Chapter Text
“You can’t seriously expect me to have any information for you, it’s only been a week.” Clown’s annoyance was audible even through the speakers. Xisuma was quickly becoming bothered by the assassin’s attitude.
“I expected you to be better at your job, Mr. Pierce. You’re supposed to be gaining his trust, not getting yourself fired for being a shit bodyguard.” He shoved his glasses up and rubbed at his eyes.
“I’ve already spoken to him, I’m not getting fired.”
“Good, because if you turned out to be a waste of money I would have killed you myself.” X interrupted the other man. “Stay on his good side, get me the information that I need, and don’t forget who’s paying you.”
“Technically, both of you-”
“You know what I mean.” Xisuma hovered his mouse over the ‘end call’ button. “Do your job, Clown.”
The call ended with a resounding click, the room dimming with the sudden lack of light from the monitor. X closed out of his current tabs and opened a folder on his desktop that contained hundreds of files, pictures, and video recordings, each with dates and timestamps. Every single one of them started with the same word; Craft.
Xisuma clicked through them one by one, pictures of the white haired scientist flashing across his screen as he did so. Photos of him leaving his office building, videos of him walking the streets of Melior, articles about his experiments carefully screenshotted and archived. He was so focused on the files that he did see the light of the outside hallway flood into his office as the door opened, nor did he hear the quiet footsteps of someone approaching his desk.
The sound of someone clearing their throat beside him, though, did pull him from his trance. He pulled his eyes away from the monitor and towards the uninvited guest, squinting his eyes to make out their details in the dark.
“Mr. Void,” A melodic voice greeted. Sparrow.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” X asked sarcastically.
“I found something that may interest you,” Sparrow presented a folder, holding it out to his boss. “It’s an old scientific case having to do with golems."
“Golems?” The older man took the folder and opened it to the first page, his employee nodded.
“Golems and the study of their brains. The scientists on the case hypothesized that human and golem brains could be swapped due to their similar make-up, and they were right.” Sparrow rambled excitedly before trailing off. “Except…”
“Except?” Xisuma looked up from the file expectantly.
“Well, the human brain was able to survive in the golem’s body, but… the human’s body rejected the golem’s brain and…” Sparrow
“Hm.” X went back to looking at the paperwork in the file. “But it worked?”
“Yes… though, it’s never been tested again.”
Xisuma tapped his fingers on the desk. Once. Twice. Three times before he opened the file once again, eyes running over photos from the experiment.
“Are there any other copies of these papers?”
“Uh, no, sir. These are from the country’s scientific library. It was considered a failure, so no copies were made of it.”
“Nice work, Sparrow.” Xisuma tossed the paperwork towards him, watching as he scrambled to catch it. “Burn these.”
Sparrow hesitated, looking between his boss and the paperwork. “Uh, sir?”
X huffed and looked over at the younger man once again. “What is it?”
Sparrow took a second before shaking his head as if trying to shake the thought out of it. He quickly pivoted, “If.. you do decide to go forward with a recreation of this project, I’d like to offer myself as a test subject.”
Xisuma considered it for a moment, looking over Sparrow with a sharp, judgemental stare.
“If,” Xisuma started, “I decide to do anything with this information, you will be the first I call.”
Sparrow gave a small, grateful smile to the engineer. “Thank you, sir.”
X turned away and waved his hand in the air. Sparrow scrambled out of the room and shut the door with a reverberant thud, allowing the room to fade into darkness once again. X hummed an odd tune to himself, off-key and wrong but vaguely familiar in an odd kind of way.
Clown stepped back into the hospital room and was met with the passive, yet somehow all-too knowing stare of Doctor Branzy Craft.
“Who was that?” Branzy inquired, leaning into the stiff hospital pillows.
“My sister.” Clown answered easily.
“You have a sister?” His eyes snapped onto Clown’s mask with interest, allowing his clinical persona to fall away. “Is sh-she alright?”
Clown took a seat in the visitor’s chair. “She’s fine. She just wanted to know if we were going to spend Autumn Harvest together.”
“Oh, well that’s nice,” Branzy smiled. “I assume you’ll nee-need that day off, then?”
“...If you wouldn’t mind.” Clown flexed his fingers on his thigh. “If it won’t cause problems for you.”
“O-oh, please, I can handle a day in the lab by myself,” Branzy huffed in amusement, eyes wandering to the far side of the room. “Besides, that’s not for another few months, I’ll be all healed up by then.”
“I would rather you not.” Clown muttered.
“Hm?” Branzy looked back at his bodyguard once more. “What was- what was that?”
Clown cleared his throat, raising his voice. “I’d rather you not go to the lab without me there.”
Seeing Branzy’s confused expression, he continued. “I almost failed. I’d rather not have any repeats of that.”
“A-ah,” The scientist hummed knowingly, smirking. “Your reputation can’t take any more hits, hmm?”
Really, for how smart he was, he was also pretty damn clueless.
“Right, that’s it.” Clown nodded. “I was hired to keep you safe, you’re safest next to me.”
“That-that’s not what the bullet in my leg says,” Branzy teased.
Clown tensed up.
“It won’t happen again.”
“I-it’s fine, Clown. I’m not mad-” Branzy laughed awkwardly.
“I’m serious, Doctor Craft. It will not happen again.”
Branzy took a second, taken aback by the sudden formalities. “R-right,” He nodded. “Well, I appreciate it.”
Clown visibly relaxed, nodding slowly. “...do you need anything?”
“M-my wounds to be magically better.” Branzy answered jokingly.
“Anything I can actually provide?” Clown sighed, just glad that his boss was at least feeling well enough to joke.
“Something to eat? N-not hospital food.” Branzy made a disgusted face.
“...Alright.” Clown stood, towering over his scientist. “Anything in particular?”
“Chicken?” Branzy grinned, cranning his neck to stare into the eyes of Clown’s mask. “Li-like, tenders or something, or boneless wings.”
“Can do.” The other man nodded, turning and walking out of the hospital room without another word.
It almost made Clown laugh to see how doctors and nurses stumbled out of his way as he walked through the halls. Though, he supposed he probably wasn’t a very comforting sight; with his mask and imposing figure.
He used the map on his phone to navigate to some small mom-and-pop wing shop. He ordered some lightly seasoned tenders, hopefully kind on the stomach, and stood menacingly in the corner until his name was called.
“Clown?” An old woman called out, placing a cardboard to-go container on the counter. She smiled and patted his hand as he reached for the box. “You stay safe out there, hun.”
“...Yes ma’am, thank you.” Clown answered quietly, grabbing the box. He dropped an extra twenty into her jar and swiftly made his escape, hightailing it to the hospital before the food could get too cold.
He navigated through the hospital’s halls and back into Branzy’s room. By the time he got there, Branzy had settled back into the uncomfortable pillows on the bed. Clown silently handed Branzy the box and reclaimed his seat. Branzy stared at him for a moment, as if deciding whether to comment or not.
“You didn’t get anything?”
“Hospitals don’t really give me an appetite,” Clown admitted, mask pointed towards the wall on the other side of the room.
“Awww,” Branzy teased. “I-is Clown, the big, bad assassin, afraid of hospitals?”
“...Don’t be ridiculous, Dr. Craft.” Clown turned his head towards the bathroom door.
“♫Clown Pierce is afraid of hospitals♫,” Branzy crooned, a wide grin taking over his features. “Who-who knew that the fear of hospitals is universal!”
“Does that mean you’re afraid of hospitals, then, Dr. Craft?” Clown shot back, his voice lacking any actual animosity.
“O-oh, yeah, big time. I nee-need someone to protect me from the evil doctors and their needles.” Branzy nodded, attempting to hold a serious expression but ultimately bursting out into a fit of giggles.
Clown laughed along quietly, watching Branzy in amusement.
“I’ll make sure they don’t get you,” Clown joked, stretching his legs out in front of him.
“Th-thank you, sir.” Branzy rubbed the tears from his eyes, stifling a few laughs as he opened the box of chicken.
Clown just watched as his boss ate and, for how odd his assistant was, Branzy seemed unbothered by it. Perhaps he was just getting used to his oddities.
A doctor came in an hour later, letting them know that Branzy was clear for release so long as he kept his cast on and brought it to get checked the following month. He was ecstatic when Clown agreed to sign his cast, less so when he was informed he'd be in crutches for a while.
“...My motorcycle is at my apartment, or I’d drive you home. I’ll just call a cab.” Clown murmured as they reached the hospital’s exit; Branzy in crutches.
“M-motorcycle?” Branzy questioned, suddenly interested.
“Yeah. A car kind of seems like a waste of money when its just me.”
“S-sure,” Branzy nodded. “Take me for a-a-a- danggit, give me a second,” Branzy shook his head in disappointment. “A ride, sometime?”
“...yeah, I will. Maybe when your wrist gets better.” Clown agreed.
“Mmm, that sounds nice.” Branzy watched as a cab pulled to the side in front of them. Clown helped Branzy get in the car, placing the crutches on the ground beneath him.
“Call me when you’re ready to come back to the lab, Dr. Craft.” Clown shut the door and rounded to the other side of the vehicle, whispering something to the driver that Branzy didn’t catch before slipping them a couple of dollar bills. Clown raised his hand in a final big farewell to his scientist before walking away.