Chapter Text
"The bloody hell are you gawking at?"
Queequeg has no intention to cause a scene. Really, it is that man who was staring at her. Had this bus got more seats, she wouldn't have chosen to sit next to him.
Queequeg pretends not to have heard to him. She turns away, scratching her arms as a habit.
"You think you can just ignore me, is that it?"
She raises her harpoon arm to block the metal bat. It is uncomfortable resting with her weapon tied to her arm, but she can't help it. There is no way she's trusting those strangers.
Their little scuffle finally reaches the Guide's ears, who is fast approaching. But Queequeg didn't care anymore, she has decided that, from now on, not to sit still and take anyone's shit. How annoying is that that she feels herself has gotten a lot weaker, ever since the contracts.
Ignored that, she plunges her harpoon at the man's direction, to which he ducked just in time.
"...What is going on here?"
The other man, Heathcliff — as she now recalls — ignored the Guide. With a swing of his bat, he aimed straight for Queequeg's skull—
"I asked." The Guide's eyes glow red, and Queequeg feels herself shudder. "What is going on here?"
The mere appearance of the intimidating Colour Fixer brings Queequeg to her senses. She sits back down at her seat. Eyes are unfocused at some scenery outside, she is still unwilling to say anything. It is Heathcliff who picked a fight with her, so it is his responsibility to explain, not hers.
"Brats, let me go! Or else I'll smash your skulls too! That woman taunted me!"
The two blondes...kids (?) hold him back. The boy screams some incoherent things, terrified half to death. The girl is also screaming some equally incoherent things, but it is somewhat more audible.
"My brethrens! Cease this juvenile charades at once! Thou mustn't embarrass yourselves before the illustrious Red Gaze—"
Vergilius, the Guide, furrows his brows very lightly, before waving his hand dismissively. "Nevermind. I don't care anymore."
He says so, but he hasn't let this go.
"This is a reminder to all and everyone on the bus." His eyes glow yet again. "Rule number one. Do not let me hear weapons clashing inside the bus. I don't care for whatever reason. If any of you break this rule as of now…You’re going to be begging for me to let you die. I’m sure you know I’m capable of that and more, right?"
His words render the bus to absolute silence, only the sound of Mephitopheles's wheels rolling on the road of the Backstreets fills Queequeg's ears.
<A— anyway!> The frantic tickings of the clock ring inside Queequeg's ears. <Introductions! You back there, you are the last one.>
That's her new Manager, Dante, who has been in silence for some times now. Their attempt to ease the atmosphere is so obvious, it is almost pitiable. Compared to her previous superior, the Captain, they seem much more meek, perhaps even inadequate. But who is Queequeg to comment on that?
Queequeg stares at Dante for a long while, a bit mystified to see herself understanding their ticking sounds. All while in the front, there are some...annoying chatters.
"Um...Fau Fau. I actually haven't heard she said a single thing." The woman with brunette hair whispers, unaware of how loud she is being right now. "Is she...you know...muted?"
The white-haired woman, the one who gave Queequeg the contract, answers in a regular speaking voice, completely ignoring the other woman's discreet tone. "In a manner of speaking, Faust suppose that her speech capability is somewhat limited. However, to say that she is muted is not accurat—"
"Queequeg."
<P— Pardon?>
"My name." She replies curtly. "Queequeg."
Sinner No.8
“I shall die. Like foam of the sea. Never again hear the music of the waves. Never again see the pretty flowers. Never again see the red sun."
Queequeg
Because of this sinner's troubled past, others may struggle to trust and cooperate with her. Regardless, she is one of your most reliable employees.
You may find it difficult to communicate with her from times to times, as she doesn't usually have a lot to say. Her speech capability, tampered by [REDACTED], also complicated the matter. Although, it is unlikely that you would find the needs to chat with her privately.
Sooner or later, you will realise that she has some "self-destructive tendencies." Under normal circumstances, this shouldn't obstruct your missions. But should you feel inclined to interfere, a delicate approach is highly recommended.
The man with bug-like arm, who is sitting at the front, finally takes the cigarette off his mouth. It seems like he has been listening in all this time.
"This is going to be a long bus ride." He sighs.