Chapter Text
A flock of bats screamed past, unhindered by the darkness of the marsh. Most people would call me mad, settling in a place like this. Wolves, fungus towers, rats of every size and allignment, the dangers seemed to be plucked from the greatest academic's own nightmares, but I was not afraid. No, any beast who passed me knew who was higher on the chain with but a glance into my blood red eyes.
My arrival was tolled by the jingle at my side, a hefty pouch of rostygold. Anyone of sound mind would steer clear, my newest haul a sign of my blood stained profession. Who? Why? It didn't matter. I was paid well, that was all the common men, women, and molusks needed to know not to cross me. The black ribbon on my forearm fluttered in the breeze. I plucked a ring of rostygold from the stash, flipping it casually in my hand to pass time.
The mud line around my legs lowered, and the tree density fell ever so slightly. I was almost home, which was a comforting thought. As good as I was at my job, there were always those few who could land a stiff hit. They were the most fun to square off with, but the groans of the cuts and bruises were no more quiet for it.
Past the knarled tree, lined with strings of rats as a warning for any new invaders, my little shack came into view. It wasn't much of a looker, certainly, but the privacy was well worth it. Leave the fancy designs to those honey sippers in Veilgarden. Yeah, I liked keeping things simple. All I needed was my lodge in the middle of scenic nowhere, closed up tight to prevent unwanted...
Why were the lights on? I always put out the candles on my way out, save on the wax. And those screams... someone was in my primordeal scream stash! I'd recognize the ravings anywhere.
They got even louder when the window popped open. Some shadowy figure hopped onto the windowsill, a sack leasing mind shattering shouts slung over their shoulder. There was another on their other arm, but it was far smaller, and markedly less noisey. I couldn't rightly say what was in it, but I knew one thing. It was mine. And so was this footpad's head when I caught them!
They noticed me the second I picked up the pace. Even with my teeth bared, rostygold clattering with the weight of every soul I've put in a casket, they didn't even flinch. In fact, they saluted me with two fingers, flinging themself from the window. That just riled me up more, raw adrenaline overpowering the day's weariness.
They were faster than I expected. Even fueled by unholy rage, they were consistently keeping ahead. Somehow, this thief seemed unhindered by the swampy turf. I guessed it was something in the shoes, something I dearly wished to know once I stripped them from their momentary corpse, but it was far too dark to tell. I wasn't gaining any ground, but I wasn't losing any either.
I needed to tip the odds. This one didn't seem interested in curving their path, a constant straight line between them and me. The perfect chance for my R.F. fashioned revolver. Say what you will about the Fabers, they knew how to bribe their way out of extermination. I lined up the sights, a single bullet all I would need to wipe their lead away.
Their body turned ever so slightly my way, and I saw a hand slide across their shadowed form. A moment later, a piercing pain lodged itself in my ribs. It was some sort of knife, and I could feel how finely serrated its edge was. It dug into flesh with every step, forcing me to stop before it found its way to something important. I could only watch as the thief escaped my sight, primordeal screams and whatever was in the small bag in tow.
I wasn't a doctor, but I was fairly sure leaving the blade in there was far more dangerous than the blood loss from pulling it out. I did just that, the slow trickle of red more than tolerable. It was then that I saw the paper, wrapped around its hilt. Unraveling the roll, I found it contained a message.
'Afraid you had some things I needed. Nothing personal. If you have a problem, then you had best reach for the sky. But beware, the mad ones don't care for disturbances, or sense for that matter.'
My grip tightened, and my teeth ached from how roughly they were ground together. Whoever this thief was, I would find them, and I would tear my screams from their lungs if that's what it took. Mark my words, no one steals from Chara.
-
People in dark, academic robes parted around me like water, the look in my eyes strong enough to pierce even the thickest, most distracted researcher. Normally, I'm pretty sure men and women of a violent inclination weren't permitted into the University, but I was good at finding other ways. For example, did you know the guards out front loved stories from the Unterzee?
Either way, I didn't plan on sticking around long. I wouldn't have had to go there at all if there was anyone worth my time back at Ladybones Road. But no, those dimwits couldn't find their way out of a burlap sack, much less the dead man who robbed me. At least one of them had the sense to point me in the right direction, an old hand who gave up bloody crime scenes for dusty ruins. If they were right, he would be somewhere in Summerset's libraries.
If they weren't, I would personally inform them of their error in judgment. Either way, my revolver wouldn't be staying cold for long.
The tall shelves were a lot more calm than the roads outside. Illuminated by countless candles, the green and orange coloring denoting which ones were more likely to set your brain ablaze, the only researchers in there were sitting around, reading whatever they could get their hands on. A few toppled over, clutching their heads, and were promptly carted out by overseers. Don't ask me how they got around with their eyes covered up, but it helped them to not see whatever set the readers off.
They weren't nearly sturdy enough. If they couldn't handle a few mean words, I had no use for them. In the back corner, where one of them had dropped after experiencing a sudden case of bleeding eye sockets, another brave soul picked up the perpetrating tome. Flipping to the offending page, he only muttered to himself, not a sign of volitile reactions anywhere.
Then again, if his eyes were bleeding, I couldn't see it. His cracked, white mask got in the way. There were eye holes, but there was only darkness within. That, along with the modified black scholar robes, would make a lot of people think they were looking at some sort of offshoot of the Masters. But I knew better. And a certain informant could keep their left kidney.
"Hmm, curved sigil, almost claw like marks through the center, and a blood thinning effect in the brain. Yes, this could be the one. Need to copy this, expose it to the stones..." I busted into his mutterings, offering the pen I kept in my back pocket just in case. Don't underestimate how useful a pen can be. Actually, do. An ignorant world is easy to pull a trick on.
"Ah, brilliant! Thank you much." He wrote kind of weird, holding the pen steady with the hole where his palm should be. Must've wanted total accuracy. I hadn't delved too far into the whole research thing, but I had seen more than enough failed symbol recreations to understand. Trust me, when you see a Spider Council get liquidized, you learn real quick not to mess with the thing that did it. I waited until he was clearly done.
"So, am I right in thinking you are one W.D. Gaster?" He tucked the note he had scribbled on away, careful not to crease it. His sockets met mine for the first time. Even as he looked me in the eyes, it felt like his gaze wandered across my whole surface.
"That would depend. The mud on your boots is from Ladybones Road, yes?" I nodded, about to ask, but he was too quick. "I thought I recognized the micro fungi mixed into the dried soil. I could only imagine you were there seeking a detective for some grave transgression, but found none you deemed worthwhile."
"Uh... Yeah. Could you not so blatantly read my mind like that? If I wanted psychics, I could've gotten Mahogany Hall tickets." He chuckled, but I got the sense it wasn't at me.
"Apologies, but I can't quite comply. I've grown too used to seeing things to stop now. Though I suppose I can keep the more invasive observations to myself, especially if I plan on receiving just payment for my services."
"So you know what I want."
"And you, I. The detective's work and I have grown astranged as of late, but I assure you my talents are still a cut above most. So, if you saw fit to track me down, I assume you didn't do so with empty hands." He held his own out, a gesture I had done more than a few times myself. Of course, where I had the sheer strength to threaten without words, he had this look about him that said, 'I know you will.'
Disturbing as it was, he was right. He seemed curious when I passed over nothing but a black file. One peek inside was enough to change his tune.
"I... This is..." I swore the smile on his mask somehow got bigger. "Something worth my time to look into. And worth my services. What is your case?" Feducci always pulled through when it came to secrets.
-
His personal office was a quiet place, about what you would expect from a guest professor and researcher. There were a few notes on every flat surface, some face up, some face down. I decided not to chance flipping one of those right side up.
His desk was something else. I'd seen safes less secure, each of the countless drawers manned by no less than four locks each. If each had its own key, I was amazed Gaster wasn't clanking like a mobile kitchen with every step. On top, next to the lamp, was a magnifying glass mounted to a swiveling arm. A quick glance through it as he swung it over the open desk top and I swore I saw some bacteria squirming around on the far wall.
"Alright, may I see that note?" He was a bit startled as I pulled it out, not expecting it to still be attached to the dagger. He did his best to avoid the drying flakes of blood still clinging to the metal. "Hmm, effects of time aside, this seems just as it would be post puncture."
"My thoroughness has saved me more than a few times."
"And earned you a fair few Echoes, yes? Ah, but I digress. Let's see..." The paper unraveled under his glass, his mind going to work as we agreed. "Tell me, have you thought over this note at all?"
"The first part tells me it's not someone with a grudge, which knocks out a good chunk of people. But that part two is rather mental, so perhaps we start with the local asylums?"
"Mad it would seem to you, hence why they were comfortable including that verse. But to one such as I, this is a rather common taunt." A tattered roll of paper was drawn from his robes, unraveling to reveal a map of the Neath. Small marks dotted the entirety of Fallen London, but the most were right around the central North. "A thief speaking of the sky can only mean one place, the Flit. Those precarious walkways have saved many a crook from apprehension."
"I've been there once or twice. If they really think a few heights can save them, I'll have to teach them a thing or three about me." Gaster placed a hand on my arm.
"You had best wait before storming off on me. You forget, there is still one more statement. The mad ones don't care for disturbances. While avoiding them on a few occasions is possible, one cannot stay long in the Flit without crossing the Raggedy Men. If they find you even the slightest bother, you can expect to be rained on by bricks and lengths of pipe. And that is if you are lucky." I could only huff.
"I'm not letting some unstable nutters stand between me and my stuff. If we cross paths, I'll be more than happy to return fire." After all, bricks may hurt, but there's little question that bullets are far more effective.
"Less of an if, more of a when. The Raggedy Men unite under one man, the Topsy King. He is notorious for providing cover to those he likes, and is no slouch in the villainy department himself. It's only his hoard and environment that keeps the constables from pursuing the hefty bounty on his head. If your thief is so confident in their security, you can be certain that he'll be backing them."
My brow grew heavy, and my trigger finger got itchy. Why was I pulled into this? I couldn't just get my stuff back. No, it had to be on the far side of some insane crime lord.
"Oh well, I could use some target practice."
-
Looking down from the robe bridges was the quickest way to lose a lunch I had ever seen. That kind of distance may have been one of the few paths to a final death in the Neath. No thanks, I would prefer the foe I could fight off over gravity. The bridges themselves weren't helping much, most every plank I stepped on either too small to hold me without bending or too rotten to trust for long.
Gaster seemed a lot more used to the nauseating heights, stepping lightly over the rickety crossings as if they were average sidewalks. His intel must've been gathered first hand, hence why he came so highly recommended.
"The Topsy Court is up ahead, on that large platform." That made me far happier for many reasons. A step closer to my belongings, and a step closer to not being sent plummeting to my doom by one wayward plank. Reaching under my coat, I popped open the chamber of my revolver, checking to make sure it was fully loaded. "Put that away! Even the slightest sign of agression and the Raggedy Men will become agitated."
"Calm down." My gun slid smoothly back into my inner pocket. "I'm making sure it's ready if things get hairy. You think that just because I like the direct approach, I'm unable to be subtle?"
"Certainly not. I'm worried about the eyes and ears that could be on us as we speak. For a madman, the Topsy King lets very little get by. He wouldn't be so tricky to capture if he didn't make good use of his connections in the Flit. All it would take is a single urchin seeing that one of us is armed to turn the entire Court on us."
"A criminal mastermind taking advice from kids? Sounds too outlandish to me." The boards behind me creaked ever so slightly.
"Ai, but ain lossa godens?"