably walking right into their deaths. A scoff, as the children tentatively resumed their scamperings. Godspeed, idiots. Be as annoying as possible before you give up the ghost.

Chapter Text

For being sentenced to death, getting into the district was remarkably easy. The decorations of the Black Rabbit Brotherhood were everywhere, but no sign of the Brotherhood itself. It seemed that they were perfectly content to let the Carcasses at the walls handle the two, which they sorely failed to do.

Honestly. The security was so lax, the two ran into some friends right out the gate. Quite literally.

P had been going down the alleyway first when he froze like a deer in the headlights. Verso nearly ran into him from behind, which would have made the comical image of a 6’2” man getting bowled over by a 5’3” wall of steel. Thankfully, he stopped himself in time, his eyes tracking to what had grabbed P’s attention.

When he saw the figure clad in red and black, he smiled and patted P’s shoulders. “I actually know those folks,” he muttered before raising his voice. “Red Fox! Black Cat!”

It was Black Cat who turned first, and abruptly at that. Red Fox’s spin was more languid, her head tilting at the sight of the two. P remained tense under Verso’s hand, but he didn’t draw his weapon. He did step forward, almost protectively, as Black Cat advanced.

“Is this our good muse friend from the factory that we’re looking at?” Black Cat lifted his arm, as if to perform the same pull-down motion he had done before with Verso, only for P to step in the way. The Stalker stepped back, lifting his hands in defense. “Whoa, hey. We’re all friends here, aren’t we?”

“I’m a bit surprised that our paths have joined together again,” Red Fox remarked, sashaying up. “And even more surprised that you even made it out of the factory. That’s a new one.”

“I thought you would have been burnt to a…” Black Cat waved his hands around. “What happens to paint when it burns? Does it just evaporate?”

“In my experience, yes.”

Red Fox sighed. “Brother, being too frank is rude. We should praise him for being stronger than he looks.” Verso scoffed with a bit of a grin as she then looked at P. “And for collecting a pretty face along the way.”

Verso gestured to the two Stalkers. “P, this is Black Cat and Red Fox. I ran into them in Venigni Works when we split up.” He then looked at the two. “Black Cat, Red Fox… P. He’s my partner.”

“Partner!” Red Fox sounded delighted. “A good pick, I’d say.”

“He is pretty well-armed,” Verso agreed.

Maelle and Black Cat made a unanimous snort. Verso blinked at the noise on two fronts and looked towards the latter. Black Cat’s head was turned away, as if to hide his face even with the mask.

“Aaaanywaaays,” Red Fox drawled, “It’s actually great timing that we crossed paths. We were just about to make a rather spectacular assault upon the Black Rabbit Brotherhood. Considering your goal from last we met, I’m going to take a guess that you plan to do the same?”

“They got Gustave,” Verso confirmed, “and we’re not leaving without him.”

“Then why don’t we join forces, if we have the same target? Play our cards right, and we can both defeat the villains and rescue the dashing prince.”

Verso put his hands on his hips. “And?”

“And?” Red Fox tilted her head.

“Considering your goal from last we met, there’s probably a different primary goal of yours.”

Red Fox giggled. “You’re smart. Not smart enough to resist the allure of playing along with one of Brother’s cons, but smart enough to catch the subtext. We do firmly believe that their hideout is stuffed with treasure.”

“But if you help, we can split it!” Black Cat offered. “Quarter each, so… half and half! Pretty good bargain , don’t you think?”

“They’re absolutely going to take everything and leave you two out to dry,” Maelle said.

“Well, then, it’s a good thing that we’re not here for treasure,” Verso muttered in response before looking at P. “What do you think?”

“I don’t like them,” the puppet immediately said.

Black Cat guffawed. “Really? I can tell who’s the talker between you two, considering who’s better at spinning golden conversations.”

“Brother, he’s right to distrust,” Red Fox chided again. “It pays to second-guess things in Krat, after all. And one of them has to be the sensible one.”

Verso looked at P. “Come on. Even if they are gonna take everything and break for it, do you really care that much? We’re only here for Gustave.”

“What if Gustave counts as “treasure” for them?”

“A full-grown man with a Legion Arm and probably a pissy attitude?” Black Cat whined. “He’s going to be way too heavy for that. Too much of a hassle.”

“Okay, cards down,” Verso said. “I think we can all agree that in terms of treasure negotiation, you’re talking shit. You’re most definitely going to grab what you can and leave us hanging. However—” and he lifted both pointer fingers. “—considering that our goal here is completely separate from Ergo robbing, I’m not leaping to try and out-swindle you guys. Besides, you’ll probably just take advantage of us causing a ruckus anyways, so… no matter what, you guys are thieving.” His eyes landed on P while he shrugged. “Might as well take advantage of a couple extra hands before they do that, right?”

“You really don’t care about Ergo, do you?” Black Cat questioned. “Almost to a fault.”

“I don’t need to eat, sleep, or do any other necessities that require money to perform,” Verso responded. “Of course I don’t. Also, my Painter didn’t Paint me with any desire for riches, so there’s that.” To P, he continued. “But this is your call, not mine.”

“... So they rob while we save Gustave?”

A minor chorus of “yeah”s and “pretty much”s came from the three P was talking to.

“You are lucky I like you, Verso. Okay. We work together.”

“How nice of you to come around,” Red Fox said. “Look at our smart friends, gatto .”

Black Cat folded his arms. “We’re no slouches in the fisticuffs department, in a pinch.” This time, he managed to wrap his arm around Verso’s shoulders and pull him down to his height. “You lead, our inspirational muse. We’ll bring up the rear and watch for hidden threats.”

“You mean have me and P take the main heat,” Verso remarked.

“You have an impressive ability of making anything sound scummy,” Black Cat teased in turn. “That’s the power of that silver tongue of yours.”

For a moment, Verso caught a surprisingly cross expression on P’s face, directed entirely at Black Cat. But it was gone quickly enough, leaving Verso to wonder just what had caused the ephemeral foul mood.

“Here’s a news bulletin - this just in! The duo intruders turned out to be Geppetto’s puppet and the last muse standing! This month’s protection fee waived for anyone who hunts them down! What a deal! ‘Specifically for a certain orphanage dog!” Eccentric started barking into the mic, though sobered up after a few seconds of doing so. “Now hurry up and RUN, you idiots!”

That laugh was grating . But the offer was incredibly tempting. No protection fee meant time to stay within the walls of the orphanage, keeping an eye on the kids, instead of going out and clawing Ergo from the monsters outside.

…

Yeah, fuck it. Might as well go see what this was all about. Either it will go terribly wrong, or it might be the luckiest break since all of this started.

“Jean-Paul, put on your “I’m In Charge” Mask. I’m heading out.”

“Orphanage dog,” Red Fox drawled as the announcement pittered out. “Either somebody has a really good reputation, or a really bad one.”

“Sophie mentioned Gustave having lived in an orphanage before Venigni.” Verso couldn’t help but mention such to P as they stepped through the rain-soaked alleyway. “Does that “dog” belong to the very one?”

“I don’t know,” P responded.

“I’d be shocked if there’s more than one orphanage in a single district,” Black Cat remarked. “Either that means that the district is specifically catered to orphanages or it’s a…”

Verso had been looking ahead when Black Cat trailed off. He looked around, expecting the Stalker to have heard something. Especially when he could hear his boots running off to the side. But instead of any surprise attacks, the sound of retching hit his ears, and he turned to see the Stalker hunched in an alley corner, the mask partially knocked aside.

“Are you okay?” P started to approach, but Verso stuck out his hand to stop him to allow Red Fox to move over to her brother instead.

Black Cat made a semi-disgusted noise, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. With a shaking hand, he pulled his mask over his face.

The silence from him was almost captivating to everyone else. Nobody spoke, only watched. The only sounds Verso could hear were Carcasses shuffling and a semi-faint sound of a bell’s toll.

Finally getting to his feet, Black Cat turned to the two. His movement was almost lackadaisical for the mess he had just made. “Dinner here in Krat has really become hard to keep down,” he explained. “You two are lucky that you don’t need to eat any of the rotten grub that we have to.”

“You need anything?” Verso asked.

“A roast chicken with a lemon-herb glaze.”

“... That sounds good.”

“Oh, it’s delicious.”

Thunder crackled, and the wind picked up. Now that their voices had rejoined the symphony of noise, Verso found the situation somewhat tolerable.

Though something was off. He frowned, straining his ears to pick up on something he knew he hadn’t imagined.

“Thinking of the roast chicken that badly?” Black Cat mocked.

“No,” Verso answered. “Why’s that bell getting closer?”

He had thought it to be an installation in a building. A small church or bell tower of some kind, indicating that they were getting close to the district’s town hall. But if that was the case, it shouldn’t be sounding like that every time it rang, it was getting closer.

He could tell that the others were hearing it now. They were looking around as well, hands going to their individual weapons. Verso didn’t do the same just yet, closing his eyes instead.

Closer now. Then suddenly, up above.

Verso drew the Holy Sword in a single flourish and spun. The handle lengthened mid-swing, giving him just the reach he needed to block the downwards blow that had been aimed at his back. The blade struck against wood, and the loud sound of a bell rang by Verso’s ear as the culprit noisemaker swung on a rope, just barely missing his head.

“Too slow,” he said, before pushing the attacker back.

Not a puppet. Not a Carcass. Not even a human. What stepped back and now stood before them all was a gestral. At least, it had to be one. Verso had yet to see one that was so… furry. And more evidential to the contrary, gestrals were slow and nice, and even blissfully stupid. This one had moved lightning quick in an attempt to cave his skull in with what could only be described as a walking stick with a bell tied to the top.

Red Fox voiced Verso’s hidden dumbfoundedness. “Is that a gestral?”

“Your reflexes are impressive.” The gestral speaking English might have been the cherry on top for Verso. “I guess that’s on me for attacking a horde of Stalkers.”

“You speak Krat’s language,” Verso noted.

“So do you, and we’re both muses, so why am I the strange one?”

Verso blinked. “Well… From what I know, gestrals usually only speak in the language of the muses.”

“I just tried to kill you. Has that not gotten it through your head that I’m a bit special?”

“Uh, right. Speaking of, why did you try to do that?”

“Simple. Black Rabbit Brotherhood wants you and Geppetto’s puppet dead, so…”

“And you answer to them?”

“No, but I am sick of them showing up at my door and asking for Ergo. If they keep to their word and void this month’s protection fee, I’m going to be able to get in the best nap of my life.”

“And you think they’ll do that?” Black Cat questioned.

“No. I’m also sick of killing the monsters out here for pocket change. So at the very least, I am going to try and rob you. And if I kill you in the process… them’s the breaks.”

Verso looked between him and the other three before saying, “This is about to be a four Stalkers versus one gestral situation.”

“Okay.” The gestral shrugged. “And?”

“The odds are far from your favor.”

“Oh, I’d argue otherwise.” The gestral slammed his walking stick against the ground.

As Verso sighed and readied the Holy Sword, the Red Fox did the same with her saber. “So we’re fighting a gestral with delusions of grandeur. How hard can this be?”

Chapter Text

Four versus one. Verso had seen gestrals get taken out in a single blow by puppets. While this one seemed vastly different than most gestrals, he had yet to think otherwise that it would be anything but fragile.

How was P suddenly twenty feet in the air?

It was one thing to toss a puppet of over two and a half-hundred pounds so high into the air. It was another to catch him right before he crashed to the ground and spin into a fastball maneuver. The gestral threw P at Red Fox, who only narrowly dodged and let P crash into a pile of destroyed scrap just behind her.

“Maybe harder than I thought,” Red Fox conceded.

Fight fire with fire, then. Muse with muse. Verso ran headlong into the fight, swinging the Holy Sword and sending waves of golden Chroma attacks at the gestral. While some landed, much to Verso’s surprise, others were effectively parried by his walking stick.

“Good usage of Chroma,” the gestral complimented as Verso readied his stance. “My turn.”

Bright red Chroma flowed from the gestral’s mask, coating his body in an instant. When the Chroma exploded outwards, it wasn’t the gestral standing there. Rather, it was an almost fantastical creature with a greatsword. Before Verso could comprehend what just happened, said greatsword was barreling down on his head, forcing him to parry not one but multiple downwards strikes.

As the Chroma exploded again, revealing the gestral underneath once more, P ran back in. Red Fox and Black Cat seemed quite content to stay the hell away from the enemy that was quickly showing itself as a wild card. That left just the duo attacking the gestral, with Verso keeping his attention from the front while P pincered from behind.

“You two work like a well-oiled machine.” The gestral kept up the compliments. “I might actually be sweating, if it weren’t for your mates being cowards.”

Another burst of Chroma, and this time, the gestral became a massive, four-legged creature made of ice. Turning on his heel, he aimed for P instead, the front legs coming down upon him like fists. The sound of cracking ice filled Verso’s ears as P was battered back, eventually falling back altogether to Verso’s side.

Granting both of them a pulse of power, Verso rushed back in. Before the gestral could change back, he sent a series of Chroma strikes out. Each one landed incredibly harshly, ice carved from the body. Verso almost danced right back out of the gestral’s reach before he could retaliate.

Once more, the Chroma melted away. This time, the gestral seemed to just say “fuck it”. The hollow sound of a bell rang out as he smacked it right into Verso’s head. Golden paint went flying from the impact as Verso crumpled. The horrific ringing in his head was thus twofold.

P readied his stance for a moment, holding up the spear as the gestral cocked the walking stick back again. Then, he launched himself forward, running the spear solidly through the gestral’s gut and knocking away some of the wooden “armor” he wore. The muse made a choked noise, but only one noise, before forcibly wrenching the spear out and shoving P aside.

That gave Verso the opening to get back up. After using an Energy Tint, he raced back in, slashing in an almost berserk manner. Given that he was severely injured from the bell attack, the Chroma channeled through the swings dealt a lot more damage than it would have otherwise.

Judging by the pained wince from the gestral, the fight was starting to wear him down as much as it was wearing Verso and P down. The former glanced back, expecting Red Fox and Black Cat to take advantage of the weakness. But when he looked, Black Cat was sitting cross-legged on the ground, with Red Fox leaning against a wall. Both waved when the muse’s eyes landed on them.

“Freeloaders,” Maelle grumbled as Verso turned his attention back to the gestral.

A splash of bright red Chroma made the gestral change for a third time. Now, he took the form of a humanoid shape with a dark top hat and a blue cavity for its face. Lifting the crescent-like ice weapon in his hand, a cool wave of energy spewed off from him. Verso could see the reddened injuries on his body quickly close up, leaving him nearly back to full.

“Guess it’s no fair if only we heal,” Verso grunted, he himself using his perfect recovery on him and P.

Returning to his normal form, the gestral scoffed. “Well, we’re about to be at quite the standstill.”

“Not really.” Verso readied his sword. “One of us will run out of Chroma quicker than the other.”

After a moment of consideration, the gestral nodded. “Yeah, probably true. Alright, then.” He readied his walking stick. “The old-fashioned way it is.”

“Beating us to the ground with a bell?”

“Beating you to the ground with a bell.”

If the gestral was going no-Chroma, Verso felt obligated to respond in kind. He didn’t know why, but even though the gestral was attempting to kill them, he was almost having fun with the whole thing.

Both gestral and Verso ran forward, walking stick and sword brandished. The two clashed against each other, sending red and gold Chroma flying from the impact. Both of them planted their feet firmly against the ground, putting all their weight into their individual weapons.

P came around the side, spear raised. The gestral released one hand from the walking stick, using the other to catch the spear by the handle before the spearhead sank into the back of his head. Now he was holding back both of them, and while he rather impressively did so at first, his feet began to slip.

“I think that’s our cue, Brother,” Verso heard Red Fox say from behind.

“About time!” The hurried footsteps of Black Cat came towards them.

Seeing the incoming attack, the gestral hurried to shift forms again, returning to the giant ice monster. But without any grip on the weapons about to barrel into him, not just Black Cat struck into the ice, but Verso and P did as well. And joining him, jumping high into the air to vault over the boys, was Red Fox, plunging her saber straight into the monster’s back.

The four-front attack did it. One last explosion of red Chroma erupted, coating the area. When it ceased, the gestral was in the process of falling onto his back, a pained wheeze leaving his mouth.

As the four moved to surround him, he was quick to get back up, readying his weapon again. “Good move,” he once more admired. “So it really was a bad idea trying to mug you all.”

Just as they all readied their weapons again, tiny little footsteps came pitter-pattering forward. [Monocooooo! Stoooop!] All turned in varying levels of bewilderment to see a tiny gestral running up, weaving between Verso’s feet to come to a stop in front of the much larger gestral.

“No distractions, Noco.” The gestral pointed at the four. “I’m really busy beating up strangers.”

[Strangers? They are no strangers! Well, maybe those two are.] Noco pointed at Red Fox and Black Cat. [But those two!] He then pointed at Verso and P. [They are loyal customers! You can’t kill them! My revenue will tank!]

“... You actually bought stuff from Noco?” The gestral sounded extremely judgmental.

“He gave me a good weapon,” P pitifully offered.

“You two know each other?” Verso asked.

“This one runs all around Krat, helping me get things,” the gestral answered, waving the bell at Noco. “I can’t leave my station for too long anymore.”

“Your station?” P looked at Noco.

“Maison de Lumière. The home of light. With my Painter dead, I’m the only one taking care of a gaggle of loons.”

“Maison de Lumière’s the orphanage here,” Black Cat put his hands on his hips. “So you must be the “orphanage dog” that the Brotherhood was yapping about earlier.”

“No protection fee, no need to risk my life and leave the kids alone doing so.” The gestral shrugged. “No hard feelings?” Nobody seemed to offer any complaint, so he lifted his arms. “No hard feelings. Perfect.”

“Name’s Verso. And this is P.”

Upon being introduced, P offered another wave. “Hello.”

“Short for…?” The gestral gestured for P to go on.

“... Oh. It’s just P.”

The gestral clicked his tongue underneath his mask. “Alright, then.” He sounded judgey again saying that. “Name’s Monoco the Fourth.”

“The Fourth?” Verso asked. “Are there other gestrals named Monoco?”

“My painter had three dogs named Monoco before Painting me.” Monoco looked at Black Cat and Red Fox. “I’d ask who you are, but you two were chickenshit cowards in the fight, so you don’t deserve that level of respect.”

Verso scoffed as Red Fox rolled her shoulder. “Cowards? I’d prefer the term “tacticians”.”

“Great. I don’t care.” Monoco crouched, allowing Noco to scamper up his arm and crawl headfirst into the backpack on his back—which Verso was now noticing was not a backpack, but rather a multi-seater of sorts. “Though now that we’ve had a good battle to warm the spirits, to what does the Malum District owe the pleasure of your company?”

“We’re heading for the Black Rabbit Brotherhood,” Verso explained.

“Okay, bye.” Monoco turned away.

“Hey, hold on.” Verso hurried to step in front of him. “What happened to the whole “scorning chickenshit cowards” thing?”

“This isn’t cowardice, this is sensibility. I am not about to piss off the Brotherhood when I’ve got an orphanage to look out for and an undead horde to keep back. And speaking of…” Monoco stepped around Verso. “I’ve been away long enough.”

“Orphanage… Hey, wait.” Once more, Verso got in the way. “Maison de Lumière is the only orphanage here, right? Do you know of a Gustave?” Finally, Monoco paused. “We got told he used to live in the orphanage here in the Malum District. The Brotherhood’s captured him.”

“Are you trying to convince me that I’ve got skin in the game?” Monoco finally properly looked back, which Verso considered progress. “Gustave isn’t an orphan anymore. He’s a Venigni.”

“But he used to be,” Verso pointed out.

“Before I was Painted. He lived under a different matron, and even a different estate name.”

“Verso,” Maelle said, “Give him the rock.”

Pulling out the Picto rock, Verso held it out to Monoco. “My Painter wants to talk to you,” he said.

As soon as Monoco took the rock, Maelle was speaking. “You and I both know why the change happened, Monoco.”

“Oh, boy.” Monoco was definitely rolling his eyes.

“If it weren’t for Gustave, Venigni never would have bought Maison de Lumière and replaced the matron with who was probably your Painter. The children you care for would have never lived the happy lives you know them to have. At the very least, you owe Gustave something.”

Monoco sighed. “I don’t like that your Painter’s well-read,” he grumbled to Verso. “And I despise that she has a point.”

“Oh, she does?” Verso latched onto that immediately.

“Unfortunately, she does.”

“What a shame.”

“Tragedy.”

“There’d also be a chance to pummel the Brotherhood.”

“... Oh yeah, that’s true.”

“Yeah, it’s true.”

“I can rock the Eccentric’s shit.”

“Exactly.”

“Count me in, then.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

“...Good!”

“Pretty good.”

“Yes, good.”

[We have to go back to Maison de Lumière, first!] Noco pointed out from Monoco’s backpack. [I have supplies for the children!]

“And again, I’ve been away for too long,” Monoco agreed. “You all better be on your best behavior with ‘em.”

Black Cat gave a lazy salute. “You don’t have to worry about a thing from us chickenshit cowards!”

“And keep the swearing to a minimum.”

“You called us chickenshit!”

“And I’ll do it again, ass.”

Chapter Text

Monoco didn’t lead the ramshackle party to the front doors of the orphanage, which from a glance alone were boarded up and barricaded. Instead, he shuffled his way into a jampacked alleyway, whereupon he hefted a giant crate out of the way to reveal a side door near-expertly hidden.

“Keep your wits about you,” he cautioned before opening the door. “They’re probably about to get really excited at the sight of people.”

Already, they could hear the sound of a stampede quickly approaching. Monoco quickly ushered all four inside before closing the door. Just as it clicked into place, a horde of about half a dozen children came barreling down the orphanage’s ruined hallway.

“Monoco! Monoco!” The children chanted, only to devolve into much more chaotic noises upon realizing Monoco wasn’t alone. In an instant, the newcomers were surrounded, little hands reaching up to try and touch their weapons or their armor.

“Okay, okay , hold on now!” Monoco started scooping up the children. “Let’s give our new friends some space.”

Gemini’s shout of terror quickly faded. Verso looked to see one of the children running away, holding the now-stolen lamp with glee. Noco was quickly in pursuit, likely to try and begin bargaining for his own wicked deeds. He looked at P, who had to take a double-take to notice and run after them.

“That thing’s going to be covered in crayon and chalk by the time he gets it back,” Monoco only remarked.

“I see why the doors were blockaded,” Red Fox mused. “Leave these children all on their own, and they’d be rioting out in the streets.”

“The “I’m in Charge” Mask keeps them in line, as long as I give it to a responsible one,” Monoco explained. “Make yourselves comfortable. There’s food in the kitchen, if you’re hungry. I gotta see to getting these kids their nighttime drinks.”

As Monoco headed off, Verso looked in the direction that P had gone in. Red Fox and Black Cat were already tailing the gestral, likely to get a good lay of the land. So Verso decided to go another, third way, smiling a bit when he heard small feet pattering after him.

By the time P managed to wrangle Gemini out of the hands of the two girls Fidela and Ina, it was too late. The lamp was already covered in pink, blue, orange, and every other color crayon one could think of. The walls and floor had already been covered in doodles, so the prospect of a clean palette had wowed the girls.

“This is gonna wash off, right?” Gemini questioned as P tried rubbing out one of the purple flowers. “Right?”

Noco said something to P, likely trying to shill a product. But P had yet to understand the gestral language, so he ignored him, scratching off the crayon bit by bit.

“Mr. Stalker, Mr. Stalker!” Ina piped up. “What heroics have you done?”

P blinked, frowning. “I’ve fought puppets.”

“WOW! What kinda puppets?”

“Big ones?”

“Allow me, pal.” Gemini cleared his throat. “Settle down, settle down!” Fidela and Ina were immediately sat cross-legged. “Let me tell you a tale of two powerful Stalkers of Krat! Partners in justice and heroism, liberating Elysion Boulevard, stopping the production of an evil army at Venigni Works, and sanctifying St. Frangelico’s! None other than P and Verso!”

“Yay! P and Verso!” Fidela cheered.

“And soon, they’ll remove the dastardly Black Rabbit Brotherhood from the Malum District and save the crown prince of Krat, Gustave Venigni!”

“Like a fairy tale!” Ina chirped. “Are you gonna give Gustave a true love’s kiss?”

P blinked. Several times. “What? No. Why would I do that?”

“Because that’s how it goes in the stories! The knight rescues the princess, and they share a true love’s kiss! And then they live happily ever after!”

“They do?”

“Yeah! Have you never read a fairy tale before?” Ina stood up. “Hold on!” She was out of the room in a flash.

“Mr. Stalker, is Verso your partner?” Fidela asked.

“He is.”

Fidela giggled. “Like a Stalker partner or a lover partner?”

“What’s the difference?”

As Fidela erupted into joyous laughter, Gemini interjected. “Um, quite a lot, pal! A lover partner means that you’re saying that you love Verso.”

P only sounded more confused. “I think I do.”

“NO! Like, love love!”

“What is love love?”

“Well, I mean… it’s different from friend love or family love. It’s having a person that’s really precious to you close to your heart. You, uh… want to spend your whole life with them.”

P still didn’t get it. Wasn’t Verso all of that? He couldn’t imagine the short life he’s lived without the muse there.

“Then I do love love Verso.”

Before Gemini could say otherwise, Ina ran back in, a book held over her head. “I found it!” she declared, slamming it down on the ground before P and opening it up. She tapped onto a picture of a watercolor princess in a white dress, a crown of silver thorns on her head. “Lookie here!”

The poison the wizard had given the princess had turned her evil. She did not recognize warmth, and ordered for the knight to be executed.

But the knight refused to believe that such was the princess. He strode through her army and delivered upon her true love’s kiss, which broke the spell.

The princess was returned! Light returned to the kingdom, and they all lived happily ever after.

“The power of true love!” Ina cheered.

“Ina, Ina!” Fidela exclaimed. “Mr. Stalker says that he loves loves Verso!”

“Whaaaat?” P was starting to realize he might have missed the point from the way Ina was now looking at him. “Are you two ever gonna have a true love’s kiss? Like in the stories?”

P was quite literally saved by the dinner bell. Hearing the sound of a bell being rung, both Fidela and Ina perked up. Onto their feet they immediately were, hurrying out the door.

“Teatime!” they cheered, disappearing down the hall.

Watching them go, P looked back down at the book. He slowly began flipping through the pages, looking at each and every picture moreso than actually reading the contents. As he did, he moved the book to lay in his lap, setting back against one of the doodled-on walls.

The Ergo is whispering.

Verso wasn’t exactly sure where his feet had taken him. The locked door before him clearly looked to be off-limits. Peeking through the window installment, he could see that the interior looked to be an office.

A certain voice cleared itself. “Allow me,” Black Cat drawled, waving Verso aside.

“You sure?” Verso watched Black Cat kneel before the door, drawing some tools from his belt. “It might not be a good idea to piss Monoco off.”

“Oh, come on. We beat him quite handily last time. Besides, it wouldn’t be smart of him to do that transformation trick indoors, would it?” With a click , the door swung open, and Black Cat hurried inside before Verso could stop him.

The office was decorated with framed newspaper clippings. Right away, Verso could see the name “Venigni” in the headlines of about half of them. A man that Verso had to assume was Gustave appeared in just as many frontline photos. The desk had a golden plaque on it that read “F. Lemoine”, with a portrait of an old woman hanging on the wall behind the desk.

The smell of paint was a rich, heavy one. Verso could see a Canvas set up in the corner of the room, a mixing, shifting series of red hues on it. Surrounding it were an extensive collection of what looked like fairy tale books of all kinds. Some were open on pages depicting fantastical beasts, and Verso recognized a couple as having been ones that Monoco had transformed into.

Though perhaps most notably was something sitting on a stool nearby. It was a broken puppet, which Verso almost instantly recognized as familiar. The red dress, the girl-like exterior… It was the very same broken puppet he and P had found at the city hall. How did it end up all the way over here?

“Woaaah,” Black Cat said. “I’ve never seen a Painter’s workshop before. That Canvas must be where Monoco was made.”

“Looks like his Painter gave him that weird transformation ability,” Verso noted, picking up one of the books and staring at the creature made of ice on the page.

“Wasn’t originally made with all that.” Both Black Cat and Verso jumped and turned to see a certain gestral in the doorway. He was very much not in possession of his walking stick. “Once she caught the Disease and Krat went to shit, she gave me what she thought I’d need to protect the orphanage.”

Verso set down the book onto the pile again, gently at that. “It sounds like she was a wonderful person.”

“She was.” Monoco’s voice warmed. “Once she realized she had no chance, she put every bit of Chroma she had into me, so I could continue protecting the kids once she passed.”

“Painters can do that?”

The gestral put a hand to his chest, where his heart would be if he was a human. “Every bit of will that was Matron Fabienne Lemoine is all in here. Sometimes, if my spirit is warmed enough and I close my eyes, I can hear her voice, telling me to make sure I pick up apple strudels while I’m out. Like she never left.”

“But… she died doing that, right?”

“Absolutely. Well, her heart still would have beat, for sure. But she would have been effectively brain-dead without Chroma. So when she finished her Painting, my first action as a freeman was to put her out of her misery while she still had some remnants of herself.”

Verso winced.

“Gently! I didn’t hit her with my bell! What am I, a brute? I overdosed her chamomile with sleeping pills.”

“Did she see it coming?”

“She watched me do it. And she still drank it and thanked me.” Monoco looked at the painting of the old woman. “I buried her in the orphanage garden. I think she would have liked that.”

Verso smiled. “I bet she’s happy to know that you’re doing everything you can.”

“... Thanks. Now, what the fuck are you doing in my office?”

“Swearing!” Black Cat declared.

“The kids are in the kitchen having teatime.” Monoco stepped inside, making shooing motions with his hands. “Go on. Get out of here. Put everything back the way you found it.”

“Black Cat picked the lock, not me,” Verso grunted as he slipped out.

“Don’t be fucking children and play the blame game. You’re both guilty. Now get out of here, because I don’t feel bad about hitting you with the bell.”

Verso had hurried out so quickly that, by the time the door was closing behind him, he realized he had forgotten to ask about the broken puppet. A question for later, he supposed.

It took a while, even after chamomile, for all of the children to go to bed. Jean-Paul didn’t want to take off the “I’m In Charge” Mask. Fidela and Ina kept singing a nursery rhyme about Stalkers sitting in trees and kissing. Daniel kept asking for another cup of chamomile. Emmett kept brandishing a toy sword at Black Cat. Nadine wanted to hear a bedtime story from Red Fox, saying that her voice was “really soothing”. 

But eventually, all of them settled down. Monoco had to take the mask by force. Fidela and Ina stopped once they got winded, but kept smiling at Verso, for some odd reason. Daniel didn’t get his second cup. Black Cat dueled Emmett and, when the latter lost, demanded payment in the form of “shut up and go to sleep”. And Red Fox did read that bedtime story.

“Alright,” Monoco said, once Noco sent them off with a salute and they got back down the stairs. “We’re aiming for the district’s town hall. That’s where the Black Rabbit Brotherhood has set up shop. So most definitely where they’re keeping our poor Venigni boy.”

“What exactly are we about to be walking into, if you know?” Verso asked.

“The Brotherhood’s made up of four brats. The Eccentric’s the one you’ve been hearing the whole time, on the announcement systems. There’s also the Battle Maniac, the tactician of sorts, the Youngest, the speedy little upstart, and the Eldest, the sheer brawns.”

“It’ll be five versus four, so the odds are in our favor,” Verso noted. “Though they’ll most definitely attack as one if we do the same.”

“Then if we don’t want to risk getting overwhelmed, what say we split up?” Red Fox suggested. “Trickle in a few at a time, so they don’t do that. We get the drop on them.”

“Divide and conquer and make it so they can’t reinforce each other,” Black Cat agreed. “I like the sound of that, Sister.”

“It sounds like so far, they’re only expecting me and P,” Verso said. “That makes it so you three can move around a lot more easily.

“Then we have a plan,” Red Fox said. “We split from you two and let you helm the frontal assault.”

“Then if that’s the case, before we split…” Monoco fished something out and held it out to Black Cat. It looked to be a container of some kind of cream. “Here.”

“Huh?” Black Cat picked it up, tossing it in-between his hands. “What’s this for?”

“It helps with the itchiness,” Monoco answered. “Can’t imagine your mask makes it any better.”

Black Cat paused, looking up. “What are you blabbing on about?”

“I was made in the image of a dog. And dogs can smell a lot of things. Including disease.” Monoco watched Black Cat tense. “You smell almost just like Matron Lemoine did before she died.”

Verso’s brow raised. Black Cat didn’t eat something that upset his stomach, did he?

“He’s got Petrification Disease,” Maelle whispered.

After a long, long moment of silence, Black Cat finally scoffed and put away the cream. “Let’s go and thrash that Brotherhood, alright?”

Verso looked at Red Fox. She didn’t even grace him with her gaze, instead watching Black Cat march for the side door out of the orphanage.

Chapter Text

Cause a commotion so the Black Rabbit Brotherhood didn’t notice the other three approaching from behind. Sounded easy enough. The Carcasses weren’t even that much of a tribulation anymore, with the idea of being about to fight much more intimidating opponents very soon at the forefront of Verso’s mind.

He had no clue that he was about to fight his greatest fight yet.

“Verso?”

“Yeah, P?”

“Do you love love me?”

Judging by the “WHAT?!” from Maelle, it sounded serious. Verso could only offer P a confused look.

“Why’d you say love twice?” Verso asked.

“Because there’s a difference between love and love love. Gemini told me so.”

Said cricket guide sounded wholly exasperated. “The kids got fairy tale romances into P’s head. I’m pretty sure they all think of you two as a couple now.”

“We are a couple,” Verso said.

“No, it’s a… a different kind,” Maelle explained. “It’s not like what you two have going on.” She paused, thinking about it. “IS it?”

“Oh, come on, Maelle, not you two!” Gemini whined.

“No, no, I’m not… Well, maybe a little. Let’s maybe can it and see what happens, Gemini.”

“So… back to the original question,” Verso slowly said. “What does loving loving somebody mean?”

“It means… having a person that’s really precious to you close to your heart. You want to spend your whole life with them.”

“Oh. In that case, yeah. I love love you, too, P.”

“That’s what I said!”

Before Gemini could try and explain something that didn’t need explanation or Maelle could stop Gemini, a certain ringing of a telephone hit Verso’s ears. His head snapped to the side, looking at a nearby telephone booth ringing its heart out.

“No way that’s him again,” Maelle said, her light tone dropping away to exasperation.

“Only one way to find out.” Verso picked up the telephone.

Sure enough, as soon as the call connected, a certain voice came piercing through. “Another fine day in the city of Krat! But I wonder, my friend, just where you have been at?”

“Hey, Arlecchino.”

“Well, look who’s back! My favorite frat! … Boy.”

“What’s a frat boy?”

“I hope my return isn’t too unexpected.” Arlecchino ignored the question. ”It seems our fates may be interconnected. Now, do pay attention, you won’t want to miss, When the King of All Riddles says, “riddle me this!””

“No, really, what the hell is a frat boy?”

“Stop asking questions you don’t want to know. Now hush up and listen up, and prove you’re a riddle pro!

I stand tall and proud when I’m young and bold.

But I’m short and humble once I’ve gotten old.

What am I?”

“Tall and proud, short and humble…” P mumbled. “A boa constrictor that just ate something?”

“I—What?” Verso looked over at P, befuddled.

“Do you know what a boa constrictor is?”

“No, and I don’t think I want to, now. Could it be a human?”

“No. Human was the answer last time.”

“Right, good point. Maelle?”

“Hmm… Proud, and then humble… Oh! Oh, wait! I’ve got it! It’s a candle! Candles tend to burn more brightly when they’re fresh, but they flicker out once they’ve been mostly burnt out!”

“Trusting you on this one… Final answer, Arlecchino: a candle!”

“That’s right!” Arlecchino declared. “Did you cheat? Are you cheating? You’d better not be cheating.”

“Does calling in a favor count as cheating? You never said that we couldn’t discuss as a group.”

“Hrmm… No, I didn’t… Am I…? No, impossible. I am the King of Riddles! And you are just… well… you. No offense.”

“None taken,” Verso deadpanned.

“Hey, I said no offense! Don’t take that tone with me! I’d never make such a remark in a culture where dueling is still an acceptable method of solving disputes! I’m the King of Riddles, not the King of Swordplay!”

Something wet touched Verso’s ear. He pulled back the telephone to see, leaking from the device, was none other than blood-red Chroma. He cringed as it coagulated like actual blood, hardening into more of a block that he plucked up with two fingers.

“It’s no better time than now to give you your reward. And what better gift is Chroma? I know that strikes a chord!” Verso reluctantly pocketed the coagulated Chroma. “I can tell you’re enjoying these times that we spar. I take leave of you now, but don’t go too far!”

Verso quickly hung up the phone. Even though no Chroma was left on his ear, he vigorously rubbed it with his free hand. It felt nasty and unclean, all of a sudden.

Your Chroma grows stronger.

The feeling of dread was starting to increase. Not to mention, the rain was rather aptly getting heavier. They had to be getting closer now.

Verso was still distracted by the sensation of something wet trickling across his ear, even though nothing of the sort was no longer happening. So distracted, he barely heard the slight clattering of his boot hitting a metal spring. He definitely felt it, however, as the teeth of a bar trap sank into his leg.

As he yelled out in pain, a cackle came from overhead. “It’s funny, seeing them all flustered!” He looked up to see a feminine figure clad in black, her legs swinging off the side of a building rooftop and her arms up in joy.

“You call this flustered?” Verso snarled, kneeling down to free his leg.

“Hey, the idiots are actually lookers! And one of ‘em sounds mighty sexy when he’s angry!”

A yelp of pain made Verso look back up. He caught a glimpse of the figure rolling back out of sight, her limbs flailing. P’s Legion Arm was still in the position of having thrown something.

Finally untangling his leg from the trap, Verso asked, “What did you just throw at her?”

“The fluid that’s been leaking from the Carcasses.”

“... You didn’t.”

“I did.” P’s smile looked almost devilish.

“You bottled some of it?”

“Yes.”

“That is nasty, P.”

“It worked.”

“It did, but… still. ”

P ignored Verso’s complaints. After watching him heal his leg, P only nodded to himself and continued on, seeming quite pleased with himself judging by his manner of stride.

“He threw Carcass body fluid at her?” Monoco, despite Verso’s wishes otherwise, laughed. “Wish I got to see that. Let me have some so I can douse the Eccentric with some.”

As they had been progressing further, the gestral had waved them into an inn of sorts for temporary reprieve from the outside. The “Red Lobster Inn” had initially been full of Carcasses, but by the time Verso and P arrived, Monoco had dealt with them quite effectively.

“But yeah,” Monoco confirmed, leaning against the fluid-splattered bar. “That was most definitely the Youngest. Now you know what I meant by calling her an “upstart”.”

“Yeah, I get it.” Verso reclined against the bar as well. “Literally waiting for us to traipse into the traps. Now we know who set them up along the Path of the Pilgrim, at least.” He watched Monoco wipe some fluid off his bell. “Hey, Monoco. In your office, you had a broken puppet. What’s that all about?”

“Hm? Oh, the little girl. Noco found her for me. Something about “leave no child behind”? At the very least, it felt wrong for her to just be out in the open, slowly rusting away.”

“Uh-huh… Say, we know a couple of engineers. Maybe we can fix her.”

“Oh?” Monoco perked up much like, aptly enough, a dog.

“Gustave himself is one, remember?” Monoco thoughtfully hummed. “Another reason to help, I suppose. And speaking of, once we beat the Brotherhood, you should come with us, back to Hotel Krat. It’ll be much safer for the kids there.”

“The Hotel… I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never visited. Hm, maybe it’s time to change that.”

After a moment of silence, a song that Verso didn’t recognize crackled to life. Both he and Monoco looked towards the upstairs of the Inn, confused. It sounded almost jazzy, yet melancholic.

P had gone upstairs. Did he find another record?

“I guess I’m gonna go check on my partner,” Verso said, pushing himself upright.

“No mischief,” Monoco warned as Verso began heading up the stairs.

“Les flocons de neiges qui brillent dans le ciel…”

Something happened when the singing began. A sharp flash of pain hit Verso in the chest and reverberated through his entire body. Thank goodness he was out of sight of Monoco, because he didn’t know how to describe the sensation that nearly made him collapse against the stairs. Just barely, he kept himself upright, grabbing onto the banister.

“Nocturne me réconfortent…”

A friendly shoulder nudging his. Hair so bright that it edged on white instead of being wholly golden. A Stalker fed and, much like a stray dog, always coming back for more, knowing that the hand that fed would happily oblige.

“Je t’attends seul dans le noir…”

Verso somehow made it to the top of the stairs. The portable record player looked to have been dropped, slipping out of P’s hands. The puppet himself looked stunned, his eyes glazed and entirely centered on a painting he stood before, graffitied with black writing.

- I, Romeo, will become the greatest Stalker in all of Krat!

- Then I’ll become stronger than Romeo and become the greatest Stalker in the world!

“Je t’attend depuis trop longtemps…”

Romeo. Romeo. Wherefore art thou, Romeo? A ringing more horrific than anything Verso had heard yet rocketed around in his skull, searching for something that he suddenly realized was missing.

A body, complete and pure, was to speak no evil, hear no evil, see no evil. But the body’s eyes have been removed. Where were the eyes?

“Verso?” P sounded calm. Too calm. Verso knew he was shoving something terrible down. He had to be. Why else was he so calm in the face of incompleteness? “Your face.”

Verso touched his cheek. It was wet. He pulled it back to see white Chroma on his fingertips. At first, he waited for the moment that he registered the pain of split canvas skin. But all he noticed was that his eyes felt unnaturally overflowing with liquid.

Crying. He was crying.

The music, sweet and in a language he knew wholeheartedly, continued. Or he should understand it. And yet, and yet, something about it felt alien. Unable to be understood.

And then, like that, everything felt muted. A hand was placed on the back of his mind, and all of the torrential emotions were ripped away, leaving him calm.

“Are you okay?” Maelle asked.

“Yeah.” The answer came quick. And yet, it was the truth now. “Thanks.”

The music continued. P made no move to pick up the player until the song was long finished.

They left the Red Lobster Inn in silence. Monoco let them go and made no comment on Verso’s tear-stricken face.

Your Chroma grows stronger.

The rain had washed away all of the Chroma by the time Verso and P met back up with Red Fox and Black Cat. Good. He didn’t want either of them to question what had happened. He knew they wouldn’t, but the mere chance of them doing so was too terrifying.

“Looking good!” Red Fox’s voice called from the rooftops, making both Verso and P stop in their strides down in the streets and look up. “Who’da thought we’d make it this far? You’ve got all kinds of skills! Everything’s going smooth as silk. And you know me: I don’t impress easy.”

“Great,” Verso returned. “So, are we ready for this?”

Black Cat tilted his head this way and that. “I mean… We’ve been kind of thinking about something…”

“Oh, don’t do this.”

“What? Taking on the Black Rabbit Brotherhood alongside such a fellowship… It’s tempting, but we’re having one of our bad days, y’know? I don’t think we’d be in good enough shape to help you, so we might as well not get in your way.”

“Alright, now. It’s one thing to take everything you can get your hands on, but it’s another to ditch us last second!”

“Don’t worry,” Red Fox called as they began moving away. “We’ll keep an eye on the children for you three!”

“HEY!” Verso watched the two dash off along the rooftops. “Bastards! Now their conning’s just getting outright annoying…”

“And worrying. Now it’s going to be a three versus four. Do you think we could pull that off?”

“We have to. For Gustave.” Verso gritted his teeth, beginning to march ahead. “It’s gonna suck, though.”

Ahead them was one last stretch of alleyway, the walls littered with Black Rabbit Brotherhood symbols. And at the very end, a set of barred gates. Through it, Verso can just barely make out through the heavy rain an open area right before the district’s town hall.

“Really badly,” he added.

Just as he moved to open the gate, P’s Legion Arm whirred to life. A solid, singular punch sent the gate swinging inwards, a visible dent. Verso stood in place, staring at it in surprise, as P walked in, fists clenched.

“Alright,” he whispered, following after.

It wasn’t long before Verso noticed that their two sets of boots weren’t the only ones moving through the puddles on the ground as they walked in. He lifted his gaze, narrowing them at the four figures with matching black outfits and rabbit masks approaching from the opposite direction. He rolled his shoulders and straightened his back, matching his pace with P’s.

Leading the way was the one walking most like the duo. A red scarf held in place by a broken puppet hand flapped after him. He adjusted the handmade clasp, almost instinctively showing it off to the incoming opponents. The Puppet String-like contraption he had on his arm most worried Verso. The Battle Maniac.

Next that caught his attention was the giant, hulking figure with a noose around his neck and a coffin slung over his shoulder. If he had to guess by his size alone, that one was the Eldest. Verso’s keen hearing could almost pick up on something being bumped around in the coffin. That alone made his paint curdle.

The third had more white in his ramshackle outfit. Instead of a proper rabbit mask, he wore a bucket that was scrawled on with chalk. There was almost a skip in his step, twirling his lance. That most definitely was the Eccentric that Monoco had a personal problem with.

Finally was the figure they had seen before—the Youngest. Strutting off the acidic attack she had suffered before, a smile was evident on the part of her face that was visible. Verso was already feeling peeved off at her in particular.

As they met halfway in the plaza of sorts, the largest one shifted his hold on the coffin. He swung it over his shoulder and slammed it down upright. On cue, the Youngest leaned against it, reaching over and opening the coffin’s lid on its hinges.

Inside was a man, one Verso immediately recognized from the newspaper clippings in the orphanage office. Dressed in red finery akin to Venigni’s, but vastly altered and turned into a uniform akin to the one Amandine initially made for P, was none other than Gustave. His brown hair and the cloth shoved in his mouth were soaked, and Verso could see coarse ropes around his ankles. His wrists were pulled behind his back, leaving him to only assume it was the same situation with them.

Gustave didn’t stir at first upon being exposed. Then, his hazy eyes lifted, meeting Verso’s gaze. The sight of him and P seemed to bring some life back into him, and he began struggling until the Eldest reached in and put a hand on his chest to stop him.

As the Youngest leaned her back against the coffin, the Battle Maniac gestured back to the scene. He nudged his head up just slightly, as if saying “Come and get him”.

Just before the Youngest closed the coffin, Verso could see panic cross Gustave’s face. He cried out right before the lid slammed shut. The Eldest picked up the coffin and tossed it back over his shoulder, sending it skidding back along the ground in the direction that they had come from.

Verso growled, readying the Holy Sword while P did the same with his spear. The Black Rabbit Brotherhood did the same with their individual weapons—The Battle Maniac his saber, the Eccentric his lance, the Youngest her dual blades, and the Eldest a giant greatsword. However, the former three began stepping back towards the coffin, allowing the last to begin marching forward.

“Bring it on,” the Battle Maniac mocked. “You ain’t seen nothing like my brother.”

ELDEST OF THE BLACK RABBIT BROTHERHOOD

Chapter Text

Shit. They were defending the coffin. Verso had been tempted by the idea of distracting them all so P could run and free Gustave, but now that was out of the question.

The only one facing them head-on at the moment was the Eldest, rushing for them before they could make any tactical repositionings. The others seemed content to sit by or even on the coffin, laughing and cheering their main meathead on.

For being so bulky, he moved a lot faster than he had any right to. Given, he was still slow. However, the giant sword in his hands just narrowly missed Verso as he dodged. He thought that he would have had more breathing room.

Thankfully, while the Eldest did use sweeping, circular attacks, he seemed more prone to focusing down one at a time. He brought the sword down on Verso’s head. While the muse parried, P attacked from behind, stabbing the spear into his back and taking advantage of his exposed flank.

With a grunt of pain, the Eldest swung back on P, knocking him away. But that in turn gave Verso an opening. A quick five-series slash of golden Chroma sliced into the Eldest’s back, sending tattered coat fabrics everywhere as he howled in pain.

That sight seemed to stir the rest of the Brotherhood. Hopping from her seat on the coffin, the Youngest stretched for a moment, even getting some claps on the back from the Eccentric and the Battle Maniac.

“Those toys are mine,” she declared. “Mine! Root for me, brothers!”

The Youngest. Dexterous, and dual-wielding. Verso gave a nod to P. I handle the Eldest, you take care of the Youngest.

P broke from the pincer maneuver with the Eldest and met the Youngest mid-step. She looked surprised by the frontal assault, scrambling back as she got a decent nick from P’s spear. Gritting her teeth, she yelled out as she charged back in. Her blades caught P’s spear, and at first she looked cocky. A solid punch into her gut from P’s Legion Arm swiftly changed that and sent her flying.

Verso could only watch that fight for so long. He still needed to worry about the one barreling down on him. While he couldn’t wiggle himself out of a few downward strikes from the Eldest, leaving scores of painted wounds on his shoulders and arms, he kept retaliating with Chroma-powered strikes of his own. A few quick strikes of gold were able to keep up with the Eldest’s own damage output, and eventually, forced him away long enough so Verso could get in a sneaky recovery with him and P.

As he and P’s backs hit each other, Verso looked to the rooftops. No sign of a gestral anywhere. And it was hard to hear his bell with all of the commotion going on.

While he swallowed down an Energy Tint, a certain mad cackling erupted from the direction of the coffin. The Eccentric was hopping in place, cracking his neck underneath his bucket helmet. Verso cast him a glance, but was forced to ignore him, breaking from P and attacking the Eldest again.

“C’mon, you played nice with the others!” The Eccentric snarled, and Verso could hear his footsteps slamming on the ground. “Don’t you wanna play with me, silver spoons?”

A ringing of a bell. Verso grinned.

Lunging from a rooftop, Monoco had to be waiting for the Eccentric to be on his own. Mid-leap, he transformed into the greatsword-wielding soldier, casting a shadow that made the Eccentric stop in place. A high-pitched shriek erupted before he was flattened, sending a shockwave of rainwater up from the impact zone.

“It’s the orphanage dog!” The Youngest screamed. “Rip him apart!”

Stepping off the temporarily-stunned Eccentric, Monoco swung the giant sword around. The Youngest, having been about to spring onto him, got sent flying with a scream. The Eldest attempted to join as well, only to suffer much of the same effect.

Monoco transformed back into a gestral, groaning as he did. “ Oh that felt good to do. Really good to do.”

“Welcome to the party,” Verso greeted.

“Thank you for the invitation.”

“What gives?!” The Eccentric dragged himself onto his feet. “Has the orphanage dog gotten rabies?!”

“No.” Monoco readied his walking stick. “I’m here on childrearing duty. I gotta knock some sense into some babies.”

As the active Brotherhood members began to back off and regroup, Verso could see the Battle Maniac groan. He lifted his saber and stepped forward, joining his siblings in a line facing the three and blocking the way to the coffin.

“So, what’s the plan?” Monoco asked while facing the four.

“How fast are you?”

“Not really.”

“Alright, then. You and I go two and two.”

“Ah. I see what you’re plotting.” Verso swore he could hear Monoco grin. “Nope.”

“What?” Verso blinked.

“I’m taking all of them.”

Barreling forward, Monoco transformed into his giant ice monster form. The Brotherhood yelled out in panic, trying to scatter. He just continued to hound them, knocking them all this way and that.

Staring in surprise for a moment, Verso shrugged at P. “Well, I’m not saying no to that.” With that, he began running ahead through the chaos, P right behind him.

“They’re going for the crown prince!” Eccentric wailed. “Get them already!”

Turning, Verso could see the Eccentric leaping into the air, pointing his lance down at them. As P turned to throw something from his belt, a hook speared through his stomach. Said hook had been fired from the Battle Maniac’s Puppet String attachment. Before Verso could pull him free, P was yanked away and back into the free-for-all Monoco was making.

P wisely began shouting, seeing the fists whizzing too close for comfort. “Careful, Monoco! Careful! I’m here!”

Verso had no choice but to focus on his own problems. He caught the Eccentric’s lance with the Holy Sword, knocking it out of his hands. The Brotherhood member had a moment of looking at his empty palms before looking up just in time to see the pommel of the Holy Sword coming for his bucket helmet.

“Oh, sh—”

Verso could hear the head inside rattle about as he made contact. The Eccentric fell over, whines of pain leaving him. Verso didn’t make any move to finish him off, instead turning and running the rest of the way to the coffin.

Given the ease in which the Youngest opened and closed the coffin lid, Verso didn’t expect it to be closed. At the very least, if it was locked, it’d be nothing more than undoing a clasp or two. Indeed, it was the latter, and with a few flicks of his finger, the clasps were undone.

Pushing open the lid, Gustave inside cringed. Verso could hear his breath coming in sharp and quick. The fear that he had seen on the man before was still evident. However, as rain began hitting his face and Verso’s shadow loomed overhead, he started calming down.

“Come on.” Verso sat Gustave up, immediately working on his wrists. “Sorry to pull you into this, but no better time than now to take advantage of it—”

A pair of feet dropkicked right into the back of Verso’s head. He went tumbling not just over the coffin, but a few feet away. His head pounded as he heard the Youngest laughing.

“Poor move, muse!” she mocked, stepping to stand in front of him. “I can’t wait to take you apart! Ooh, maybe I can try recoating you! It can’t be that hard, ri—?”

Two hands, one flesh and one Legion Arm, grabbed the Youngest by the waist. She got out a squeak before she was pitched aside like she weighed nothing. She screamed before crashing into some boxes and abruptly being silenced.

As Verso sat up, that hand of flesh extended down to him. Without hesitating, he took it, allowing a staggering Gustave to pull him up.

“Sophie?” was the first thing Gustave asked.

“Hotel Krat,” Verso answered.

As Gustave nodded, Verso recalled something in his possession. Pulling it from his belt, he placed in Gustave’s hand the pistol from Madame Lucciola. He looked surprised as he turned it over in his hands. Somehow, Verso could tell that he recognized it.

“I’m pretty sure that’s yours?” Verso guessed.

“Sure is.”

Verso gave him one clap of the shoulder. Then, he turned and ran back towards the commotion, readying the Holy Sword again.

Monoco had turned back into a gestral, and was openly dueling with the Eldest. And not to shade the gestral, but he was sorely on the losing side. Verso jumped in-between to give Monoco time to fall back, parrying the Eldest’s weapon. Monoco took the opportunity to shift into the hat-wearing form, sending off a wave of healing for his allies.

Red lightning surged through the air. Verso turned in time to see Gustave in the air, his left arm pulled back. The Legion Arm was encased in lightning, almost forming a javelin of pure energy. The Eldest received a faceful of lightning as Gustave struck his fist into the mask.

The Eldest got launched back, leaving Verso and Monoco to stare in surprise. Just for a moment, however, as Verso noticed P fighting the Battle Maniac. Said Brotherhood member was looking gobsmacked at Gustave, letting Verso get in and back up his partner.

“I am getting some fucking payback for getting put in a coffin!” Gustave yelled, running after the Eldest as he got up.

“Oh, I like him already,” Monoco noted, running after him.

Before Verso could follow, a spear sank through his stomach from behind. He grunted, grabbing onto the shaft and twisting his wrist. He snapped off the spearhead before shoving himself off. Turning back, he saw the Eccentric standing there with a broken stick. The Brotherhood member stared at his ruined weapon before looking up and audibly gulping.

Verso hit him in his stupid helmet with the back of the Holy Sword again.

“Brother!” The Youngest launched herself at Verso, swords raised. Mid-leap, however, P shot forward, grabbing her by the ankle. Her war cry turned into a scream as, taking a page from Gustave’s book, P threw her aside.

Applying a perfect recovery through his white Chroma, Verso noted, “One down for the count.” He gestured to the Eccentric groaning in pain on the ground. “That just leaves—”

P pulled him out of the way of the Battle Maniac’s swing. Verso twisted his body as he cursed, retaliating with a strike that the Battle Maniac in turn dodged. As he fell back, P ran after him, leaving Verso to turn to where the Youngest had landed.

The girl was staggering onto her feet, clearly winded from all of the tossing about. And then, before Verso could take one step towards her, Monoco’s gestral hand was suddenly clamping down on the back of her shirt. A Youngest fastball special was thrown directly at the Battle Maniac. An ugly crack was heard from the impact, and both went sprawling.

That just left one. With the Eldest focused on Gustave’s Legion Arm attacks, Verso could run in and take him by surprise. Just as the Eldest was about to bring his giant sword down on the Venigni heir, Verso jumped between them and parried.

There was the sound of steel shattering as the Eldest’s sword broke. The first half of it went flying, leaving the Eldest with only some of the blade and the handle. He snarled underneath the gas mask, pummeling down on Verso’s guard with what remained of his weapon.

Jumping over the swings with surprising agility, Gustave was clutching the broken bit from the Eldest’s sword in his Legion Arm. He struck the Eldest several times along the head and chest. As he staggered, Gustave planted his feet on his shoulders, using him as a launchpad to get back into the air.

Monoco jumped behind the Eldest. His walking stick cracked into his back, and Verso could hear the Eldest’s spine give. At the same time, P joined Verso’s side, and both thrust their blades forward, spearing their opponent through.

Flipping in the air, Gustave cast aside the salvaged metal and put his pistol in his Legion Arm. Red lightning flowed into the weapon, illuminating the gold filigree to a red-hot degree. He pointed the pistol square at the Eldest’s head, grit his teeth, and pulled the trigger.

The sound of lightning striking echoed through the ramshackle arena. A bolt of red visibly streaking through the air. It flew over the heads of Verso and P, into the Eldest’s forehead, out the back of his skull, and into the ground behind him.

As the lightning fizzled out, Gustave crashed into the ground. He somewhat rolled into the impact, but Verso still heard him groan in pain. The muse withdrew his weapon from the body and turned to run to Gustave, P close behind.

As P knelt to help Gustave up, Verso used another perfect recovery. Gustave rolled his shoulders, the aches from the fall visibly leaving him. He nodded in gratitude at Verso.

The sound of some kind of grenade erupting reached Verso’s ears. He readied his sword as Monoco moved in front of the three, only to see smoke billowing up around the Eldest’s body. Just barely, he could see the other Brotherhood members running into the smoke cloud, approaching their fallen comrade.

“No! Brother!” The Youngest screamed, audibly in tears.

“These sods are crazy!” The Eccentric added.

Verso looked over at the other three. They had their weapons ready, too. Still, even as they listened to the sounds of shuffling and retreating footsteps from within the smoke cloud, none of them made any move to attack the Brotherhood any further.

“Damn you,” the Battle Maniac hissed, his voice fading as he hurried away. “You’ll all pay for this!”

As the smoke faded away, revealing that the Brotherhood had long departed and dragged their fallen brother’s body with them, Monoco was the one to speak up. “Do we go and finish the job?”

“You can,” Gustave responded, finally putting his pistol away. “I need to get my decoder and hurry back to the Hotel.”

“You did mention a decoder in the message you left behind for Venigni,” Verso said. “Is it finished?”

“Unfortunately not. I didn’t get as many puppet samples as I would have liked before it was nothing but those… zombie things and the Black Rabbit Brotherhood. It should be within the Brotherhood’s lair.” Gustave pointed ahead at the large building looming just ahead of them.

“The town hall,” Verso mumbled.

Waving his hand, Monoco turned. “You loot that place to your heart’s content. I need to go make sure the kids start packing.”

“Packing?” Verso watched Monoco walk away.

“You offered the Hotel, muse. I’m taking you up on it. This place is only going to get shittier without the Brotherhood doing the bare minimum to protect it. So see you there!”

Watching him go, Gustave pointed at him while looking at the other two. “I’m going to ask a lot of questions about him. And you two, as well. Who even are you?”

“Well… I’m Verso. A muse. And this is P.”

P smiled and waved. “Hello. You made the Legion Arm that I woke up with.”

Gustave chuckled, putting his hands on his hips. “Well, I make a lot of Legion Arms for people. Prosthetics overall, actually, though those are the most popular.”

“You gave it to my Father. Giuseppe Geppetto.”

That made Gustave’s demeanor shift in an instant. “Wait.” He looked over P in visible awe. “Then you’re… Oh my…” He stepped forward, taking P by the shoulders. “You’re the project he talked about! You’re a puppet? You’re so beautiful and lifelike, I couldn’t even tell!”

“Verso,” Maelle asked in a whisper, “Why am I getting an unhealthy dose of jealousy from you?”

“Geppetto is your Father? Then I guess that makes us cousins!” P tilted his head, and Gustave let go of his shoulders to speak with his hands. “Well, you know… My Papa and your Father are very close friends, so, uh, I’ve worked along with… Anyways, it’s—it’s kind of like I see him as an uncle? So…”

“Wavelength decoder,” Verso sharply interjected.

“Oh! Right! Yeah! Let’s go… um…” Gustave swung his arms in the motion of “get a move on!” , but continued flubbing his words. He eventually gave up and began moving for the town hall.

After watching him for a moment, P looked to Verso. “What’s a cousin?”

“It…” Verso sighed. “I don’t know. Come on, let’s just go see if we got left anything worthwhile by our friends .”

“... Are you mad at them?”

“Oh, absolutely.”