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English
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Published:
2025-03-17
Completed:
2025-03-17
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1,931
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2/2
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A Hell of a Detour

Summary:

After the events of "Miracle in District 20", the higher ups of Limbus Company have decided that the Sinners and Dante need some additional training before they can properly visit T Corp. So, what better way than to go to a place that's effectively null and void of all danger, just for a bit of reconnaissance? And what better place than a City seemingly unaffected by the struggles of the Wings, a strangely thriving city by the name of Sweet Jazz City to find out how exactly they're still going, even without a Golden Bough?
Let's just hope that the citizens are as friendly and cordial as the Company expects them to be.

Notes:

First time writing a fic in a WHILE, let alone a multi-chapter fic. I hope you all enjoy!
Also please note that any Sinners not yet noted in the character tags are those that have not yet been name dropped, nor given an introduction yet. My apologies, this was written on a Deadline [haha Epithet Erased pun]

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

“So, what would you guys have asked for, anyways?”
“I do not believe that the current time and location, added in with the given context of what we have had to recently go through, make that question appropriate Rodion.”
“I know about what we ‘all went through’; I went through it too! I’m just saying that if you all were in that position, what would you have wanted so much that you’d go through that door? I just wanna know what my colleagues like, jeez!”
Another day, another strange series of events and stranger conversations that the Sinners held with one another. It just so happened that Dante had managed to catch a glimpse of two of his underling’s conversation: something relating to that horrid door they went through on Mephistopheles recently, some in search of clothes, others in search of those in search of clothes. Despite it being objectively a bit too early to ask about–-a thing that Dante had in agreement with Meursault, the one other person in the conversation with Rodion at the time–-there wasn’t really a good way that he himself could bring it up, mostly due to his own involvement in that night’s slightly more dangerous-than-usual shenanigans. However, it seemed like Meursault’s own injections and the general carousel of the rest of the Sinners talking amongst themselves was more than enough to drown out Rodion’s questioning.
That being said, Dante didn’t necessarily find it too bad of an idea to really go back and think about that night. After all, Don Quixote and Heathcliff both managed to get captured and ambushed the same way the entire team was on their first real mission, a mission that resulted in utmost failure. A mission that no one was going to be given the grace to forget anytime soon if the bus’s “Guide” had anything to say on the matter, and man was he surprisingly talkative in that regard.
Speaking of, funnily enough, the Guide himself–a man with skin paler than Death’s skull and a demeanor even more ruthless at times, a man by the name of Vergilius–stood up, seemingly unaffected by the bus’s movement…or by the fact that the bus was also currently a boat. In a split second, every conversation, every mutter, even every single thought that seemed just a bit too loud in the Sinner’s own heads shut up.
“Not bad.” Vergilius began, the manila folder in his hand held in potentially the gentlest way that someone like him could hold anything, small scraps and pieces of paper occasionally peeking out to see whoever he decided to talk to. “I have some…interesting news regarding our current path. You see, due to a recent incident, and how some of the Sinner’s actions replicated the mistakes done on your first mission, the higher ups have decided that you all need some additional training before heading to T Corp. So, we’ll be taking a detour of sorts.”
There was a second, two seconds, three seconds, of silence from the Guide. And then, just like that, one after the other, every Sinner began to pipe in with their own quips and opinions.
“But where, exactly, would we even be going? Everyone here signed their own contracts with their own promises, yet all for the same goal of the company: to recover the Golden Boughs. To take a detour would actively prevent this, would it not?” Sinner 01, Yi Sang, the only Sinner to constantly carry a book and one of the few to incorrectly wear their coat, asked.
“The detour implies that we shall also be up against enemies that we might not be properly prepared for, as the LCCB would not be sent for reconnaissance at such a sudden time.” Sinner 02, Faust, a woman with short, white hair and a zweihander which she held with one hand a bit too easily, added on.
“Fret not, my companions, for I have utmost confidence within this here company that we shall overcome whatever challenges we shall face within this new territory, for were we all naught but recruited for our skill, our prowess, and our determination?!” Don Quixote, the Third Sinner, yelled. Don was shorter than most of the rest, but that didn’t really matter when you had a voice louder than a truck and a lance that hit harder than one too.
“T.I.B.S.” Ryoshu, Sinner 04, commented, before opening a box of cigarettes and patting her pockets for wherever her lighter went in the commotion.
“We have also failed to consider that any enemies found within this new location might simply be considered not worth the resources, or even that there won’t be any enemies there. This might simply be a kind of procedure done in the company as an act of embarrassment to keep the punished employees from acting in such a way again.” Meursault said. He, like Vergilius, seemingly wasn’t as affected by the boat bus’s sudden movements as the rest of the Sinners, as his hands stood comfortably in their gauntlets, either in his pocket or on his chest.
“This might be a fun experience; learning and seeing an entirely new place! Who knows the kinds of things we’ll find!” Hong Lu, a tall man with heterochromia and a lethal dose of optimism for a Fixer, proclaimed.
A quick snap from Vergilius, however, and all the shouting and opposition went mute.
“Some of you managed to get it right at least: this place we’re going to wasn’t seen as ‘threatening enough’ to actually bring out LCCB to check around. Not bad, but I expect the rest of you to also catch on quicker.” Vergilius began, glaring at the Sinners as they all, one by one, sat back down. “In fact, funnily enough, this task is a bit of a change: we’ll be the ones trying to do the reconnaissance as needed, before deciding to take on the mission, or simply leave it be.”
Heathcliff, the 7th Sinner with a bat larger than life with the word “Revenge” carved into it, began to raise his hand. It wasn’t in an act of rebellion, not at all: he had recently received an invitation to Wuthering Heights, an eloquent place in T Corp., and he seemed more than... ready for it, if 'ready' was the right term. It probably wasn't.
“I can assure you, Heathcliff, that either way, we’ll be able to get to T Corp before this mission’s over, and before your invitation expires.” Vergilius added, with a once-in-a-lifetime level of sincerity in his voice.
Heathcliff lowered his hand and nodded.
“So, before we go there, I will mention one last extra condition set upon you all by the higher ups: due to the lack of severity, and the size of where we’re going, the Sinners will be divided into groups of two for easier checking of the city, before reporting back to Mephistopheles.”
“ Just... where are we going, though?” Dante wondered, the tickings of the clock that made for his head and face echoing throughout the vassal. Sure, he couldn’t really get an answer out of it, but sometimes it was nice to ask-
“Dante wished to know the exact location of our newest destination.” Faust blurted out. Oh right. The Sinners could hear Dante’s thoughts. Kinda forgot about that.
“A city found outside of a Wing, outside of the hold of the Head, and a city seemingly alive and well despite the apparent lack of a Golden Bough.
A city called ‘Sweet Jazz City’.”

Chapter 2: Saturday Shenanigans [None, Actually; just work.]

Summary:

A quick glimpse into the average day of not-so-happy-go-lucky Molly Blyndeff, as she gets to [Once again] spend her day working rather than hanging out. Oh well; it always happens. It's not like some group of psuedo-mercenaries are gonna show up the day she can't hang out, right?

Notes:

Decided to try and get the second chapter out in the POV of the other fandom, "Epithet Erased", before the end of the day. I hope you enjoy!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Another Saturday, another day of work. Or at least, that’s what it was for Molly Blyndeff’s case. She should be hanging out with her friends, or doing homework, or hanging out with her friends with the excuse of doing homework, but none of that was the case. Instead, in the less fortunate part of Sweet Jazz City, Molly sat in a chair in her family’s toy shop–the “Blyndeff Toy Emporium”, the neon sign outside would clarify to any and all people, most of whom weren’t customers–watching as groups of people walked to and fro, their days unfettered by the concept of child labor, or homework after, but at least fettered by the concept of chores. At least Molly had something in common.
The clock behind her ticked and tocked, a sound once mildly comforting and now insanely infuriating for the girl as she couldn’t really handle the clock’s incessant reminders of just how much her “free day” was going by. 1 second per second on average.
Molly’s phone in a split second rumbled to life, hanging onto it via a charger with way too many tears and too many angles to hold for any sane person to have as a charger still, as a single text message appeared on the very top, covering part of the brown wallpaper behind it.
“Hello to my Dearest Friend, Molly Blyndeff. Me and Trixie are both truly and horribly upset by how you cannot join us in our planned festivities. So, I shall be quick: I shall ensure both to myself and as a promise to you, that I shall get you something cheap from a nearby shop to bring over. I hope that it shall quell your feelings of despair the same way they shall helpfully quell mine. - Phoenica “Feenie” Fleecity XVth, Magical Girl.”
Molly stared at the message for a few seconds, wondering just why exactly Feenie always sent text messages like Emails, signature and all, before clicking ‘Mark as Read’. In a split second, the message was gone, and her phone was right back to a normal, plain brown background, the clock on it reading 4:34 PM.
At least that clock didn’t have an incessant ticking and tocking. However, Molly could forgive the small annoyances, like the ever-clicking reminder of time, or how she can’t hang out with her friends, and worry about the larger annoyances, like taxes.
Or the really big sphere of pure neon white [how does one even make white neon ?] that had part of it sitting not even 15 feet away from the cash register. Or even the person in it: her older sister, Lorelai Blyndeff, who had decided that today would be the perfect day to “Do a Beach Episode” but in full knight’s gear in the sphere, a sphere which was an altered part of reality she controlled called a “Dream Bubble”.
A piece of completely controlled reality. That could do so much. And she’s using it on things that only she gets to look at that she thinks are funny.
Molly shook her head– don’t get lost in your thoughts, don’t get lost in your thoughts, don’t get lost in your thoughts --and tried to look on the bright side. After all, it was only one annoying person she had to deal with. Yeah, that’s okay. It’s not like there were more.
Another rumble came from Molly’s phone, as a new notification from an online group for the local community popped up on Molly’s screen. It had an image attached so, after taking a quick look around, Molly opened up her phone to check.
“Hey, has anyone seen this weird bus before? It looks kind of cool, I guess, but I don’t really think it’s the best use of the school budget that could be found.”
There, as the single image, was a red and black bus coated in sand and water, with the words “LIMBUS COMPANY” painted on the side in bright yellow.
And it looked like the doors were starting to open.

Notes:

Once again, I hope you enjoyed, and I hope my writing isn't too rusty.

Notes:

I apologize if I mischaracterized any Sinners I am trying my best and looking for feedback
Hope you all enjoyed the first chapter, however!