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Chapter Text

P-Organ

In the derelict opera house, the King of Puppets' body was still warm, mangled and broken upon the tile. 

P-Organ stepped up to the body, his eyes scanning over his form for any sort of warm recollection. He found nothing. Romeo's face was dirty and marred with broken flesh, his skin torn at the chin and stretching over the left side of his face to reveal mechanisms underneath. His human eye was barely lidded--a sliver of white against the gray--supplying a stark contrast to the still-open metal eye that radiated red. Stalkers or looters must have gotten to his body already; both arms were missing from his shoulder sockets and his legs ended above the kneecap, torn asunder. Perhaps P-Organ himself had damaged Romeo to this extent, though he could not recall. He did not like recollecting their fight--something in his head urged him not to. 

P-Organ slipped to his knees, Gemini uncomfortably silent by his side, and placed a hand on Romeo's face. Seeing him this broken, despite never meeting him prior to their fight months earlier, felt like a needle piercing through the shifting scraps holding P-Organ's heart together. Something deep in him surfaced at the base of his artificial skin, pressing everywhere it could reach, as if it were trying to burn him from the inside. His eyes welled with tears even as his expression remained unchanged. 

Who are you? P-Organ wanted to scream. Who are you who are you who are you why does my heart beat when I think about you—

Carlo. I'm Romeo. I'm your best friend! Remember? 

It was that voice again, the soft cadence that haunted P-Organ's not-sleep and chased him down the comforting halls of Hotel Krat. He was always glancing over his shoulder, hoping to catch the ghostly visage of whoever whispered so closely to him. But he never found them.

It was only when his hair became blue-gray and he returned to the portrait that bared his likeness that he figured out who the mystery voice was. Romeo. The same voice he heard on the ciphered message. The King of Puppets whom he had slashed and stabbed without another thought until the puppet's body had hit the floor. The same boy P-Organ had helped the Legendary Stalker find when he was thrust into the past, scared and lost without anyone's guidance, not even Gemini's.

The name had come to P-Organ suddenly, like a slap of the wind barely recognized before it had passed beyond reach again. Of course, it was the same Romeo.

He tried to look upon his face again, stitch together the image of the King of Puppet's Romeo, and Lea's Romeo. Tried to recall how the blond's face had looked when unconscious and resting on Lea's lap. How he had faded away into butterflies just like P-Organ himself had. 

P-Organ's hands shook as he curved them under Romeo's broken body. It was this moment that he finally understood his father and his quest to recover a son he had lost despite forsaking another. P-Organ could feel it to his core, practically another agreement written into the Grand Covenant he had already broken: fix Romeo. He would hole himself up in the hotel to see it done—unleash another wave of monsters and frenzied puppets upon the city just to mend Romeo's broken limbs. It seemed son was not unlike father in the end, as limitless stolen ergo sang within him.

"Are you sure about this, pal? I can't make the decision for you, but I can't just watch, either. You know he might not forgive you—he might attack us! I'll back you, but you have to be careful..." Gemini's voice startled P-Organ in the dim quiet, the stage ahead of them smashed to bits as P-Organ looked forward. 

"I know." P-Organ nodded. "I have to find out who I am beyond this. I think this man knows."

Gemini chirped in his lantern, flashing bright momentarily. "I'll take point then! Let's get you two home."

-

"Now, Compagno, I am honored that you believe me to be such a remarkable genius, but I do not think the scope of what you imagine is possible among the… eh—wreckage of Krat currently. Even with my capabilities." Venigni chased closely on P-Organ's heels, red coat swooping sumptuously behind him as the three of them ascended Hotel Krat's lobby staircase. "With carcasses having moved into my factory in place of the puppets—"

P-Organ nudged the door of his father's room open with his back, spinning to face Venigni, whose mouth had snapped shut.

 "Carcasses have what?" P-Organ asked, sharply, eyes thinning with a barely veiled accusation. Do not lie to me. At Venigni's fallen expression, P-Organ hoisted Romeo's body higher and continued into the suite, placing Romeo on one of the couches centered in the large room. P-Organ sighed, shoulders dropping. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Venigni threw up his arms immediately, defensive. "You have so much to focus on! First with returning sweet Sophie to a new body—you were out for three days, Compagno! And now you have—" he gestured to Romeo's body on the couch and then to Geppetto's workstation. "—all of this to focus on. Don't worry your pretty head. I have hired some renowned Stalkers to take care of it."

P-Organ hoped he wasn't talking about the Black Cat and Red Fox, who had a penchant for ditching when things got dangerous, but he kept those reservations to himself. Hopefully Venigni wouldn't hire a pair of Stalkers who had forsaken him in the past.

P-Organ frowned. "I always have time to help."

"Oh," Venigni paused. "I apologize if you feel slighted, my friend. It was not my intention! If the Stalkers don't prove useful at the factory… well--we can worry about that later, right? Let us focus on the fallen King we have here." Venigni pressed on, ignoring P-Organ who had opened his mouth to respond.

"As bulldozey as ever…" Gemini sighed, lamp flickering in an almost human display of a lack of amusement. 

"I do not know how we are to complete this. Recovering and remaking the body will be child's play—but the mind cannot so easily be returned. I fear how much ergo will be needed to fully awaken his mental faculties, especially since you have given so much to Sophie already." Venigni scratched at his beard, lost in thought while he assessed each part of Romeo's body. 

"What if I still had his ergo?" P-Organ moved to the desk behind them, rifling through the drawers until he found the chunk of illuminated material resting within. Romeo's ergo was small but radiating with warmth, pulsating in quick intervals, as if his body was already calling it home. 

"Aye, you didn't give this jewel to Fake Alidoro while he was here?"

"I did give it to him." P-Organ gestured to the scythe at his back. "But I took it back when I… when he forced me to attack him." Venigni looked over at him then, but P-Organ refused to meet his eyes, instead focused on cleaning some of the dirt underneath his fingernails. 

"No one blames you for what you did, friend." Uncomfortable silence filtered into the room--P-Organ didn't want to touch on the subject of Fake Alidoro's death any longer, lest he remember his dying words that shook him to the core. Instead, he sat in one of the cushioned chairs beside Romeo. 

"This will be different from Sophia, Venigni. I think Romeo should be more like me, more like a human. No visible sockets or joints, no audible springs. When he fell from the body of the automaton I could almost… feel his discomfort. And I know he was a human before everything. I know he meant a lot to my soul. So we do this right."

Venigni was already nodding along. "Well! I will admit I have never attempted Geppetto's artistry before this moment, I was more of a mechanical person myself, but I will certainly do my best for you. And I will get Eugenie to help with some of the mechanical repairs. All of us here owe you, Compagno, just say the word." Tentatively, Venigni reached forward and placed a hand on P-Organ's shoulder, his gloves pressing into the thin cloth covering his clavicle. P-Organ stilled, unsure of what to say. Following his mechanical heart had never seemed more difficult than in the recent days.

"Thank you," P-Organ settled on, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes. Venigni dipped his chin and left, closing the door behind him with a thunderous boom that resounded throughout the room.

P-Organ didn't move from his chair for multiple minutes, silently counting each second that passed. Even when Gemini began speaking, listing off materials they would need for Romeo's recovery, P-Organ was focused on the carpet. 

Ever since Geppetto had thrown himself on the Nameless Puppet's blade—both saving P-Organ from destruction and righting the wrongs he had committed under the Gods' Cradle—P-Organ was lost. He spent the first half of the next month tirelessly wasting away in his father's study. He ripped open every locked vault and closed drawer—searching for something tangible. Wondering how he had come so close to humanity—had refused to give Geppetto his heart even when everything in his mechanisms screamed to comply—and now could no longer recognize himself. Or who he was meant to be. 

The picture of Carlo taunted him from the other side of the room. Carlo's face was round and pudgy; he couldn't have been more than a decade old, but his youthfulness only seemed to unsettle P-Organ further. P-Organ would never age, never grow sharper or rounder based on experiences shaping him, unless the stolen ergo coursing through him willed it.

He glanced at Romeo again.

If he revived Romeo—truly brought him back from whatever was harnessing his ergo, whether in rock or air—P-Organ would finally have someone who understood. Someone who had tried reaching out for him during their altercation and failed, but P-Organ could not forget despite it. Perhaps they were intertwined by more than a shared past that P-Organ did not remember. Even though Romeo would likely only see Carlo living within P-Organ like Geppetto had, he had to try. It was an itch he could not sate until the opposite boy was conscious and moving again.

Part of him wanted to ask more about Lea Florence; part of him wanted Sophia to know her sister didn't disappear without a trace, that she was still living through them both.

P-Organ reached for the Monad sword at his hip, letting the sting of metal-hand on metal-sword calm his grating nerves.

"Hey, hey pal. Did you go somewhere just then?" Gemini asked. P-Organ unclipped Gemini's lamp from his belt and stood, setting him on the table beside Geppetto's work bench. 

"Lost in thought," P-Organ responded, glancing over the notes scribbled on the blackboard. Geppetto had detailed the basics dutifully, writing about ergo and how it connected to the puppet via internal connection. It was information P-Organ already knew during his efforts to recover Sophia, so he lifted his elbow and erased it with his sleeve. 

"Cheer up kiddo! There's nothing we haven't completed when we set our minds to it, right? You and me. Stalkers, God-Killers, best pals forever. So let's put our minds together and get it done."
P-Organ felt his lips tug upwards, and scoffed as the ensuing smile hurt more than helped; smiling had always felt worse since he put his father in the ground, grave dug and marked beside Lady Antonia's. But Gemini had a way of steering away the foul atmosphere, and P-Organ felt warmth spread through him because of it. Together, they set to work, talking constantly so P-Organ wouldn't get too engrossed with his meandering worries. 

They would need artificial skin grafts for the entire body, thin enough to remove unnecessary weight but heavy enough to resist tearing. Getting alloys for Romeo's limbs and enough metal to repair the rest of his body would be more difficult with Venigni's factory in disarray once again, but P-Organ would make do with materials scavenged from Rosa Isabelle street, even if he had to scour the neighborhood for days.

He tinkered for hours, oblivious to the sun rising and falling outside the curtain-covered windows, going as far as to peel back the layers of his own skin to inspect the material underneath. He was surprised by how painful the process was; his body had adapted to the ergo flooding within him more fluidly than Geppetto had expected, seemingly creating branches of synthetic nerves from nothing but memory. Sophia would explain how this worked to him, but she was out viewing the safer streets of Krat with Eugenie.

At some point, perhaps a couple days later, Venigni returned to the suite with equipment in tow. Pulcinella turned his head to address P-Organ, a jovial smile permanently fitted to his face with rosy cheeks to match. P-Organ had a feeling Pulcinella had awakened his ego long ago, perhaps even before Venigni truly understood how far ergo could transform someone, but it was not his secret to tell. Venigni blathered on, speaking in an almost unintelligible language to his friend, whilst putting together what looked like an intricate stand retrofitted with tubes and wires. Pulcinella connected these wires to an external device that held sifting electrical energy P-Organ could smell even from ten feet away.

"What is this?" P-Organ asked, coming up to Venigni's side.

"It is my robotic rebreather, of course! You see, when a puppet has been out of commission for some time, whether it be due to damage or the repair process, their internal mechanisms begin to stiffen. If we hang up the King like so--" he threw an arm out, allowing Pulcinella to step forward and lift Romeo's body. P-Organ stilled at the movement, his lips drawn into a thin line. He halted his own hand before it could reach out, unsure why he was so tense in the first place. Pulcinella lifted Romeo to the stand, clipping the sockets of his shoulder blades to the metal grating to keep him elevated.

All at once, air was ripped from P-Organ's artificial lungs. It was like he had been stabbed.

An image flashed in his mind of Romeo, then away somewhere else; his arms were severed and hung from melted wax, taunting a woman who cared for him like a mother. It was there and then gone, replaced by Romeo hanging from wires and metal, the ends crudely digging into his wounds that Arlecchino had not bothered to bandage. How Romeo had still been alive...

And then, finally, P-Organ remembered the King of Puppets facade. How Romeo had been strung up in the heart of the automaton, his only role to puppeteer red limbs that were stretched and extended from a metal body. It was a sickening display of memory.

P-Organ ripped himself back to the present, clutching at his chest where the beat of his heart exploded warmth. He buzzed all over, reaching out with his legion arm to stop Pulcinella from stepping away.

"No. Don't hang him up. Do something else."

Venigni froze, eyebrows raised. "Now, my friend, the rebreather works best when the puppet is elevated like—"

"No." P-Organ breathed through his nose, not noticing he had begun to filter air through the replicas of lungs in his chest cavity. The calming effect was efficient, however. "Please."

Venigni frowned, sadly, before turning to Pulcinella. "It will be fine if he is laid on the divan. We will just need to monitor His Majesty more closely, hm?"

"Of course, Master Venigni." P-Organ stepped back to let him work, watching as Romeo was brought down from the hooks and lain back onto the sofa. P-Organ didn't look away until Pulcinella plugged Romeo back in, turning his attention to the machinery and screens beside him.

Venigni, it seemed, was happy to overlook P-Organ's outburst. P-Organ didn't complain. "Many thanks, 'Nella. Now, we can act as a kind of safeguarding puppeteer, helping the King to consistently recover his motor functions while he remains unresponsive." Pulcinella continued, hooking up tubes to his torso, which began deploying a gray liquid. "This will help as well." Venigni clapped, leading P-Organ away from Pulcinella as he worked. "Now tell me, Compagno. How goes the other half of our quest?"

P-Organ laid out his notes and offered Venigni one of his prototypes. Venigni whistled whilst turning it over in his hands. "I think the best we can do without my father's own input is to recreate a cardiovascular organ fitted to Romeo's body. We can do this using his ergo."

Venigni stilled. "Ah, you wish to make another mechanical heart. You know, I have some experience with a prototype like this, but Geppetto was incredibly hush-hush about his work here. Especially pertaining to you—I had no idea. I do not know how much assistance I can provide without observing the only working P-Organ available." P-Organ sat in the desk chair, sighing heavily. He pressed a hand to the spot over his heart, where his own father had wanted to pry him open and steal whatever laid within for another boy wearing his face. He reassured himself the skin was still there before continuing.

"I know. We can't exactly cut my chest open to examine it."

"Not without killing you, pal," Gemini added.

"And I have reason to believe that if my first prototype fails, I won't get a second chance." He gestured to the ergo chunk sitting on the desk. "If I get it wrong, the ergo will dissipate back into the atmosphere. I won't be able to capture it." Frustration set back in as he evaluated countless options before him—how would he force the reconnection to work perfectly on the first attempt? He felt as if he were cradling an eggshell between his palms, the trembling of his hands threatening to crack it.

"Tell me, Venigni, how would you work with these odds? How could you live with yourself if you failed?"

At his words, Venigni stilled, mouth parting slightly. Slowly, as if he were afraid of spooking a rabid animal, he lowered the prototype back to the table and kneeled in front of P-Organ, placing a stern hand on his knee. 

"P, if I have learned anything over my three long and arduous decades of life, it is that confidence is everything. You must be certain in your abilities, comfortable in your intelligence, and swift with your actions. Things like hesitance and fear are to be expected, but not allowed. You must be assured. But as to your current plight…" Venigni glanced at Romeo before sighing. "I will be honest, my friend. These odds are not good. We are working with nothing but Geppetto's fractured notes and grit, but if anyone can do it, it is you."

P-Organ kept a hand over his heart, his chest tightening at Venigni's words. That was it? Be confident in yourself? Something akin to fear was shuffling over P-Organ's skin, as if he was facing down Simon Manus or Laxasia again--the very air surrounding him suffocating in its entirety. 

"You are the one who got us all here, Compagno. And you could have left that boy in the opera house where you defeated him. Truthfully, I have never seen you so lost than when you returned after that battle, and ever since it has been echoing within you. So finish this."

Emotions were battling for dominance between the gears spinning in P-Organ's head, but he nodded anyway, determined to be everything Venigni was telling him he already was.

He wasn't going to fail. I cannot fail Romeo.

You love him more than anything else in—

The weeks sifted away in a blur of maddening quiet. The other residents of the hotel steered clear of P-Organ, whose stress was beginning to fray his polite disposition. He had snapped at Eugenie the other day when she brought him titanium alloy instead of platinum, and found her cuddling Spring under the bookshelves of her shop later that night. P-Organ didn't realize this in that moment, but it was the first time he ever apologized. Eugenie smiled brightly at him in return, reassuring that she could never stay mad at her hero.

P-Organ and Venigni circled around each other for days without saying a word, working in tandem to reconnect legs and arms to Romeo's body. Venigni began laying the skin grafts atop the metal while P-Organ pried open Romeo's chest cavity and made preparations for his organ transplant. He tinkered away the daylight until Sophia forcibly shoved him outside, looping his arm with hers while they traversed the nearby gardens. Antonia had loved lilacs, so him and Sophia spent a day planting the purple flowers all around the base of the hotel.

The day he was going to bring Romeo back from the dead, P-Organ woke with his cheek pressed against the table and his hand gently covering the heart prototype. The anchor necklace, which he had taken off Romeo's body after defeating him and worn around his own neck ever since, had slipped free of his shirt collar and was lain delicately against the heart. Ergo shimmered around both objects. P-Organ rose slowly, pressing his fingertips to his mouth, where he could still feel the ghost of Romeo's name on his lips. Had he been dreaming about him? Sleep was still a relatively new function to P-Organ after his recent transformation in Arch Abbey; it seemed the more he worried the more tired he became. But he still had no recollection of any dreams he experienced while unconscious.

P-Organ moved forward again, carefully lifting the heart. Gemini stirred at his side, chirping twice. 

"Is it time?" Even Gemini sounded nervous, doing naught to calm P-Organ's hesitations. He turned to Romeo, who had been transformed into a beautiful man in the days previous. The skin grafts had melded to his skin nicely, covering the sharp juts of his joints and ball sockets. Venigni brought some old clothes from his estate, which had been reclaimed recently by the Red Fox and Black Cat, despite P-Organ's doubts. Together, they dressed Romeo in a white undershirt overlaid with a crimson vest and simple brown trousers cuffed at the ankle. Venigni insisted on adding a leather overcoat before P-Organ shut it down. They didn't need Romeo to look fabulous, (even if Venigni vehemently disagreed) they needed him to be decent. Romeo's blond hair rippled from his shoulders in calming waves, and P-Organ stopped himself just as he reached forward to absentmindedly brush his fingers through it.

P-Organ glanced at the door, resigning himself. He had told the others he was going to wait for that night but he couldn't hold himself back any longer. The ergo flooding through the synthetic heart was pulling him forward like puppet strings. 

"This has to work," he whispered to himself, pressing the heart within the chest cavity. He connected two of the internal wires to the superior vena cava where, immediately, blue light pumped from the machinery. Romeo's body radiated warmth almost instantly as P-Organ shut the chest cavity and rebuttoned Romeo's vest. Each button felt like a death sentence, the toll of a bell ringing only for P-Organ to hear, as Romeo refused to stir. P-Organ swallowed, biting his lip to keep him from trembling completely. It was so strange, to be unraveled by someone a version of you may have known once.
P-Organ realized he wanted nothing more than to know Romeo now.

Surely, there was something hidden away.

He turned, panicked prepared to rifle through his father's notes, ready to catch Romeo's discarded ergo into his own body if it tried flinging itself from him, only for a voice to halt him completely.

"Carlo?"

Chapter Text

Romeo

Carlo.

I'm Romeo. I'm your best friend! We grew up together.

I remember you. That's enough. We don't need to fight. I remember.

Romeo blinked open his eyes for the first time in months, the skin over his metallic face shifting slightly as it became accustomed to the foreign movement. He was aware of his body first—of how it fit him easier than before, when he had first woken as the King of Puppets. He didn't feel separate from the flesh that made him. Not anymore.

He was clothed as well, which surprised him; he couldn't recall the last time he had worn something so proper; perhaps it was his graduation from the Rose Estate? He certainly hadn't been in nice clothes on the day of his death—though he definitely had arms again, which was nice.

Finally, the light exploding around him settled, as his pupils finally adjusted. It was there that he found he was not alone. Of course, he was never alone when Carlo had a say.

The man's back was turned, but Romeo would recall him even when he was blind and deafened, could sense him by presence alone. He had known the moment someone shoved open the doors of the Opera House that it was Carlo who had stepped inside, the determination lining his footsteps like a familiar echo in his memory, as he pursued a threat that wanted him more than anything else. More than ending the Alchemists' reign of terror, more than stopping Geppetto and his crazed puppets. Romeo just wanted him.

Romeo recalled his half-assed attempts to hurt Carlo—each successful attack stripping away more of his sanity. But Romeo would never let Geppetto turn him into a mindless puppet, not if he was still aware and functioning. 

Even then, could he have killed Carlo? 

"Carlo," his voice was soft, almost rusty, from disuse. But, beautifully, it was still his own voice. It seemed ergo was perfect in recollection, and Romeo thanked whatever God was still living that it was so.

Carlo turned in an instant, his eyes wide and glinting with light. He rushed forward, throwing up his hands before Romeo could try to stand from the plush divan he laid on. Carlo's posture was almost... disarming, like he was coaxing someone from being rash, perhaps afraid that Romeo would be confused in his resurrection and lash out at the person who had destroyed him.

It was unnecessary, of course. Freedom from the King of Puppets moniker alleviated any fight Romeo still had in his superficial bones. The fact that Carlo was still standing before him, unchanged by Geppetto's schemes, was enough to calm him.

Carlo still hadn't uttered a word, so Romeo took a moment to examine himself. He was dressed in fine clothes, brown trousers covering his legs. Strange, he thought, I remember those getting blown off. He returned his attention back to what was important: Carlo, who was looking at him with more emotion present than their previous encounter, when he had looked up at Romeo like he was nothing more than a stranger standing in the way of progress.

It was like Romeo himself had emerged from a chrysalis, reborn, and warm all over. If he couldn't feel the sensation of metal whirring in his own body, he might have thought he was still human—still alive. Perhaps all of it had been a bad dream and he was waking in the Rose Charity House, and was about to have tea with Carlo and Lea. 

"Wait," Carlo finally said. "Don't move. You might hurt yourself." He reached forward to steady him as Romeo finally stood, dodging his hands to instead reach up and brush a strand of silver hair out of Carlo's eyes. Carlo paused in his pursuit, cutting off a breath while he watched Romeo's movements.

"How did this happen?" Romeo asked, softly.

Carlo's mouth parted, and nothing but a surprised noise emerged.

"Your hair... it's like starlight, Carlo." Romeo let it slip through his reformed fingertips, oblivious to their perfection as he took in Carlo's smaller form in front of him. "It's beautiful."

Instead of admonishing him like he would have done in the past, something shuttered over Carlo's expression, and he took a step back. Romeo's hands were robbed of Carlo's hair, as the distance physically pained him, the spot over his heart growing tight like the coils in his artificial heart were stuttering.

Romeo winced, unsure what was wrong.

"I'm not him." Carlo's voice was like iron; gone was the concerned tone he had adopted earlier. Now, he was firm, despite not looking Romeo in the eye. "I am not Carlo."

The words echoed between them.

Romeo frowned. "What do you mean? You have Carlo's face, though you do look a bit younger, and Carlo's body, Carlo's ergo—I can sense it beating within you. I always could." He tried moving forward, but Carlo pulled back again.

He crossed his arms over his chest. "I don't have his memories. I'm not him, just something built to mimic him."

Romeo felt a stab of pain pulsing over the metal coating his sternum, a sort of pain unlike anything he had ever experienced—worse than having his arms torn free by Arlecchino's crazy blades, worse than waking to find Lea being stabbed through by a half-decayed puppet creature, worse than being reforged into the King. To be reunited with the person he loved most... only for them to be nothing more than a mirror into the past. It was unfathomable.

Romeo's fists clenched and he opened his mouth to deny it, only to lose the words on his breath before they could surface. Carlo—or Not Carlo, he supposed—refused to move or continue, seemingly lost in his own mind. Romeo recognized that look; had seen it on his own face many times.

Maybe he thought Romeo would grow angry, would try to tell him 'No, you're obviously Carlo, even though you say otherwise'. But what good would that do?

Romeo closed his eyes, listening closely as his metal body drew in air, filtered it, then let it back out. 

He remembered what Lea had said: You are my shining optimist, Romeo. I would not have made it this far without you. Don't change your heart because of this world, it doesn't deserve it.

Romeo opened his eyes again. "I remember. All my memories are in tact." He smiled slowly, though there was an ever-present sadness shimmering in his irises. He reached out with his hand again, taking Not Carlo's metal fingers within his own. "I told you this before, did you hear it? I'll remember for you."

Romeo was so tired of fighting. So tired of seeing people destroyed and reformed and turned into monsters, or hardened to glass. So, so tired of trying to stop people who'd crush him without a second glance, or help people who'd watch as he was crushed. He didn't care if the man in front of him was only wearing Carlo's face—he could feel the safety radiating from him. It is still Carlo's face. That is enough. 

Companionship could connect them—Romeo and Carlo's friendship hadn't started in a day, after all. Each day they grew closer. Romeo wasn't going to waste an opportunity to find out who this new person was. Or perhaps find out if the differences between them aren't as stark as he believes...

Not Carlo only needed to reach forward.

"Whatever you're thinking won't work. Not even my father could fix me."

A flash of anger surged through Romeo. "Geppetto," he spat it like a curse. Once he had admonished Carlo for disrespecting his father—now, he only wished he could drive his own scythe through Giuseppe's head. "He never truly knew you—he was never there. Even after he created this version of you, how often did he make time for you. How often was he around, asking how you were, spending time getting to know you?!"

The anger was like a flash fire, sudden and unrelenting as it swallowed everything it touched. Romeo pulled his hand back, spitting the words at Not Carlo like they stung to keep them on his tongue. He remembered the play he had constructed with broken puppets at the Opera House, how he had carved out the likeness of Geppetto in the hopes he could warn Not Carlo of his creator's deceit. 

But it was for naught, because Geppetto had also robbed Not Carlo of the ability to understand and communicate with his own people. 

Romeo's pleas had once again fallen on deaf ears.

"Romeo—" the boy started, but it was a small comfort amidst a raging storm. 

He hated Giuseppe Geppetto with every fiber of his being. How a man so uncaring, so selfish, could create such a wonderful and bright boy with hopes and dreams and desires and—

Carlo took hold of Romeo's hand, a thin beat of a heart pulsing out from his right wrist. 

Everything stilled.

"Okay. You remember everything. And I remember one thing—I remember how I feel about you. That despite knowing little about you, your presence... calms me. That can be enough."

Romeo searched his eyes for a moment, feeling his body hum with Not Carlo's words. It distracted him from his panicked anger—what was he going to do when he actually saw Geppetto next? He shook away the thought, counting the freckles dotting Not Carlo's face. Carlo hadn't had this many.

"Can you teach me how to be human?" Carlo asked, with hesitance.

The question was daunting; neither of them were truly human anymore, they did not have flesh and blood, just synthetic parts to replicate it. Romeo's eyes and brain and lungs were fake, but he remembered the feeling and intricacy of breathing. He could recall the feeling of falling asleep with his head cushioned on Carlo's shoulder, as they laid against the grass outside the charity house. He remembered coaxing the neighborhood strays to come closer so they could feed them.

But the person in front of him remembered none of that. 

Was humanity an innate connection to morality, was it biology and the parts that make something, was it memories, or something else?

"I—" Romeo started, searching for an answer. "I can try. If you trust me." He let himself grin, his cheek dimpling. It was truly incredible how quickly ergo shifted into the body, returning its vessel the same quirks and features it had attained from previous life, once allowed to flourish.

Not Carlo frowned, contemplating something while examining Romeo's face, who quieted the remaining cinders of his anger while he watched Not Carlo.

He was alive. Here. Standing.

That was all Romeo had wanted, once upon a time. 

Even if he wasn't Carlo, he had Carlo's soul. And that meant he was at peace, here.

"Okay. I trust you." Those words leaving Carlo's lips and using Carlo's voice were both a balm to his grief and a wound to remind him of reality, but Romeo kept himself from wavering, gripping tighter to Not Carlo's palm. Not Carlo moved forward to remove some of the wires connecting Romeo to a steel box, among other gadgets. Romeo had never been interested in the Workshop. It was quite boring to look at.

When Romeo was completely freed, he took a step forward, testing his new legs. He wanted a mirror more than anything, but that had to wait; it seemed Not Carlo was not one for admiring his appearance. There were no mirrors in this room.

Not Carlo was still holding his hand. The other one—a mechanical one, Romeo realized—was still hesitating in the air behind Romeo, as if preparing to catch him should he fall.

Romeo cleared his throat. "Good. If you're not Carlo, then what's your name?"

"Name?" Not Carlo cocked his head. "Geppetto called my puppet the P-Organ, if that's what you mean."

"Well surely he didn't call you P-Organ, right?" And just like that, Romeo was furious again. When he saw Geppetto, he was going to kill him.

Not Carlo's face seemed to darken, as if he were... blushing? Huh, Romeo cocked a brow, puppets shouldn't be able to do that. "Well, he called me 'son'."

"Or, 'my precious son'!" A new voice chimed in. Romeo hunched back instinctively, his hand reaching for a weapon that wasn't there. In his haste, he ripped himself free from Not Carlo's hold, and mourned the loss immediately.

"Who is that?"

Not Carlo sighed, patting a lamp at his side. It glowed green at the touch. "Gemini. He's my cricket guide."

"Sorry guys! You seemed like you were having a moment, so I didn't want to interrupt!" The voice responded, followed by some chirps. Romeo relaxed, his heart continuing to thunder as he was stolen away by a memory or two.

He almost wanted to laugh. Gemini. Like Lea Florence's Stalker partner, Gemini. He had worn a mask much like Lea's, and they barely went on a mission without one another. Gemini had been larger than Lea, who often sacked him on a younger Carlo and Romeo when they were annoying her too much. Gemini used to throw both of them over his shoulder, cackling and stomping about while the boys laughed endlessly. Gemini often teased them whenever they threw themselves at the ground before Lea, begging her to teach them. However, outside of Lea leaving the charity house, they didn't see much of Gemini.

Carlo, on the other hand, had loved cricket companions when the two of them were growing up. They used to sneak out of the charity house deep into the night, and attend the midnight festivals that took place on Rosa Isabelle street late in the summer. Partygoers would sell personalized cricket companions, fitted with unique voices and outfits. 

Carlo had always wanted one, enamored with the design, but the two could never afford it.

I'll get you one before graduation, Sir Carlo. Promise on my life.

Though the two passed by that festival later, after they had become Stalkers. They still never bought one. They were too focused.

Perhaps... they should have slowed down, a bit.

"A cricket companion..." Romeo huffed, smiling. "Why?"

Not Carlo's eyes widened. "He was given to me."

"And now we're thick as thieves!" The cricket chirped happily. "And before you ask again, no, this one does not have a proper name. Everyone here just calls him nicknames so I'd just pick out one if I were you. But 'pal' is taken, pal!"

"I technically have a name!" Not Carlo insisted, clearly flustered. "P works just fine."

"From P-Organ, your glorified serial number? Is your middle name 48392, can I find it printed somewhere on your person?" Romeo asked.

Not Carlo frowned, and the expression only enhanced Romeo's gleeful grin. He hadn't expected to get such a rise out of the boy in front of him, who claimed so effortlessly that he wasn't Carlo despite sharing many similarities with him, including his short temper. 

But maybe Romeo was just biased, unable to see anything the boy did without thinking of the loved one he had lost long ago.

Romeo's smile fell. "Well, first step to being a human—having a real name. While we figure that out, why don't you tell me everything that happened after you murdered me?"

Not Carlo sputtered, moving beside Romeo, who began making his way to the only doors in the room, two large ones made of dark oak just behind them.

"If I had known you weren't hostile, I wouldn't have done that!"

"I offered my hand to you and you swatted it away!"

"I was a different person then." Not Carlo said, crossing his arms.

Romeo laughed, the sound startling both of them to a halt. How long had it been since they had experienced pure joy? He hadn't known his body still supported the sound of laughter until it had erupted out of him, and the noise finally brought a smile to Not Carlo's face. If Romeo thought it would work, he would laugh over and over again just to see that same grin on Carlo's mouth.

Not Carlo glanced away. "Fine. I'll tell you later. First, you must meet everyone."

Romeo paused. "Is that a good idea? Until today, I was their enemy."

"If they had a problem with you, they wouldn't have helped me rebuild you," Not Carlo argued. "They accepted me, even though I've... lied to them. So they will accept you."

Oh, so Not Carlo could lie? Romeo tucked away that knowledge to ask him about later, maybe Romeo's resurrection meant he could lie as well? He would have to test it, but when?

In the end, Romeo had no choice but to believe him, as he followed Not Carlo down the hallway overlooking the main lobby of what could only be Hotel Krat.

It was gorgeous inside, even more decadent than the exterior architecture, and could put even the Opera House to shame. There was a shimmering stargazer erected in the center of the lobby, surrounded by cleaning supplies. It looked as if the hotel had been seriously damaged, and repairs were still being done. But still, it was beautiful.

Could Romeo... truly live here?

There was a young woman sitting on a chaise beside the stargazer, visible once they descended the staircase, her hair a light blue and eyes warm as she scooped up a tawny cat and dispensed it on the cushion next to her. She played with its paws momentarily before noticing their presence.

Romeo stilled at the same moment the woman—who was a puppet, but a familiar one—opened her mouth to gasp.

"Romeo?" Sophia said, standing abruptly and breaking into a run. Not Carlo watched as Romeo stepped forward, enveloping Sophia (who was much, much taller in this new body) in a tight embrace. She pulled away soon after, cupping his face with her hands. 

"I am so glad to see you're well, My Sweet."

"I can't believe you're here!" Romeo exclaimed, grinning ear to ear. "Why is your hair blue?"

Sophia giggled, pressing her jointed fingers over her lips. "It is a... long story, Lampwick. We will have much to discuss later."

All this time, Romeo thought Sophia had been seriously hurt in the charity house disaster. Though he and Lea had searched for her, their efforts procured nothing. The Alchemists were secretive at best, and hostile at worst. 

But she was here now—as a puppet?"

"Clever One—" Sophia greeted Not Carlo. "P... You've done it."

P's shoulders slumped, as he visibly relaxed while looking at Sophia. She stepped away from Romeo, bowing her head to both of them. 

So, the others really did refer to him as P. Romeo bristled, but said nothing.

"Lea would be so happy to see you here, Romeo. Know that as long as you wish to reside here, you are welcome." Sophia wound her hands together, looking between the two of them. 

"Thank you, Miss Sophia." Romeo bowed with great respect, glancing to P, who gestured for him to keep following. They continued further down the lobby, before turning left into another room. In the next hall was a mini workshop lined with various weapons and materials, while the opposite side was like a museum exploded, small models decorating shelves and display cases. A large poster had been hung between two windows, the words A NEW ERA WITH VENIGNI written across it. Well, Romeo knew it had to be the same Venigni that Geppetto was obsessed with, despite being decades his senior. He remembered Carlo laughing about their petty, one sided rivalry.

Surely, Venigni didn't actually live there. He was the richest man in Krat, even with the puppet frenzy ruining everything.

Two people were moving about the workshop, passing metal objects to one another. A woman was organizing weapons, gently laying them onto shelves before turning to her friend to take another. She was a head shorter than Romeo, with brown hair pulled into a messy bun behind her head. She was wearing glasses and a workshop apron, comprised with a belt storing various tools. She had a smear of grease stained on her forehead, where her hair line was frayed.

"Lorenz, could you please go find P when you have a moment? I really need to take a look at his sword before he ventures out again..." Eugenie turned, jumping slightly when she caught sight of the two boys in front of her workshop. She relaxed almost immediately, jumping to action. 

The man beside her, who was definitely Lorenzini Venigni, to Romeo's befuddlement, only watched with amusement as the girl leapt forward, taking hold of P's hands.

"Oh my goodness, oh wow! You actually did it." She looked at Romeo, then P, then Romeo again. She squealed a bit. "This is wonderful! You're a prodigal inventor, P! No one else could have done this in the time it took you, oh wow. And you! It is so great to finally meet you." She took Romeo's hand, shaking it up and down. "So, so sorry I was the one that technically destroyed you... I fixed up the weapon P here was using after all... Oh! I'm Eugenie! I'm so glad we're on the same side now, friend." She, too, bowed her head. Romeo returned the gesture.

"Thank you for fixing me," Romeo said, but Eugenie quickly brushed him off. 

"Oh, that was nothing. It was P and Lorenz here that should take the credit for everything..."

"Nonsense!" Venigni shouted, raising his gloved hands to clap them together. He was also wearing spectacles, lined with gold. Romeo had the urge to laugh at him—he was the definition of lavish, dressed in furs and silks, with a perfectly trimmed beard and mustache; even in the middle of the puppet apocalypse, he was stylish. 

He stepped forward, slipping his arm around Eugenie's shoulder. "We can all be geniuses together, friends! Now tell me, Romeo, nothing hurts? Va bene?" He laughed when Romeo nodded. "Wonderful. Don't go anywhere, we'll need to monitor you while you walk around a bit, make sure nothing's falling apart, then I'm sure you and P are itching to get out there."

Romeo glanced at P. "Go out where?"

P smiled sheepishly back at him. "Well, I have a lot to catch you up on. I suppose now we can go talk." He nodded to both Eugenie and Venigni, pulling Romeo along after him. Romeo waved goodbye, nearly stumbling over his own feet as a cat pranced under them. "That's Spring—she takes a bit to warm up to you, but she's sweet. You'll meet Pulcinella and Polendina later. Oh, and Belle should be returning shortly. Maybe even the Fox and Cat, if they decide to show up. I think—"

"Think that you're stalling?" Romeo cut in, crossing his arms. "Yes."

P had led them to another room in the lobby, a connecting library that held a grand piano and a portrait of a young woman dressed in a fine ivory gown. She was gorgeous, but more importantly, her eyes held a wisdom many couldn't claim. Romeo took a moment just to stare up at it, wondering why she looked so familiar. P stepped up next to him, and Romeo reminded himself again that this boy occupying the space next to him wasn't Carlo. He wasn't.

He clenched his fists.

"This is Lady Antonia." P sighed. "She passed away a month or so ago."

Romeo stilled, lips parting. He felt the loss like a knife through the heart, not realizing the news would shake him in this way. Lady Antonia had made frequent visits to see Carlo at the Monad Charity House, arriving every few weeks with presents in tow and a winning smile. Carlo had called her Auntie Tonia, flinging himself into her skirts while he was younger, and engulfing her in an embrace when he grew taller than her. Antonia had always offered Romeo a hug as well; him and Carlo were rarely without one another, so Lady Antonia was kind of like Romeo's aunt as well...

Knowing she was gone—that he never got to see her again, even one final time to hear her sing... it was stifling.

"I see." Romeo looked away, stepping away to sit in one of the seats faced away from the painting. He had looked into the eyes of enough grief today.

"P," he called out, using the bastardization of P's given name for the first, and hopefully last, time. "Tell me everything."

-

Romeo really tried not to smile when P told him Giuseppe Geppetto was dead. He only managed to stop it when he remembered he wasn't the one to kill him, which soured the excitement if minimally. P described the final time he had seen his father, underneath the isle of Alchemists, where P defeated Simon Manus in a haze of hubris and power. He described with numbness how Geppetto had demanded his heart, just like how Romeo had said he would in his play, and grew angry when P denied him.

Romeo had never been more relieved in his life. P told him no. He wasn't sure Carlo would even have managed that, despite any denials.

He described what happened to Sophia, how she had been imprisoned and strung up in a prison of her own flesh and blood, her own lifeforce, and could only slip away through hazes of herself. That was when P's hair became silver, evidently, but Romeo's heart only broke more. How much had this boy suffered through witnessing such horrors? If only Romeo could have been more clear, more convincing. But he hadn't been.

And Sophia—the entire time she had been taken, suffering. In pain and alone, with her parents dead and her sister afflicted with Petrification Disease. Romeo didn't know what to think.

There was one point in which P stopped talking, instead glancing at Romeo. It looked like he was deciding whether or not to say more. Romeo waited, but P never continued. It seemed there was something P was leaving out—something he didn't trust Romeo with yet, supposedly.

That was fine. He was going to prove himself. He could do that.

The two sat in silence for some time, digesting. Likely, P himself was trying to understand everything that had happened to him, and wouldn't likely resolve himself tonight any more than Romeo would.

Romeo noticed that, through it all, Gemini had remained silent. Romeo silently thanked him for that.

"Thank you for telling me." Romeo cleared his throat, no longer accustomed to the bulk of emotions stirring in his chest cavity. He hadn't felt this overwhelmed since P had brushed away the King of Puppets, intent to kill him after a sling of misunderstandings.

P said nothing, staring down at his metal hand.

Romeo took a moment to examine the bookshelves; he had always loved to read, had read all of the books at the charity house cover to cover. It would be good to have new content to peruse during his stay, especially if it was long term. He wanted to stay as long as he was welcome... it had been a while since a place felt so... warm.

Carlo had never liked reading much, Romeo recalled. He was obsessed with one book though—wait a minute.

Romeo stood, walking over to the bookshelf to pull a short brown book free. Sure enough, Carlo's favorite book rested in his hands. It was well loved, as if it was read over and over again. Romeo felt his eyes water.

"What is it?" P asked, curious.

Romeo brought it back to the seats, passing it to the other boy.

"It's really good—it's why people call me Lampwick, you know? It's a story about a wooden boy going on a quest to prove himself and become human. Pinocchio is his name."

"Pinocchio..." P trailed off.

"You should read it; it's good." Romeo glanced away, unable to look at the person who resembled Carlo, as he examined Carlo's favorite book.

"I—" P started. "I can't read."

Romeo frowned. Geppetto hadn't taught him how to read? God. P told him about all the posters and news clippings he had picked up all over Krat—and he hadn't been able to read them? Did Sophia or Venigni read them to him whenever he returned from his latest battle? The thought only made Romeo mad. And sad. He'd been feeling a lot of anger and sadness lately. And he'd only been alive again for an hour.

He sighed. "I can teach you, if you want." Though Romeo was offering something, he felt more like he was being tentative. As if this were a gift to him, not P. He held onto the words, watching closely as P looked up at him.

P smiled. "I'd like that. And maybe..." He trailed off.

"What?" Romeo probed him, not wanting to let the thought ebb away.

"Maybe Pinocchio can be my name. It fits."

Romeo stared over at P—Not Carlo—Pinocchio—and couldn't help but smile, the corners of his eyes burning. The ergo flooding his metal heart continued beating in his chest, and for the first time since his twisted death, Romeo felt completely and truly at peace, looking at this wonderful, soft, brilliant boy.

Chapter Text

Pinocchio

The hum of a record roused Pinocchio from sleep, softly drifting in through the cracks of his bedroom. 

He blinked awake, brushing off his wrinkled clothes as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and peered at the door. The wood muffled most of the sound, but sure enough, there was a soft melody of strings and piano emanating from somewhere in Hotel Krat. Was it Fascination, maybe?

He glanced to Gemini, whose lantern was still dark, settled on the center of his end table. Pinocchio smiled with a scoff, reaching forward to poke his pointer finger to the glass. Light flickered within once, then twice, before Gemini chirped three times. 

"Good morning, pal!" He exclaimed, chittering afterwards. 

It wasn't unusual for Pinocchio to sleep the night away—even puppets needed to shut down to cool off their gears—but it wasn't often he slept for more than four hour increments. Ever since arche abbey, he had needed more of it. It was a very human thing, after all, to bundle oneself in warm blankets and drift into peaceful bliss while the night churned outside safe walls. He quite liked it.

"Gemini, do you hear the music?" Pinocchio asked.

"Of course," he chirped. "Wanna go see what the others are up to?"

Pinocchio nodded, smoothing out his clothes and lifting Gemini to clip the lantern to his belt.

His room was on the far side of the lobby, where the hallway opened up into the gardens that housed the great Gold Coin Fruit tree. Pinocchio picked the room recently, after his father had passed and he could no longer get himself to fall asleep on the couches in his study; he preferred the hum of the tree next door as his neighbor in the night. After Romeo woke a few days prior, he took the room right next to Pinocchio's, on the left side. It was comforting, to know he slept so close by. Safe.

The music crescendoed when Pinocchio opened his door, the laughter of the other hotel residents intermingled. 

Je t'aime pourtant d'un amour ardent, dont rien, je le sens, ne pourra me défair—

Pinocchio walked to the balcony of the grand staircase, peering over at those below. 

Sophia stood nearest the gramophone, a beaming smile on her face as she watched Romeo and Eugenie spin in circles. Each of them were laughing as if it were contagious, their limbs loose and casual, without the precision necessary of a waltz. It was entirely too fast-paced for the song, but they spun anyway.

Eugenie was still in her night gown, and Sophia only wore her cream-colored dress, her feet bare, but they danced anyway. 

Further in the Hotel, past the library and in the kitchens, a savory aroma was brewing and wafting out into the rest of the hotel. It was not yet breakfast time, but the others didn't seem to mind the wait.

Pinocchio started making his way down the steps, heart thundering in his chest. Sophia laughed again when Romeo snapped his hand forward, bringing her back into the circle.

"I knew you still had it in you!" Romeo cheered, laughing as Sophia's skirts billowed, following her twirl. His blond hair was in disarray, unkempt from sleep and falling in his face. Pinocchio wanted to brush it back, perhaps braid it, but a part of him liked it how it was now too: Romeo looked free, like this. Laughter light on his lips.

As if sensing his presence, Romeo's eyes met Pinocchio's, lighting upon seeing him. Something mischievous crossed over his expression before he stepped away from Eugenie and Sophia.

"Oh, don't try, Romeo! Our boy here loves the music, but we can never get him to dance." Eugenie took hold of Sophia while Romeo approached Pinocchio, the two of them continuing their spin. 

Polendina stood rigid at the counter. Pinocchio glanced at him as he stepped forward, removing the music disc just as its song ended. He replaced the record with Someday .

Romeo stopped in front of Pinocchio, a soft smile on his lips. He looked Pinocchio up and down, before pressing a hand to the spot above his heart and bowing deeply. He even kicked one leg out behind him. 

"May I have a dance?" He asked, blond hair collapsing over his forehead.

Pinocchio felt his chest warm, where the beat of his heart aligned with the seconds passing. The moment sat between them, as Romeo stood back to his full height and put his hand out, palm facing upwards.

Pinocchio laughed once. "Eugenie told you I don't dance."

Romeo scoffed, though the sound was lighthearted. "Wasn't talking to you, sleepyhead. Gemini!" The lantern lit up orange. "Would you make me the happiest man and dance with us?"

Maybe the laughter really was contagious, after all. Pinocchio covered his mouth with his hand when Romeo unclipped Gemini from his belt, the cricket companion chirping bashfully as the lantern flashed orange and pink.

"I can't dance, buddy!"

"Nonsense!" Romeo insisted, holding the lantern close while he turned three times in succession. He held Gemini straight out, swinging him back and forth slowly, as if truly moving with him in time. "Everyone can dance." He looked to Pinocchio as he said the words, and Pinocchio rolled his eyes; he had never done the gesture before, but it seemed like the right moment to try it. 

From the left side of the room, Venigni and Belle approached, talking animatedly with one another. They seemed to be deep into a serious conversation, twin grave expressions on their faces. Pinocchio hadn't yet talked to Belle since she returned from the outer city, scouting out possible survivors and guiding them back to the hotel. Her hair had grown, and she looked more well-nourished, brighter since her first few nights in Hotel Krat. Pinocchio was glad.

Upon seeing the dancers, Venigni threw up his hands in shock, then placed one on his chest with a dramatic gasp. "Dancing? Without us?"

Belle laughed. "Maybe they didn't want to deal with your two left feet again, old man."

Venigni shoved her aside, joining the fray. He bowed deeply to Sophia before taking her hand and bringing her in close, waltzing left and right with her as she laughed. Romeo passed Monad's lamp to Eugenie before turning to Pinocchio again, tilting his head. He stepped forward, extending a hand.

"Dance with me," he said, almost a whisper.

Écoute mon cœur je t'attendrai

Même si j'ai mal au cœur

"I don't know how," Pinocchio admitted, his voice soft, hesitant. His hand almost seemed to move on its own, tilting at the elbow and reaching up to place itself in Romeo's waiting palm. Immediately, the touch soothed him, bolts and gears relinquishing their tight hold on Pinocchio's body.

Romeo just smiled. "I'll teach you."

In one fluid movement, he pulled Pinocchio forward and spun him under his arm, arcing him toward the others. They cheered when Pinocchio joined the mass, though he was quickly pulled back into Romeo's waiting arms. He nearly stumbled, tripping on his own feet, before righting himself. Romeo waited patiently, swaying back and forth to the music.

Pour que tu puisses entendre ma petite voix
Je t'attendrai
Je t'entendrai

If Pinocchio could blush, he certainly would be. He felt his face warm, glancing at the others to see if they were watching his shameful display of movement. Sure, he could dash around monsters out on the streets of Krat; tumble over their bodies and swing his sword in arcs until making purchase in metal or flesh. But dancing was different. Aside from the puppet in the past who taught him to tap dance, though he'd never tell a soul (other than Gemini and Rosaura), he had never attempted a real dance. It wasn't in his code.

Romeo didn't seem to care though—Pinocchio was coming to find out that that was the epitome of Romeo's disposition. He did not care who you were or what past mistakes you had made, if he saw you smile, he'd try to keep that smile on your face. Truthfully, Pinocchio had worried himself for days that Romeo would be exactly like Geppetto; only able to see the boy that had been lost to them so many years ago, trying to draw a hard line between who Pinocchio was and Carlo had been. Even Geppetto hadn't truly known. He still got shivers on his gears when he remembered the corpse of his soul underneath the Gods' Cradle—how it had obeyed ceaselessly and swung from left to right, smelling of rot and chemicals and thread.

Geppetto hadn't wanted to bring his son back; he'd wanted an idealized version of Carlo, despite Pinocchio's existence, and it wasn't enough.

Pinocchio woke himself up in the night, sometimes, thinking about that Nameless Puppet. How close its sword had been to his own heart.

Romeo spun Pinocchio again, and the soft expression on his face made Pinocchio look away. He couldn't bare to look for long, feeling as if something was being taken from him. Robbed of it.

"Now you've got it, Clever One," Sophia mused, her chin hooked over Venigni's shoulder. And Pinocchio tried to relax into himself, glancing down at his feet only momentarily before focusing back on the sway of him and Romeo. Together. The music hummed, as the wind sounds coalesced to a close and the record ended. Polendina clapped politely, informing everyone that breakfast was served, before taking his place back behind the counter.

The others began talking about the day, but Pinocchio was frozen, staring up into the wells of green and gold that made up Romeo's eyes. He only seemed to find Pinocchio amusing, refusing to be the first to let go. They stood chest to chest, Pinocchio's legion arm placed on Romeo's hip with the other clasped tightly with Romeo's own hand. For some reason... Pinocchio didn't want to pull away.

He did, pull away, of course. Pinocchio was not used to getting what he wanted—giving himself what he wanted.

"Thank you," Romeo said.

-

As the day passed and the city of Krat began to darken once more, Pinocchio and Romeo approached the stargazer, finding Venigni and Sophia already engrossed in conversation there. Romeo now carried the scythe that had been taken from him months prior, the hook of it retrofitted with a new wire Eugenie had insisted upon. Pinocchio couldn't bare to bring the Monad sword—couldn't yet let Romeo see the weapon his master had carried and fought her last battle with—so he asked Eugenie to sharpen his twin dragon blade as well as a backup spear for safety.

"Ah, it is great to see you!" Venigni greeted, clapping Pinocchio on the back. "Thank you for doing this for me, my friends."

"We'll get it done. Once Venigni Works is free from the carcasses, the real work can begin." Pinocchio nodded his head. Sophia had stepped forward to take both of Romeo's hands within her own, the swell of blue ergo illuminating around them beginning to shimmer as she closed her eyes in concentration. Romeo watched, enamored, and Pinocchio forced himself to tear his gaze away.

"Lorenzini and I were discussing a possible entrance for you both," Sophia said. "I have discovered that a majority of the stargazers were destroyed; repair them if you like. All three nearest the control room have been disconnected, so you will have to make your way through the main entrance once again." Sophia stepped toward Pinocchio next, resting her plastic hand over his unruly hair; silver strands had fallen over his forehead, obscuring his vision, so she pushed them away. Grinning softly, she turned to Venigni.

"We believe someone must have ushered the carcasses in, of course. Perhaps they are using them as a distraction of sorts, to steal something of mine, though I don't recall leaving much of importance after our initial meeting there, Compagno." Venigni brushed his fingers through his beard, lost in thought. "Oh! And Pulcinella tells me that puppets have reported seeing movement deep in the control room again."

"Where I met Fuoco?" Pinocchio asked.

"Ah," Romeo chuckled. "The King's Flame, whom you destroyed after I sent him to collect you, of course?"

Pinocchio scowled. "It was a misunderstanding..."

This only amused Romeo further. "Of course."

Sophia and Venigni exchanged a humorous glance. "Be safe, you two. I don't want to have to do any more repairs, capito?" 

"Yes. We'll be quick." Pinocchio grinned, turning to the stargazer. He glanced at Romeo. "Ready?"

Romeo nodded. "How does this thing work exactly?"

Instead of answering, Pinocchio simply reached his right hand out, clasping it with Romeo's left. It seemed to startle the blond, who stared down at their conjoined hands as Pinocchio reached forward with his free one, reaching through the mask of blue filtering from the stargazer to touch the brass within. All at once, a shiver ran over Pinocchio, until his artificial skin and metal body broke apart. He dispersed into butterflies, fading into blue, but he still held tight to Romeo. 

The world seemed to flip on itself, his vision banding back and forth like rubber, until it squeezed together in his mind and contracted with a snap. The butterflies coalesced, reforming Pinocchio's body right beside the Workshop entrance stargazer. Romeo stumbled away immediately, holding tightly to the nearest wall to right himself. Pinocchio breathed a laugh after him, watching as the boy shook his head to try to regain sense of his surroundings.

" That was terrible. Next time we walk."

"You get used to it!" Gemini reassured, chirping in his lantern. Romeo returned to their side, flicking his fingers against the lamp once, before glancing around to take in their surroundings. The entrance looked the same as it had when Pinocchio had last been there, stairs leading up to his right and a path branching out to the left. The world darkened by the second, though, and as Pinocchio checked to make sure everything was sturdy on his belt, Romeo paused.

"Shall we make our way to the control room first, try to take out the heart of the problem? Or should we get the stragglers blocking our path?"

"Better to take care of everything now, rather than later." Pinocchio moved for the left entrance, holding his breath while he pressed himself to the brick and peered around the corner. Romeo was at his heel, and his height allowed him to look over Pinocchio's shoulder as well. Three carcasses loitered down the alley, their skin puckered and grayed while a viscous liquid seeped from their wounds and jagged blue crystals broke from their skin. One of the three seemed to have lost their hand, the stump extending into a bulbous mass that stunk of rotten flesh. Those types were often slower than the others due to their mutated extremity, but if they managed to hit, it hurt. 

Pinocchio relayed this information to Romeo. "The other two will charge. Want to take them or the big guy?"

Romeo grinned. "I remember fighting carcasses from when I was alive, you know, before. We got this. I'll take the little ones."

Pinocchio sighed. "Of course."

"What, don't think you can handle that brute?"

"In your dreams." Pinocchio pushed him away from the wall, grinning with a shake of his head. "Ready to test out your new body?"

" Literally born ready, thank you much." Romeo revealed himself from the corner first, lifting the scythe from his back. The carcasses turned at the same moment he flung the handle down, the sing of metal wiring ricocheting off the alleyway walls. The wire caught all three of the monsters, tearing open their flesh as acidic blood sprayed forth, painting the cobbles in front of them blue. They screeched in pain, clawing at their faces before the two smaller ones in front broke into a run towards them.

Romeo redirected his scythe, flipping it back and swinging it the opposite direction. The wire struck out again, catching the first carcass around its ankle. Pinocchio watched, awed, as Romeo caught the carcass like a fish on a hook, slamming it into the opposite carcass to knock it off its feet before he drew it forward.

Pinocchio moved at the same moment, ducking underneath the carcass as it was reeled in. Romeo pulled back the wire at the same moment he swung the blade down, cutting the first carcass in half entirely. Gemini cheered while Pinocchio ran past, his focus on the brute that was ambling their way, the thick bulb it had on the end of its arm dragging across the cobble.

He unsheathed his sword, twirling it in an arc to catch the first of the brute's attacks, blocking and redirecting its right fists before the claws could sink into Pinocchio's flesh. He danced around the slash of the carcasses' hand, just managing to slip away before the bulbous hand slammed down into the ground, right where he had been standing. 

Pinocchio slashed out, cutting the carcass across its back. Acid exploded, and Pinocchio was too slow to block his face from it. A speck burned at his cheek, revealing the mess of machinery underneath that was alight with ergo. Pinocchio hissed, his eye above the spot wincing in pain, as he struck again. The creature roared, spinning on its foot to swing out with its large hand. Pinocchio ducked underneath it and stabbed forward, slicing the blade through its abdomen with a sickening squelch. At the same time, Romeo approached, sending the hook of his scythe head into the clavicle of the beast. It let out one final garbled cry before sinking to the ground, dispersing into ergo and decayed flesh. 

"Not so bad," Pinocchio heaved a breath, wiping his face. He frowned, searching his belt for pulse cells. Romeo stepped around the puddle of acid, batting Pinocchio's hands away. 

"I got one." He revealed a handkerchief at his belt, unveiling a pulse cell that was half full, the mess of purple and blue inside dwindling every moment that passed. Romeo pressed the pulse cell into the cotton, before reaching forward to dab at Pinocchio's cheek with it. The entire time, Pinocchio gaped at him. He wasn't used to having someone look out for him, yet, aside from Gemini. But Gemini didn't exactly have hands. It sent a strange sensation through him, like a zap of electricity through his chest. Romeo blinked back at him, his brows drawn. "What? I thought we might as well share. Venigni gave us enough to stock a small army."

Pinocchio scoffed away the feeling bubbling up his throat. "He only worries for us."

"Ah yes, in his pompous, holier than thou way. I mean, he is a genius after all."

Pinocchio snorted. "Let's continue before he hears you and sends his Puppet of the Future after us."

Romeo chased after Pinocchio, who set off to make his way further down the alleyway. They passed multitudes of broken puppets, their faces blank or dark from being powered down, and most laying atop one another. As if they were trying to protect another from death. Pinocchio ignored it despite the pull of his heart, scouting around the corner once more. 

Beneath them, in a valley where Pinocchio had once fought the Puppet of the Future, was the sound of squelching footsteps. Something hungered down below, and Pinocchio listened intently while the creature seemed to sink its teeth into something metallic, breaking apart a machine into a burst of electricity and spikes. It seemed to throw the machine away afterwards, snarling at itself. 

Pinocchio inched closed, checking their blind spots before peering down at the cage. Sure enough, another carcass beast resided down below. It was one of the more feline appearing ones, with hackles raised and curved limbs to keep it close to the ground. A tail with a scorpion tip at the end dragged against the ground as it searched for food, tearing apart the limbs of the automaton Pinocchio felled long ago. It didn't seem like it could escape the cage it had fallen into; there were countless scratch marks etched into the walls, as if the creature had tried to claw its way out, only to slip back down. Pinocchio froze when his eyes fell upon the body of the beast—it seemed like human carcasses had fused with it, melting into its hide with arms and legs protruding in random places. Its belly hung heavier to the ground, bloated and fattening every moment.

Had this creature... eaten other carcasses?

Romeo whistled softly. "That one will give us much more trouble."

Pinocchio nodded. "We have about seven thermites; think that's enough to catch this thing on fire?"

"Yeah. Let's use the grindstones Venigni gave us as well." Romeo kept his eyes on the creature while Pinocchio prodded at their throwables. "Did you see its injuries, on the side of its neck?"

Pinocchio snapped his head back up, squinting down at the carcass. Sure enough, there were pockmarks of flesh where it seemed to be burned, charred skin cracking away when it moved too abruptly. Romeo had a good eye; he had completely missed it upon first glance.

"Maybe there are Stalkers here," Pinocchio said, straining his ears to listen past the whir of machinery and grunts of carcasses surrounding them. He scanned the perimeter, looking for others among the darkness.

Pinocchio relaxed when he caught sight of two familiar faces hiding in the vents across the way. The red figure was holding onto a weapon, striking it with an object that drew sparks over the blade. She wore a fox mask that extended from her face, while her companion was in darker clothes, a cat mask held in his hand. It wasn't the first time he had seen the Black Cat's face—Lucio's face—his golden hair crusted with dirt and his round face creased in pain. 

Pinocchio turned to Romeo. "Two friends are here from the Hotel. I've told you about the Fox and Cat?" Romeo nodded. "We should make our way over to them. We're more likely to succeed if we work together."

"More like they'll tell us to deal with the problem..." Gemini whispered, glumly. Pinocchio patted his lamp, knowing he was right, but hushing him anyway.

The two stepped out from the shadows, sticking low to the ground. The red piping that led across the two sections was still in position, thankfully, but the connection of Pinocchio's boots against the metal was entirely too loud. Every time the creature below snarled and looked around for the intruders, Pinocchio's heart stuttered. He was gladdened to make it across, and Romeo was right behind him.

The two approached the piping, slowly. Pinocchio tapped the hilt of his blade to the ground to announce their presence, only to find the tip of Fox's blade at the base of his throat. She withdrew her weapon almost as soon as she struck with it, sighing greatly.

"Ciao, Bello." She put her blade down. "You startled me, but it is great to see you, my Stalker Friend."

"Are you two alright?" Pinocchio asked, crouching down. The Black Cat was panting heavily, a weeping wound gashed in his side. The edges of it were purpling, like acid was seeping inside.

"Bastard got me with his tail, then ran off. Coward!" Cat said, resulting in a hush from his sister. Pinocchio shifted, revealing Romeo at his back. The other two startled again, but when Romeo handed Pinocchio the rest of his pulse cell, they quieted. Pulse cells were generally only good for repairing puppets, but the small amount of ergo inside could mend human flesh as well. It wasn't standard, but it would work for now. Pinocchio spilled the rest of the pulse cell on the wound, watching as Cat relaxed immediately, his skin clearing of the rot.

"You save us again, friend. Thank you."

"We're here to help you clear this place out." Romeo winked. "I'm Romeo."

"I am Red Fox. The pleasure is ours, Bello." Red Fox turned to Lucio. "Brother... don't be rude. Introduce yourself."

"Black Cat here! Currently wanting nothing more than to see that stupid rotting creature dead, but, it's great to have introductions." Romeo shared a laugh with him, and Pinocchio glanced back at the valley behind them. "We cut up the Bastard down there real good, but it ran away before we could finish it."

"Let's work together to take it out," Pinocchio said, searching through his satchel. He pulled out the thermite and cluster grenades he stored within, dropping them onto the sibling Stalkers' laps. They hummed appreciatively. "Romeo and I will go down the ladders to handle the beast on foot. You two will stay up here and throw these at it whenever you see an opportunity."

"Sounds like a plan. Shall we?" The Red Fox gestured out, and Pinocchio backed up from the vent. Romeo offered a hand, pulling him away fully. 

Red Fox pulled herself out next, limping slightly. It seemed the Black Cat wasn't the only one to get injured in their scuffle earlier; Pinocchio was glad they made it in time.

Romeo backed away, scraping the underside of his scythe with a grindstone, as orange light sparked from the edges. Pinocchio did the same with his sword, clenching his jaw when the grindstone broke in half after a few swipes; Venigni was going to be upset with him when they returned.

When the Stalker siblings passed by, Pinocchio led the way to the ladder, nodding at Romeo to confirm they were ready.

"You get its right side, I'll be on the left," Romeo said.

Pinocchio placed his foot on the first rung leading down and unsheathed his blade, using his feet to slide completely down to the cement below. The sound of his boots hitting the hard ground were too loud, and almost immediately, the feline creature detected their presence.

It spun around on its haunches, hissing with garbled breath. Just as it prepared itself to move forward, it burst into cinders and flame, its body cracking over in black. Three thermite hit it in quick succession, the third catching the creature fully alight. Pinocchio moved at the same moment, slicing forward with his sword. He moved back just as Romeo leapt over him, the two of them dancing around each other in an arc of powerful attacks, one after the other.

They separated once the carcass got its footing, circling it from both sides.

Pinocchio darted forward again, aiming for the creature's back leg, only for his blade to be rebounded from the hard plate of rocks that had grown from its bones.

The hooked tail of the beast swung out to catch him, and Pinocchio couldn't quite manage to duck. Luckily, a cluster grenade thrown from above exploded just as they connected, and the beast was flung away before much damage could be done. Pinocchio righted himself, swinging down twice upon the beast. The first attack grazed its hardened hide, but the second one made deep purchase, squelching into the flesh. 

The feline carcass was almost entirely focused on Romeo, who had begun attacking its front. The creature leapt forward, Pinocchio's next attack missing completely and swiping to the ground, and batted Romeo away. 

Romeo hit the ground hard, bouncing a few steps and losing his scythe. The feline was already pouncing again, prepared to unsheathe its deformed claws to sink them into Romeo's flesh.

"Lampwick!" Pinocchio cried, sprinting and crashing into the side of the beast to catch it off guard. The carcass lost its footing, allowing Romeo to roll out of the way just as the jagged claws tore into the earth in front of him. 

Angry, the carcass turned to face Pinocchio, hitting him in the back with a swipe of its tail. Pinocchio yelped in pain, the feeling of his skin rending open and liquid seeping into his clothes an uncomfortable sensation across his back.

He tried to right himself, as the carcass' jaw snapped forward, but Pinocchio couldn't get his blade up to block in time. Instead, he threw his left arm out.

At the same moment Pinocchio thought he was about to have his legion arm shattered completely in two, Romeo was in front of him, blocking the creature's jaws with the curve of his scythe. He redirected the blade away, pushing the carcass' head to the right and exposing its neck.

Pinocchio leapt forward, plunging the length of his sword as far as he could into the neck of the beast.

The arms and legs protruding from the carcass' side began undulating and snapping in odd directions, moving with haste. They gripped at Pinocchio in any purchase they could find—his sword, his arm, his face, each of them trying to push the blade out from the carcass' flesh.

Pinocchio held fast, but could feel himself slipping against the combined force of the limbs pushing him back, until Romeo threw away his scythe and placed his own palms over Pinocchio's hands, helping him push. Together, they growled out their struggle, pushing the blade deeper in.

There was a tear of flesh and the sound of something wet popping within, as the limbs all shook and deflated. The sword moved swiftly now, cutting directly through the thick neck of the carcass. Blood and coagulated masses sprung forth from the wound, the feline carcass giving one final, wet cry as it collapsed to the ground.

Pinocchio sighed, stepping back. He wiped the blood from his face and neck, not caring as it stained his clothes. He looked to Romeo.

"Nice fighting," he said, breaking into a grin when Romeo looked back. 

"Not so bad yourself. Seems like you had a good teacher."

Pinocchio's smile fell—had he had a good teacher? Could he just not remember? Or was his sword fighting just preprogrammed like his speech and motor functions?

It wasn't important right now, so Pinocchio set off back toward the ladder, Romeo following after he fished out some ergo shards from the corpse of the beast.

The sibling Stalkers were cheering from above, and Red Fox offered Pinocchio a hand just as he reached the top, helping him the rest of the way.

"That was incredible!" Cat exclaimed, clapping his hands together.

"Truly skillful swordplay. It was a good idea for us to stay up here, Bello. We thank you."

Pinocchio felt his cheeks warm. He was not used to getting recognition for his kills, especially from those in the same business as him, technically. He had just recently learned the human personality viewpoint: humility, which he had learned from Venigni, who is most definitely not humble—and he could feel the sensation now. His cheeks warmed, and he wanted nothing more than to brush away their compliments. Why?

"We make a pretty good team," Romeo agreed, clapping Pinocchio on the back.

"Are you two continuing further into the factory?"

"Yes, we believe that the control room is where a majority of this disaster festers. Did you two manage to clear out some parts of it?"

Red Fox turned, pointing to the left side, where most of the storage rooms and miniature workshops for the employees resided. "We got through a majority of the west side of the factory; there were some paths that were blocked, though I am sure they lead to that control room you speak of. We could hear… breathing, from the other side."

Pinocchio nodded, stepping forward to press another pulse cell into their hands. He pointed back the way he and Romeo arrived from. "If you follow that path, you'll find a stargazer. Head back to the Hotel and get some medical attention, we can handle it from here."

"Many thanks, Bello. We owe you much."

 "Stay safe." Pinocchio turned to Romeo as the other two left, darting across the piping to reach the other side, metal singing underneath their footsteps. Romeo placed his hands on his hips, looking out at the path again.

"Shall we continue, Pino?"

Pinocchio looked around. "Let's rest for the day. We don't want to be tired when we reach the heart of the control room. I don't think the stargazers near it have a defensible area to sleep in, though, so we should find something around here."

"What about the Survivor's workshop, it's right up those stairs!" Gemini said, the cricket chirp accompanying his words.

"Good idea, Gem." Pinocchio reached for Romeo's hand absentmindedly, only realizing he obeyed when they had already begun moving toward their destination. Pinocchio held fast, telling himself it was easier to maneuver the darkening halls of the factory if they could hold onto one another. Romeo had never been here before; he was just being polite.

They quickly reached the small workshop, where puppets were hung by their open necks from the ceiling. Pinocchio pushed past them, batting away their legs until they came upon a slat on the ground. He kicked it away to reveal the ladder underneath. Cold air seeped out from below, chilling his exposed skin.

"It'll do for the night." Pinocchio was forced to let go of Romeo's hand to climb down, and he mourned the loss of warmth immediately. 

The workshop looked almost the exact same as when Pinocchio had last been there, albeit the body had been removed by someone long ago. The desk in the center of the room was moved to block the doors on the opposite side, and some of the shelves had blankets. It seemed the Survivor really was staying in this place long term; it was a convenience for Pinocchio now, and he was thankful.

Him and Romeo laid out the blankets near the back wall, where they could sit up and rest their heads.

Romeo was the first to sit, dropping down onto the blankets with a loud and over dramatic sigh. He patted the spot next to him, and Pinocchio tentatively stepped onto it, lowering himself down. He unclipped Gemini's lamp from his belt, gently laying it beside him. He pressed a hand to the glass as it darked.

"So, what do you think we'll find down in the boilers?" Romeo asked, leaning back against the wall. Their shoulders brushed as he talked, and Pinocchio had to keep himself from leaning into the warmth.

Pinocchio thought to himself for a moment. "Hmm. Well, when carcasses first arrived in the streets of Krat, one of them fused with the body of the Parade Master. I had to fight him again. Maybe, they're planning on doing that same thing with Fuoco's body."

"Poor Fuoco…" Romeo sighed. 

"I've never seen a creature like that carcass." Pinocchio scooted closer to Romeo until they were pressed together from shoulder to hip, chasing his warmth. Pinocchio had fought countless carcasses like the feline in the pit, but none of them had ever had human carcasses growing from within them, as if they had eaten and absorbed others of their kind. It sent a shiver through him.

"Do you think someone is experimenting on them, the Alchemists maybe?"

"It's easy to blame everything on them." Pinocchio looked away, toward the other items littered about the room. It was true, if something sinister was happening within Krat, usually there was at least one alchemist found lurking within. They twisted people to insanity for their goal, but they had been attempting to control and experiment on the carcasses for decades without success—could they truly have done it recently, when Pinocchio had thrown them in disarray on the arche abbey?

No, it felt too circumstantial.

Romeo seemed inclined to change the subject.

"Do you truly not know how to dance?"

Pinocchio whipped his head around to face him. "This is what you want to talk about?"

"Yes."

" No. Geppetto didn't exactly teach me how to dance alongside the sword fighting and communication skills." It wasn't true, necessarily, as Pinocchio recalled his traipse into the past, and a clown puppet that had taught him a few moves.

Romeo's eyes thinned. "I think you're lying to me."

Pinocchio stilled, eyed widening. Realizing he couldn't convince Romeo otherwise, he hung his head with defeat. He stood suddenly, leaving Romeo to gape at him, as he walked to the center of the room. 

"If you tell anyone in the Hotel this happened I will throw you into a river and act like I don't know who you are or what happened to you." Romeo nodded vigorously, waiting for Pinocchio to continue. "Hum something."

Romeo began humming a tune from one of the records at the hotel, though Pinocchio was too focused to recall which one it was. It was upbeat, which was perfect.

Pinocchio tapped once with his right foot, feeling the beat, then hopped from foot to foot in a flurry of taps. He crossed one foot over the other, twirling once and twice, then ending the beat with a harsh stomp to the ground and a flourish of his hands outwards.

Immediately, Romeo broke into haughty laughter. Pinocchio's cheeks warmed as he stalked back over to the blankets and sat down, scowling at his friend.

"Stop."

"I'm sorry—the not-dancer knows how to tap dance?! Oh, this is just the best." He leaned his head back to cackle some more, giving Pinocchio plenty of time to gaze at his side profile, which he did. 

Pinocchio's eyes fell on the slope of his nose, how it was bumped in the bridge, and scrunched at the bottom in his laughter. In fact, every inch of his face was scrunched right now, while he laughed, the dimples pressing into the corners of his mouth a welcome addition. 

Pinocchio was already so surprised by how much Romeo had adapted to his new body, despite only living in it for a few days. Pinocchio had constructed his new body to look human of course, but Romeo had a distinct way of humanizing it himself that Pinocchio could not replicate: it was the bumps of his skin and the wrinkles marked deep into it. Or the way his eyes shimmered with life whenever he looked at him.

Oftentimes, Pinocchio found himself staring into a mirror, gazing at his own perfections. The porcelain and perfect finish of his skin, despite the freckles speckling it, or the way his eyes looked glassy in certain lightings. 

One day, Romeo might help Pinocchio accept the imperfections he couldn't find within himself.

Maybe that was okay.

"Can I… ask you about Lea Florence?"

Romeo stopped laughing. Pinocchio almost apologized for ruining the light atmosphere, but he wanted to know more about her. He almost itched with it, deep in his artificial skin. 

"Oh." Romeo looked away. "She was… well she was like a mother to us, really. How much do you want to know?"

"How much can you tell me?"

Romeo smiled, sadly. "She was the most incredible person I ever knew. You—Carlo and I were so insistent that she make us her apprentices, she always seemed so annoyed. But one day she really did take us in, and I won't lie, she was a hard-ass. She worked us to the bone; she was stubborn and a bit reckless, but I think that was what made her an amazing Stalker."

Pinocchio watched, wanting so badly to lean into Romeo's side, to give him comfort while he bared his soul. He thought of the vibrant and beautiful red haired woman from the past, who defied death to get to Romeo even though she knew it was the last thing she would ever do.

She truly did love them.

"She loved us, though. I know she did. I remember at our graduation ceremony, I spotted her in the crowd. Carlo didn't see her; he was too busy looking for his father, but I saw her right in the back. I've never seen her look so proud; so happy. I think… those were the happiest times of my life. Just the three of us."

Romeo's voice ebbed away, and Pinocchio knew he wasn't getting any more stories tonight.

"Thank you for telling me."

Pinocchio closed his eyes as the two lapsed into silence, and after a while Pinocchio was prepared for sleep. That was, until he felt someone nudge him in the arm. Pinocchio peeked an eye open to find Romeo holding a note with words scribbled on the front.

"Read this before bed; we gotta make sure you practice everyday or you'll never learn…"

Pinocchio sighed, but he took the paper. The first and last words were easy: Romeo. Pinocchio. 

Pinocchio had learned names first, for they were the easiest and most essential to memorize. He learned how to read and write the names of his friends, writing them over and over until he could see it in his mind even without a pencil in his hand. 

He wasn't very good with other words yet, but he had only been learning a few days so far.

"Romeo." He squinted down at the page. The next word had a smaller letter that matched the first letter of Sophia's name. " Is a." The one after was bigger, and Pinocchio had to strain his memory to get it. "Better. Oh, I don't know the next one."

"Those two letters are silent."

He stared down at the sentence for another moment before sighing, throwing the paper away. "You think you're so funny." Romeo laughed lightly at him. Romeo is a better fighter than Pinocchio. Pinocchio nudged him hard in the shoulder, leaning back again. "It's not true, lest we remember who was destroyed in our fight at the opera house…"

Romeo's mouth fell open, though he still smiled. "Too soon."

They lapsed into silence again. Pinocchio took one final look at Romeo before closing his eyes again, the last thing he saw before falling into sleep that of Romeo's face, resting and at peace.

-

"Carlo! Get her!" Romeo yelled, ten steps behind Carlo himself but spotting the Legendary Stalker at the door before him. Carlo sprinted into action immediately, running for Lea Florence. She had just taken off her cricket mask, storing it in a bag at her hip, and sighed heavily when Carlo came to her side.

The boys were no older than thirteen—the years in which members of the Rose Estate were meant to start thinking of their futures. Whether they wanted to be Alchemists of the isle, or engineers of the workshop. Or, perhaps, Stalkers of the night. 

Since they met, Romeo and Carlo had been hellbent on becoming Stalkers, shadowing the steps of Lea Florence whenever she turned up. This time, however, she was alone. Usually, her Stalker companion Gemini was at her side. 

Lea batted Carlo's hands away, so he just clasped them together and begged instead.

"Miss Florence, please! We'll just keep asking and asking—you've never taken apprentices before, but I promise we'll be good. Please teach us!"

Romeo skidded to a stop next to Carlo, bowing politely to Lea before he, too, nodded.

Lea sighed. "You are both too old to be begging at a woman's feet like this."

Usually, Lea pointed a finger at them to behave, telling Gemini to take them away from her sight before she got a headache. Today was much the same, except something new replaced their forceful departure.

Instead of telling them to scram, Lea pointed to her room down the hall, and said: "Go in there and sit down."

Carlo and Romeo glanced at each other, shocked, but obeyed immediately. Lea followed at a slower pace, as the two boys hurried into the room and sat at the table situated in the corner.

Lea placed her mask and sword onto her bed, her cloak billowing behind her as she turned to an end table and poured herself a cup of water. She sat next, taking long sips whilst staring the boys down. 

It was almost agonizing how long she looked at both of them, her eyes pouring into their very souls. Carlo felt sweat drip down his neck, his palms clammy. Finally, she set her cup down, tracing the rim of it with her fingernail.

"So, you two want to become Stalkers. I assume my father has told you why you shouldn't: that you'll be in danger every moment of your life, that you'll receive no recognition and rarely much money, and most importantly, you'll ruin your reputation." She said the last part with a scowl, her red lips curving with disdain.

Still, they both nodded.

Valentinus Monad had tried for so long to get Romeo to pursue the order of Alchemists; he had had a reasonable interest in their work and displayed promise with the properties. Carlo, on the other hand, was expected to follow in his mother and father's footsteps, to join the workshop.

But neither wanted this.

They wanted to be Stalkers.

"Yes, Miss Florence. We've thought about this for many years, we're determined."

Lea nodded her head, glancing between both of them. She leaned back in her chair. "Hmm. Well, I have decided that I am taking on one apprentice. Decide between yourselves who it will be."

She waited.

Romeo flew out of his chair immediately. "What?! That's absurd, you can't just make us choose between one another, betray each other! We won't!" Romeo turned to Carlo, his face paling. Carlo hadn't said a word, his eyes frozen on Lea Florence. When he finally peeled them away, he realized Romeo probably thought he was hesitating because he was going to forsake Romeo and take the spot.

As if he could ever feasibly do that.

Sure, he had always dreamed of becoming a Stalker, had thought about the long nights of saving people in the streets and returning order to the city. He had dreamed about it ever since he cracked open his first storybook and read about all the fantastical heroes within; how they saved their world.

But he had done all of that with Romeo at his side.

During late nights, when the two were too excited for sleep, they would push their beds together and lay side by side, whispering and giggling into the night. They would discuss their animal disguises—Romeo wanted to be the ram, with winding horns that curled behind his head. Carlo could never decide; he jumped between various different creatures, though Romeo never minded.

When you find the one you want, you'll just know, Sir Carlo.

So it truly was preposterous; asking one to betray the other was like asking trees to grow without sunlight or fish to breathe outside water. It was unbecoming; it was impossibility.

Carlo calmly looked at Lea again, resolute in his answer. "Romeo and I are a matching set, you cannot separate us. We don't exist by ourselves; we are one in the same. We either both become your apprentice, or neither. We won't have it any other way."

Lea's eyes thinned as they stared each other down. Carlo refused to say anything more; he had said his piece, he would never leave Romeo behind, and Romeo would never leave him. That's who they were.

Finally, Lea smiled. "Good. You'll both start tomorrow. I want to see you bright and early at dawn. Don't be late." The boys' sat, stunned, mouths dropping in unison. Lea frowned. "Get out."

Romeo and Carlo scrambled out, holding onto one another while they leapt for joy. Up and down then went, jumping from corridor to corridor, barely holding back screams of excitement. They danced around each other, Romeo pulling Carlo in close to spin him around.

"That was amazing!" Romeo said, his eyes twinkling. He hugged Carlo tight, pulling away to continue their spinning. They had to tell Sophia the good news; she had been trying for years to get her sister to listen to Romeo and Carlo's pleas—she'd be happy to find out it finally worked.

Carlo laughed. "I was so scared she was going to tell us to get out."

"I mean, she did. But that was amazing. I'll never ever forget what you said, Sir Carlo." Romeo grinned, his cheeks dimpled, and Carlo swore he'd never forget the sight. It was his favorite.

"I knew she had to be bluffing. There was no way I could ever leave you behind; we're going to be Stalker partners forever, swear on my life. I'll never forget you, Romeo." Carlo reached his hand out, offering Romeo his pinky for a promise.

Pinocchio woke abruptly, his head snapping up from where it rested on Romeo's shoulder. The dream—memory?—ebbed away into nothing, dispersing like the blue butterflies that carried them from individual stargazers.

A horrific pain surfaced in the base of his skull, radiating outward until Pinocchio had to physically cover his mouth to keep from crying out. He had felt much pain recently, ever since his ergo was fully awakened in arch abbey, but nothing like this.

It was internal and incessant, a throb that coalesced until it felt like all the metal inside his head was scraping together.

He pushed the memory away. He couldn't think of it right now. Maybe, it was just a dream. 

He clutched onto his head, whispering to himself repetitively. I don't need to remember, don't remember, don't remember.

The dream faded, and so did the pain.

Chapter Text

Romeo

Romeo came back to himself in short bursts; sleeping as a puppet wasn't much different than sleeping as a human. The cogs in his head and heart still whirred slower, until darkness bled into his vision entirely. It still surprised him, though. He wasn't used to sleeping—hadn't done it much as the King of Puppets.

Pinocchio was already preparing for the day ahead. He was bent over the table they used to barricade the doors, and had laid out all the throwables they had leftover from their previous fight.

Romeo turned his head to the left, laughing an exhale as he reached forward to pick up Gemini. The lamp was still dark, so Romeo flicked the metal, watching it flicker to life.

" Ow," Gemini whined. It caught Pinocchio's attention, who smiled at the two; was it possible for a puppet to look so fatigued? Romeo could have sworn he was sporting dark circles under his eyes, but maybe it was just a trick of the light.

Romeo stood, trailing after Pinocchio to place Gemini's lamp on the table.

"How we lookin'?" Romeo asked, peering down at their supplies.

"I don't like our odds," Pinocchio said, though his grave tone was contrasted heavily with the sly smile he leveled at Romeo. "Think you'll be able to keep up with your sword skills?"

Romeo scoffed, shoving him away. 

Without further hesitation, the two made their way back to the ladder, climbing it in silence.

The factory outside was still, absent of the usual workings of machinery and steam engines. It was unsettling—yesterday, the place had been alight with movement and the wet coughs of carcasses. Romeo was sure they would have plenty of creatures to carve through before getting to the control room. But it was empty.

"They're gathering." Pinocchio's eyes thinned as he took in the environment around them. "They know we're coming for them."

Romeo watched him, his mechanical heart thumping in time with his blinks. The familiarity between the two of them was… unexpected but not surprising. Romeo felt like he could defer to Pinocchio's judgement, could trust everything that he deduced; it was like nothing had changed.

He asked about Lea last night.

Romeo shook the thought away.

"Well, let's not keep them waiting. Shall we?" He swept an arm out, gesturing for Pinocchio to take the lead in a dramatic flourish. Pinocchio laughed, the curve of his lips distracting as he passed Romeo by. Romeo pressed the memory of that sound deep into his chest, refusing to let it escape him. 

The two of them made their way through the rest of the factory, filling the silence with idle chatter about Pinocchio's last gallivant through Venigni Works. Romeo could somewhat recall sending some puppets there on his own orders—including Fuoco—but it seemed things had been even out of his control.

The hallway they stepped foot into gave way to a larger room, with a circular machine bisecting the center of the lower platform. Above them, a broken stargazer was beyond help, the curls of its brass frame overrun with decayed vines and carcass fluid. They continued without repairing it, trudging down into the depths of the facility. The door to the control room was shut tight, the cracks also tangled with a blue mess left behind by carcasses, but with the two of them working together they managed to push it open.

The control room inside was completely silent, and in the distance Romeo could see the remains of Fuoco, his mechanical body broken in two from a blade long ago.

Pinocchio dipped his head, offering his respect to the fallen automaton.

"This is eerie…" Gemini mock whispered, danging from Pinocchio's side. Romeo was inclined to agree with the grasshopper; if the rest of the facility had cleared out of carcasses overnight, then where had they gone? There was an entrance to the outskirts of Krat through the next room, but the carcasses couldn't have known that.

Romeo sensed something hanging above him the same moment he stepped foot in the center of the room, his eyes flicking upwards just as a shadow grew bulbous and snapped from its root, crashing down to the floor below. Pinocchio noticed sooner, dashing forward to tackle Romeo out of the way. The two of them rolled across the metal, pushing themselves up to assess their new threat.

Stupid, Romeo thought. He knew carcasses had an affinity for hiding within pestilent cocoons, hanging above to ruminate and fester until their horrid homes inevitably popped, dispensing them immediately. 

Romeo flicked away a drop of acid that was burning through his tunic sleeve, then brushed his hair back as the carcass in front of them stood to attention.

It was larger than any of the creatures they had yet faced, its stomach distended and pockmarked with scarred flesh. Its face was mangled beyond recognition, long strands of wiry black hair extending from an otherwise bald head. Its hands were replaced with fleshy blades that protruded from the wrist, and once it faced the two, it opened its mouth.

Carcass fluid burst from what Romeo could only guess to be its lips, spurting out in quick intervals before crashing to the floor below. It kept throwing up this vile liquid, until a substantial puddle was pooling below its feet.

Romeo watched, horrified, as something new shifted the fluid. Some sort of creature undulated and rose from the puddle, its body small but malformed. 

When Romeo flicked his gaze to his companion for a strategy, he stopped still. Pinocchio looked gaunt, his eyes widened to saucers and mouth drawn in a thin line. He looked like he was about to be sick.

Romeo pulled free his scythe, slapping the freed wire against the metal. "Snap out of it. Now." He whispered, not unkindly. He stepped forward, redirecting the blade of his scythe to send the wire of it lashing out, catching all three of the beasts in its arc. Acid and fluids exploded out from the inflicted wounds, and at Romeo's attack Pinocchio immediately sprung into action, coming back to himself.

Pinocchio dashed ahead, leaping over the wire of Romeo's second swing and bringing his blade clear down into the larger of the two. He backed away as soon as his sword made purchase, allowing Romeo to switch positions with him; he brought his scythe down hard into the creature's shoulder. 

In retaliation, the creature swept forward with one of its incisors, catching Romeo across the chest. He gasped out, surprised by the pain, and backed away ten feet.

"Enough." A new voice boomed throughout the control room; Romeo nearly jumped from his skin as he turned to face the direction it originated from.

All movement in the room ceased. 

There was a woman—no, a carcass—standing with a blade at her hip. Her skin was pallid and scarred with various jagged wounds, her hair matted with dirt and greenery. She looked like she had just picked herself up from the forest floor.

But she had spoken. A carcass had spoken words.

At her side, two more of the smaller carcasses formed, their bodies like a moving tide of black and blue. Romeo shivered.

"What are you?" Pinocchio demanded, pointing his blade at the woman.

She only seemed to find this amusing, shaking her head once.

"So, you don't remember me, Carlo?"

The two boys stilled, feeling the accusation hang heavy in the air. Romeo tightened his fists around the handle of his scythe, eyes darting between every moving creature.

The woman walked along the edge of the ledge she stood upon, lovingly caressing her fingers across the creature to her right. 

"Typical. You're quite used to ruining lives without a second thought. I don't know why I thought my case would be different."

"That's not my name; I have no idea who you are," Pinocchio hissed, his lips curling downward. Romeo had never seen a more unsettling sight—had never wanted to wipe the expression from someone else's face so heavily before.

"Denial does not look good on you—though I suppose you get it from your Master. The Legendary Stalker was quite foul underneath that pretty mask of hers."

Romeo didn't even see Pinocchio move. One second, he was beside him, the next, Pinocchio had cleaved right through the largest carcass, its body splitting in half. Fluid exploded all around them, completely drenching the floor, and Romeo could have sworn he saw rose petals clinging to Pinocchio's footsteps.

"Get her name out of your mouth." Pinocchio's tone was dark—unforgiving. All this for a woman he had never met?

"You look confused, Romeo," the woman called. Romeo flicked his gaze back to her, saying nothing. "Of course, they wouldn't tell you, and you weren't there. This must be utterly perplexing." She hissed the last word, sneering at them. She looked vicious, like a viper ready to pounce. 

"We don't know what you're talking about lady!" Gemini called out, chirping in his lamp. The woman didn't even acknowledge him.

She assessed Pinocchio's form—his new hair, silver streaks blown across his face. She stepped back, eyes thinned.

"You don't remember me, do you?"

" No."

"But it is you. I can smell Carlo's ergo swimming in your skin, permeating your clothes. You can trick your mind, boy, but you cannot trick me." She pressed a hand to the hilt of her blade, resting it there. "Well, you better remember fast… or you might be too late."

Pinocchio reared back, glancing around. 

Romeo was too focused on his companion—making sure he was safe—to notice the floor shifting underneath his feet. 

He looked down at the same moment something reached up from the liquid he stood in, clawing at his ankles then his legs, pulling him down with inhuman strength. It wrenched free his scythe, sending it scattering across the room, and began dragging him away. 

"Romeo!" Pinocchio cried, but he reached out too late.

Romeo scrabbled for purchase, his fingertips glancing off of broken machinery as he was yanked by the shifting black mass of melted carcass parts. It pulled him up the wall, not stopping until he was hung from the ceiling, his hair falling out of his face. The woman stood in front of him, a sour smile on her lips as she reached forward to brush at his face.

"So handsome," she quipped. Romeo held back the instinct to bite at her fingers. "I know why he likes you. It's too bad; I spent so long trying to get into that Opera House, but the puppets there are so territorial." She frowned, and it was almost mocking. "They wouldn't let me have your body."

"Don't touch him!" Pinocchio cried from below. When Romeo turned back, the horror lining every crevice of Pinocchio's face had Romeo instinctively turning away. He looked just like Carlo had—at the end. No. I don't want to die. I'm scared.

"Not yet," the woman said, stepping away. "It wouldn't be worth it if you can't remember. But I'll be back. Remember my face, Carlo. Think of me. Because, if you don't remember the next time I find you, I'll take your boy. I'll grind his mechanical bones to dust and rip apart the synthetic organs holding him together. I'll take his ergo from his veins and crush its crystallized remnants in front of your eyes. And you will understand the pain you put me through, one way or another."

The woman snapped her fingers, and all at once the webbing of carcasses rescinded itself from Romeo's body. Freefall caught him instantly, and he tried turning himself as best he could before he hit the ground. Pinocchio was there in an instant, breaking Romeo's fall and bracketing him with his own body.

"Are you alright?" Pinocchio asked, his voice shaking on the words. Romeo pressed a reassuring hand to his shoulder.

"Calm yourself, Pino. I'm fine." He smiled as brightly as he could, looking back to the woman's perch. She was gone, along with the rest of the carcasses. 

Romeo's head swam—this woman knew Carlo when he was alive? Was she a human then as well? How could a human woman walk around with her memories and mind intact as a carcass? It didn't make sense.

Pinocchio seemed to be debating the same, his eyes clearing when Romeo looked back at him. 

"Let's go back to the hotel. I—I don't want to be here anymore."

"We need to talk about this," Romeo protested. 

"Later." Once Pinocchio had decided something, it was almost impossible to convince him otherwise, so Romeo simply nodded his head and took Pinocchio's offered hand to stand. Together, they made their way to the center of the room, picking up the broken pieces of the stargazer to fit it back together.

Romeo was happy to head back to safety—wanting to scrub the feeling of the carcass' broken flesh surrounding his body from his skin—but it was underlying something darker. Was this fear? He had been afraid for so long; afraid when Pinocchio first entered the halls of his Opera House and bore no recollection of who stood in front of him. He feared for himself, and the throne he was thrust upon.

But this was a new fear. A fear of the unknown. 

What had Carlo and Lea done to that woman? Why didn't he know?

Before breaking away into fragments, his hand on the brass of the stargazer, Romeo looked at Pinocchio. 

It took everything in him not to reach out, and smooth the hard lines of his face.

--

In the end, they didn't talk about it. Pinocchio stalked away almost instantly, locking himself in Geppetto's study for an entire day. Romeo sought to go after him but was stopped by Sophia's gentle hand. After explaining everything to her, she sighed.

"That boy has not received a break in the entire time he has been conscious. It may be time to let him be alone." Sophia pressed her hands into Romeo's, brushing her thumb over the back of his hand.

Romeo shook his head. "He'll overthink everything if he's alone. He'll try to do something stupid and self-sacrificial—"

"Is that what he would do, or what Carlo would have done?" Sophia asked, and Romeo's mouth snapped shut with a resounding click. Ashamed, he looked down at the ground. 

"Sophia… some part of him is Carlo. I recognize him, even without the memories there. I mean—you and I are still Sophia and Romeo. If ergo holds our memories, then that is what makes us who we are. It's not what we look like or whether we have blood or not. It's what we feel, intrinsic to our being. He's… denying himself the opportunity to know more, to know how loved he was."

Sophia nodded. "If he wishes not to remember, trust there is a reason. Perhaps he is afraid. It won't be an easy process; he had a difficult time."

"So did we." Romeo shook his head, pulling his hand away. He wanted to cry, but the plastic lining his eyes would produce no such substance. 

"I know, Sweet." Sophia nudged him to scoot closer, as they sat on one of the lobby cushions. She tucked his head to her shoulder, weaving her fingers through his unruly hair. "Give him time. I think he remembers more than he lets on, and I think shuffling through those feelings is his journey to complete. All we can do is be there for him."

Romeo nodded, letting the soft tone of Sophia's hums drift him to sleep.

--

It was a few days later that Pinocchio approached him again, looking bashful. Romeo was in the library, tucking books he wanted to read underneath the crook of his elbow. He was bobbing from foot to foot, dancing quietly along to a record that was spinning in the other room.

He turned when Pinocchio entered, his eyes downcast. He had oil smeared on his forehead, and the sight was so endearing Romeo wanted to forgive all that had transpired, all that Pinocchio had locked himself away from, and step forward to swipe it away.

"Romeo… I have something I want to do today, to get my mind off things."

Romeo froze, putting the books down slowly, afraid he would scare the boy away. He nodded his head, taking a tentative step closer.

"Would you—would you like to come with me?"

Romeo smiled, his cheeks dimpling. Pinocchio seemed to relax at the sight. "Of course."

Pinocchio gestured for him to follow, leading them to the lobby's stargazer. They clasped hands, reaching into the bubble together to sift away into the night. Pinocchio hadn't told him to arm himself, so Romeo was in casual garb, and surprised to find himself in what looked like a cave residing by a dreadful swamp.

"Uhm… what are we doing?" Romeo asked, noticing that Gemini had been left behind. Pinocchio pressed a finger to his lips, winking, before stepping away from the stargazer. He still held on to Romeo's palm.

"Hello, my only friend! What have you come to tell me?" A new voice said, startling Romeo. It was robotic and lively, and when Romeo tracked the sound, his eyes came upon a puppet, his face upturned and smiling. Red light was smeared on his chest, and his body was bent at odd angles. He looked like he had been tossed haphazardly into the dump, with only his head still swiveling and speaking.

"Hello, friend," Pinocchio replied. "I've come to introduce you to someone new—someone very important to me." He brought Romeo forward, and Romeo dipped his head in greeting. 

"A second friend!" The puppet exclaimed. "Would you be willing to teach me human ways, as well, friend?"

Romeo laughed lightly; that was the second time in his second life he had been asked such a question. Romeo was immediately taken with the puppet, endeared by its passion for knowledge. 

"Romeo is very good at that." Pinocchio nodded. "But we're here for another reason." He bent down, pressing his knee to the dirt so he could be eye level with the broken puppet. "Friend, would you like Romeo and I to bring you back to the hotel? I have been working on some things that may be able to fix you—but I wanted to make sure this is something you want."

The words made Romeo freeze entirely, something like warmth shooting through his chest. He almost reached up to touch it, certain something had broken through the plates of his torso. But he held back the movement. He was enamored, watching Pinocchio's soft grin, the sway of his silver hair. He couldn't look away, even if someone tried prying him from the ground.

He could not look away.

"Yes! Yes, yes!" The puppet said, excitedly. "Once I have a body again, I can practice all the wisdom you've bestowed upon me." The broken puppet tried moving its hand, only for the metal to stutter and fall back again. "I would have no way to repay you!"

"That's what friends do for one another." Pinocchio turned to look at Romeo then. 

"Shall we?" Romeo asked, glancing at both puppets. Pinocchio nodded, and the two worked together to lift the broken puppet from its pile of rubble. The back of his body was almost completely missing, wires and circuitry exposed within, but Pinocchio didn't even blink. Romeo had faith he could do it; he had helped Romeo after all. 

The broken puppet was nearly vibrating with excitement, his mechanical voice humming at a low tone like he was holding back countless words. Romeo sighed, glancing at the top of Pinocchio's head.

Before they faded into the stargazer's mist, Romeo vowed he would do whatever it took to guarantee happiness for them both. Even if he destroyed himself in the process.

Let that mysterious carcass woman come again—she had no power against Pinocchio, not when Romeo was still alive.

Chapter Text

Pinocchio

Pinocchio spent a majority of the next weeks trying to wipe the strange woman's face from his mind, lest it haunt even more of his dreams. Thinking of her only made the unpleasant whine in his ears drone on, and he had more important things to focus on.

Sometimes, though, when he was caught unaware—he thought of how quickly Romeo had been snatched from his reach, dangled in front of him like a prize. It sickened him.

Venigni and Romeo were taking refuge with him in Geppetto's study today, three weeks after the incident at Venigni Works. They lounged on the couches, talking exasperatedly to one another while Pinocchio flittered about the room, gathering materials and notes. The broken puppet was hoisted onto the hanging rack, chittering happily with Gemini while Pinocchio worked.

It was nice to have so many distractions… months ago he had mostly kept to himself, darting in and out of the hotel only when he needed to restock or someone needed to speak with him. 

Before Pinocchio realized it, Hotel Krat and its residents had stitched their way into his wiring--it had become a home.

"Pino," Romeo called, drawing his attention away from the synthetic leg he was currently wiring to the broken puppet's hip joints. "Venigni wants to know about our mystery woman."

Pinocchio sighed. "What else can I say that Romeo hasn't already told you?"

Venigni brushed a hand over his beard before standing. He drew forth, glancing over the mechanical leg and adjusting Pinocchio's grip on the tool he was using. The new position helped Pinocchio get better access to the inner circuitry, and he passed Venigni a warm smile in thanks.

"Ah, it is good to have the perspective of two rather than one on such events, especially when it concerns my factory, no?"

"I suppose." Pinocchio snuck a peek at Romeo before continuing, leveraging another sigh that dropped his shoulders. "I don't know, Ven. She was weird. She looked like someone had dug her up from the grave, but she had full control of her movements and speech despite most certainly being a carcass. She had these strange amalgamated carcasses following her; they were like liquid taking shape, and I'm sure they were obedient to her as well. One of them grabbed Romeo, she threatened us, then left."

Romeo frowned. "That wasn't all, Pino."

"Okay!" He dropped the tool, the whine in his head striking a sour chord before relinquishing. He didn't want to think about it. Rage was a hot coil that burned heavy but fast in his chest, and he tried to keep his tone calm. "Apparently she knew Carlo as well—he did something to her, something that she obviously feels slighted by enough to come after us." He took in a deep breath. "I don't know what it is."

"Of course not, Compagno. But this is a start—I can begin seeking information from our friends and seeing what I can dig up about this mystery carcass." He stopped, reaching up to ruffle the messy strands of hair Pinocchio had brushed away subconsciously. "You can't ever catch a break, hah?"

With that, Venigni turned on his coattails and bowed to Romeo, exiting the study.

Pinocchio rolled his hands, continuing his work. He heard Romeo approach, but did not turn to look at him.

"I don't want to talk about it." 

"Oh hush." Romeo breathed heavily behind him, and Pinocchio could imagine the eye roll he received from the blond boy. "You've grown so dramatic—I was just going to see if you would like to help me harvest some fruit today."

Pinocchio turned finally, looking out at the open windows, where sunlight was steadily streaming in. It was a new day, which meant the Gold Coin Fruit tree was likely gilded with ripe fruit, ready to be harvested. Once they were done with this next batch, they could work on making cures as well, and do a quick drop by Elysium Boulevard. 

"This isn't just a tactical way to get me to talk about another murderous creature that wants my friends and I dead? Because I won't fall for it."

Romeo slapped both hands to the spot over his heart suddenly, Pinocchio tracking the movement, before he fell backwards a step, as if he had been punched. 

"You, sir, wound me. I can't want to spend this beautiful morning with my brilliant yet introverted companion without some ulterior motive? Who do you take me for?" He leaned in close again, the next word a secret passed between them. "Venigni?"

Pinocchio snorted, pushing him away. The broken puppet also chuckled, mechanical voice rasping, before cutting off.

"Don't worry, friend! I won't be lonely here, Gemini can keep me company! Go take a much needed break." Pinocchio looked at him, mouth parting slightly to argue, before he nodded. He was tired of looking at graphs and numbers anyway; his hands itched for another use.

He turned back to Romeo, feeling some of the knotted tension in him release. 

"Race you there," Romeo said, before turning on his heel and practically skipping out of the study. Pinocchio shook his head, laughter playing on his lips.

"What is this expression you have, my first friend?" The broken puppet asked, startling him.

Pinocchio turned back, confused, and pressed a hand to his mouth.

"I've taught you how to laugh."

"No, no! It was something like that, but softer. Something like looking at the sun before it sets properly—or watching as flower petals take to the wind. It's something you felt in here, maybe. Or here." The puppet raised its working hand to its chest first, then moved it over to the spot above its heart. 

Pinocchio's face warmed. "Oh. Love. I think that's what you mean."

"Yes! Oh, how wonderful! Thank you!" The puppet whirred. Pinocchio looked at Gemini, but for once, he was silent in his lamp. Without another word, he trudged after Romeo, trying not to examine the puppet's words too closely. 

The halls of Hotel Krat were lively once more; Antonia would have been proud. After the puppet frenzy had officially ended, more and more people ventured from their homes, tentatively shuffling to their neighbors to lend a helping hand in these trying times. Hotel Krat provided the brunt of assistance--taking people in and setting them up in the various rooms, no payment necessary. The wood-lined corridors felt more lived in lately, with the bustle of people working and soft chatter nearly constant.

For the past few weeks, Sophia had been committing herself entirely to creating more cures for the Petrification Disease in Giangio's place, whom had disappeared without a word. Pinocchio didn't have much time to mourn the loss--he was entirely caught up in his missions: fixing the broken puppet, harvesting gold coin fruit when it was ripe, and dispensing the cures to the city. With the unknown carcass woman on top of that and some carcasses still infiltrating the city, work was near constant.

He passed by his quarters and stepped through to the hotel garden, where Romeo was standing next to the glorious tree. It shimmered in the sunlight, wind softly brushing the strands of Romeo's straw-stained hair along with the tree leaves. His shoulders were relaxed, and he held a basket over the crook of his elbow, already beginning to pick free some of the low-hanging fruit. 

Pinocchio approached slowly, boots crunching through the grass. Romeo was humming to himself.

"You have to be more gentle than that, Lampwick." Pinocchio reached for his hand, prying open his fingers before he could snatch another fruit. The connection of their synthetic skin was like a spark of energy, and Pinocchio barely held himself back from flinching. Romeo's expression was unchanged, peaceful in its usual way. It was strange--it seemed like nothing shook Romeo for long, like he could sail through a tumultuous storm unburdened. The only time he had seen Romeo in pain was--

Pinocchio shook his head forcefully, avoiding Romeo's eye. Memories of a painful past need not be remembered. "The fruits are delicate. If you bend them even a bit, they won't be pristine enough for the cure," he continued. Romeo nodded, long bangs swishing over the curves of his face. 

"As you say, Pino." When Romeo turned back to his task, Pinocchio allowed himself to look at him fully, even if only for a moment more. He knew he wasn't being subtle, but with the broken puppet's words ringing through his head and excess ergo fluttering over his skin, it was hard to look away.

Romeo was like a sunflower--consistently turning to the light. He had hair so golden it was hard to distinguish him from the golden tree itself, and his eyes were a deep brown, like the spiraling disc florets within the petals. He had a pronounced dimple that cradled his cheek beside a singular freckle. Pinocchio kept himself from reaching out to trace some of his features, wanting to feel this real, tangible boy under his fingertips. 

He moved away, picking up his own basket that had been tossed beside the trunk of the tree. There was a small step ladder at its base, and Pinocchio stepped onto it to reach some of the higher hanging fruit.

"You sure like to stare." Romeo's grin was visible from the corner of Pinocchio's eye. 

"I like looking at wonderful things," Pinocchio said before he could think too hard about it, focusing on the twine of his fingers around a gold coin fruit as he plucked it free. "Sight was important to me for so long. In the early days of my existence, I didn't have a sense of smell or the ability to feel anything under my hands. Originally, my father hadn't even installed a voice box into my throat. I was made for fighting. All I knew was destruction…"

He plucked another fruit free, placing it in the basket. Romeo went still next to him. He continued: "But I could see. Seeing is everything to me. When I can watch how ergo dances over Sophia's fingers and threads into other people, or how snow falls gently from the sky. That is… everything. My father gave me hands to fight with and a voice to lie with, but my eyes have always been my own. Oh." Pinocchio pressed his free hand to his heart. "I think that is also what makes us alive, Romeo. Our perception of this world is truly what makes me feel alive. And to live fully--that is what it means to be human."

He turned to look at Romeo, wanting to brush off his heavy monologue with a quip or joke, only to stop in his tracks. Romeo's expression cycled through rage and something akin to devastation. It was strange, having someone get so angry at another person on Pinocchio's behalf. He couldn't bring himself to hate his father--so Romeo did it for him. 

The sadness, though… It was different, like something had torn in the air between them.

"I'm sorry, did I--" as he said the words, Pinocchio reached forward, only to catch the sleeve of his arm on a branch. The resistance caught him off guard, and he overcorrected, stumbling backward from the step ladder only to catch open air.

Embarrassment flared in his cheeks as he fell backwards--he had fought Simon Manus at the gods' cradle and yet, here he was, defeated by a step ladder barely a couple feet off the ground.

A hand caught him at the same time he swung out with his foot, trying to catch himself. Instead of allowing Romeo to rescue him, Pinocchio managed to intertwine their legs, and they fell to the ground together with a loud thud and a pronounced oof!

Never in his short life had Pinocchio felt so clumsy, and he could feel his face heating up.

Pinocchio opened his eyes only to glimpse a sea of gold hair. Any words he could offer up were swallowed, as he gaped openly at the boy lying across his chest. 

Romeo lifted himself up as soon as they recovered, chuckling softly to himself. "Well, that was a disaster. Let's not mention this to anyone." Pinocchio realized with another start that Romeo's left hand was cradled behind Pinocchio's head, protecting him from the fall. The thoughtfulness in such a simple act was almost stifling. 

"Um, Pino, you're still holding on." Pinocchio looked down, realizing his hands were gripping the fabric of Romeo's shirt hard, refusing to let him get up. Even after Romeo's protests, Pinocchio didn't let go. He was utterly bewitched. Romeo quieted too, his eyes glazing over. Romeo's lips were so red, like he had bitten into fresh fruit. He was beautiful.

Pinocchio tore his gaze away, chasing away the memories of phantom lips being pressed to his own. These memories were not his--he shouldn't steal them away like this. He needed to let go of Romeo.

But he did not let go.

Romeo shifted, pulling his free hand forward to tuck a stray lock of Pinocchio's silver hair behind his ear. His touch was so gentle--when was the last time someone had been gentle like this with him? Even Sophia's hugs and tugs were firm, because she was loud in her love, but Romeo's care for him felt precious, as if he were cupping it in between his palms and holding it to his chest.

"I think--" Pinocchio started, only to be interrupted by brisk footsteps approaching them from within Hotel Krat. The two separated quickly, like they had been doing something scandalous, avoiding each other's eyes. Pinocchio prodded at the rapid beat of his heart underneath his vest, trying to calm his breathing. How could he feel such intense emotions as a puppet? Did humans truly feel so much, all of the time?!

Sophia rounded the corner, her sapphire cloak trailing behind her. She breathed a laugh into her hand as she took in the state the boys were in, eyes crinkling. 

"Apologies for interrupting. I was just going to let you know the next shipment is ready for you, Clever One. The people of Elysium Boulevard have been asking after you; I believe the children there idolize you quite a bit."

Pinocchio couldn't see his own face, but he was sure it was getting even more red (somehow). "Thanks, Sophia."

"Wait, what do the kids think of Pinocchio's handsome and mysterious companion? Have they begun making tiny toy scythes yet?"

Sophia giggled again, and the sight of her pure joy made Pinocchio relax once more. "I don't believe I have heard anything of that sort yet, Lampwick. But be sure to check for me."

"Some of the girls were wearing blue wigs and cloaks last I saw," Pinocchio pointed out. "It seems we have all done some good so far, restoring laughter to the young ones."

Romeo and Sophia smiled at Pinocchio, the latter nodding gently. "I am pleased with our progress. I must see to Venigni now--he has asked me to revise his speech for his upcoming debut. Should I be nervous?"

"Tell him he cannot say his own name in the same sentence as 'genius' more than three times." Romeo glowered, and Pinocchio laughed freely.

Sophia nodded her head, excusing herself promptly. As Pinocchio watched her leave, lost in thought, a hand was extended to him once more. Romeo waited above him, the sunlight filtering in through his fanned hair. "To Elysium Boulevard?" He asked, tilting his head.

Pinocchio grinned, previous worries long forgotten, and took his hand.

Chapter Text

Romeo

The streets of Elysion Boulevard could hardly be called lively, but the bustle of folks strolling about on business was such a welcome sight, Romeo nearly found himself collapsing in relief. Gone were the piles of bodies ripped asunder or the ceaseless patrol of mindless puppets outside the influence of the King, instead replaced with the laughter of children as they were allowed a childhood once again.

Romeo could barely see over the crates he was carrying, but he could hear the merriment surrounding them. It was nice to feel hope in the atmosphere again, rather than resignation and despair.

Gemini was chirping happily at Pinocchio's hip, the green of the lantern lighting some of the darker street corners. Romeo glanced up at the taller buildings, appreciating their grandeur despite the reparations still needing enacted. Krat was once a glorious city, it could be again.

"Salut, mon ami!" A voice rang out, and Pinocchio stopped in front of Romeo, who collided with his back. Romeo just barely caught his crates from toppling, sighing softly. He heard Pinocchio snort in front of him, but restrained himself from retorting with a barbed remark. "We didn't expect you so early! Come, come! Join us." 

Peeking around the center crate, Romeo could just barely see their greeter. It was a middle aged woman, gray streaks of hair coloring the brown ones, and a few wrinkles pressed to her face. She had one hand resting on her hip, while the other dangled at her side; it swayed strangely, as if she could no longer feel its presence.

Petrification disease. The thought made Romeo sick with a sudden emotion, and he snapped his eyes back to Pinocchio for comfort, as if checking that he was still there.

"Thank you, Florianne."

Florianne nodded, guiding them to one of the open segments of this particular street, where many people surrounded a cracked fountain, doling out resources. "Of course, darling. Here, here, set the boxes here and we can sort through them together." Romeo felt her hand press softly to the crook of his elbow, and he tilted his head to pass her a smile.

He lowered the crates with a huff, standing to his full height to ostentatiously crack out his back.

"You might be more dramatic than Venigni," Pinocchio snickered, digging his knuckles into Romeo's side. 

"Now that is low." Romeo shook his head back and forth. He opened his mouth to say more before he was interrupted.

"Now tell me, love. How many elixirs can we expect today?"

Pinocchio turned his full attention to Florianne, sifting into business mode, as Romeo dubbed it in his head. "Sophia tells me there are at least thirty, perhaps more. We lose count at some point. But we already have more ripened fruit, so you can expect double this by this time next week."

"Lovely." She gestured to the other side of the street, where makeshift tents were set up with stretchers and cots. The sick resided there, most afflicted above the age of twenty. Children who caught the disease were the first to go--their little bodies just couldn't handle the stress and eventual organ failure. 

Before the gold coin fruit cure, the people of Krat knew Petrification disease to be a death sentence. It would rob you of your autonomy, your movement, and your familial connections before finally taking your life. Mothers and fathers would send away their children before they could become afflicted, never knowing if those same children made it somewhere safe.

But now, there was finally hope again.

When Florianne and Pinocchio began making their way to the quarantine, Romeo moved to follow. He made it about ten steps before a tiny hand tugged on his trousers, pulling him to a stop. He looked down to find a boy, maybe ten, with scarring covering his right eyebrow and neck. Otherwise, he looked healthy, and held a small toy sword in his hand. Romeo realized with amusement that the sword was straight at the blade like Pinocchio's katana, a small tassel wrapped around the handle.

"Mister, do you know when we can all play?" Behind the boy were a gaggle of children, each either unmarked by the disease or cured from it. 

Romeo grinned, bending down to be eye level with them all.

"It's always time to play. But my friend there is a bit busy, so I'll play with you!"

"But you're boring…" They whined.

Ouch. Since when were kids so mean?!

"Am not! I'm the King of Puppets!" Romeo exclaimed, affronted. He had half a mind to tear out one of his synthetic eyes from their sockets--see if they'd call him boring then. But Pinocchio would never let him hear the end of it (and would probably refuse to fix it, too).

The boy laughed. "Silly, the King in Puppets is made of metal. You're a real boy."

"Hmm." An idea planted itself in Romeo's head.

Romeo spun around, searching for something suitable before the kids got bored and wandered off. Behind him were some discarded sheets of metal, likely pulled free from signage that had been too mottled by the puppet frenzy to be repaired. Romeo lifted it with a sly grin, pressing the warped metal to his face before he spun around.

"Rah!! I am the great and strong King of Puppets, here to ravage your weakened city! No one dares stop me!" He stomped toward the kids, throwing his free hand up like a claw, chasing the sounds of squeals and raucous laughter. 

He darted forward to catch one of the smaller children, discarding his mask in favor of tossing him into the air. He made chomping noises, delighting in the excited screams he was able to encourage from the little ones. The other children surrounded them, pretending to fell him with their wooden sticks while he shouted in mock pain.

"Die, foul creature!" One kid yelled. "This is our city!"

"No! I cannot be defeated!" Romeo clutched at his chest, falling to the cobblestone whilst making a shoddy effort at deflecting their attacks. He began laughing in earnest when the kids fell back, finally, wheezing and red-faced from their swings. 

Romeo fanned himself. "You little devils sure are a handful. You will make fine protectors of the land someday." At his words, Romeo turned to locate Pinocchio, only to find the other boy already staring back at him. He was wearing a soft smile across his face, eyes glimmering, and silver hair swaying in the wind. Something caught in Romeo's chest seeing the expression, and he returned a smile he was sure was far too sappy and revealing.

They stared at each other for a few more prolonged seconds before Romeo was tackled by three kids, sending them toppling over.

--

Pinocchio

Something heavy was beating alongside the heart placed in Pinocchio's chest--surely that was the reason he had a hard time looking at Romeo recently, who made the thumping of this foreign object all the louder. He pressed the ends of his fingers to the cloth resting over his heart, willing the feeling to subside whilst drawing in a careful breath. Behind him, he could hear Romeo and the children accosting him cackling with laughter, and other onlookers gazed upon the scene with peaceful expressions.

"Mon ami, I do hope it is not too much trouble for you boys to venture down here when the Hotel is still in need of many repairs," Florianne said, catching his attention once more. "We have enough healthy folk to make the trek up to you, if you wish!"

"Oh, no." Pinocchio shook his head. "It's really no trouble. Romeo and I like to get out when we can, and we have the other residents to help with clean up. Don't worry about it." 

Florianne nodded, appeased, and turned back to shuffling through some supples. 

"Alright, then we can--"

A shrill scream interrupted her, and Pinocchio had turned to the commotion in a flash as hell broke loose around them. 

In front of him, where Romeo and the child had been standing, a large and bulbous carcass loomed over Romeo and the children. It must have dropped from one of the rooftops--the cobblestones around what could vaguely be considered its feet were broken in. It was one of the largest carcasses Pinocchio had ever seen, with a gaping snout-like maw and two jagged tusks extending out from its chin; it looked like a sick distortion between an elephant and a boar.

Pinocchio was reminded of his time in the past, when he had been traversing the Krat Zoo.

Romeo moved into action quickly, as Pinocchio moved forward, their reactions the quickest among the crowd. Romeo's scythe had been discarded by the fountain, likely so he wouldn't accidentally hurt the children with it, but it now left him defenseless. Luckily, Pinocchio always kept his sword at his hip.

The monster reared back, letting out a ghastly, mottled yell before beginning its dash forward. Romeo tucked the two children at his side to his chest and rolled out of the way, clipped by one of the carcasses tusks. Pinocchio's chest tightened at the sight, but Romeo only winced and looked down to reassure the kids he was okay.

Finally, Pinocchio reached them--the entire sequence could have only taken 3 seconds or so. He unsheathed his blade, dragging it across the hide of the carcass, painting the sidewalk blue with its acidic blood.

Parents ran to their children, lifting them safely into their arms so they could duck away into the various branching streets. Pinocchio sidestepped the creature's attack to stop its pursuit--his breath hitching when his eye caught on the quarantine. They couldn't exactly move the sick people in the tent, and he locked eyes with Florianne, who had a small dagger unsheathed at her side and was quietly assessing the situation. 

"Romeo!" Pinocchio called, gasping as the carcass slammed its entire head down toward Pinocchio, who caught both tusks on the edge of his blade. It threatened to overpower him if he didn't move immediately. "We have to draw it away--the bridge is nearby, we just need to make a dash for it!"

The blond nodded in affirmation, sprinting forward to grab his scythe. Pinocchio gritted his teeth and pushed the monster back, huffing a breath to calm his aching springs. He stepped back, preparing himself for another blow, when the creature in front of him suddenly roared with pain.

Acid exploded from its left side, where Romeo stood about a few yards away. He was holding the wire connected to his scythe, swinging its hooked end in circles. He looked the carcass dead in the eyes, slapped the hook into the ground once to give out a shrill twang, and launched it at the carcass again. 

The second hit enraged the beast, as it turned its attention solely to Romeo, charging for him. Romeo was quick on his feet, dashing for the first opening he could find. Pinocchio was closer to the alleyway, intercepting Romeo there and gesturing for him to follow as the creature hounded their every step.

If we can get it to the bridge, perhaps we can push it over-- countless strategies flowed through Pinocchio's brain, but one was prevalent throughout it all: how did such a large carcass get into the city?!

The Red Fox and Black Cat were consistently scouting the northern edge of Krat, where Venigni Works resided, and they hadn't reported any new carcass sightings. Bella and her connections surveyed the rest of the city, acting in place of a police force since Pinocchio had destroyed most of the puppets meant to protect the city. 

His thoughts turned to the mystery woman at the same time they reached the gate to the bridge. Romeo and Pinocchio hit the brass gate with their shoulders, bracing themselves to get it open. It slid sharply against the concrete, resistant, and the carcass was very quickly approaching them.

"We won't make it!" Romeo exclaimed, glancing behind them. Pinocchio shook his head, too overwhelmed to speak, pushing harder with his legion arm. The gate moved a bit faster, but his arm was straining under the pressure, the cogs in his arm whirring as if they were about to break.

At the last moment, Romeo tackled Pinocchio out of the way, just as the gate slammed open and the creature pounced, its momentum carrying it through to the other side. Its front half, which was extremely top heavy, slammed to the ground, acid exploding out from its various wounds.

Pinocchio coughed, grinding his teeth to stave away the newfound pains he kept experiencing within his circuits. He snapped his attention to Romeo, who groaned beside him, and quickly checked him over for wounds.

"Fine, I'm fine--"

Pinocchio nodded, speech entirely lost to him in the haze of their mad dash. He turned to the carcass, pulling himself up resignedly, drawing his blade and stepping in front of Romeo as he pulled himself together too.

The carcass turned to them, but not before Pinocchio noticed its backside. On the hump of its back, two long strings that moved like fluid were extending from its back, extending to the side then up. Pinocchio followed the strings until he could no longer see them, as they disappeared into the rooftops and walls around them. It was like something was puppeteering it--

The creature growled, the sound like wet meat slapping against the ground, barely more than a gurgle in its throat. Its tusks had cracked from the fall, bits of it beginning to flake off.

Something about the tusks caught Pinocchio's eye, and he took a tentative step closer to observe them while the creature still recovered.

It was then that he noticed they were not tusks made of bone--they were made of flesh.

They looked like human arms that had been forcible calcified, hands broken off to extend the flesh to sharpened points. The sight was entirely grotesque, and Pinocchio tightened his hand around his blade. They needed to end this twisted beast. 

Romeo stood beside him, scythe at the ready. The two moved together, approaching the beast calmly, circling it from both sides. It hissed in pain, turning its beady eyes to follow both of them, back and forth.

But when Pinocchio raised his blade, a voice from above stilled him: "Enough."

The beast calmed, stepping back, its wires pulling taut, as if moving the creature.

Atop the decaying gate behind them, the carcass woman stood, her amalgamated form pulsating with blue light. The strings from the monster coalesced to her, coming to rest at each of her fingertips. 

The sight of the woman filled Pinocchio with such an intense fear, it flooded through every one of his artificial arteries, filling his veins with trepidation. He turned to Romeo as if on instinct, fear response guiding his actions. Romeo found his gaze, confused, before returning his attention to the woman.

"It was you who brought this thing here?" Romeo demanded, leveraging his scythe.

Pinocchio looked down at Romeo's feet, ensuring nothing was gathering there. How could he protect him from every angle, when the woman could seemingly summon carcasses from virtually anything?

"Indeed," the woman cooed. She walked to the edge of the archway, carcass fluid gathering at her feet to carry her down to their level. Now they were boxed in--the carcass monster behind them, and the woman before them.

Pinocchio's breath stuttered, his grip on his sword shaking. 

"I simply brought my pet here to come and view your progress personally. How does your little memory quest go, Carlo?" Her gargled voice cleared on the name, causing Pinocchio to flinch back. He looked into her eyes, the scleras black aside a face covered with pockmarks of moving flesh. If Pinocchio were human, he'd have thrown up at the sight.

The woman stilled, sighed, then lifted her hand again. "Perhaps a demonstration will jog your memory."

At her movement, Pinocchio rushed to Romeo's side, grabbing him by the shoulder so he could place himself firmly in front of him, blocking the woman's view of Romeo completely. The carcass monster remained docile, but something else gathered at her behest, brought on by her other hand and the strings that extended from them.

Pinocchio was so busy making sure every one of Romeo's blind spots were covered, he entirely missed a small carcass fling up at him from the ground. It caught him in the face, burning into his left eye socket and cheek, before Pinocchio caught it with his legion arm and threw it back to the ground. He swung forward with the Twin Dragons blade, bisecting it. 

"Pinocchio!" Romeo snapped. "I am not defenseless, focus on yourself!"

Romeo snapped his wire at the ground, swinging his scythe backwards to fell two more of the tiny carcass creatures. There were entirely chaotic in appearance, upwards of ten limbs sprawling out from a circular body, as if three creatures had been fused into one. They leapt ceaselessly for the two.

No, no, no, no. Don't take him. Pinocchio swung, killing another creature that was swiping at Romeo's legs. Please please please please no please no no please

From behind, a hand struck out and caught him around the back of his neck, pushing him forward to his knees. He was caught so off guard he couldn't even fight it off, and when he hit the ground, carcass fluid surged out from the cobble, crawling up his pantleg and covering his legion arm completely, the metal disappearing under a mass of darkened green and blue. It covered his sword next, before snapping it in two.

Pinocchio couldn't think about Eugenie in this moment--but her eyes flashed in his mind. How disappointed she'd be. 

"No--" Pinocchio hissed, prepared to fight back until the end, but the clawed hand holding him slammed him down to the ground fully. Through the pain shocking through his skull, he heard Romeo gasp, as another weapon hit the ground. 

Pinocchio looked up, only to find that Romeo had been pinned as well, two carcass creatures holding down his arms and more fluid chaining his feet to the ground. In seconds, they had been completely restrained. 

"You are much less proficient at fighting when you are with him, have you noticed?" A saccharine voice whispered in his ear, before stepping around to his front. The woman pulled him up by the chin, forcing him to meet her fiery gaze, which spoke only of hatred and disgust.

Who are you?? Pinocchio thought, fear curdling in his belly. Who are you? Who are you? Think, think think think think, no, please don't hurt him--oh no, oh no

"Still don't recognize me?! Think, you insignificant wretch." The woman shoved his face away and stepped backward, the only warning given before her mottled blue skin began to shift, tearing apart. Pinocchio scowled, reminded of the great beast he fought within the swamp, and how it had shed its outer layer of putrid flesh to reveal something metallic underneath. 

The woman's skin broke apart into strands, converging over her stomach before dissolving away. Underneath the blue substance she secreted and the dirt marring her face, she looked quite beautiful. Her eyes were sharp, with an air of arrogance to them. Her hair was deeply stained by mud, but in some spots it almost looked golden…

Something like recollection fluttered in Pinocchio's chest, and he could only look at her harder, even as she prowled toward him. Strands of the carcass substance secreted from her fingernails, connecting her hands to the carcass monsters surrounding Romeo. She could control them with a flick of her fingers, and the sight was a familiar one.

It reminded him of--

The woman snapped forward, catching the weakened Pinocchio by the neck to dig her fingers in deep. Her grip was unbreakable.

"Markiona?" Pinocchio wheezed out, clutching at his throat. It couldn't be her--had she survived their altercation and followed him back from the past?

Markiona's fingernails dug even more harshly into the skin of Pinocchio's neck, revealing swaths of ergo and machinery underneath the thin layer of his skin. She slammed him down suddenly, smashing the front of his head into the stone. His nose broke off on impact, pain radiating over the entirety of his face as Pinocchio cried out. She slammed him down thrice more.

"Surprised? You left me to rot in that dank and cold greenhouse. Even that, I may have forgiven. But before that transgression you and that wretched, red-haired bitch took everything from me," she hissed each word as if they were poisonous, spitting them at the ground with each subsequent slam of Pinocchio's head against the cobble. Pinocchio was getting dizzy, barely able to parse through her words. Cracks spiderwebbed over his face. 

"Stop!" Romeo begged, trying to pull himself free. Pinocchio blinked blearily up at him, heart hammering as he watched the carcasses sink their acidic mouths into the exposed flesh on Romeo's arms. Pinocchio opened his mouth to demand the foul creatures to stop, more concerned with Romeo's safety, only to receive a mouthful of gravel as he was slammed to the ground again.

Markiona laughed, scratching her cracked fingernails over the nape of Pinocchio's neck. "I didn't recognize you back then, boy. Your silver hair was quite a change. But I would be a fool if I didn't recognize the sword style of that pute." 

But Lea Florence hadn't taught him how to fight, it had been programmed into him by his father, right? Could his sword skills really have given him away?

Pinocchio's thoughts swam from him, replaced with a horrendous headache that threatened to split his skull if Markiona didn't do it first. He dropped his sword to batter at her grip, desperation moving his hand.

"All of this grandstanding and you still don't remember what you did to me. Va te faire foutre. Let us see if you can recall your sins when I begin plucking the fingers off of your boy, one by one. Hideous puppet you may be, but I can feel your emotions as clearly as if they were seeping off of you like blood." She spat at him, a glob of acid hitting the back of his head. He barely felt the burn.

"Markiona, please--" Pinocchio wheezed, brushing away the mangled pieces of his broken face. He was sure he looked utterly unworldly, barely a real boy but begging for his friend's life nonetheless. 

"Do not, boy." Markiona hissed, backhanding him suddenly. He coughed, falling back against the cobblestone to soothe his burning face. He was losing consciousness--he could tell, his internal wiring and cogs were tightened to the extreme, and he was losing feeling in his extremities. Darkness pulled at him, his eyes blinking out at the blurring world.

He couldn't see Romeo. Couldn't hear him. Where--where was Romeo? Romeo?