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Chapter Text

“Got fire?” The shorter, paunchier dagonian asked his lankier partner. Said man took out from his coat’s pockets a small, blue lighter and handed it over. “Thanks, mate.” He held it to his lips and tried to light it, his hold getting shakier by the explosion coming from the vacant lot under the bridge.

Todd fumbled to not drop the lighter through the railing and into the river, managing to not go over and plunge himself somehow. His companion, Cody, merely sighed at the display without taking his hands out from his pockets. It was their break time at the factory, and neither of them had any better ideas than to sit at the bridge nearby and idly check out the fight going on at a distance. Looks like Big Band, the local crimefighter made almost entirely out of musical instruments, was trying to put a sassy lost gremlin in her place.

“That the cartoon lass, ain’t she?” Todd said after taking a small puff from his cigarette, earning a small nod from Cody at the same time she pulled out what seemed like an anvil from her hat to try and drop near Big Band. “Heard that nutter made shambles out of Phil’s house… you remember that bloke, right?” Not even waiting for the nod back, the yellow dagonian continued. “Lucky he was insured…”

It was… oddly boring. Both were holding back their punches, and didn’t seem to really try and hurt the other. While Band was almost entirely silent as he tried to approach and get her within his range, said gremlin just… screeched really loudly and jumped all over the place, pulling out whatever from her pockets to try and slow him down.

“This ain’t a real scrap.” Todd started, to the hmms of his companion. “I ‘member when I was mardy and trollied and fought this tall chap who was way tougher than Band… had himself the same trench coat plus a weird mask, too. That was what I call a fight! Kicked his dodgy ass, too...” Handing back the lighter, Todd sighed “Wanna go grab a cuppa coffee before our break ends?” What a waste of a break, too. ‘What could they even be fighting about?’ He thought to himself.

“GIVE IT UP, BEN!” Patricia “Peacock” Watson called out to her mentor and self-appointed big brother figure, who was staring down the bottom of the barrel of her revolver. Her imaginary friends laid around her, in several defeated heaps and clutching their wounds as she and her bird companion Avery were the last ones standing. Avery had one hand holding up the hat he normally hid inside, the other holding a toy peashooter he was using to try and imitate his boss’ threatening stance.

Ben Birdland did not say a word back. His stern gaze looked to Patricia disapproving, but understanding of her little temper tantrum. In the sidelines of the fight stood Leduc and Hive, two young soldiers that Stanley hid behind from the fight. Ileum clutched her adopted children closer, shielding the small, scared ones from the gunfire and screaming…

“You got nothing!” Avery squawked at the large man, defiant. “Nothing but your bloody jazz, and your fancy punch gimmicks!” Peacock called out, finishing her parasite's sentence. Her voice was high-pitched, deranged and held a certain need to be addressed as a big deal. “WE have guns!”

“No.” Big Band simply retorted, his voice a smooth and collected contrast to her. He did move a single inch, but steeled himself. “What you have are bullets, and the hope that when your guns are empty, I’m no longer standing.”

“G-garbage Dayyyyy!” Peacock sang out shakily, firing out a bowling ball from her revolver. At the same time, Band suddenly let go of all his relaxation and jerked forward in the tip of his steel shoes, extending a giant brass fist that was built out of an assortment of instruments.

“HIT ME!” His formerly relaxed voice called out. The projectile bounced harmlessly off the knuckles and was sent flying to be caught by Leduc’s magnetic attraction before it could harm anyone.

“WATCH OUT BOSS!” Avery rang out before popping back inside the hat, making Peacock pull out a STOP sign to shield herself from the fist, when suddenly…

The tip of Band’s brass knuckles opened like a hatch, and swooped Patricia inside his empty arm. Before she could react, she was grabbed and held inside the prison.

“H-hey! No fair! Grabs are too OP!” Peacock complained, no one really paying her any mind. She banged on the arm’s metallic covering harmlessly.

“Take it slow, Little Bird.” In an instant, all the ferocity from his voice had vanished back to his cool, clear tone. “I know you’re angry, and I don’t blame ya. Now, what do you say you join me to hunt whoever did this?” The only answer coming from inside the arm was a chainsaw revving up and harmlessly sliding against it.

“That’zzz not fair. Why doezzz only Peacock get to avenge-? Hey!”” Hive loudly commented, quickly receiving a little shoulder-bump to keep quiet from Leduc.

“I KNOW who killed Dr Avian!” Peacock stopped trying to cut a hole open with her laserbeam and cried out, making a few of the smaller children cry again. “That nurse… he told me Valentine killed him!”

“Valentine?!” Leduc stepped forward, earning a small grunt from Hive. “That’s impossible! Lab 0 would never betray us!”

“I don’t exactly have the most glowing opinion of Lab 0 myself-” Big Band started. “-but we ARE dealing with a shapeshifting enemy here. We can’t exactly take last words as a valid testimony.”

“Are- are you saying you DON’T trust Dr. Avian?!” Peacock called him out, the sounds of shotgun blasts stopping. “How could you-?!”

“Peacock.”

A cold, empty voice came from the sidelines. Out stepped a flesh-based, masked figure. Ileum leaned closer to Band’s arm and whispered: “Stop this right now. Listen to Ben and do what he says. I will not put up with your nonsense at this moment.” The rest of Lab 8 was taken aback. Ileum wasn’t passive, but it was highly unusual of her to go so stern and direct… even Ben fumbled around, a bit shook.

“Ileum, I-” He started, before stopping. He shook his arm a bit, inspecting how empty it seemed to be all of a sudden. “Don’t tell me…”

Peacock was behind everyone all of a sudden, standing proud and on the higher ground inside the bridge’s pile. Her cartoon friends had vanished from the battlefield and stood besides her.

“Fine… be that way!” She stared everyone down, gritting her teeth. “I can do this plenty fine all by myself! I’ll kill Valentine AND the Skullgirl! Goodbye, and thanks for nothing suckas!”

“Peacock, wait-!” Leduc called after her, climbing the wall with static electricity… yet was too slow to catch her before she turned tail and jumped inside a hole, the rest of her gang jumping after her. “...she’s gone.”

Everyone was left in silence. Hive scowled, Ileum stood quiet, and Stanley didn’t know where he was supposed to be or what to even do.

“...that fool is going to get herself killed.” Band started. “If she can’t even take me out, no way she’s ready to face down a Skullgirl. And if I can’t stop her, Avian’s work goes down the drain.”

“Don’t worry about us.” Stanley spoke up, hesitantly becoming the center of attention. “You take care of Peacock, we’ll head back to the lab. I’ll… communicate with the other labs about this, I suppose.”

I don't want to be buried in a pet sematary
I don't want to live my life again
I don't want to be buried in a pet sematary
I don't want to live my life again-

“ROBO-FORTUNE! Stop playing old rock music on the lab’s radio!” Brain Drain grunted out, smacking the dial back to “emergency messages only” setting as he entered his office. “We need that! What if something important happens?

Inside the cramped Lab 0, there wasn’t much to do, really. Not many people join an illicit, secret lab that researched Skullgirl blood and powers through incredibly unethical means. Last Hope used to hang around, but… yeah, that happened. Now Valentine is only here at odd times, trying to remain there as little time as possible before going back into field work. Which leaves Brain Drain alone to submerge in his work, or interact with… Robo-Fortune.

What… what was he even thinking when he built her? All he remembered was trying to inject alcohol into himself like the awful ‘ol days when he had a body, seeing a note Valentine sent him about this “inmortal zombie cat” and when he woke up… Robo-Fortune was there, pawing at his brain’s glass case.

“You never let me do anything fun.” Robo-Fortune stated in her robotic monotone in an attempt at expressing frustration. “INITIATING-TEENAGE-ANGST-PROTOCOL-”

This attempt at being cute (which failed miserably) was interrupted by an emergency call coming from Lab 8.

“Uh, hello?” Stanley’s meek voice made both of them turn their heads towards the radio. “I… guess you didn’t get the emergency call from before?” Robo’s head shrunk into her torso a bit.

“Well… we, um… got attacked by the Skullgirl. Not pointing any fingers, buttt… Peacock says Doc Avian, Trinity rest his soul… well, he said Valentine did it-”

Brain Drain turned off the radio. “Well, glad it wasn’t anything important.”

A silence ensued. Brain Drain’s brain felt the urge to cough.

“...Valentine betrayed us, didn’t she?”

“100%” Robo spoke. “She is, after all, a ‘BACKSTABBING CHRISTMAS-KILLING WHORE-!’” That last part seemed to be a recording of Brain’s voice.

“Well, that thread is finally dealt with.” He reclined back on his chair and sighed. “Robo-Fortune, send Painwheel to bring her over to me.”

Another awkward silence. Robo simulated the sounds of crickets chirping.

“Creator, Painweel has…"

“Yes, Robo-Fortune. Painwheel went rogue this morning and I am unable to contact her.” The scientist groaned. “I remembered. Machines do not forget, for that is an organic's job.” Brain Drain stood up from his chair and marched down the hallways of the laboratory, Robo following soon after.

“Do you want me to begin PROTOCOL-ALPHA: HUNT-DOWN-VALENTINE?” She spoke up.

“I will NOT send you alone. You might be a machine, but someone like…” Disrespectful sneer. “...you will need some backup.”

A heavily locked door faced them. Brain Drain had to input in a special code, get his laser “eyes” scanned, and give a steel arm that came out from the wall a secret handshake; before the door slid open horizontally with squeaky creaking. “Remind me to oil that, Robo-Fortune.” Brain muttered as he entered and lowered into the depths below through the staircase. Deep inside, was a wide, tall hallway where multiple life pods were held, all closed off to not reveal what was inside. Most of them were empty. Most.

“I was never made aware of this sector of Lab 0.” Robo muttered, looking around the place.

“Of course you wouldn’t be. This is top-secret to everyone, even for the employees here.” Brain Drain answered. “Everyone… except me. Here’s where Project F resides. She is our last hope to fix this disaster.”

“Not Project F!” Robo took both hands to her cheeks and did a dramatic wailing pose. “Anything but Project F!”

“You have no idea what Project F is, don’t you?” He sighed. “You see, there used to be two powerful warriors under the Canopy Kingdom’s files… one of them was Shamone, a brute who fought with powerful grapples. The other was Fukua, a long-range sniper. They’re both dead now. As a failsafe, I built a single clone out of their genetic material, making a highly powerful warrior for all ranges.”

“...and you did not reveal her before because-?” Robo rudely interrupted his little exposition.

“Standard clone genetic mutation.” He simply answered as he opened her pod. “She’s probably immensely sociopathic. Or too stupid to think. Or both. Hopefully not both.”

The cloning pod slid open dramatically, and out came a short, slightly pudgy teenage girl with a mop of bottle-green hair that had sharp teeth in a closed mouth smile.

“She’s a teenager so she can fight at her prime longer.” Brain Drain cleared his throat and made clear to Robo, a bit nervous. Said robot just nodded along. “Nothing depravate.”

“OUCH!” Fukua anticlimactically hit the ground and woke up, looking at her creator as she rubbed her butt. “Who… who am I?”

“A fighting machine.” Brain Drain simply answered, rubbing his chin in contemplation. “Fukua seems to not have degenerated too much. Now, Shamone?”

“KILL!” Her hair snapped alive, multiple spears surging and digging at the air. “KILL! FUCK! EAT!”

“Other way around. First organics eat, then they…” Robo trailed off, ignoring Fukua’s blind flailing.

“OhmygoshwhatisthingthingwhyismyhairdoingTHAT?!” She screamed in a breathless rant, trying to tear away at it.

“That’s your parasite, get used to it.” The ruthless director simply answered. “Seems like Shamone had some difficulties in being cloned... luckily, we don't need her brain. Ahem:" He cleared his throat. "You two have four objectives. First, you kill the Skullgirl. Second, you capture the Skullheart. Third, you Apprehend all traitors to Lab 0. And finally, you bring the Skullheart over to me. Are my simple instructions clear?”

“Do I HAVE to?” Fukua whined as she rubbed her arm.

“KILL!” Shamone added.

“And THAT’S how you make a baby. TEACHING-PROTOCOL-OVER.” Robo finally finished her rant, her features switching to what could be a look of… pride.

Brain Drain face palmed. The world was doomed.

Chapter Text

To say New Meridian was a busy city would be understating it. Massive crowds tunneled through the sidewalks and were almost impossible to cross on your own without getting lost and ending up on the other side of the city from where you wanted to go. Transit mostly consisted of a multitude of slow cars communicating with each other through horns and middle fingers/paws/flippers.

Currently, a certain pair of rocket thrusters attached to a certain robot’s heels were causing the crowd to turn their heads slightly and resoundly shrug, as she was currently scraping through the top of several cars at above average speed. Shortly behind her, Fukua tried and failed to make her way through the crowd to catch up. The clone swore under her breath she’d get Robo back for suddenly dashing off and leaving her behind to eat dust. Shamone nonchalantly stole a chili dog from an hedgehog feral and shoveled it in her mouth.

Robo-Fortune’s body was on auto-pilot as her “conscience” (which could by no means be considered a soul, she sadly noted a while ago) was processing the theonite emissions nearby. A BIG source of Skullgirl Energy (nicknamed Bonergy by her pun emitters) was coming from the church! She needed to dash over there as fast as-!

CRASH!!!

Next thing she knew, Robo was lying on the cold hard pavement, her body parts flying everywhere and smacking several people in the face. The street parted and left her a clearing so she could properly recompose herself. Robo’s eyes turned into swirling patterns and the four interrogation marks on her forehead got two of them bent so it could spell !!?? She went over her flashlights’ recordings to check what just happened… seems like her autopilot suddenly took a hard swerve for no reason and impacted hard against a moving truck, leaving a slight dent behind. Brain Drain’s prerecorded barkings reminded her damaged body just how useless and replaceable she was.

“Why was I programmed to be able to feel pain?” She asked no one but Mother, recalling her body parts, using extendable wires that shot off from her limbs' stumps, back together to snap herself back into somewhat functioning form. Fukua slowly walked over and helpfully kicked one of her legs near, slurping on a strawberry sundae Shamone had helpfully stolen for her.

“I don’t know, why are we here again?” Fukua answered with another question just as helpfully, bored out of her skull as she looked around the place. A bustling, residential main street that seemed to split and end at a tacky, luxurious casino… she would ask Robo what a ‘cay-see-now'' was later. “Wasn’t our priority to like kill this Valentain chick or something?”

“Negative. FIRST-PROTOCOL: KILL-THE-SKULLGIRL.” Robo stated, her body parts bouncing into a ball as they painfully clacked and snapped together. “THIRD-PROTOCOL: APPREHEND-ALL-TRAITORS-TO-LAB-0. FIRST-COMES-BEFORE-THIRD. MATHEMATICAL-LESSON-STATUS: OVER.”

“Hey, don’t get sassy with me!” Fukua snapped, giving another big slurp on her straw before continuing. Damn, whatever this was, it was good! “I know more mate-matics than you ever will. And besides, Rain Rain did say we should go look for the traitors first.”

“Negative. I am right, and you are wrong.”

“My memory is perfect, as am I.” Fukua boasted, throwing the finished sundae to the floor and sending glass shards flying everywhere. “Shamone here can vouch for me, right Shamone?”

“KILL!” Shamone agreed, some glass pieces coming out from her maws. “FUCK. EAT.”

“See, she agrees with me.”

“Nuh-huh.” Robo childishly claimed, getting all up in Fukua’s face about it.

“Uh-huh.”

“Nuh-huh.”

“Uh-uh.”

“Uh-uh.”

“Nuh-uh. Wait-”

“Ha! Got you-”

“Oh, for cripe’s sake! Do neither of you know how to shut up?!” A metallic, high-pitched screech made both girls turn their head.

A redhead girl in an old-fashioned dress wouldn’t really look out of place normally. Her lack of any eyes, and her gloved prosthetics in place of arms made her look rather odd. The strange, nightmarish car right behind her from which cartoonish characters piled on top? Super odd.

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Robo turned in her ‘Whisper’ mode as she leaned closer to Fukua’s ear discreetly.

“You mean this ISN’T considered to be normal in this city?” Fukua answered back, loud enough for the little girl to hear and not care. “I’m just kinda nodding along and waiting to understand just what this world is.”

“Now this is a sorry sight, ain’t it Avery?” Peacock muttered, looking up at her hat. “A tragic butchering of the old ‘Hunting Season’?”

“SQUAWK!” Both Lab 0 agents were taken off-guard as a bird-like creature came out of the little girl’s hat! “I bet they ain’t even got licenses for comedic relief!”

“Loi...censes?” Fukua chewed through the words slowly, trying to digest whatever that bird thing just said. Robo, on the other hand, wasn’t nearly as confused, and marched up to the little girl as a spring came out from her chest plate and showed off a “Comic Relief” license drawn with crayon. Badly. Brain Drain wouldn't hang it on the fridge.

“As you can see, I have permission to joke around, get hurt in hilariously inconvenient ways, and even tell puns.” Robo proudly puffed her chest plate out and placed both arms at her waist. She might be a soulless automaton with no free will, but if she could take pride in one thing it would be in her impeccable sense of humor! “So why don’t you two birds just… FLY away, and stop getting so COCKy with us?”

Avery gasped. “HEY! THAT 'S RACIST!”

“Ohhh, feeling like a comedian yet?” The much shorter girl got all up in the robot’s business and jammed a finger in her chest plate accusatory. “Puns are by far the swal-lowest form of comedy, so I’d recommend kitty just clawse her eyes, before I…” And Peacock’s finger slowly traveled up the chest, reaching the head before… her gloved hand simply poked the robot in the eyes!

“OUCH.” Robo’s sensors simulated pain, and she stumbled back while holding her face to the giggles of Peacock and her entire gang. It was j-just like back at robot middle school..!

“Wait, that makes no sense.” Fukua simply stated, confused. “Robo, you don’t have eyes. You have headlights. You can’t poke out headlights, or can you?”

“KILL!”

“Yeah, Shamone’s right! You can’t poke out someone’s headlights! She’d know, she tried to fight a car while we were coming here!”

“You are right.” Robo suddenly stood up straight as a ruler, fine as can be.

Peacock arched an eyebrow exaggeratedly at Fukua, to the extent it poked her bangs. “Wait wait wait, schoolgirl with a bad hair day? Didn’t I… kick your sorry butt to the curb before?”

“What?” Fukua arched an eyebrow right back, although not to the same impossible length. “I… I never met you before? Stop- stop pulling my leg.”

“Fine by me!” Patricia eagerly chirped out, a toothy grin as she… vanished into the ground? What? Her cartoon gang behind in the car didn’t seem to pay much mind or attention to that, nor did they pay the parking meter.

Fukua blinked heavily. Did… did they win? Not counting that car Shamone totally busted while they were walking here (it looked at her wrong!) this was her first fight ever as far as she remembered! She was apparently a badass soldier in her previous life or something… wow, fighting was THIS easy? This mission would be a piece of cake! All she had to do was-

She was jerked roughly from behind into a submission hold. Shamone tried to lash out and bite at the attacker, but it was kinda difficult, considering those gloves had a surprisingly steel-grip on her. Peacock had teleported behind the clone through a hole on the ground, and was pulling on her long untied hair!

“...she can just pull your hair instead! I get it!” Andy cheered from the ride that could not possibly be street legal, earning himself a grumpy glare from Patricia.

“Way to go Andy!” She grunted, as she placed her other hand on Fukua’s scalp to push her away at the same time she grappled her hair. “Don’t explain the joke!”

“Eep! Sorry Boss!”

“HEY, TOASTER!!” Fukua called out angrily, flailing her arms around to smack the air nearby like the expert assassin she was programmed to be. “A little help here?!”

“FUCK!!!” Shamone nodded along to her host, sweating in thick droplets of nervousness as she meekly complied to Peacock’s pull.

“AH-HA-HAA.” Robo muttered out in a robotic, monotone laugh that was purposefully deepened for dramatic effect. Unknown to the struggling pair or the gaggle of sidekicks in the car, Robo-Fortune had gotten behind Peacock and had dug her spear-like tail into the ground for better support and stretched her torso thin to expose her wiring and cables better. This strange move left her exposed, but also enabled her wiring to pump theonite production around her body faster and faster, which all went into her hands (that had turned into heavy, clunky twin cannons).

“Don’t worry… this ‘toaster’ is going to give you two allllll the help you could possibly want and/or need.” She spoke maliciously… killing the annoying clone that did nothing but get in the way of her mission wouldn’t please Brain Drain or give her free will… but needless petty revenge would sure feel like what flesh-based lifeforms called “good”!

“Oh, that’s good then!” Fukua chirped out, a bit refreshed by the help! Maybe… just maybe, she had been too abrasive to the robot? She would need to make it up to her, become friends or-

“Hey, uh boss?” Andy tried to call out to his superior, fumbling with the Toon Town Wagon’s tiny doors to try and come out to assist her.

“Not now, Andy!” Peacock shot back, trying to shove a finger on Fukua’s eyes or nose or any other painful orifices as she navigated away from Shamone’s bitey, chomping teeth.

“MAKANSA-!” Robo tried to call out her attack name in a cool way, only to stutter with the unpronounceable name Brain Drain stuck her with. “MAKAKASAPOP- MEKKASAPPA-! CATASTROPHE-CANNON: ALPHA!!! ”

“Is that what you’re going to yell out when you-?” Fukua didn’t manage to finish her question before she felt piercing, laser-induced pain filling her whole being! Her only shield was a Patricia-shaped hole in the wave of theonite, but otherwise she was smacked away into a building until the beam emptied out.

She moaned a bit as she stood up, clutching her dark green hair close with one hand as if to rub it into conscience, the other trying to dust herself off to regain some amount of dignity. Shamone seemed out of it, her yellow dot eyes turning into literal swirls as her tongue flopped and smacked her host in the left cheek.

“K-Kill?”

“No Shamone, no kill… unfortunately.” And speaking of fortunes! Fukua marched up to Robo-Fortune as she was finishing up loading her normal humanoid stance once more, and the clone jabbed an accusatory finger against her chest plate. “You think that was funny?”

“Very much so.” Robo snickered, her unused and creaky joy circuits sparking some satisfaction into her core. “I am hilarious and you will quote everything I say, or at least I like to pretend I am.”

“A hem .” A cough called for both their attention. They jerked their heads in sync for the second time in five minutes, to once again look at the sooty sight of a little girl, covered from head to toe in grey dust. She blinked her nonexistent eyes to clear her face a bit. “A wise pair, ehhhhh?”

“Yes, my WIS score is at 20. Or at least I like to pretend-” Robo was cut off mid-sentence by a cannonball to the chest that sent her flying through the street. “Ow.”

Fukua and Shamone's eyes went wide, seeing their much more experienced ally be sent flying like a pesky flea… the former gulped down a cannonball of saliva herself, and slowly turned her head towards the attacker. Not only was she wielding a pocket cannon that appeared seemingly out of nowhere in her gloved hands, but also behind her was her cartoon gang that had managed to slip out of the car… suddenly the talking anvil didn’t see so comical, now that he was snarling at her with two boxing gloves.

“Got any last words, pal?” Peacock spit out, suddenly chewing on a cigar as she aimed the cannon at Fukua, one of her bombs diving inside.

“Uh…” Fukua trailed off, at the same time Shamone found the right last words.

“Kill?”

“Yes, Maybelline.” The redhead derogatorily snarked back, pressing down on the cannonball. “Kill!”

Fukua barely managed to dodge the bomb by moving her head, turning her whole body back to see it blow up a section of the street and leave a small crater behind… the ultimate secret project of Lab 0 was sent running and screaming through the busy street, chased by a cartoony little girl on the hood of a monster car driven by an anvil.

Vitale put out his cigar and scowled at the busy street, looking down on the chaos from atop his penthouse’s glass windowpane. Another thursday night, it seemed.

Eliza took a big sniff of the air that entered the limo’s windows. Gunpowder, spilled oil and… fear. It wasn’t quite like fresh blood, but it was very much appreciated, compared to the previous smell of a thriving sleazy nightlife.

“Ahhh, smell that air~ Can’t you just drink it like fine wine?” She breathed out haughtily and merrily towards her… “partner”. The muscle headed guest was sitting in the other corner of the spacious passenger’s compartment, clearly unamused at the singer’s oddities. The driver, on the other hand, threw his dog head through the window and took a biiiiig sniff and then recoiled in a bit of disgust at the smell.

“I dunno Boss… it kinda smells like dog-”

“Albus! Watch the road!” And the falcon riding gunshot harshly bumped elbows with Albus to get his focus back, earning a wild snarl as they barely managed to dodge a giant baseball.

“You’re not going to get us involved in another scrap, right?” Cerebella muttered, clutching her living weapon close to her chest and away from Eliza’s fingers. “I’m all spent after fighting that zombie freak.”

“Oh, no no no dear! I might not look like it, but I’m all tuckered out… and I certainly wouldn’t want to reveal my gifts in public.” Eliza drawled out, earning herself a sarcastic grunt from Cerebella.

“Sure, and I’m Queen Renoir…” She rolled her eyes. “And weren’t you the one who ripped her face off in front of your fangirl?”

“That was just meeting an old friend!” The threat part of the meeting was left unmentioned. “I don’t want to reveal my true self… not yet, anyway. ”

“What was that?!” Cerebella demanded, only earning herself a cryptic smirk. “Listen up! I don’t care about whatever stupid thing you have planned, just… don’t try and get smart with the Medici, ok?”

“Understood~” And Eliza’s pupils went a glowing yellow.