Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It all started when Guybrush opened his eyes to see a blue monkey-like creature with no arms. leaning over him. Sure, he'd seen Meathook, who had two hooks instead of hands-- there were plenty of peg legs, eye patches, missing noses and missing skin, even Murray missing his whole body and more than a few people who probably didn't have enough brain cells to rub together, but he couldn't remember someone who didn't have at least some amount of arm if they had a torso for it to be attached to.

“Hello!! Yew're new, so welcome tew the Com-Pew-Ta!” The figure leaned back as Guybrush sat up, rubbing his head. The surroundings, at least, were familiar-- as familiar as they could be after all those years. He sat on the curb just outside the jail, where he'd just finished talking with Otis and Stan. Even so, right outside the jail was about as sanitary as everywhere else on Melee Island™-- not.

Maybe some of those pirates I fought should've actually gotten the job as janitor that I used to insult them. Then it might be a little better around here. Captain Madison should actually help instead of making this place worse.

“...Are yew even list-ning?” the figure asked, frowning deeply.

“Huh? Uh, yeah, sure.” Guybrush nodded. “Who are you anyway? You don't look like anyone I've met here… or on any other island. Or in any of those weird dreams I've had after getting knocked out.”

“I'm Inspekta!!” He jumped into the air, higher than Guybrush could jump, then leaned in to look at him face to face. “And yew must be the protagonist!”

“Yeah, of course I am. What does that make you?”

“I'm tha friendly friend helping yew find out where yew are!” Inspekta hurried off, and Guybrush trailed behind.

The island felt… different, and not just because of the time he'd been gone. It felt like he was walking around while time itself was frozen, where not even wind was blowing.

“Spooky,” he said, more to break the silence than anything else. Inspekta nodded, and stopped in a completely random part of the forest.

“Here we are! The way tew tha Desktop!”

“...Where? I don't see any desks.”

Inspekta laughed a bit, before he kicked at a nearby stump, flipping it open to reveal an area that felt a bit too similar to the tunnels under Dinky Island-- cold iron walls, thin passageways, with big doors on either side. His heart raced at the thought, how his whole body had burned before being shoved through a tiny hole to a completely different room time after time after time. He still wasn't exactly sure how that adventure had ended, only that he'd returned for a sequel sitting on a bumper car, but that wasn't the point.

“Go ahead!”

“You don't happen to have a voodoo doll with my hair, drool, or clothes, right?” He asked. Inspekta only stared.

“...A what?”

“A voodoo doll. It's a little thing you stick pins in and it makes the other guy feel like he's getting stabbed?”

Inspekta blinked. 

“I'll take that as a no.”

“Let’s go. The others might know yew more than I dew.” 

Guybrush sighed, and headed down the ladder into the tunnels underneath the stump. At the very least, the lighting was less shoddy, even if it still put him on edge to be somewhere like that. 

“Okey dokey!” Inspekta said, suddenly in front of him. Guybrush didn’t even jump at that-- he’d dealt with Stan pulling the very same trick before, after all. “Off we go!” 

Once again, he ran off, leaving Guybrush to follow a few feet behind. The tunnels opened up over time, yellow doors like files opening for them to pass through. Finally, they walked into an open area, with only a few buildings: A shop of some sort, a large theatre, and what he could only identify as a restaurant, though much different from the Scumm Bar, the Bloody Lip, and even that Goodsoup place he’d seen on Blood Island. Inspekta cheerfully ran to the door of the restaurant and inside, while Guybrush took a moment to look around. The whole place felt nothing like the islands he knew, even more than the tunnels before. And, at least, it was quiet. Calm.

He finally entered the restaurant, and let the door shut behind himself. The two walls closest to him were windows more than walls, letting in plenty of natural light. A man in a cowboy hat and a man in a mask that covered his whole head sat at a booth, where the masked man smoked. A third joined them after a bit-- a man in a helmet of some sort, carrying two mugs and setting them down in front of the others before they continued whatever conversation they were having. Something about a soldier? He didn’t bother listening in anymore. At another table, a guy with long hair leaned over the top, while one with glasses wrote in a notebook next to him. A woman sat with what Guybrush could only identify as some weird spirit thing, both sipping from cups and reading books. 

“Guys! There’s a newbie!” Inspekta yelled out, popping out of what felt like nowhere. Guybrush waved, looking around for anyone familiar, but it felt like most of the eyes there were glaring at him.

“Who’s the new guy, Spek? Gotta tell us more than that,” Cowboy Hat complained, crossing his arms and lowering his sunglasses. “Looks like he’s some old-school wanker.”

“I think I know him,” Long-hair said, while Glasses shook his head.

“No, you do not. Detective, you say that every time.”

“I really do this time. What’s your name?”

“I’m Guybrush Threepwood, Mighty Pirate™.” 

The masked man blinked a bit. “...how did you do that with your mouth?”

“Do what? The little trademark thing? It’s a gift of mine.” Guybrush smiled. 

The spirit groaned. “Franziska, I have to cut this short. I’m not talking with this guy.”

“What?” The woman stood. “Snatcher--”

“It’s a policy. No talking to ghostbusters.”

“That was one time!” Guybrush sighed. “I’m friends with other ghosts too. And Murray, he’s a talking skull.”

“Who the f-ck names a talking skull Murray?” Detective Long-hair mused. 

“You named yourself Raphael Ambrosius Costeau for a while there.” 

“Kim… C’mon… I’d name a talking skull something cool, right?”

“I don’t think you’d name the talking skull. It would name itself.”

“Oh. Yeah, that makes sense.”

Guybrush nodded. “Yeah, he already had a name when I met him. He tried to jump out at me from a crypt, and then threatened to kill me a few times.”

“Never met a friend who didn’t threaten that first,” Hard-hat chuckled. “Have a seat, son. I’ll introduce ya.”

“I’m showing him around already!” Inspekta exclaimed, stomping one foot. 

“Alright, then introduce us.” He gestured to the others in the restaurant. “Guy’s been stuck doin’ the legwork so far.”

Inspekta pointed a hand that, as far as Guybrush could tell, was only floating. First, he aimed it at the table with Detective Long-hair and Kim. “Those’re Harry and Kim--”

“Detective Kitsuragi,” Kim corrected.

“--And they’re like the police here.”

“Because we are police.” He shut his notebook. “We aren’t ‘like’ police. We are cops.”

“Those two--” Inspekta pointed next to the woman and the spirit-- “are Franziska Von Karma and Snatcher!”

“I’m not talking to him. Un-introduce us.”

“Be polite,” Franziska snapped. Guybrush smiled, only for her to snap a whip a bit too close to his shoulder for his liking. “You too, fool.”

“Yipes!”

“Aaaaand these three are Engineer, Spy, and Sniper!”

“Wait, you’re called that? Is it like Locke Smith?”

“You don’t need to know my name,” Mask-- Spy-- answered. The other two shrugged it off. 

Cowboy Hat-- most likely Sniper-- continued, “Call me Mundy if you want, mate. And this here Engineer’s Dell Connagher.”

“You remind me a little bit of my friend Wally. Except he’s a map-maker.”

“Well, I’ll have to find him ‘round here sometime.” Dell raised his mug. “I’ll tell him you say hello.”

“Yeah, you… might not want to mention me to him. He might still be a little annoyed at me.” He chuckled awkwardly, but the others didn’t seem to mind. 

“Sit down, have a drink. We’re happy to--”

“DARLINGS!” someone yelled, slamming the door open. Everyone turned that way immediately, finding… Well, it was hard to describe the new face outside of saying that they were a penguin with an afro. A bright red leather jacket, star-shaped sunglasses, and a set of shoes that made the penguin almost as tall as the others. They hurried over to the two detectives, grabbing Harry’s hand with a flipper. 

“What happened?” 

“It’s Conductor! He-- Oh, it’s easier to just show you--”

“Ten dollars says he’s dead,” Spy muttered to Mundy. 

“I’m not takin’ that bet.”

Guybrush followed behind the two detectives and the penguin, mostly out of curiosity more than anything else. The bird led the way into the theatre, and then backstage. There, something was on the floor, surrounded by a pool of blood.

“...Where’s this Conductor?” Guybrush asked, looking around. The penguin pointed at the heap on the floor.

To be frank, it just looked like a mound of yellow feathers and fabric to him. He couldn’t make heads nor tails of what that pile was. However, whatever it was, it was apparently “Conductor,” and that was apparently something or someone important. 

“...Alright. Good news, the player usually boots up your game daily, so it won’t be long until he’s reloaded. Bad news, in the meantime, we’ll have to rope off this part of the theatre. Any ideas who could’ve been back here?” Harry knelt directly in the blood, rummaging through the fabric. “Anyone at all.”

“No one usually comes back here except for us, and maybe a few people looking for a quiet place. But I don’t know why anyone would’ve hurt him-- He can be rough around the edges, but he’s not that threatening…”

“We’ll take witness statements soon.” Kim looked up to look between Guybrush and the penguin. “The two of you should probably go.”

“Right. Of course. I… I’ll go.” The penguin turned, and started walking. 

Guybrush didn’t leave until Kim raised his eyebrows, giving a look that told him he really shouldn’t try to argue. It was best to just run after the penguin to catch up.

“Sorry, darling, you’ve just caught me at a bad time…” The bird sighed a bit. “Usually I’d be overjoyed to meet a new fan, but under the circumstances, well… I don’t exactly want to talk much.”

“That’s fine. My wife says sometimes I talk enough for both of us.”

“Oh. I… wouldn’t have taken you for the type to have a wife.”

Guybrush opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to figure out what that even meant. 

“I’m sure she’s a lovely woman, though.”

“Yeah, she’s the best.” He smiled at the mere thought of Elaine. “She's always there when I need her, and she's the smartest person I know too.” 

He could've sworn the penguin smiled a little too.

“Honestly, I'm just looking around-- someone named Inspekta showed me the restaurant, and I don't really know what there is to do yet.”

“Well, darling, there's not that much here, with how little space there is on this computer, but we make do with the Desktop. Conductor and I run the theatre, Lawrence runs the cafe. Most people prefer to just relax and talk here, but a few have caused trouble. Oh, and whenever your game is loaded, any changes you've had-- injuries, haircuts, new outfits-- they'll all be reset to how you were when the player last played. All you really keep are your memories.” The penguin paused. “...I hope I'm not overwhelming you, darling--”

“Makes sense so far.” Guybrush nodded. “What do you think happened to Conductor?”

The penguin stopped.

“...I'd rather not talk about that until he's back. I should go. They'll probably need my statement. I'll… I'll go now.”

Before Guybrush could ask for any more information, he was alone again, more confused than ever.

He'd seen plenty of crime before-- even engaged in plenty of his own-- but he'd never heard of giving a statement. It usually went more like “crime happens, police arrest whoever they think did it, and if they hate you enough, they try to kill you instead of putting you in jail.” At least, that'd been the case with the times he'd been arrested. And then again, the time that he'd been almost killed instead, he wasn't even sure it had been a crime in the first place, since Elaine had covered for him. 

Honestly, trying to think through how the law worked was a bit too much for him to actually care about, so instead of dwelling on it, he instead set his mind to a different task: Finding Elaine. After all, if he was here, then she would be too, always a few steps either ahead or behind depending on the situation. 

Maybe Inspekta showed her around too? Or maybe someone else did… I hope she's safe. Especially if there's a killer out here. What if it's LeChuck? What if there’s something WORSE than LeChuck?!

Guybrush shuddered at the thought. If there was something worse than a ghost-zombie-devil pirate, then he didn’t want to know what it was. Most likely, his breath.

“Hello?” said a little voice from behind him. Guybrush turned around, pulling out his sword on instinct, only to find himself looking at a kid. A little girl, actually. One in a very large hat.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that!” he scolded, putting away his sword.

“Sorry,” she said, offering him a set of big pleading eyes that made him relent quickly. 

“Wait, you can’t just run off like-- Guybrush!” A redhead hurried to catch up with the little girl, but the moment she saw Guybrush, her whole face brightened. 

“Plunder Bunny!” He answered, just as cheerful. He ran to Elaine, holding her in a tight embrace. “It’s so good to see you. I was starting to wonder if you were even here.”

“Of course I’m here! It’s a new place, I’m not going to miss something like that. Besides, someone left their daughter here--”

“Nuh-uh!” The girl stuck out her tongue.

“An orphan too, huh?” Guybrush knelt to be face-to-face with her. “I get it. And not wanting to be stuck somewhere because adults try to tell you what to do.”

The girl with the hat nodded, and smiled at him.

“Just make sure you don’t get yourself killed, okay? Something just died in the theatre--”

“What do you mean, something just died?” Elaine interrupted. “Guybrush, you can’t just say that to a child--”

“What? People die. It’s not like that’s new.” 

“She’s still young, she might’ve never--”

“Who?” the girl asked, her big hat replaced with a deerstalker. “Who!”

“Who? Uh… Well, I don’t know if it’s really a who. It looked like a bunch of feathers to me.”

She looked at him again, tears in her eyes, pleading for answers.

“I’m serious-- It just looked like a pile of yellow feathers and fabric.”

Before he could say anything else, the girl took off for the theatre, yelling “Oh no, oh no, oh no!” as if they couldn’t tell what she was thinking without it. Guybrush watched her go.

“...Guybrush.”

“I didn’t intend to make the kid cry.”

“I know.”

“And I have an alibi for the dead bird thing. So this one really isn't my fault.”

Elaine smiled, and offered a little laugh as she adjusted his shirt. “Miracles can occur, can't they?”

“I'm doing my best!”

Elaine was the one who closed the gap for a kiss, and Guybrush wasn't one to say no to that. She had to be the one to pull away first too.

“You're incredible,” he said, simply.

“You say that every time.”

“And it's true every time!”

Their little smoochfest was quickly interrupted by the sharp stomping of heeled boots, as the woman with silver-blue hair – “Franziska”, apparently– practically shoved her way in between them.

“Would you two fools kindly cut it out?! There is a murder to investigate, after all.”

“Well, neither of us is really that involved. You saw I was elsewhere, and my wife-- Uh, where were you, Elaine?”

“I was in the theatre, with that little girl we were just with. I was trying to keep her out of trouble.”

“The theatre?” Franziska raised an eyebrow. “Where exactly?”

“She wasn’t backstage!” Guybrush interrupted. “Because she’d never do something like that! Not without a great reason!”

“Guybrush, it’s okay, I don’t need you to defend me.” She set a hand on his shoulder, but he still crossed his arms before stepping back for her. “I don’t know about anyone being killed. I was following that little girl around once I saw her. We did go backstage for a while, but not very long.”

“Following that little girl, hm?” Franziska tugged at her whip, standing tall to almost meet Elaine’s eyes. “And why would you do such a foolish thing?”

“Because she was alone? I was worried about her, without any parents or anyone else there. I wanted to make sure she wouldn’t get into trouble.” 

“You’ll have to come with me. The detectives will want to talk to you.” Franziska turned on her heel, expecting for Elaine to follow. Even though Guybrush’s hand moved to his sword and the rest of his inventory (Maybe the knife? Could he throw a shrunken head hard enough to knock her out? Or even the plush poodle toy, that could work, right? Maybe she’d take that and leave Elaine alone) it was stopped by Elaine’s hand finding its way into his.

“I’ll be okay. I promise.”

“But-- but, but, Elaine--!”

“I’ll be back before you know I’m gone, sugarbear.” She kissed his cheek, then let go, waving slightly as she followed after Franziska. Guybrush was left staring, slack-jawed.

“...but I always know when you’re gone.”

Chapter Text

So. Let’s take note of the situation. Something called Conductor is dead. Elaine’s probably being suspected of killing him. There’s a ghost here who hates me. And I’m pretty sure I’m lost now.

“Yew look like someone just ate yewr boiga!” Inspekta’s thick accent interrupted Guybrush’s thoughts, making him turn around. “What’s wrong, dep-yew-tee?”

“Deputy? I’m not a deputy.” He frowned more. “But I think my wife just got arrested.”

“That's no good!” Inspekta leaned over, his body curving in a way Guybrush was certain was unnatural. “Dew yew know why?”

“Someone got killed, and now Franziska seems to blame her.” Guybrush looked around, searching for anyone else nearby. There was still that ghost, keeping a wide distance between the two of them, and the folks at the restaurant-- “cafe” if the penguin was to be believed-- were still there with their drinks, visible through the window. “...Is there even a jail here?”

Inspekta shrugged as best he could without arms, which looked mostly like raising his hands and nothing else. “Dunno. Buuuut we can go look at tha crime scene!”

“What? And get myself accused of murder too?” Guybrush stared. “Why would I want to go to the scene--”

“Tew prove them wrong, silly!” Inspekta smiled brightly. “Yew show them tha proof, they know who really did it!”

Guybrush paused. Despite everything, it was a reasonable idea-- At least, as reasonable as anything else Guybrush could come up with. After all, Elaine likely wouldn’t be too keen on him trying to either recruit a lawyer (When he was on trial, he’d been his own lawyer, even though there were… extenuating circumstances at the time) or break her out of jail (Where would he find the right supplies? The grog wasn’t strong enough to melt even a plastic cup, he didn’t know where the jail even was, they probably wouldn’t let him visit her anyway) or, well, doing any of his usual pirate-y schemes. 

So, probably even better than his plans. Not that he'd admit that.

“Okay. Fine, you convinced me.” He sighed (performatively) and led the way back inside, following the same path that Franziska had just taken. He could feel that ghost watching them the whole time the duo approached the theatre, a feeling that didn't stop when they got inside.

Backstage was a bit less hectic now, since the detectives were busy getting statements and interrogating people. Even so, they'd left someone in charge of the scene nevertheless-- A broad-shouldered man in a shabby green coat. 

From a distance, having not seen LeChuck in the new art style yet, Guybrush almost yelped in panic. The moment he saw the man's face, he let his breath go and forced himself to relax. He was human at first glance, and Guybrush didn't bother going past a first glance. Especially when Inspekta hurried past to greet the guy anyways.

“Dee-tech-tiv Gumshoe!!” Inspekta exclaimed. Gumshoe grinned.

“Hey, pal, how are you? Good to see you didn't get lost.”

“I'm not lost!! I just have diff-rent paths from you mortals!”

“...Okay then. You want pets, or is this a business thing? Miss Von Karma said I shouldn't let anyone else touch the scene…”

“Pleeeeease?” Inspekta leaned in. Guybrush slipped into the room while both were distracted, searching the scene the best he can while no one was looking. There wasn't much there-- no obvious murder weapons, not even a clear species for the victim. It really did look like a pile of feathers and fabric, even despite the blood.

…not that it felt exactly like blood, either. When brushing the puddle on accident, his finger didn't stain at all. 

“Hey! Pal! Get away from there!”

“Uh-oh.”

Gumshoe ran towards him, making Guybrush skitter back and raised his hands defensively.

“I didn't do anything, promise!”

“It's okey-dokie! He's with me!” Inspekta said, and he rushed after Gumshoe. “He's my new dep-yew-tee!”

“I'm still under orders not to let others in, Inspekta…”

“Can I sway your mind a little?” Guybrush asked, looking through his inventory. “Just… give me a moment? I'm trying to find a way to exonerate my wife, Elaine.”

“...listen, pal, I'm not really interested in anything you got--”

Guybrush pulled out the poodle plush, extending it to Gumshoe.

“...Okay, that is really cute,” he said. “...Listen, I can look the other way for a bit, but… could you do a favor for me?”

“Yep, I do that a lot for people.” Guybrush gave a thumbs up. “What do you need? Lost something? Got an errand? Some obscure puzzle that involves an animal being put in my inventory?”

The other two stared at him.

“...What?”

“I was just gonna ask if you could get me some food…”

“Oh. Yeah, I can do that. I probably have something in--”

“An actual meal, pal! Not some junk in your pockets!”

“I mean, I probably have some limes from Elaine somewhere, or--”

“No.”

Guybrush sighed. “...Fine. I’ll try to find an actual meal, and I won’t put it in my pockets,” he grumbled. “Is that good enough?”

“If you can manage that, yeah.” Gumshoe gave him a look. “...No offense, pal, but you look like you haven’t had a full meal in years.”

He nearly threw up his hands in anger. “I eat like a normal human being! Why are you--”

“When?” Inspekta asked, giving him a bit of a smirk. Guybrush rolled his eyes, and turned.

“I’ll be back with food. So stop it.”

The “cafe” place had food… right? Guybrush could’ve sworn some of the patrons were chowing down when he came in. Besides… the distinct smell of bacon was definitely emanating from somewhere in the place.

He started to walk off, only for Inspekta to follow right after him.

“Aw, dep-yew-tee, where’re yew goin’?”

“To get food? I’m a pirate, not a liar.” 

“...A pirate?” Inspekta stopped, a hand grabbing Guybrush’s shoulder. When he looked, it wasn’t connected to anything, nor was it the only one there. About a dozen hands grabbed at him, making him freeze up as Inspekta looked closer.

…Right. Inspector. Like a detective. Didn’t he realize I said it earlier, about six and a half pages ago? Even if it was last chapter, I mean… 

“Let. Go. Of. Me.” Guybrush gritted his teeth, standing as still as he could. “I’m just trying to help my wife. I don’t know where you got the extra billion hands from, but I want them to get off of me right now.”

Inspekta kept looking at him, scanning him over as if he were going to find some sort of horrible trick up Guybrush’s sleeves or in his coat’s inside pockets. Unlikely-- only his pen and his captain’s log stayed there. Well, and that portrait of Elaine, right by his heart, but that wasn’t something he’d like anyone else to see. It was there solely for sentimentality and looking at whenever he missed her.

The hands moved towards his chest-- towards the spot where that scar still lingered-- and he could feel his heart pounding. 

(It still felt sore whenever he thought about it. Whenever anyone got too close. There was still that feeling of a sword through his heart, holding him up as he hung limp, barely registering any of it, and the pain, the agonizing pain, the pain-- )

The instant a single hand loosened its grip, Guybrush threw the rest off, stepping away from Inspekta and Gumshoe as the latter looked between them both, trying to figure out how to react.

(Elaine was there, holding him, pleading with him to answer despite how LeChuck was busy monologuing-- hearing even a word was like wading through molasses, and trying to cling to consciousness was harder--)

“I… Am leaving.” He could feel his shoulders rising and falling with his every step back, his every shuddering breath. “Don’t you dare come after me.”

(He could remember the look in her eyes. The very last moment. He’d never wanted her to cry over him. He’d always known he’d die first, but to do it there, in her arms, in her embrace when he didn’t even have the strength to give her a smile--)

He turned on his heel from there, storming out of the theatre and theatrically slamming the doors in his wake. Almost no one looked his way, leaving him to make his way back to the cafe and into a booth.

Breathe. Just breathe. You’re alive. It’s okay. No one is cursed, no one is dying, Elaine isn’t with LeChuck. You’re okay.

“...Hey, ghostbuster.”

Guybrush snapped to attention, finding the spirit from earlier staring at him from across the room. It kept a wide distance from him, but it still watched him with two cold yellow eyes.

“I don’t like you, but you’re standing in the way of me and leaving this building.”

“I’m not moving,” Guybrush said simply. “So.”

“And I can’t leave until you do.”

Guybrush shrugged, and rested his head on the table again. “Your problem, ghost-boy.”

“I have a name.”

“You’re not using mine either.”

“Because you’ve been known to kill ghosts? I don’t exactly want to know anything more about you than that.”

“I did that when I was seventeen to LeChuck, who had kidnapped the governor. And he deserved it anyway-- He was trying to force her to marry him too.” Any other time, he would’ve gone into a heap more detail, but as it was, he didn’t feel much like talking. He felt like death had come to his door again, knocking him over. “And I don’t even have root beer, anyway. I couldn’t fight you right now if I wanted to. And right now, I’m trying to figure out how to get someone a ‘proper meal,’ since apparently I don’t know what counts.”

“Meat, potatoes, some sort of vegetable. Usually a drink.” The ghost shrugged. “Go ask the barista if they have food.”

“...what’s a barista? Is it like a barrister?” 

“Why do you know what a barrister is, but not-- You know what? I’m not asking.” It finally sat across from him, having made its way slowly but surely to be across from him. The spirit loomed over him. “It’s the guy at that counter. The guy who serves the drinks.”

“Oh, like a bartender!”

The spirit made an expression, one that Guybrush didn’t like much, but it didn’t say anything.

“Besides, if you’re really thinking I’m some guy who just gets rid of ghosts-- I’ve met plenty of friendly ghosts too. Bob, the Flying Welshman on Blood Island, Minnie from the Goodsoup family crypt…” He trailed off, trying to think of any other ghosts. …I was a ghost. And the others I met while I was dead. Those probably should count… But…

Guybrush's hand moved towards his scar before he stopped it, grateful for the table hiding his lower body. The spirit didn’t even blink. 

“...are you going to move now that I told you what to do? Usually that makes people go do that.”

If anything, that made him want to stay where he was even more. “How about this: I move when you actually say my name instead of acting like it's a curse.” 

“...I'm not saying your stupid name.”

“Then I'm going to get reeeeal comfortable.” Guybrush leaned back.

“I said no.”

“Do you think I could flag down the barista for table service? Oh, and do they serve grog here?”

“I'm not going to do it.”

“You know, I could start telling you my entire life story right now. I could go on and on… The whole thing takes hours. It took up three whole books when I wrote my memoir… after Monkey Island 1. And I've been on so many more adventures since then.”

“Fine! You're as annoying as the hatted brat!” The ghost threw up its hands in exasperation. “If you don't move, Guybrush Threepwood, I will take your soul and pop your head off.”

“You remind me of my friend Murray,” Guybrush said with a smile as he got up. “You'd get along.”

“If he's anything like you, I'd think not.”

"You'd be surprised with the company I keep," Guybrush said, offering the spirit a half-hearted salute in lieu of a wave. "See ya."

It only fled out the door the moment he approached the bar, leaning on the counter as he squinted at the menu. Most of the words were written in cursive, but he could still make out what they said most of the time-- Croissants, eggs, the like. Instead of pieces of eight, though, the prices were missing.

"How do you make any money with a place like this?" he muttered, rubbing his eyes. "It doesn't make sense..."

"It's easier than having to lug around all the different currencies. I work in real, they work in doll-airs, some others use marbles... I've given up trying to keep change for that." The man behind the counter shook his head, and he resumed his counter-polishing. "Do you have anything you want to order, sir?" 

"Wow. I don't remember the last time I got called sir." Guybrush stood up straighter, adjusting his coat.

"Don't get used to it. It's just for business."

"Oh. So, uh..." He paused, and looked at the man's name tag. "Garte."

"What."

"Do you happen to have a proper meal here? I'm trying to get one together so I can go prove that my wife is innocent."

Garte blinked at him, looking him up and down, before shaking his head as if trying to ignore a thought. "I have food. Whatever you want, just say it, and I'll tell you if I have it."

"Grog?"

"What?"

"You don't have grog? I thought this was a reputable restaurant."

"I don't know what year you're from, but that isn't a thing served anywhere near me."

Guybrush frowned, but he still moved on. "How about some meat? Whatever you have."

"Sausage, bacon, something of that sort? We have sandwiches--"

"Sandwich sounds great. That's a main course... Just give me whatever the usual order is, that'll probably work!" Guybrush gave a big grin, and Garte only stared at him, narrowing his eyes for a moment before giving up on asking any questions. He turned around, picking up some pieces from the fridge before getting a cup and using a machine to dispense some brown liquid into it. Guybrush sniffed, trying to identify the smell-- something bitter, but... he'd never smelled anything like it before. 

"Coffee, sausage-egg-and-cheese sandwich, and a scone," Garte said, pointing to each part when Guybrush seemed confused. "Is that all?"

"I'm gonna have to try this coffee thing at some point. Smells gross." 

Garte only shoved the food over to him, and Guybrush gathered it up. An actual meal, just like that. Heck, it was almost too easy-- he'd rarely had things go like that. Usually, it involved a convoluted set of steps that made him stop and question everything somewhere between putting a banana on a metronome, shoving a dog into his pockets, and carving a tofu mask to throw nacho cheese into a volcano. 

Either way, he had the food. Even if he almost wanted to take a bite himself, the memory of too many maggot-ridden biscuits and the scent of horribly rotten eggs kept his mouth far away from it. He nearly dumped it too into his pockets, before remembering the simple requests he'd been given: No pockets, and a normal meal.

Sheesh. Picky.

He made his way back to the theatre again, seeing the two detectives from earlier talking to the kid with the hat. While Kim stood back, Harry was animatedly chatting with her, asking a million questions about this, that, and the other thing as she nodded and shook her head, offering little quips whenever she had the right retort. The sight made him smile-- at the very least, she wasn't in trouble, according to how she swung her legs and grinned in a way he could see from across the room.

Hopefully, that means someone helped her with the whole... Dead thing situation. Maybe she knows the penguin too.

Guybrush slipped around behind them, cutting his way into the backstage area for one more time. Luckily, there was no sign of Inspekta, letting him reach Gumshoe without any trouble.

"There. I got a meal. Something from the cafe. Is that good enough?"

"Pal, it's perfect. Thanks." Gumshoe nodded, and he stepped back, taking a seat by the mirror and dressing room table. Guybrush moved to the body, investigating closer.

It really did just look like a pile of feathers, even when he was that close. There was a tie, and a suit, but the feathers covered most of it too. He brushed a few aside, finding that there was nothing beneath. No bones, not even skin. Just feathers and fabric.

"Weird, isn't it?" Gumshoe asked around a bite of his sandwich. "It's like there was no one there, but DJ Grooves swears that Conductor was in that room and didn't come to the room they were gonna meet in."

"Like he just... disappeared?"

"Exactly."

Guybrush gave a little hum, and he stuck a finger closer to the blood. Even from earlier, it had stuck out to him as a bit strange. While it still had a bite to it in the scent, he'd smelled blood dozens of times, and it didn't have the right... Something. The right sensation? And it hadn't stained his finger, which didn't make much sense from how many times he'd tried to clean blood out of his clothes after dozens of nicks and scrapes. After a moment, he stuck his finger right in, pulling it out to smell better.

"...What're you doin', pal?"

He stuck his finger into his mouth, and nodded. "That's tomato sauce. Thought something was weird there... It's like he vanished, and he just left whatever he was doing behind."

"Left his feathers and clothes too. So are we looking for a plucked bird?"

"I guess so." Guybrush stood, and he brushed off his clothes. A few feathers still clung to his pants, so he put them in his pockets. "...I think there's more to this situation than just this. It couldn't have been anything to do with Elaine-- This is some kind of... supernatural entity." He looked down at the pile, then up at Gumshoe. "I'm gonna get to the bottom of this. For Elaine."

Chapter Text

To be perfectly frank, Guybrush had no idea where to start with the search for something supernatural. Usually, when he was on his adventures, things like that would find him first-- be it LeChuck, Murray, or anyone else. When it came to tracking down a person, he wasn't exactly good at that without a few tips from someone else.

I should go see Elaine. Maybe she knows how to do that-- she's had to track me down before…

Guybrush left the crime scene with the taste of tomatoes quickly souring in his mouth and a few new feathers in his inventory, waving goodbye to Gumshoe as he went. From there, he moved towards the detectives, finding Kim and Harry attempting to talk to the little girl. She seemed less than open to it, mostly speaking in single-word answers and head movements, but Harry still seemed to be stumbling his way through the questioning with enough grace to get some answers. Kim, on the other hand, kept a bit of distance.

“Hey, detective. Question for you,” he said as he approached, sticking his hands deep into his pockets. Kim turned to look at him, though he didn't seem to care much. He didn't even smile.

“Yes?”

“Do you know where Elaine is? In case you don't know, she's the redhead with the beautiful smile, and a really nice headband. Oh, and she's in a pretty vest, if that helps.”

Kim looked at him for a long moment. “...Miss Von Karma might be with her, but she could be in the back of the store instead. That's where the holding--”

“Okay, great. Thanks!” Guybrush interrupted, and he took off running once more. Through the rest of the theatre, to the opposite side from the cafe, into the shop.

The shop was designed to be futuristic but modern: Sharp edges, bold text, mostly monotones with a splash of blue. Despite a familiar face already having set up behind the counter with an equally familiar “Hey, kid!” call, he had something else far more important to look for. Guybrush pushed past Stan, and he entered the back of the shop.

As Kim had said, there were a few holding cells there, akin to the ones on Phatt Island. They were nowhere near as bad as the ones on Melee, and they smelled moderately tolerable, but that wasn’t what was on his mind.

That was the redhead standing near the bars, hands behind her back until she recognized who was there.

“Guybrush!?”

“Elaine!” He immediately rushed to her, reaching out his hands. She paused before taking his, and he knew why in a heartbeat.

“Trying to pick the lock, my honeysweet?”

Elaine smiled. “What can I say? I’ve had to escape locked cells before, plunder bunny.”

“I must’ve rubbed off on you then. What’re these, a bobby pin and a bit of wire?”

“I make do. Besides, you know I did that even before we were married.”

“I know. It’s really hot.” Guybrush leaned in, only to hit his head on the bars, falling back. Elaine only laughed, which made him smile like always.

“The bars, Guybrush.”

“I know, Laineykins. They definitely make an impact.”

She reached out a hand, brushing his bangs away from his forehead. “You’re lucky; it looks like it’s not bruising.”

“I know I’m lucky; you married me.”

“Now now. I married you, too.”

Guybrush finally released her hands. “Do you want me to help with the lock, Laineykins?”

“No, don’t worry. I’ve got it, dear.” Elaine returned to picking the lock, bending the bobby pin and the wire in an attempt to find the right shape. One he knew she’d succeed at faster than he would in her shoes.

“I can keep an eye out, then.” He walked to the door, taking a look outside. 

“That’d be great, Guybru--”

Her voice suddenly cut off, without even a gasp or click to explain the sudden silence. Guybrush turned, and his heart caught in his throat.

“...Elaine?”

She was stuck in place, her hands partway through the bars as she pulled back for a moment. A lock of hair almost fell in her face, stopped by some unseen force partway there. Her mouth was open, halfway through her word, but there was no sound.

“ELAINE!” he exclaimed and ran to the cell. Just before he took her hand, another took his arm, pulling him away.

“Hey, kid, I don’t mean to--”

“I don’t care what you’re selling, Stan!” Guybrush interrupted. “You could be selling a treasure map directly to the best treasure of all time, and unless it can help Elaine right now, I don’t care!”

“I was going to tell you that someone else is here.” Stan released his arm to point towards the door, where Franziska had already arrived, Inspekta close in tow. Guybrush scowled and crossed his arms, stepping out only a bit. With those two there, even the eternally loud and domineering Stan seemed to vanish-- though perhaps that had less to do with intimidation and more to do with how he was supposed to be locked in a prison cell, awaiting trial at any given moment.

“You. Why are you here, you drivelling dolt?” Franziska demanded.

“Is it a crime to want to talk to my wife?” he shot back, glaring. 

“I heard what you were saying. About wanting a way to help your wife.” She approached, only able to reach his height with the power of high heels. He didn’t waver one bit. “What do you mean by that foolish question, hm?”

“You know, you could walk five feet and find your answer.” He turned away and walked to Elaine, reaching again for her hand. This time, it was Inspekta who stopped him, even though Guybrush tried to get the hand off of him.

“Yew probably shouldn’t go touch her, dep-yew-tee.”

“You probably haven’t touched a woman in your entire life, what would you know!?” Guybrush exclaimed. “She’s my partner, I’m not going to just--”

Franziska shook her head as she entered, looking closer at Elaine. “...This explains plenty.”

“Plenty? What, are you going to try to lock me up now? You know exactly where I was the first time, and she’s my partner. If you think that I’d do anything to hurt Elaine, you’re wrong. I’m--”

“It’s a glitch,” Inspekta interrupted.

“A… what now?”

“A glitch,” Franziska repeated.

“No, I heard you say the word. I don’t know what it means.”

“You’ve never heard of glitches?” She shook her head. “Must I explain everything to you?… A glitch is a programming problem. In a place such as this, where people are created by programming, a glitch could result in anything from something being intangible…” Franziska looked towards Elaine. “...to this.”

“So then how do we fix it!?” Guybrush demanded. “I'm not going to leave her like this, not if I can help it.”

“Find a programmer who can fix it. If it's a glitch and not a virus… in that case, then the best case is to get rid of anything infected.”

His hand immediately fell to his left wrist, rubbing the bracelet-like scar as if that would make his heart leave his throat.

“Either way, we need to find a programmer. And, unfortunately, the only fool here happens to be a foolish recluse foolishly hiding in the woods like a fool who fools foolhardy fools with foolish foolishness .”

“When's your next birthday, so I can buy you a thesaurus?” Guybrush muttered. Franziska snapped her whip, making him jump. “Okay! Find a programmer, hope it's a glitch so Elaine is okay, and they can fix it! I got it, geez, don't do that again.”

“You got it?” Franziska repeated, looking at him. “I'm going. This is not a trip for some silly simpleton like you to take for fun.”

“It involves me, ever since the moment you arrested Elaine.” Guybrush glared. “If you think I'm standing aside for you to do something like that alone, when I don't know anything about you--”

“I'm going because I think it'll be fun!” Inspekta interrupted, trying his best to break the tension between the two. “Sew I'll get tha van! We can go tew-geth-a!”

“That won't be needed. It wouldn't fit on the trails either way.” Franziska shook her head. “But if I have to drag you two fools with me, I suppose I will.”

“Yay!” Inspekta cheered, jumping into the air. Guybrush only looked at Elaine, and sighed.

Despite the amount of noise and movement, she hadn't even budged a centimeter. Her whole body looked rigid, as if a curse had made her a disturbingly lifelike wax statue, but he could see the beads of sweat still lining her brow, the way her fly-aways fell into wispy little sprigs of hair too small for any material to properly represent, and her hands clung to the metal tools with such difference in luster and beauty. No wax could ever properly replicate Elaine. Not even close.

“...I promise I'll save you. I'm not going to let you stay like this for long,” he said simply. 

“Let's go, you two. Before that foolish salesman returns.”

It wasn’t much of his choice to go there at all, especially since Franziska had taken the lead. Guybrush kept to the back instead, quietly keeping pace as the others led the way through the metallic tunnels to another place. 

It felt like they never ended. Only metal stretching as far as the eye could see, one wall bent over to create both sides of the tunnel. The rust and grime built up further the more they walked, and each yellow door opened up to more moss and dirt underfoot.

“D’yew think that he’ll be excited tew see us?” Inspekta asked. “I’ve neva met this pro-gramma before!”

“She,” Franziska corrected, “most likely won’t.”

“Aw… But we’re good pe-pole! And we’re really fun tew be around!”

“We’re talking to her because two people are essentially dead,” Guybrush muttered. “I’d be thrilled to hear that.”

“There are reasons that she prefers to stay away from most people, you blundering oaf,” Franziska answered, as if Guybrush hadn’t spoken at all. Inspekta only frowned, jogging ahead a bit to open the next door with his multitude of hands. 

“I’d rather be far away from both of you,” Guybrush said, loud enough for them to hear him. Franziska snapped her whip, and he barely avoided getting hit. 

“Quiet.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’ll stop being rude to the person who decided that Elaine was guilty for something she couldn’t have done!” He glared at her, only for Franziska to meet his eyes with an equally steely look. 

“I said, be quiet.”

“I’d love to. It just so happens that I don’t care about anything you say, so you can shut up and--”

Inspekta paused, looking around. “Guys?”

“--find a way to get people to listen that doesn’t include whipping or putting people better than you in jail--”

“Guys??”

“--for things that--”

“GUYS!” Inspekta yelled, his voice cracking. Guybrush finally turned. “...There’s some-won else in tha tunnel.”

“And that is why I was telling you to be quiet,” Franziska said. 

Guybrush didn’t react to her, only looking at Inspekta. “So? Just because there’s someone else, it doesn’t mean there’s a problem.”

The second the words left his mouth, the footsteps began. Loud, clattering footsteps, growing louder and louder by the second. With each moment, it only grew worse.

“...Alright, ignore what I just said,” Guybrush said. “Run.”

The trio all took off at once, each running as fast as they could. Guybrush easily pulled ahead, his long strides enough to overtake the relatively short Franziska and Inspekta’s lack of actual legs. Even so, as the tunnel turned from metal to dirt, with no more doors in the way, the ground grew more and more uneven. Roots cut across the passage, with rocks dotted around just at the wrong spots.

When he glanced back to check that the others were still there, one of the many rocks caught his foot, and down he went. 

A hand snagged his collar as soon as he fell, picking him up. He barely had the chance to look up before he noticed Franziska had been picked up by an equally familiar hand, and Inspekta’s detached feet were sprinting through the rest of the tunnel. The dirt finally gave way to rocky stairs, and Inspekta threw the two up there before following close behind. There, on the ground of a forest, the noise of following footsteps finally stopped. As soon as Guybrush hit the ground, he stumbled away from Inspekta, adjusting his coat to try to set it right again. 

“What was that?”

“Good question,” Franziska muttered, “For once.”

“Some-won knows we’re here.” Inspekta looked back into the tunnel, his eyes almost glowing as he stared down. “And they don’t like it.”

The footsteps were back, but instead of growing louder, they grew softer.

“Obviously,” Franziska said, and snapped her whip. “Whoever it is, they’ll have to go through my whip.”

Guybrush shook his head. “Whoever it was, that… We have to ignore it. We’re here to find someone else. Let’s go find where that programmer is.” He started walking into the woods, picking up a stick to mark the path he took. “Unless either of you happen to have a map of some sort, I’m going to keep walking in this direction.”

“I have die-wreck-shuns!” Inspekta grinned, and he pulled out what looked like a letter. He held it out towards Guybrush, but Franziska snatched it out of his hand before Guybrush took even a step closer. She tore it open and held it tight, leaving Guybrush to walk behind her and look over her shoulder.

“...These directions are the most worthless rubbish I’ve ever laid eyes on--”

“Not half as bad as the one I had for the treasure on Melee Island,” Guybush said, plucking it out of her hands as soon as she was looking elsewhere. “And not as gross as the map to Blood Island either. It’s not even stained.” He looked closer. “Wally probably would sell me something like this if I asked him for a map to this cabin we’re looking for.”

“You can read that?” Franziska looked at Guybrush, doubt clear on her face.

“He said he was a pirate,” Inspekta confirmed. “And pirates have tre-shore maps.”

Guybrush stared at the map, prepared for the whip to come down any second. And yet it didn’t.

“Good. Then lead.”

Chapter Text

“Are we there yet?” Inspekta asked for what felt like the millionth time. Guybrush groaned.

“I told you, it says “go east until you find the cabin in the woods.” That’s a pretty obvious thing to look for.”

Franziska rolled her eyes, muttering to herself as she picked her way through the mud. He’d heard more than enough of that, mostly complaints directed at Inspekta and questions about Guybrush’s directional skills-- enough for him to drown it out with his own thoughts. 

It hadn’t even been an hour since he’d arrived, and already, he was stuck right in the middle of a situation he really didn’t understand. To be frank, it felt familiar-- he’d done that time and time again, from returning to Melee Island™ and finding that Elaine had been declared dead to accidentally proposing with a cursed ring. He’d had to fix Elaine being stuck in one position and unable to speak, too.

So why did he feel so helpless now?

“There!” Franziska said, the single word enough to bring Guybrush back to focus. At last, in front of them, was a cabin.

A lilac moon lit the sky behind it, silhouetting the trees and cabin, but yellow light still made the space around the door and boarded-up windows clear in the night. Though the air was thick with the smell of animals and trees, the faint scent of smoke and meat lingered as a trail of smoke exited a chimney. Fireflies danced through the air, making the path at least slightly visible, its cobblestones barely visible under the thick foliage and layers of dirt. Even so, the trio reached the door.

The thick wooden door was constructed well, clearly supposed to keep people out. Or in. He shuddered at the thought, but he still reached out and knocked thrice before stepping back.

“...You didn’t tell us much about this pro-gammer of yours.”

“Programmer. And I don’t know much about her except her name and her job.” Franziska shook her head. “She likes to be left alone.”

The doorknob turned, and the door creaked open just a bit, enough for an eye to peek out. A single green eye, like glowing moss at the bottom of a pit, looked between the three of them, studying each of them.

“...I know who he is, but who’re you guys?” she asked, her voice hoarse from disuse. “The two back there. Introduce yourselves.”

“You know me?” Guybrush asked, pointing at himself. The woman laughed.

“Know you? You’re basically what kept me in gaming. Guybrush Threepwood, Mighty Pirate. Do I say the trademark out loud? In Curse they never said it, but--”

“I’m Inspekta!” the local god interrupted, smiling brightly. 

“My name is Franziska Von Karma. Prosecutor.” Franziska curtseyed. “Though I am curious how you know him.”

“Played the games,” Guybrush and the programmer said simultaneously. 

“Well, I mean, the first three. Were there any others after that? You said you had the chance for a few more sequels-- Wait! Spoilers! Don’t tell me anything. I’m going to have to look it up afterward. I’m so hyped.” The door closed, and the programmer opened it up at last. “Come on in! Sorry ‘bout the mess, I’m housesitting for Lesh, and I’m not exactly that good at keeping things clean.” 

At last, he had a good look at her, and he stumbled back. Where he had expected to see a normal human woman, there was a skeleton instead, wearing a thick green parka, baggy gray pants, and a white hat. She stuffed her hands into her pockets and walked to the table inside, sitting in one of the two chairs. 

“What’s up?”

“You… You’re a skeleton.”

“Yep. Have been since I put myself in the game.” She held up a bony hand. “Don’t worry, I’m no ghost.”

“Like Miss Mitternacht!” Inspekta cheerfully remarked as he entered, ducking to avoid bonking his head on the doorframe. 

“Uh, sure, yeah. I was gonna say like Murray for Guybrush, but… Yep, probably like her too-- I dunno your game that well.” She shrugged, and then looked at her computer. “So, uh, you probably aren’t just here for fun…”

“Well, uh…”

“I forgot to introduce myself, didn’t I?” The skeleton shook her head. “Kaycee Hobbes. Regular programmer. Tee-em. Nope, still doesn’t sound cool when I do it.”

“Well then, Kaycee Hobbes, normal programmer™--”

“See? Like that! It’s so cool when you do it!”

“--There’s some sort of virus glitch thing.”

Somehow, her face fell, as if she’d been smiling up until then. “...Oh. Oh, that’s no good. What’s the sitch?” She tapped at her keyboard, navigating through screens quicker than Guybrush could recognize them. “You know what happened? I should try to replicate, see if it’s a--”

“Elaine is currently stuck in a jail cell and unable to move. Do not replicate that.”

“Oh sh--” Kaycee grimaced. “Alright, I see why you said glitch and/or virus now. We’re talking the real deal. Do we know of any other parts to the payload-- Er, uh… How do I explain this… Any other weird stuff going on?”

“A creature known as The Conductor was found dead recently-- or, rather, his feathers and clothes were, but he wasn’t there,” Franziska answered. Even though she was listening, she looked more exasperated than anything thanks to Inspekta, who was in the middle of poking at a cuckoo clock.

“So he despawned, and Elaine froze.” Kaycee nodded. “NPC issues… Not many well-made games would have those. Sounds like a glitch to me, if it’s just targeting people. Viruses are more aimed at important files. Er, not that I’m saying those guys aren’t important!” She waved her hands. “I just mean that the player probably doesn’t see them as quite as important as, say, being able to boot up their computer, or their life’s savings.” 

“...You know, how about you just skip the attempts at comfort,” Guybrush suggested. Kaycee nodded.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s for the best.” 

Franziska looked at them, then outside. “As for questions… Do you know about what might’ve been following us?”

“Following you?” Kaycee stopped her awkward laughs and smiles. “...Something followed you?”

“Yeah. Something in the tunnel.”

“...I should check up on Leshy and the others--” Kaycee mumbled, and she hurried to the door. “That could be our glitch showing up--”

“Then we should go and fix it now!” Guybrush exclaimed. “We could find a fix and then it wouldn’t be a worry--”

“But Leshy could be hurt--” She looked at him, then sighed. “...Right. You’re dealing with that too. Okay. Let’s just…” Kaycee turned to her computer, checking the cords and cables before throwing up her hands and just standing. “Whatever, this sucker’s cooked, let’s just go. Does anyone have a computer where you guys came from?”

“Uh…” Guybrush rubbed the back of his neck. “...Com-pew-ters…”

“I know!!” Inspekta cheerfully answered. “I have sum!!”

“Great. I’m gonna need to borrow at least one of those.” Kaycee shoved her hands into her pockets once more. She headed to the door, looking around before opening it fully. Guybrush hurried out, followed by Franziska, dragging Inspekta along by his taped-on tail. Kaycee left last, taking a deep breath before exiting the cabin and locking the door. She drew her parka tighter and put up her hood, but still nodded, pretending to be sure of what she was doing while she waited for others to start walking. Once Inspekta started, the rest followed, making sure that he wasn’t going to get lost. Weirdly enough, he went directly forwards, cutting through all the extra twisting paths on the way back. Compared to the map, he suddenly seemed to know where to go.

“...This guy is weird,” Kaycee muttered to Guybrush. 

“You’re telling me. From what I know, he’s usually like this, but… I just met him today, just before all of this started happening.” He shook his head. “Weird is right.”

“You were the new guy right before the glitch started..?” she asked. “Are you sure that this isn’t something from your game?”

Guybrush paused, letting the others walk ahead for a bit. Franziska stopped as well, looking back.

“...I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I don’t think it’s my game. Everything looked fine on Melee Island™, and it only started once we were at the desktop…” 

“Whichever it is, I doubt that they’ll be staying on the desktop for long,” Franziska said, a thought that made Guybrush wonder what the alternative was. 

“Did anyone else show up? Or maybe a new tunnel--”

“Go look for yourself, you imbecile.”

“I don’t know what’s new!” Guybrush complained. “That’s why I’m asking about it!”

Instead of continuing the argument, Franziska continued, only gesturing for him to follow, as if he wasn’t already going to do that. The woods were noisy, but it was a comfortable sort of noise. It didn’t take too long before they were back at the tunnel, nor until they returned to the Desktop itself. 

The Desktop was quiet. 

Silent.

Guybrush shivered at that, not even complaining when Inspekta started to hum a little song as he jogged along, looking around like he was in search of something. Franziska stood near the entrance to the tunnel.

“...It's not usually this quiet, right?” Kaycee asked, her voice merely a breath. “Cause… this is spooky.”

Guybrush glanced at her, and she finally managed to remember that she was literally a skeleton, shrugging with a weird sort of smile. 

“It can still be spooky if I'm dead. Like, Dante’s Inferno probably has spooky bits, and everyone there is dead.”

Like the Crossroads.  

He didn't bother saying anything. Instead, he peeked into one of the three buildings-- the shop. What he saw made his blood run cold.

Stan stood behind the counter, mid-conversation with a slightly-irritated Detective Kitsuragi and a cheerful Harry. Even though Stan had a compulsive habit of tapping his foot and flailing his arms every which way, he didn't move an inch. Neither did either detective, though Harry seemed in the middle of a word, and Kitsuragi kept pen to paper mid-scrawl. 

They were frozen, stuck exactly where they stood. Just like Elaine.

It's getting worse.

Guybrush turned away and, to distract himself from thinking more about that sight, followed after Inspekta as he searched.

“Tha van has tew be sum-where!” Inspekta complained. “It can't just diss-a-peer!”

Without any real idea what a “van” was, Guybrush wasn't sure how he was supposed to help. Even so, he cleared his throat.

“Need a hand?”

Inspekta gave a big grin as his many hands appeared again, and Guybrush stepped away.

“Figuratively! Do you need help, not-- I'm not offering for you to steal my hands or something.”

“Oh! That would be nice!” His hands returned to being under his coat, and Inspekta’s grin returned to a relatively normal size. “It's big enough for tew pea-pole to get in front, and the back is a big box!”

He nodded slowly, and leaned a bit to look past Inspekta. Though there was something matching that description, he was much more interested in the other thing there.

The same young girl from before looked through the window of the van, hmm-ing as if she was trying to understand something much bigger than just how to open the probably-locked door. She grabbed her hat off her head, and stuck her arm into it, rummaging around inside what was logically an empty space. She pulled out a baseball bat nevertheless, and wound up to strike.

“Hey, kid!” Guybrush called out to her. Both she and Inspekta turned, looking at each other.

“Tha God Complex!!” Inspekta cheered. The kid quickly hid her baseball bat as the two men approached.

“You're still moving too, huh? Place feels like a ghost town right now…” Guybrush glanced around. The hat-wearing kid shook her head.

“No ghost.”

“So that guy who hates me isn't-- I mean, that Snatcher guy isn't around either?”

She nodded, and looked away. Guybrush could almost see tears in her eyes before she hid them behind her hat, and he knelt to be face-to-face with her.

“...Hey. We're gonna fix this, okay? I might not know those guys, but I promise, we've got a plan, and we're gonna bring everyone back.”

She gave him a look full of emotion, but finally nodded and gave his hand a brief squeeze. He stood back up, just in time for Inspekta to open the back of his van and narrowly miss hitting Guybrush with the door.

“Hey, careful!” he exclaimed. 

“Ta-da!” Inspekta said, ignoring his complaint. Franziska and Kaycee arrived a second later.

“What… this is impossible. How does that fit in there?!” Franziska pointed. Guybrush took a look inside, finding a whole room. Despite the weirdness, he just shrugged.

“Yoooo…” Kaycee breathed, and she climbed in, walking to the central structure. With the press of a button, a small nook rose from the ground, covered in screens and gauges on three sides. Her eyes-- or rather, eye sockets-- lit up, almost glowing with excitement. The little girl hopped in after her, followed by the other three with some hesitation on Franziska’s and Guybrush's parts. Inspekta jogged over to her, bringing a set of hands out to point at screens and explain much faster than Guybrush could bother to keep up with. Instead, he just cast his eyes towards the young girl.

She climbed on top of the nook, picking up some of the papers to read over them with another “Hmm” sound. Though Inspekta and Kaycee were distracted, Franziska looked up, watching her.

“...How is she still moving around?” Guybrush wondered, soft enough that only Franziska could hear. “Everything else was dead quiet…”

“She could be related to what's happening.”

“She's what, ten? I've got a kid of my own around that, so trust me-- A kid that age shouldn't be involved with anything this dangerous. Especially not when their friends are getting hurt too.”

Franziska shook her head. “You cannot ignore what is right in front of you, Guybrush Threepwood.”

“You'd be surprised how good at that I am.” He crossed his arms. “I'll ignore it for as long as I want.”

“Hey, guys? I think I found something,” Kaycee called. “There's a weird file in the folder for one of the games here.”

“Oh yeah?” Guybrush asked, walking over to her in his quest to ignore Franziska. “Which one?”

“Something called A Hat in Time.”

The girl on top of the box let out a little yelp before she got off it, looking at the three gathered by the screen. Kaycee looked at her and sighed.

“...And apparently, she's the protagonist.”

Chapter Text

“...So, what exactly is going on here?” Guybrush asked, leaning around her. “There’s a file in a folder. So?”

“It’s someone’s mod, for sure.” She clicked in, and winced. “Worst spaghetti code I’ve seen in a long time, though. Looks like they were… Adding something big into the game. That’s a character class, and this is a chapter, so I’m betting whoever made this was trying to add some new section. Maybe a new area, too.” Kaycee sighed. “...So their mod’s absolute trash as-is, probably got uploaded too early… That explains the glitches, then…”

“All of this because of someone’s attempts to add something to a game?” Franziska said. 

“Looks like it.”

“Sew… what do we dew?” Inspekta tilted his head and whole body, almost pulling a full 180. “If it’s part of tha game…”

“Well, the first answer would be to delete the mod. But I don’t have any sort of control there.” Kaycee tapped her fingers on the keyboard. “What else… The usual answers when you have a computer problem are simple-- Turn it off and back on again, uninstall and reinstall, mess around with the settings about that thing-- but it’s weird being on the inside. We don’t exactly have the right admin access for this.”

Guybrush nodded, pretending he understood any of what she was saying, and looked away from the screen. By the door of the van, the girl still stood, watching them with curiosity. 

“I mean, I could fiddle with the settings I do have access to…”

He stepped away, letting Franziska take his place by the computers and nearer to Kaycee and Inspekta. Instead, he turned to the kid, and knelt down to be at her eye level.

“So, you’re a protagonist too, huh?”

She nodded. 

“...And it’s your game they’re talking about.”

Another little nod.

“Doesn’t that worry you?”

The girl shrugged this time. Even so, she didn’t seem completely sure of that, either. Guybrush put a hand on her shoulder, looking at her closely. 

“...Why don’t we try our own way of fixing things, huh?”

“Huh?”

“Simple. Give it a whirl. Solve some puzzles, figure out something different. The smart people can do the smart people stuff. We can do things our way.”

It took a moment for his words to get through, but once they did, the little girl grinned wide. “Yeah!” she cheered, and she took off running. Guybrush made his way back to his feet and jogged after her.

When it came to kids, his only experience was with his own. Even though he’d met some along his journey, he’d never really had to take care of one until then. With this one, though, he knew that she wasn’t the type for him to have to take care of her-- Protagonists rarely needed that sort of help, even if he could use a helping hand every now and again. Despite that, he still felt like she needed something to distract her, and whatever they were going to do, it had to be better than just standing around.

She skidded to a halt near the door he’d just come from, and pointed, tilting her head. 

“That? That’s the way to… Well, wherever Kaycee’s from. Some creepy forest. Something was… I think something was following us,” Guybrush shrugged. “I don’t know, though… It left after a bit, either way.”

The kid with the hat gave an exaggerated “Hmmm…” sound, then raised a finger, as if she’d had an idea. She grabbed Guybrush’s hand, and began to pull him along. Guybrush didn’t try to resist, but even so, she was plenty stronger than he imagined, easily able to almost carry him. It didn’t take long before they stood before another tunnel, and Guybrush took a deep breath.

“...Do we have to?”

She nodded, and hopped in, leaving Guybrush to trail behind her. It didn’t take long before the girl stopped, looking around, and he did the same. The silence lasted for only a little bit before the footsteps started, coming closer and closer.

Yet she didn’t run. She only turned towards the sound and waited. 

Guybrush reactively drew his sword the moment he saw a shadow in the distance, but he still wasn’t ready for it when it finally approached the light. 

The… thing that stood before them was a stitched-together monstrosity, some sort of bear-hooded thing that Guybrush couldn’t put words to. A half-dozen eyes stared out from the blackness underneath the hood, and its colors bled together as they watched, changing into tiled maps and “TEXTURE NOT FOUND” before returning to a semi-normal appearance. Two thin legs held it up, yet despite the footsteps that came when it moved, its feet never left the ground. At the same time, its legs phased into the ground, before its whole body jumped to be above-ground every few seconds. 

“What in the…” Guybrush breathed. An odd sound rang out, one that seemed to come from everywhere except the creature-- a laugh, perhaps? It didn’t sound like a laugh, with the static and the popping, but there was no other word. He winced, but the kid was the one who gave an “eep!” of horror and hid behind him. She was shaking with fright, holding tight to the back of his coat, so he knew better than to run. Not when someone else could be hurt if he did. No, he had to stand and fight, no matter what.

He stepped forward, getting into position with his sword, while the thing swayed more than a seasick drunk on a poorly-steered ship. Before it could strike first, he lunged forwards, jabbing his sword into where a stomach might usually be. 

There was no resistance, not like when he’d fought people before. Instead, it shook for a moment, rattling around before teleporting a few feet back, acting as if it had never been hit. 

“...Alright, you. Whatever you are… Stay back.”

It turned sideways, hovering parallel to the ground. Though there was noise, it was a discordant sound, parts of it trailing off until only one voice remained: “--and I’m not even hurting anyone, anyway! Well, no one that matters, hehe!”

The words were unrelated to anything he’d said, like a different conversation had been happening in its head. The creature wasn’t even looking at him or through the rest of the tunnel, but straight ahead, past him and the kid and to the wall. The girl pulled a bit on his coat, and he turned around.

“Go!” she exclaimed, pointing. He nodded.

“Start running. I’ll catch up, promise.” 

Before he had even finished, the little girl took off running, and the monster shook for a bit with some sort of emotion. Guybrush stayed just long enough to jab it again, forcing it to teleport backwards before he sprinted after her. He could hear it running after him, but he didn’t have time to think about that. Not when he didn’t even know what it was in the first place.

The tunnel seemed to go on forever, but it ended abruptly with a spring platform that launched him up into a laboratory. The kid was already there, waiting for him.

“C’mon!” she called, and took off again. He sighed, and did his best to keep up. A wall shimmered out of view as they approached, and the girl hurried to a big computer screen. It changed from displaying a marble icon with the number 96024 beside it to a new screen: A menu with a lot of colorful images labeled with different things. “Overgrown Rift” said one, while another read “Playable Conductor.” 

Most likely, mods. 

The roar of the creature echoed from everywhere, and the sound of rampaging footsteps came closer and closer. He drew his sword again, preparing for a fight.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no--” the kid cried. Guybrush patted her shoulder.

“I’ve got this. Promise. Just keep going.”

She looked at him for a moment, then nodded, determination in her eyes as she turned back to the screen. The monster appeared again, glitching the entire hallway it came from, as parts of the door shattered, hanging in the air.

The kid scrolled wildly, finding a single thing amidst dozens: Something called “Trainwreck of Science.” She tapped that, then opened the menu about it. 

Guybrush aimed his sword towards the monster, and he lunged forwards. It kept coming nevertheless, parts of it flaking off into the air and corrupting the ground around it. That time, there was no reaction. He fell back, almost bumping into the little girl.

Hurry up, kid… 

He looked back for just a moment, seeing the screen.

“DELETE MOD?” a dialog box asked.

Her hand slammed into the “YES” button, and the creature let out a loud noise, some sort of screech that devolved into electric sounds. Guybrush covered his ears, but even that didn’t help. Before his eyes, it turned to bits floating in the air, then nothingness, with only the sound for a moment longer before that too ended. Everything was back to normal. The silence settled, and he removed his hand to turn to the little girl. 

Though they’d just been running and trying to escape a monster, she was already back on her feet, excitedly running around in circles as if they’d just been playing a game instead. Guybrush wiped his forehead of sweat, taking a deep breath.

“I’m definitely getting too old for this…” he mumbled, but he stood straight, cracking his back with a pop. “Alright, kid. Let’s get back to the others. They’ll probably be wondering where we’ve gone.”

“Uh-huh!” She answered, and she grabbed his hand before he could say anything, back to pulling him along. She yanked him back through the hallway and into the tunnels, leaving Guybrush to stumble after her in an attempt to keep up. 

Without anything following them, it felt much longer, but without stopping, it probably took them less time to get through. They still made their way to the Desktop together, and exited just a bit later.

Now, it felt much brighter, as if the sun was shining on them. Guybrush smiled, and looked around.

“Hey! Hey, Guybrush!” Kaycee yelled, waving wildly. The duo walked to the group they’d left behind. “So, we got rid of the mod, and that fixed things. Somehow, the mod itself turned off partway through my work, though… No idea how that worked.”

“I think we have an idea, but that’s for another time,” Guybrush said simply, glancing at the kid next to him. She giggled, and Kaycee looked at her for a moment.

“Did you two…”

“Me? I just swordfought a glitch, nothing big.” He grinned. 

“Swordfighting a glitch?” Franziska asked, raising an eyebrow in doubt. “I don’t believe it.”

“Hey, just because you don’t believe doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.” 

Kaycee grinned, and she leaned against the side of the van, tucking her hands into her sweatshirt pocket. “You’re totally gonna have to tell me about it someday. In the meantime, I bet you guys all have someone to look for, right?”

“Oh!” Inspekta spoke up, cheering a bit too loudly. “Tha bizzyboys!!” 

“The… what now?” Kaycee asked.

“Tha bizzyboys!!!” he repeated, as if that would make it make sense. He grabbed her arm with one of his detached hands, and began to run off, leaving his hand behind. Kaycee chuckled.

“I guess he’s trying to introduce me to someone? Well… See ya. Have fun, guys.” She waved, and followed after Inspekta to return his hand. Franziska sighed.

“I will make sure they don’t get into trouble,” she said simply, and walked after them. Even so, there wasn’t a single moment of quiet for the two left behind.

“LASSIE!” a scottish voice yelled, impossible to ignore. A figure ran over to the two of them, and the girl excitedly hurried to meet them. It took Guybrush a moment to recognize the clothes the figure wore as the ones he’d seen on the floor, surrounded by yellow feathers. 

“Conductor?” he asked. The girl nodded excitedly.

“Oh, yeh heard of me, have yeh?” the Conductor asked. Seeing him face-to-face was odd-- he was a short, bird-dinosaur creature, with yellow feathers and no visible eyes. Even so, his smile was obvious on his giant beaklike mouth. “Who’re you, eh? Havenae seen yeh ‘round here before.”

“You’ll hear about me soon enough.” Guybrush waved a hand. “Besides, I’m sure that you two already have a lot to talk about.”

“Uh-huh!” The kid nodded, her top hat bobbing up and down. Conductor chuckled.

“Alright, lassie, let’s go. I bet DJ Peckneck’s been worried sick, if yer nae near the rest of folks.” He patted her on the back, and the two started walking. Guybrush watched them go, silent for just a moment.

Just long enough for someone to walk up without him noticing.

“Hello, plunder bunny. Fancy seeing you here.”

He turned, though he already knew he’d be seeing Elaine Marley-Threepwood just a few feet away. She was smiling, that sly little smile she always had, and Guybrush couldn’t help but return that look.

“Elaine! I-- I was so worried about you!” He stepped closer, taking her in his arms. She held him tight, rocking back and forth ever so slightly. “I… I thought you were…”

“I’m here. I’m okay. You are too, right?”

He only nodded, and gave an extra little squeeze before he drew back. It didn’t take long before Elaine took his shoulders, pulling him in for a kiss. 

It was over as soon as it started, but even that was enough to make him smile even brighter. 

“You’re incredible,” he said simply.

“You don’t have to say it every time we kiss, darling. Really.”

Guybrush gave an exaggerated sigh. “But how will I let you know that? I love you so much, but I can’t just say it every day, that’s not enough.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out. You’re good at that.”

“Oh, sure, I will. I think it might involve a few chocolate bars, a panda, and a journal or two, but I can work something out.” Guybrush grinned. Elaine laughed, unable to hold back.

“Of course. Do you need help finding the materials?”

“Nah. I’ll make do.” 

The two stood there for a bit, before an announcement rang out. “Return to Monkey Island is now launching. Thank you.”

“Sounds like that’s our cue.” Elaine turned away. “Let’s go.”

“I’ll see you soon, won’t I?”

“Of course you will. You always know where to find me. And if you need me, I know where to find you, too.”

Guybrush took a deep breath, and nodded. “Alright. Let’s go.”