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Missions blurred into each other, or at least that's what it seemed like to me. Maybe the Sinners were feeling differently, but for me all the violence, pain, death, disappointment... it was turning slowly but surely into a disgustingly grey routine. We were moving in our own pocket world, nothing outside of the bus feeling real. It was just nightmare upon nightmare upon illusion.
The Before Team never sent the same persons to us twice after Effie and Saude. It didn't help feeling like I wasn't floating in the middle of a muddy swamp, everything obscured, too slimy to grab or out of reach.
I tried my best to hide my lack of enthusiasm. I needed to try, again and again, to be a good manager, even if I was convinced at this point that it was hopeless. But I had no other path ahead of me, so pretending it was. Protesting the disrespect of the Sinners knowing it wouldn't stop them, suffering their deaths because I wasn't able to keep them alive, flinching under Vergilius' judgmental gaze I more than deserved. Rinse and repeat.
Yet another mission, and I felt like I had done this already. The fact that Vergilius was coming with us to meet the Before Team was unusual, sure, but not enough of a variation to chase away the fog I lived through.
The fact that I could hear one of the agents snigger when Faust had to translate for me was just banal.
"That's pathetic, how could they accept someone who's not even able to get a prosthetic with a voice?" they asked their colleague. "How useless that makes this so-called manager..."
It didn't even make me angry, or defensive, or... anything, really. They were right, after all. I could see that Outis was gearing up for a fight, though, so I stepped in.
<Don't bother. They're not worth it.>
She turned toward me, hesitating between the need to defend my honor and the urge to obey. Before she could decide (to tell me how right I was for my choice, as always), something broke the pattern.
Vergilius, who so far had stayed on the side, clearly marking his position of guiding our group here but not being part of it, walked to the agent and stared at them, making them take a shaky step back.
"Maybe," he said, "you should ask yourself why we'd settle for a less than appropriate manager. All of us, the company, these elite fighters in front of you... myself."
The agent took it as the threat it obviously was and stuttered some weak excuse while backing away. Vergilius watched them go before turning to me.
I was so surprised to hear him defend me that it partially shook me out of my apathy.
<What... why did you just lie?> I blurted out before flinching.
I hadn't wanted to be so honest. Vergilius glanced toward Faust, but before she could translate I cut her.
<We have a mission right? This is not important, we'll discuss it later.>
She didn't look impressed with my deflection, but then she was always unimpressed by me. She still relayed only the important part to Vergilius. He looked at me in silence for a few too long seconds before nodding.
"I will hold you to that," he said before turning his back on us to go back to the bus.
The mission... was dealt with.
We came back to Mephistopheles covered in blood and small bits of viscera we hadn't been able to shake off on our way. I was hiding a small limp, because it was plain ridiculous: I was used to the pain of dying, again and again and again, even if I was never the one losing my life, but here I was, bothered because I had taken a bad fall while convulsing from the resurrection. I was bruised, at most. It was ridiculous and pathetic.
I'll admit I tuned out Vergilius' usual reprimands. I knew the gist of it anyway by now. I just wanted to go back to my seat and stare out the window, letting my mind slip away with the moving scenery. But as soon as I started to turn, Vergilius grabbed my arm. I let out a loud sound of surprise that had every Sinner freeze.
<It's... it's nothing!> I stammered, ashamed of my reaction. <Vergilius just about gave me a heart attack but that's all, really...>
The Sinners seemed to accept my feeble excuse and went back to their seats and discussions. Vergilius pulled me toward the front of the bus and put a notebook and a pen in my hands.
"So?" he asked.
At this point, I genuinely didn't understand what he was asking of me.
<So... what?> I wrote, confused and already feeling like a failure all over again.
"About what happened with the LCCB agent. What did you say before deflecting?" Vergilius insisted.
The memory came back to me with a touch of shame. I had forgotten. I didn't want to think about this anymore.
<Nothing important, really... I was just surprised that you'd...>
I hesitated on my wording, lightly taping the end of the pen against my clock.
<I was surprised that you lied,> I finally chose to admit, <but that was stupid on my part. Of course you wouldn't get into the real reason I'm still here with some random agent. Still, I don't understand why you bothered to talk to them at all.>
Vergilius' frown became more pronounced as he read my words.
"Dante... Why do you think you're still here?"
<Because something that's above my pay grade in the mechanics of the whole reviving the Sinners thing is making it difficult to transfer the ability to someone else?>
I was confused about why he was asking, honestly. It seemed so obvious that they were stuck with me against their wishes, so the explanation had to be in this technological mess I had no mean to understand.
"Dante. You were chosen for this role. The Sinners appreciate you, even if some would never admit to it. Your performance is solid given your amnesia. Care to tell me why we would not want you to stay?"
I froze, staring at Vergilius, trying to process. After a while he rose an eyebrow and I decided to try and answer before he got angry at me.
<The Sinners don't like me, at the very best they pity me. Most of them find me annoying and useless. Which is fair, I am useless. And you're always complaining about what we do wrong in each and every mission, which is also fair given I keep on making mistakes. I try to get better, but no matter how much I try, I still fail. I'm an epicly bad fit for this role.>
I let the pen hover over the page before adding more.
<I get that I have no more choice than you at this point. I'll try to avoid bothering anyone, that's all I can do. But you really don't need to tell these LCCB guys they're wrong, because they're not. I mean, their arguments are a little short-sighted, but they have the right conclusion.>
When I looked up, Vergilius' eyes flashed bright red for a brief instant.
"Did this kind of thing happen before?" he asked in an almost growl.
I nodded, then shrugged. I was used to it. It was part of the background fog.
Vergilius sighed.
"You're not useless," he said firmly, "and you're wrong about the opinion the Sinners have of you. As for my criticism... I'm used to only point out what can be improved, but... I should have realized that with your amnesia you'd also need the point of reference of what you did right. That was an oversight on my part."
I suddenly wished Vergilius was writing too. I felt the need to read over what he'd just said several times.
It made no sense.
<You don't make mistakes.> I settled on.
"I wish that was true..."
He wasn't looking at me anymore, his eyes clearly fixated on bitter memories. But he blinked them away fast to bring his attention back on me. I felt... vaguely guilty, even if I was not quite sure of why.
"Dante. You have more than earned your place here, and I'm not about to let people badmouth you. And your Sinners seem to feel the same, given you had to stop them from intervening, am I right?"
<Outis doesn't count for that.>
"You weren't paying proper attention, then. At least half of them were ready to speak out."
I hadn't seen anything, but I was not going to call Vergilius a liar. Well, not again.
"You're not believing me," Vergilius observed. "What can I do to convince you that you have your place here?"
<I don't know. I'm not sure it's even possible. But it's alright, I'm fine.>
"You're fine thinking everyone here despise you?" he asked, clearly not convinced.
I stared at the notebook.
<At first, I wasn't. But I'm used to it now. I don't think I really care anymore.>
There was a silence.
"What do you care about, then?"
I had to think about it.
<Not bothering anyone outside of what I can't avoid for the missions.>
"Is that all?"
I nodded. I would have been content just staring out the window forever. As long as no one talked to me, I wasn't a problem, a disappointment, a failure. Yes. Staying alone was good. Staying outside of my own head was better.
"Sit there," Vergilius ordered.
I almost went to my seat, but he was pointing his. I gingerly obeyed, and he sat next to me, trapping me between him and the window. Then he started to explain the places we were going through.
With his voice anchoring me I couldn't quite drift out into the fog as I was used to, and I wasn't sure if it was a good thing or not. But it was certainly different.
For better or for worse, my routine was apparently over. It was terrifying. But maybe, just maybe, there was also a tiny glimmer of hope waiting to be awaken deep inside of me.
Time would tell.