Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Laying on a cold, cobbled-together wooden bench, green eyes opened to the view of the same dismal train car she passed asleep into, the smell of damp lumber hanging through the air. Visibility was low, the only parts of the room that remained visible only through moonbeams that scattered through the window, granting the room a single flash of color. Normally, the dark frightened her immensely, the poor conditions forced her to endure a constant thorn in her psyche, but tonight, it hadn’t quite bothered her. She glanced out through the window, the shapes of shadows, only illuminated by the night sky. She stared in awe. She had spent many sleepless nights under the moon, the only shelter the same stars that now seemed to smile upon her. Every ounce of it imbued her with energy, the way the cosmic purples traced the background in strange spirals, the flicks of green and yellow that irradiated off the different figures, the undeniable light making her stomach swell with desire.

And then more. It growled… First in hunger, though she knew there wasn’t a damn thing to be done about that. Next, worse, was worry. Noises echoed from beyond her door, footsteps creaking against the old wooden floor, walls seemingly banging from other passengers. The way the makeshift pillow bag grew damp and soggy, the way the ceiling dripped, every ounce of it suddenly put her into a sea of troubled feelings. Though… She managed. This wasn’t her first train ride, nor her first time sleeping in squalor. The resolve that it demanded from her had long been surpassed, turning that idea of mundane misery into a new normal, a stepping point to be risen from. She chose not to resent this life, choosing instead to focus on the reason for it all, the quiet peace she longed for, to be free in her own home. The signs of guilt that clung to her parents, and her brother wore her down day by day, the vision still present in her eye despite many moons passing since she was last forced to bear witness. She wanted to abandon the thought where it laid, but the consequences of that felt worse, somehow.

Her eyes narrowed, having adjusted to the dark, they dimly glanced along the battered room, paint tearing off the walls and the bench aside, her dress forced to serve as both a blanket and a cushion. Her duffel bag hung idly to her side, the remainder of her outfit messily strewn about the room. She couldn’t help the sad state of her belongings, she was in such a hurry to fall asleep. The irony did not stay lost on her. Her face drooped, her first instinct gently guiding her into biting the lip. She always hated the darkness. She missed the simple comforts of her old life. The orange nightlight, the magic that fueled it, the soft sounds of slumber from her twin, and the quiet ambiance of the English countryside gently rocked her to sleep. Her mind tried to focus on those memories, but could only absorb the harsh reality she lived in. The train continued to chug, drag, and clank as it sped down the tracks, the choked gasp of the wheels accentuating the deafening silence, every creak, every distant footstep only causing her to clench her arms around Roger tighter.

Some days, she wondered why he stayed with her at all. She recalled the memory of when he had been given to her, the bear full of spite and bitter hatred. Not of her, but of the world, insisting it had lost its way. He was marketed as some… Proto gear, right? She thought about that long and hard, remembering what her father had told her. Father. She missed him more than anything else. His overwhelming charm, his soulful eyes, his ability to calm a soul with a single sentence. She desired that warmth more than anything else. Roger was an auctioned item, marketed as an autonomous daycare unit. He had offered him his freedom. He chose to stay. Why? And more, why choose to run away with her? He always spoke of his pride, the driving force behind life itself, the masculine desire to dominate, conquer and press ever onward. Some days, she felt as if those ideals were beyond her. He didn’t sleep. She knew that. Did he not see the terror in her eyes as they faced off their first bounty? Did he not see the nights laid under an uncaring sky in the wet and the cold where she lost the will to fight? He never gave up on her. That thought nearly broke her down to tears. Why? She struggled so hard just to be called a boy when it never felt right. Her head hurt. Thinking about herself usually made it worse. Somedays, she wondered if Roger felt as alone as she did. She gently released an arm, just enough to wipe her eyes, allowing her neck to swivel to the window behind her.

The mountain loomed under the full moon. Scars tore through it, evidence of the conflict that determined the whole world before she had a chance to see it. Black peaks tore through the green sky, yellow tears ripping through the layer of corrupted clouds, the moon only visible through holes when it moved. She gazed upon the treeline, distant, yellow eyes staring back. Some part of her heart jolted with praise at the recognition. She had forgotten how easy it had become, her career necessitating little tricks like that. The rest of her felt saddened. She wondered if anyone else in the whole world worried about things like that; prying eyes picking through the shadows in fear of an ambush. Did the ordinary person bother? Does her father? She doubted it. Some days, she wondered if she was even human at all. The thought terrified her. It was things like that, perhaps even more than the opportunity for freedom the bounty offered, that continued her search for Dizzy. She would not be like that monster. Her heart had already chosen.

She rested back down, allowing her body to slump a little more. Her fingers jittered nervously. The train itself still kept her up. “...Roger? Are you still awake?” She called out in a hushed whisper.
At first, it was dead silence. Nothing stirred within him. “...”
She waited a few more moments. She knew that he did not rest. ”... Please?”
That gruff, grating metallic voice emerged from his center. She did not know when, but somewhere along the way, it felt so comfortable to hear. “...Yes, Bridget?”
“Do you think… I made the right call?”
Silence. Her mind felt like a cesspool. Competing thoughts butted heads without any resolution, her mind crying in at itself for its sad isolation. Hearing anyone else gave her something to grasp onto, a lifeline. One of the last ones she inherited from her old life. Her hand shifted, wrapping around him tightly. She didn’t want to cry again.
“... Yes.” He finally responded. She said nothing, knowing he would speak again. That he did, after a good 20 seconds of chugging steel. “You saw a life of mundane misery. You chose the thousand-to-one shot at victory. There is nothing more admirable.”
“... I wasn’t… Miserable.”
“I know.”
She had to think about that for a long moment. “... It all feels so complicated.” She wondered how much more he knew.
“... You’ve had it rough. Whole last few weeks. Buy a hotel when we arrive.”
Her face lit up, her body jolting upright. “What? Are… Are you sure?”
“We’ve been winning.” The head on the bear began to turn, glancing through the window. “One cannot hope to climb a mountain if they chain themself.”
His head turned, facing Bridget directly. “You are free to act as you please. That is the only way to live as you are.”
She glanced at the handcuff belt, the one she left on the floor. That simple promise she made. “... Yeah. You’re right.” She let her lips curl into a smile, leaning off the bed to dig through the bag, rummaging through the bounty list she picked up. “... Plus… This guy doesn’t look too tough.”
She pressed into him. It suddenly didn’t feel so dark anymore.

The two chatted until she passed into slumber. The morning light would wake her when it was time. Until then, she could only dream of the mountains. Only now, they didn’t feel so big either.

Chapter Text

"Remind me... Why did we have to go here in the dead of night, again?" Her words echoed off the howling wind, the dirt path she rode on expanding out into a gravel road ahead of her, a destroyed office complex placed right on the end of the trail. She glanced over her shoulder, the warmth of the city lights still blasting into the darkened void behind her, as if they were calling her back to safety, to warmth.

"Someone decided to buy information from the worst source in the world. The meeting happens in an hour." The bear started, holding her hand as he strayed forward, causing her to bump into herself when she realized they were supposed to remain walking. "Or, not at all. That man was a blubbering fool."

She felt the cold wind nip against her legs, her eyes trailing through the woods that flanked them. "Who even builds something right on the edge of a city like this..?" She mewled, pouting. "No wonder it got abandoned."

"The same people that believe two highly trained assassins would allow a civilian to hear them discuss meeting places over coffee."

"I told you! This bounty is worth it. Sometimes you have to crack a few eggs to make an- AAAH!" She let out a shrill cry, Roger flying off the ground with a pull over her arm, holding his back against her face, like a child hiding behind their older brother. She felt whatever hounded her to vanish, slowly pulling him away. He didn't say a damn word, just held his arms together. "D-Did... Did you get it...?"

He uncrossed his arms, an orange leaf getting picked up in the wind. She watched in agonizing silence as it blew away.

"I've never seen you this jumpy. If you cannot remain-"
"N-No! It's... Not the bounty, it's... You'll think it's stupid."
"This is already stupid. If you have concerns, I need to know."
"I'm... Just afraid... Of... Ghosts." She shrank her shoulders back down, crouching down to release him. He stood there, letting his arms droop to his sides while his little head glanced up to stare her dead in the eyes. She just held her knees, trying to not look embarrassed.

"Bridget." He said, after nearly six full seconds, the wind visualizing in a train of yellow and red, crumpled leaves forming a loop-the-loop as it passed them by. The full moon had begun to rise, peaking its yellow gaze out from behind the building, illuminating the crisp autumn night in a brilliant blueish sheen. "I-" His trademark deadpan wit transformed into an exaggerated, almost annoyed slur. "-am a ghost."

"I-B-But! Y-You're different. That's totally different!" She held her fists up to her chest, her elbows poking out from her sides.
"In what way?"
"You're cute!"
"You are getting me a new body. Next time we cross one."

She let out an exaggerated sigh, her crippling fear apparently no longer a hindrance as she started back up the trail.
"I am not letting this go this time." His tiny legs kicked into overdrive, following her up the hill, easily matching her speed, even as her strides lengthened and sped up.
"I don't want to kill a robot!"
"They aren't alive."
"Then where does the robot person go? They talk before!"
"There is no such thing! They are tools."
"I'll only agree if they say yes, or there's nothing there already."

She rolled her eyes, the robotic sigh that escaped him making her laugh. She picked him up, cushioning him against her chest.

"Alright, alright, fiiiine. We'll get you a real body." She paused, stopping at the gated entrance that awaited her. It was cast-iron steel, black and corroded, the orangish-black clinging onto it like a disease. It wilted away at parts, whole sections of it missing. Still, she opted to climb it. Grabbing onto the post, she hoisted her leg up to her upper chest, using it to pull her body up, then jumping straight down.

The shockwave sent previously undisturbed rubbish swirling through the air. The concrete path that lay ahead was in ruins, plants shooting up through ever-widening cracks, decayed biomatter and decades-old plastic lined the way forward, glass shards shining in rainbow gleam at her. She stared at the two-windowed door, with only a fraction of the glass remaining. She glanced up and down the brickwork, moss highlighting the dull colors of the exterior. A worry began to worm its way back into her stomach, the bounty-hunter swallowing hard at the prospect. "... M-Maybe you're right... Th-There's nobody he-"

A blood-curdling scream echoed through the center of the building. Her skin flushed her muscled tightening. The two stood in absolute silence as the sound dimmed to nothingness. It was there, and it was horrific, but it was quiet. Nobody else could have even possibly heard it.

The building loomed. Both of them had faced great hardship, and greater threat. The harsh autumn wind pulled her hood from her head, her golden hair with her jacket alike blowing freely in the wind, the creaking trees crying out in an unspoken terror. The building began to loom, its decrepit nature suddenly becoming oppressive rather than pathetic, as if it were a castle of miasma and filth, its people but prisoners within the walls of hell.

"D-Do... Do you think they're okay...?"
"No." He responded, flatly. There was little point in trying to shelter her from this reality; death walked along with them, ever since she was a child. He had repeated it to her repeatedly; a warrior must be prepared to die the moment they stepped foot on the battlefield. It was not to be cruel, but rather a grim preparation for this exact situation. While they had avoided killing, opting for alive in the "Dead or Alive" tagline, the same could not be said for their adversaries. In the world, they lived in, civilian casualties were all but unavoidable. Bridget steadily continued forward, the pit in her belly worsening as her stomach felt like turning inside out, her hip sliding against the door. It was cold, wet with dew, the bounty hunter taking extra precautions as she slid against it, making the smallest crack she could. She lead with her shoulder, her head poking out as she slid through, the feeling of the breeze from before giving way to something new.

Roger reached for her hand in the relatively invisible darkness, the light from the moon no longer able to reach them. She took it in moments, lifting him into her arms, and holding him close. The building was in absolute ruin. The hallways were wide, built to accommodate a large number of people, though it still managed to feel claustrophobic. The roof was only a foot and a half above her. To a taller person, it might even scrape their head. The hallways were cluttered with trash, though the design of the building itself was poor; ancient benches sat back to back, frayed wood that had been damaged by moisture making them nothing more than a decoration for the rats she heard scamper through the wall. The pillars and potted plant fixtures strewed about weren't much better off, equally decayed, even vandalized. Strange symbols lined many of the walls, some recognizable as fun scribbles and personal messages, but others were borderline psychotic in nature. She was fairly certain one had been written in blood. She stepped over a piece of ceiling tile that had fallen, ducking through the hallway as moisture dripped from a portion of the ceiling that began to sag. The floor was hardly better; the missing tiling tripped her up, dust scattering about as she gingerly stepped through, causing her to erupt in a fit of coughing.

"Roger... Do you remember when the meeting was supposed to happen?"
He paused. Then made a noise somewhat akin to sucking his teeth. "Twenty minutes ago."
"But, you said...!"
"I wanted to convince you... Not to go."

She didn't say anything else. For now, what's done was done. She felt frustration burn through her ears, but the terror of the unknown easily overpowered it. She held onto him tighter, finding a crossroads between a staircase up and down.

"You know... We could simply find the police."
"And admit that we trespassed." She responded.
"It's better than getting murdered.
"... You're worried I'm going to choose the basement, aren't you?"
"Yes."
She started towards the stairway down, hearing him sigh. "... It is where bounties would hide, like the roaches they are."

She only paid a passing glass to her back, a large window on the side of the staircase granting the two a sliver of light. It was faint, only barely passing into the stairwell. Though her heart told her to hurry up, the obvious urgency of the scream, she faltered, stepping gingerly on her toes as she descended. The air went from damp to drenched, the stale stagnant air choking the breath from her. The staircase itself was treacherous, nothing more than a shaved-down concrete brick, the steps angled forward and the inclines steep, the edges unmarked without guardrails. The only sound was dripping water from some unseen corner. It no longer felt like a bust, it felt like caving. She gripped Roger tightly, a familiar feeling breaking its way through her gut. That all too familiar spine tingle, the one that showed up right before danger. She stepped forward, her breath catching in her throat.

It was squishy. She had to grip her hand over her mouth to keep herself from crying out in disgust, speaking in a barely contained whisper. "Roger... I stepped in something!"
"Lower me."
She did as he asked, her chest quietly heaving, praying to any and every god she could think of that it wasn't something awful.
"... It's moss."
She let out a relieved sigh. "Alright, I'm getting sick of this. They can already see us anyway... Could you please do the thing?"
"Very specific. As you wish."

She stepped back up the stairs, holding her belt on tight. First, only the sound of metal chinking away in a rhythmic cycle, before it began to screech. The sound was terrible, but they were well used to it, even if she hated it more than anything. The sound of an engine revving filled the air. Bridget glanced into the abyss, a cool smile forming on her face. She leaned forward, curving her body like a rockstar. "Alright, gentlemen! Start your engines! Ready, set, GO!" She yelled out happily into the darkness, as if it were an adoring audience.

She watched as the tail end of the motorcycle launched into the darkness, before exploding into magical flames that seemed to dissipate in contact with the air. The bike melted away along with it, but the two could see all they needed to. That was the goal.

It was like nothing she'd ever seen before in her entire life. It was statues... No, it was some weird doll, easily twice the size of an ordinary person! Most of them wore doctors' outfits, but some wore bloody, filthy garbs that were frayed and torn. The idea of wearing them grated against her more elegant standards. They would never last under the scrutiny of high society, and man did it show. Not to mention all of them wore this awful paper bag over their head. She began to step down, seeing where the staircase bent, taking the now-sitting Roger along with her. Pushing his magic ability always tuckered him out, but it was of little concern. He'd be back soon. She glided down, inspecting every single one carefully as if their appearance held the key to the strange phenomenon. The lights dimmed.

Their heads turned. She nearly fell backward, tripping over her legs with a gasp, the motion inhuman and extremely precise. She lost visibility shortly after, stuck panting in the dark. She froze up. This wasn't real. This was a nightmare!

A hand gripped her shoulder. It was cold, and dead, latex scraping against the veil. A voice rang out through the darkness, full of a terrifying lightness to it as if they were delighted to have found her. "My, you're nearly thirty minutes late! A doctor this time of year is very busy. The accidents around this time... Can be deadly if untreated." The only thing she could see was her breath as it pushed steam through the air, her breath hitching. Was that a threat? She gripped the yoyo in her hand. No, that was a mistake! She couldn't even see this guy... And who were those people? Were they... Patients?

"O-Oh! I-I'm so sorry... To keep you waiting, Doctor!" She squeaked out. She was going to die here. She felt the hand release her, before grabbing her by the forearm. She heard footsteps, feeling him walk past her. Right towards the ledge. The drop was only a few feet, but..! "W-Wait, the stairs-"
"Are utterly unnecessary. Geronimo!" For a full second after that, she felt nothing but the other arm uncoiling before an inhuman strength pulled her forward, screaming out as she went side first over the side, her limbs flailing while she kept a death grip on Rogers's arm.

Her vision slowly returned to her, though her very being tingled. She was outside, at least, that's what it appeared to be. The horizon was far different from what it was before, the moon glowing with an overbearing yellow, the sky behind it was a purple haze, the darkened blue behind it crying out in profound misery. The two glanced forward, the path ahead illuminated by a standard magical red lantern, hung up by bamboo lamp posts. A fog had begun to envelop the area, the ground was wet and soggy, the path before ladened with stones. It was nothing like before. This didn't even feel real. "Roger..?" She whispered.
"I'm here."
"Is this what it's like to be dead?"
"No."
"At least we got out... Somehow."

Instead of walking through more of the path, she began to strafe left, holding her hands out at promises of the endless forest beyond her. Something stopped her hand almost immediately. At first, she thought it was just a painted wall, but there was a clear line of depth perception. There was something beyond. She stepped back, suddenly hip-checking it just to make sure it wasn't her mind playing tricks on her.

"We're still inside." Her gaze shot to the teddy bear that hung from her arm. "Smell the air." Sure enough, it was the same as before. They had no option but to move forward, the fog not vanishing as they encroached deeper into this new chamber. It was thin, at first, but grew thicker, to the point she could hardly see her bottom half when she looked down. She opted to hold Roger above. Just in case. Some things were simply too valuable to risk. "Try straying off the path."
Her eyes widened. "Are you sure?" He nodded, and she did so. She felt something rough bump into her side, causing her to yelp before she was able to feel it. It was a table, though metallic and sharp. She tried to avoid the edges, feeling around for anything on it. "It's as I suspected. This is a storage room."
"That's... Insane! Why go through all this effort..?"
"Maybe he aims to starve you out."

Feeling her throat reflexively swallow, she clung to the lamps that guided her way. It felt endless, like a dream. Her mind could wander here forever, trapped in this endless abyss. It wasn't very often that she felt homesick, especially in the heat of battle, but it felt so lonely, almost deliberately so. The guided pathway becomes a road to nowhere at all. She continued forward, as she always had. Her eyes closed, the ground feeling as it gave way, her body suddenly feeling weightless, floating in a sea of space, her hair floating around her as she made a nest of space, coating herself in a cocoon of isolation. She found comfort in it, knowing at the very least, Roger was only ever a few feet away.

And now, she was sitting on a couch. In a fully furnished room. She let out a gasp, glancing around. The couch was old leather, with a plastic patchwork finish, lovingly sewn back together. Everything in this room, from the chairs, to the bookcase, had an ancient feel to them, the chandelier above them, illuminating the room in a faint yellow tint. It was bizarre, but also reminded her so much of home. There was an operating table in the middle of the room, modern and utterly spotless, tools that she couldn't begin to guess their usage were meticulously laid out, available at a moment's notice. And standing behind it, flipping through a clipboard was one of those dolls. But now, she could see it was a man. A living one, that moved and breathed, though stilted and stretchy. His head spun like an owl, seemingly only ever tilting with his body. His pants were a watermelon green, his shirt white with yellow clips. And what was with that bag? Out of nowhere, he kicked out his knee, and only once it was fully extended did the rest of his leg follow, before he leaned forward to press it down, his other leg following soon after in a ridiculous march. He stopped by the couch she found herself frozen at, crouching down to find eye level with her.

"You are nervous. You haven't seen a doctor in a while, have you, miss...? I must apologize for the wait, the room hadn't been prepared pro-"
She opened her mouth to speak when the bear erupted. "Mister."
That seemed to shut him up for a few seconds, before his face tilted upwards, the bag forming a visible curve as he let out an "Ooooh!" He stood up straight, before bowing with his arm. "I see! I am Doctor Faust. I don't remember you at our little rendezvous, mister...?"
"R-Roger!" She sputtered out, laughing nervously. "M-Mister Roger! Um... I think he meant... Me." She choked out. Some situations were so thick with the insanity that bothering to process it is an exercise in futility. She found herself unable, and unwilling to do so, instead opting to follow her bears lead. "I... I'm a boy. B-But, how rude of me! My name is..." She stumbled out, with very little confidence behind her words. "Um. Bridget." She felt her face heat up with that as if she were caught in an awful lie. But it was true, wasn't it? Some part of her heart tinged with sadness, a feeling she effortlessly swallowed back down. The bagged figure turned to face her, stroking his bagged chin.

"I see. Miss...ter Bridget. I'm glad you came to my clinic! I have just the thing for you." He spun, about 6 times too many, rapidly speeding up as he did so before he stopped himself by rigidly extending his arm upward, bending it in nearly perfect 90-degree angles, before finally planting it on his head. His head stopped! The rest of his body kept spinning. He had to grip every part of his body before he sped and walked over to the bookshelf, excitedly digging through it.

"I cannot believe the tip was correct," Roger whispered.
"... I think I'm gonna be sick. He thinks we're the bounty! And..." She glanced up at him, remembering the clones. "I really don't want to fight him."
"We're caged rats. We lost that call."
She grimaced, mewling quietly as she held him against her body, burying her face between his ears.

He returned, holding a book like a fine academic, popping it open right in front of her. She watched as it exploded into a little setpiece of sunshine, grass covering the pages as daisies pushed their way through the paper. A small tree formed. "Oh, well, I'd never! They forgot the most important piece!" He flicked the tree away, breaking her out of her gleeful awe before his two fingers carefully extracted a bottle of pills.

"Wow... That was amazing! Um... This isn't poison, is it..?" She shot a goofy smile up at him. She had such an eye for entertainment! He seemed to notice, his already cheery demeanor visibly brightening.
"Of course not! Here, allow me!" His arm shot out behind him, notebook in hand, before he swooped it back to his face, making a show of scribbling out all the medical notes, with a final stylish swish of the pen. He ripped it off with speed, slapping it on the bottle. 'Lupon! For Mister Bridget.'

She wasn't really sure what to do with it. She just... Handed it to Roger, who in turn, opened up his chest and stowed it safely away. "Oh... Thank you!"
"Come back when you need a refill. This practice is NOT mandated by the law!" He pretended to push glasses up to his face. "Do you have any other concerns, or is that the only reason you came today?"
"... We um. Aren't... The people who made the appointment..! I... Heard a scream and got worried!" She decided to omit the part about the bounty. At this point, she could hardly care less.
"... Ah, you mustn't worry about such things. All is okay."
She paused for a long moment. "Doctor Faust..? You're a really crappy liar!" The bear snorted. "That was your voice, wasn't it?" She said, staring right up at him.
"Oh, dear! Now I see, nothing gets past you, does it? Those eyes burn with a frightening leer!" He cleared out his throat. "Well, I'd hate to cut out the visit so short, but I have another patient scheduled for any moment now."
"W-Wait! Can we see him? We've been looking for him!"

She felt Rogers's eyes turn to her. Bridget wasn't sure why, but she trusted the man. "Um... He did something bad, so we're delivering him his papers." Again, technically the truth.
"No." He said, flatly.
"But... Why not?"
"If the only reason you came here was to deliver punishment, then for what reason have you neglected me?"

Her hopeful smile shifted, her brows furrowing as she glanced back to Roger for guidance. "He's not a real doctor."
He coughed from half the room away.
"But... That doesn't mean he's a bad guy. Right?"
"You're too kind!" He bowed, before performing a flawless pirouette on his toes, moving to prepare the room for the next patient. "That is correct. The reason anyone comes to me is that they feel unhealthy. We have no right to judge others but ourselves! I am only offering to help someone with no other options for a doctor. Nothing more."
Something about that resonated with her. There was a certain flavor of sadness in his voice. It made her stomach churn. She slowly stood up, the doctor turning over his shoulder, his long arm shifting towards a large scalpel, propped up against the wall. He wasn't becoming aggressive. He was worried. She took a step forward. "Mr. Faust... You're lonely, aren't you?"
"...Unexpected." His voice remained apprehensive, though he returned his arms to himself, lowering his spine to connect with the girl easier.
"It's okay! We know what that's like. Um... I think what you're doing is really good! And... I really like your magic tricks!" She spoke with the sincerity and innocence only possible from a child. In some way, it sincerely touched him.

"I appreciate your concern, but it is my duty to look after myself." He rummaged through a drawer, handing over a small lollipop to the girl. He stood up tall and smiled through his voice. "Happiness will help you overcome sadness. I'm sure that your dream will come true. Now, you ought to go home."
"I... Can't really do that. Not until I've proven myself!"
"... I see. Then stay safe. And come visit me if you feel ill. The key to your potential is maintaining a healthy body and mind! Do not be afraid to seek out your own desires."

She nodded, bowing to the man. "Thank you very much, Dr. Faust!"
"As to you." A door appeared in the center of the room, flipping open. She slowly approached it, stepping through, the world feeling as if it were spinning.

She popped outside, the fresh air of October returning to her senses.

"...Roger?"
"Yes?"
"... Can I go trick-or-treating?"
He remained quiet for a few moments, and eventually, a deep, guttural laugh burst from his spirit. "It's you that runs this show. Do as you please."
She smiled, hugging him tightly, before running back to the hotel. She'd done enough work for today. Now was the time to play.

Chapter Text

It was a cold morning, just as any other in the furthest reaches of Arcadia, feeling the cold breath of winter nip at her ears, the freezing ground poking into her stomach through her sleeping bag. She reached out for Roger, pulling him tighter against her chest in an effort to delay the onset of the day. Roger, for his part, was having precisely none of it. 

"You'll freeze if you refuse to face your morning ritual. Seize the day."
"The sun will still be there... In five minutes." She grumbled, burying her head into her bag, servicing as a pillow.
"You said that five minutes ago."
She slowly moved her head away, glancing down at him. "How many..?"
"Three."
"We've had this conversation three times? Euuuooogh..." With that pathetic little whine, the girl slowly stirred, crawling out of her minimal sleeping arrangements. Things had not been going great this season, misplaced finances here, poor bounty targets there, bad entertainment season due to it being too frickin' cold to lure anyone outside all lead up to this moment; a particularly high-target bounty hiding out in the woods of a region that was known for being utterly unlivable. The place once known as Greece was all but annihilated by the Crusades, a fractured archipelago with the land below only being a few meters underwater at their shallowest. Cold and desolate, the winter of the region was said to continue for 8 months straight, the forests and steep mountains becoming nigh impregnable at their bleakest. Some say these very lands were cursed by the men who held their ground here, making sure none could make the home they lost theirs as their final labor of love for this sacred ground.

She wasn't much for superstition, though. One more miserable tundra to cross through, then she'd get money for a warm beds, hot meals, and little to worry about for the next month. Even through exhaustion in the extreme cold, that thought was able to motivate the sunshine back in her step, the threat of frostbite feeling a little less mean as she strapped back on some legwarmers over her socks, topping it off with tattered fur boots. On went a winter coat over her little nun dress. She looked stupid, but that was a price she could pay if it meant not freezing to death.

It took little time to pack up the rest of her camp, the fire she set the night before nothing more than a distant memory, everything else already having a meticulously arranged place for it to go. The two were off, trudging through and endless white woods, the flushed evergreen spruce trees slowly dying as they pushed deeper and deeper into the mountains, only hoping for a sign of humanity. Everyone knew this man had been hiding out somewhere in the region, constant sightings and photographs being submitted. The only reason she was being presented the opportunity is the area was so wide, and the conditions so miserable that nobody in their right mind had even attempted to go as far as she. Desperation clawed through her journey, every tree she stopped under to catch her breath on the constant up and down inclines, stomping through foot deep snow, the constant moisture that poked through her hood was wearing her down. Roger would occasionally chime in to ask on her condition, to which she'd find a new way to tell him that she wanted to keep going. He was worried, naturally, but she was far from the type to give up on the first sign of resistance.

And finally, her hard work paid off. She practically exploded into a fit of jubilation on the sighting; a magic fueled fire a few hundred yards away, barely visible from behind the tree line. She hoisted Roger from her bag, throwing him into her while she squeezed him in a big bear hug, a warm fuzzy feeling resonating through her belly through all the cold hunger that surrounded her. She practically skipped to the campsite.

"Alright, FREEZE!" She whispered to Roger, repeating it to herself in different inflections. "No... That one is too silly!" She cleared her throat, furrowing her brow. "By the name of King Ky Kiske... No, in the name of Justice- Er... For the safety of Ilyria, you're under arrest!" Urgh. She hated that one even more. "Too serious." 

She finally approached the camp, that all too familiar strangling feeling of tension wrapped around her heart, hiding behind foliage as the smell of ash wafted through the area. This wasn't her first ambush, and it wouldn't be her last. She remembered her first time, Rogers careful tactical instructions still running through her mind. "The first to decide true action is the winner." She took a deep breath, knowing those words to ring true. Whoever was the first to access the situation and get the first real hit would be the winner! The fight, however long, would be decided in a single second. The bounty hunter leapt out of the trees, feet skidding against snow as she rocketed forward, both Yoyo's latched onto her hands. Her eyes scanned the area, their only focus was locating that man. Nothing else mattered! She saw the figure, yoyo's already flying until she could process the scene in full, the strength behind her hands almost immediately dropping as the toys fell into the snow.

She had never seen a human pushed to such a terrible limit before. She had seen great acts of violence, maimings, murders, corpses so fried and desecrated that they were beyond identifiable, none of it felt as if it compared to the shell of a human in front of her. His skin was blue and cracked, his body so malnourished and choked of life that you could count his bones through his skin, his heartbeat seeming to physically shake him with every passing pulse. His eyes were desolate and buggied, only noticing her after she had stood there gawking for several minutes. There was no doubt on her mind. This was the man she was sent to capture, dead or alive. She was not sure if he could be considered either or. In truth, she truly detested killing, the 'dead' part of her job being something to avoid at all costs. It disgusted her, the sights from before only being from bandit camps that got out of hand where she was their last visitors, her colleagues colorfully decorating the way forward as a warning, or other terrible accidents that she tried her absolute hardest to avoid thinking about for too long. This was not just a moral code for her, it was just as much of a survival tool as everything else. Her heart could only weather through the storm if it did not waver.

And it was really wavering. She didn't know what to do. At first, the bounties slackjawed expression terrified her, only worsening when she realized his jaw twitching was the man trying to speak. She hurried closer to the log he was sitting on, her heart leaping out of her chest. "O-Oh my g-god!" She shivered out, his arm twitching as it pecked closer to her, his bony fingers against his skin like an icicle piercing through her. Even compared to the ground, the blanket of snow over sheets of ice it was freezing. 

"a-ar-aaar-eeee y--ooooou a-aaaa hhhhh-huuuuunter?" His voice was raspy and ethereal, so quiet she could barely hear it over the wind, even with her ear practically pressed against his mouth. Every breath it took sounded like it took everything out of him, his whole lungs giving it their all just for an ounce of oxygen. She instantly felt sorry for the man, her polite nature getting the best of her.
"Um... Yes, sir. Are you Sam Mccandleless..? Um... It says here that you're a grandmaster survivalman."
"Need... Fo-oooood."

She took that as a yes. She took off her bag, leaving Roger out to watch the situation as she dug through. It only took him a moment to speak.
"He's already dead."
"W-What? But he just spoke..!"
"No. He was dead then, too."

She lurched up from the bag, looking at the man still breathing.

"Bridget." Roger spoke deliberately, every word was slow and calm, even a hint of gentleness through its rigid firmness. "He is nothing more than a husk. Everything he once was has withered away. He is a biological machine waiting to run out the clock."

Her heart sank as she turned back to the bag, shaking her head as she pulled out a small bagged sandwich. She didn't have anything better. Her own rations only had enough left for 3 days, even with her skipping breakfast. "H-He's not, see? Look!" She walked up to him, holding out the bag. She watched as the man devoured it, plastic and all. "U-Um... Mr. Mccandleless! Please come back with me to Venice... You can't stay here!" 
"n-n-nnnnnooooo-ooooo."
"B-But you're... You're dying out here!"
"Jooo-jooourney... Willl.... Killl...."
"I-I won't let that happen, okay? You're gonna be just fine! We're here now! We've got you..." She wasn't sure what else to say other than these platitudes. The thought of doing anything felt like a step too far, as if his fragile body may snap just from the weight of her concerns alone.

That look, though, that haunting look stuck in her mind long after she turned away, shoveling stray sticks between drying off larger pieces of firewood as to not kill the tiny firepit. The realization of how much all of her frantic motions affected her heart began to finally set in, an all too familiar wave of self-doubt rolling in like the morning tide. Normally, she'd supplement herself with Roger, but she could tell his heart wasn't into it. Whenever he disagreed, he didn't voice it, choosing to remain quiet. She already knew of his thoughts on the condemned members of society they chased, those stray men and women who's actions society had deemed so egregious to put a pretty penny for their deaths. Roger had found no contradiction in such an action; hunting nor paying for it weighing on his mind at all, but it always pressed to the worst part of Bridgets mind. It reminded her of home. Of that grand superstition that still felt like it haunted her. It was only a year or two since she had left, her position on the bounty chart rising steadily with her successes, and even as rumor of her freedom from that burden reached her ear, she still felt it.

Every day, she wondered more than anyone else if it was still true. That was the mind that looked upon the visage of famine that laid stiff before her. Where others fell before their worries, she had the mind to double down. She looked to the sky, the light of the sun poking through layers of deep gray clouds. It couldn't be any later than 16:00, maybe 18:00 at their absolute latest. The route she followed him in was messy and loose, but that only meant she had an opportunity to get out. She would not be the cursed human that brought death and misery, even to the dregs of society. She was going to be more! She was going to be free! Truly free, not only of the bonds on her body, those words of femininity cast upon her since she were small; no, of the ones in her mind. She would liberate herself from it all!

"Watch out world, Bridgets gonna get her way!" She paused for a moment, having nearly launched at the man to laugh at herself. "Er... His... Way." There was hardly enough firewood to sustain them here as is, but bolstering the shoddy camp would only make them freeze slower. Her mind was sharp, calculating the distance. She figured she'd have just enough time to make it back with the man, counting doubly so on the path she carved through with her footprints, so long as they ignored the large swoops and cut straight through. She found herself at the man, her heavily clad arm wrapping around his torso, her left for his legs. She worried for a brief moment he may be too much, but his lithe form made it much easier than she had anticipated. All they had was worn on her back, their only hope lay out in front of them.

Under the best of circumstances, a trek like this would be hard. Bridget did what little she could to brighten the mood with an occasional story or joke, but their doomed stranger had little to say, his eyes glossed over as he stared off into space. She wondered what would happen to him after; his crimes weren't the worst she'd ever seen, other people she'd brought in with sympathetic stories and sorrowful frowns being granted a chance at redemption at the right call. This stranger would attempt no such thing, though. He couldn't. She could tell it took him everything he had not to start crying in despair.

The thought was cut short, her eyes glancing to the sky as dusk began to fall, much earlier than she expected, followed shortly by another cold spat of something on her forehead. Hail... No! She stared forward as the occasional firefly turned to white, the world obscuring in massive chunks of snow. It was an unbelievable stroke of bad luck. Her legs kicked off, her lungs feeling as if they may collapse from the stinging cold of the air, racing as far as she could to keep up with the rapidly vanishing footprints. More than her guttural urge to turn the world on its head fueled her, the fantasy of coming out on top as the grand hero playing second fiddle to the mindbreaking urge of desperation. It put everything she had back into her for one last second wind as she dodged through seemingly endless trees, the whole world beginning to look as it was a painting that repeated. She saw the skid marks from where she had surfed down a hill, her legs kicking herself up, tree by tree, her toes gripping onto roots through her boots as she reached the top, her body shivering with frost as she stared out, desperate for any light of guidance. 

The world felt completely empty in that moment, the darkness settling into a gray haze over everything. The only sounds were the howling winds as snow continued to pour down, the tall hill granting them perfect visibility for their path forward. There was no ground left; the only sign that there was still solid earth to stand on being the base white that coated the grass and mud. The evergreen forest went on for miles, the fog of white blowing everywhere hiding the lifeline of the known. A single bead of sweat dripped down her cheek, followed by a quiet torrent of tears, all freezing in the matter of seconds. She pressed her face into her coat at her neck, doing her best to get rid of the painfully numb chunks. Her arms were numb and throbbing with agony from overexertion, her ass felt exposed and cold, her spirit barely found a way to keep itself alive at the scene.

She was actually going to die out here.

"R-Roger... C-Can we start a fire?" She asked through chattering teeth, the bear leaning his head from outside her backpack.
"The ground is too wet. Clearing off enough would be impossible." For once, his gruff, neutral chiding felt soft. She wanted to ask him if they were going to be okay. They both knew his answer. "You'd best keep moving. Don't worry. I am here."

It was the gods honest truth. He would not abandon her. She knew it in her heart. It was little comfort, but it still made her little heart thump with feeling. 

One foot after another, hour by hour, the world turning yellow, then gray, then black. Her body never improved, her lungs only feeling raspier and empty, every breath feeling like an impossible chore to push through. She could hardly feel anything, even the clear overexertion to her muscles feeling weaker from the gripping numbness, though it granted a pain unique to itself. She could barely keep herself going through it, the thought of allowing herself to drop dead right then and there hitting through her a few times. She wondered what the headline would be. What reaction the world would have. What her parents would think. What her brother would do. She missed them more than anything. Whenever she had a chance, she'd write to them and send it back home, though her nomadic lifestyle meant that no mail could ever find its way back to her. She just had to trust her backwater little village knew she lived another day. She wished she could do that again. Tell them just one last time how much it all meant to her. 

It wasn't even that the life she was forced to lead was unacceptable. It was the guilt. That constant sadness in her brothers eyes whenever he looked at her in a dress. That agonizing recognition of shame from her parents. That was what was so overbearing to her. Even now it made her want to vomit. She tried to toss the thought out. She didn't want the last thought of them to be one of their greatest regrets.

But now, it was really, truly over. Her stride had been slowing down for the last two hours, but now even getting enough energy to wind them out of the two foot deep snow caused them to shake with exhaustion. She fell to her knees, the body in her hands slipping out, lifeless and stiff, its only coffin being the snow that buried over it. She hadn't spoken to him in hours, the difficulty in speaking mixed with the fear for the worst kept her silent. Roger propped himself out of the bag, trying to hoist her back up.

"Are you injured?" There was a clear worry in his voice, his plush arms reaching for her frozen arm. 
She choked back a sob. "I'm gonna die. I'm gonna die here all alone. I wanna go home! I wanna go HOME!" She couldn't stop the torrent of tears as they flushed out of her, the tingling agony that flooded her body suddenly overwhelming her. 
He said nothing, his body suddenly expanding, a little shorter than the total size of a person.
"R-Roger..?" This was bad, wasn't it? He's told her a million times about the magic that fueled his body, the limited tap that dripped through the backyard that let him manifest anywhere at all. "Y-You'll r-ru-run o-out!" Please don't leave me. She thought to herself, her arms latching onto him. She even made a concentrated effort to stop crying, terrified that her reaction might have scared him into something unthinkable. 
"You have suffered enough." A soft, firm voice rang through the air, the only thing in hours that wasn't snow crunching, the trees creaking, or another god awful sound that rang endlessly. His arm wrapped under her torso as she choked back tears, her soul feeling as if it might burst if she held out another second. 

A soft cry rang under her breath as the last of her strength was used to wrap around him, the softness of his fur mixed with the plush feeling of the stuffing behind lulling her back into a feeling akin to comfort, close enough to pretend. She sobbed into him as she was lifted, no longer knowing nor caring about the man she had just risked so very much to save. It was no longer consequential. All beings in her life held the same value. They all deserved respect. She no longer found herself able to care about the man she risked everything to bring in.

Time passed. Snow poured down over the two. The feeling of magic exerting itself gave a slight warmth from it, the girl almost thawing under the impossibly terrible conditions. She had no idea how long, so lost in a thought. Everything felt dreamlike as she decoupled from reality, a strange feeling lifting her soul up from her body as it wandered over the clouds, reflecting on the life she had lead. She hated bounty hunting. She hated the people, the ones that gave her the bounties, the ones that were hunted, the ones that received them. Even on those worst people, the ones she felt the least guilt for, the ones where she was truly able to make a small show out of the fight, their inhuman savage brutality against her stylish flair mixed with slight of hand, the second she reflected on the stress relief, the proudness of beating another human down, the guilt returned to her. It was always the worst day of their lives. And it was so systematic. Like to everyone else involved it was the most normal thing in the world. Like working in a zoo. It shouldn't feel good. And yet, she buried the thought. Why did she always do that? She did it a lot. She thought about the cloths she wore. The voice she spent hours perfecting, still sticking onto, even as she insisted she were a man to everyone. She thought about loneliness. 

And she realized she was lying in a bank of snow. Roger was laying below her, only just now did she see the string tied to his leg, the end to the bounty. What was his name again? For a moment, she thinks she hears an apology from him, before the sound of the howling wind below the glowing sky, torn with green rings tied as fabric, entangled with pink. 

She forgave him. 

Bridget felt her eyelids call it quits as her body began to drift back into the extreme cold, only lifting her head one last time... 

"H-HEY!" She called out, the sound barely traveling from her lips. A Second wind hit her, adrenaline filling her veins, reigniting her systems. She got onto her knees, screaming bloody murder. It was two orange lanterns, a foot or three off the ground. It was a wagon. "HEY! HEY! HELP!"

She heard the faint sound of men rush to her, warm hands grasp onto her arm. "I... I think this is a corpse!" She hears one of them shout, a cry of fear erupting from her glance to them. She could barely parse the information as it happened as she was loaded onto the wagon, a small boxy device situated near her warming her up. Roger was in her lap. The string was gone.

"Your friend... What happened?"
"I-I-s.. Is h-he ok-oka-y?" Where was she? Who was she talking to?
"Bridget... Bridget!"

"BRIDGET!" She awoke from her exhausted stupor, the bustling city lights swarming her vision. It was Rogers voice. She gazed upon the paved road, the fully modern city welcoming her in, crowds of people gesturing to them as the cart pulled through. Only now did she realize the situation; the cart itself was magic operated, rolling steadily forward as if it were a parade float. The men that surrounded her were officers. 
"What... What happened?"
"They rescued us."
"And... And the bounty?"
Roger just nodded.
"... He didn't make it... Did he?"
He said nothing at all.
She swallowed as she stood up, stowing her bag back onto her body as she stepped off, seeing a small gaggle of journalists press her way, the bright flashes of camera causing her to flinch and turn away. Questioned bombarded at her, all too quick for her to answer, asking pointless questions about the battle, what he was like, how she ended up half-frozen in the woods, and for once, she said nothing at all. This was one of her favorite parts, in honesty. But something dragged down at her soul.

She continued pressing forward until she reached her hotel, the harrowing incident burying itself deep within her mind. There was so much she could worry about. Her unblemished record of no deaths on the job was just ruined. She probably had serious medical issues. She was hungry. More than that, her body felt like it was beyond parched. 

But none of that worried her.

She felt cursed. Maybe he would have been better of given away. Or killed.

And that buried him.