Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Countless, countless variables had gone into consideration when it came to this act of revenge. It was a plan near flawless as it could be, given the resources available.

After all, Angela had nothing but time.

Countless Abnormalities released at once. Qliphoth set to minimal deterrence, increasing their power. Binah's aid was a mild surprise, but accounted for. It handled the issue of Gebura rather handedly.

There was to be resistance. The Sephirah were putting up a good fight, all things considered. But all the victories were temporary. With the deterrence so low, those eggs were bound to crack open again in short order, and the cycle began anew.

WhiteNight readily tied up the lowest floors. The Mountain gorged on flesh, traipsing through the uppermost layers. The middle ones were more difficult to crack. Nothing There tied down Disciplinary well, and Melting Love was spreading through Welfare.

Central Command, though... that was a tricky one. Even though its size and frankly terrible layout hampered some things, they were keeping on top of it well.

Namely due to one particularly annoying Agent.

Don Quixote.

They were an agent of note. They kept logs for everyone, of course. Logs of problems, weaknesses, and other useful tidbits like notable incidents and the like. Hers, though...

Hers was among the longest of the lot. She'd been a strange problem from the start of this loop. One would've expected someone so peppy and odd as them to break quickly... but she didn't. She adapted to the environment well, despite her strange ways of speaking and insistence on those shoes.

It was the moment they suppressed Meat Lantern in melee combat that put them firmly in her sights. It was an unfeasible thing, even for higher level agents with high resistances, but she handled it in Meat Lantern's own suit. She managed, on her own, to hold that thing's nigh unstoppable maws open from the inside out, kicked its uvula to force a gag reflex, and then proceeded to down the dazed Abnormality in record time. And since, they'd practically been able to command the being of fluff and teeth back to its cell like a dog.

Humans weren't supposed to be able to do that. But the records for her initial employment indicated nothing out of the ordinary.

In fact, they were empty enough that it was actually somewhat concerning. The initial documentation she sent in for approval for the Wing position was... colorful. They seemingly had written much of it in crayon, little drawings and flourishes all over the page.

And yet, it was approved. Even knowing the criteria for hiring, given her effective managerial role for extra-facility matters, she wondered how the strange yellow haired being was approved.

It only ever got stranger from there. An incident with Fragment of the Universe also came to mind, in which she, on  tape, climbed onto the thing and began eating it alive. Taking chunks out of its string-like neck, the thing panicking, flailing, and screaming to no avail while others managed to suppress it.

The next time the two encountered each other, the Fragment actively ran away from the Agent. Which was frankly baffling. Abnormalities typically didn't keep memories once they returned to their egg-like state. It was rebirth, complete and total.

And yet, somehow, she left a stain enough that it remembered, and since they consistently tried to speak to it, to 'duel' it. An incident about 2 days later involving her trying to eat the Heart of Aspiration effectively barred her from that toothy EGO gift, though. The removal was painful for all parties involved, apparently.

After that, Angela figured she would fall into irrelevance, but they got promoted to Central Command once it opened.

And then came O-01-04. The 'Queen of Hatred'. She was a constant, recurring menace throughout the loops. Sentient, humanoid, a 'magical girl' who wanted to fight villains. They were absurdly temperamental, unstable, actively required the death of Clerks to be even minorly appeased that peace hadn't fallen on the facility (Oh, how utterly ironic that statement was, even when people weren't dying).

Oh, and of course, the fact that not appeasing them turned them into a giant, teleporting snake creature that shot laser beams across the whole facility.

They were, in the Manager's colorful words, a absolute horrible, no good shithead and a right pain in the ass. Given the amount of incidents involving her over these years, Angela was inclined to agree, if simply by the statistical data.

Then the two met. She figured it would boil down to a mostly standard reaction, but...

It was clear that 0-01-04 became rather infatuated with Don. The latter did attachment work, but it was in the form of a rambling long and passionate enough that it gave even the Queen pause.

Fixers was the topic. It was something Angela was only vaguely aware of, really. But Don Quixote's breadth of knowledge on the subject was something she could tentatively speak on as fairly impressive. And Queen was captured by the topic. Of these tales of righteous warriors and fighters just like herself.

She brought the magical girl stories. It wasn't surprising, given at least 85% of her belongings were a outwardly disorganized mass of books, comics, and magazines. The two got along absurdly well, especially once Quixote was authorized the suit of the Queen's.

And then, as Don Quixote taught the Queen about fixers, the girl responded by teaching her magic.

Which should've been an impossible task. The Suit was solid and well built, but the most it and its staff could do was fire those odd multi-colored stars in various damage typings.

They were wrong. All of them were wrong. Especially once Don got the hang of firing laser beams. They don't think they would ever forget how the manager's mouth hung open at the sight, jaw dangling like it were about to wholly fall from his face.

Though she was surprised too, of course. E.G.O weaponry and suits carried a bit of power of the original source, but it typically didn't let you wholly imitate the Abnormality.

Typically. Which wasn't a word tied to that statement before her, the Agent even getting her hair styled by the Abnormality itself to resemble them.

E.G.O corrosion was suspected, but she met all the requirements of the suit. Level IV, III in every statistic at minimum... (Frankly it was baffling how high that Justice stat was, they remember at least one talk in which there was consideration for a 6th level due to her.)

But mental corruption was surprisingly low. Don Quixote's was almost always remarkably low. She was convinced the machine just didn't know how to process someone like her, honestly.

The two became rather infamous after that. The filing for incident reports had to be re-categorized on two separate occasions and a directory specifically made for 'incidents involving magical girls' due to how many were piling up.

Each were problems. Together, they were a menace. And yet...

They were allowed to stay together, suit and all. Normally, fraternizing and empathizing with the Abnormalities like this was met with separation and 'firing', typically.

Typically. But that Agent was different. The Manager said as much. And it was clear why.

Don Quixote had a 100% success rate with Queen of Hatred. Every time, even with Hysteria involved, her eyes lit up like holiday lights in Don's presence, darkness chased away with words and stories and hugs and smiles.

It was practically a fact enough that it could easily be on the documentation for the Queen.

• O-01-04 falls into a hysteric state upon no casualties for an extended period, greatly reducing success chance.
• Failure to procure 16 or more PE Boxes in this state will result in the O-01-04's transformation into a monster.
• When employee Don Quixote performs Attachment work with O-01-04, the success chance was increased to 100%.

For all intents and purposes, the agent had somehow managed to tame the magical girl. And while they were... menaces, actual casualty rates fell to near zero when it came to them.

Even if it meant having to watch the Abnormality breach itself to go on 'adventures' around the facility, perform in sparring matches with the Agent (of which betting pools had to be shut down), and generally get themselves into trouble on the daily.

And yet, since then, the Queen had not transformed since. It was baffling and ridiculous and led to here, where the two had actively stabilized Central Command, making it a rally point for this... resistance.

Angela had no clue if they would go anywhere from here, however, pushing the tide back this much had been impressive, but...

Wait. Where did they...

When the hell had Don Quixote learned how to teleport? She had it on cameras, the two speaking, determination clear on their faces, before, in a burst of pink, both vanished. Cameras flicked to in instant, every department and hallway and where the hell were they?

None of the cameras revealed their location, neither did the managerial overview. They kept scanning, focusing on other matters, but then, approximately 23.4 seconds later, the room became pink.

A beam, passing through the wall directly for her location, covering the practical width of the room. Her own processing speeds allowed her plenty of time to consider how this had occurred, connected feeds flipping as the source was tracked down.

Ah. It was from somewhere in the maintenance areas. Clever. There were still cameras back there, but far more sparsely placed. It left gaps and holes and the perfect place to launch an assault like this from. The size was surprising, larger than the standard beam. The luminosity was greater, too. Perhaps they were doing it together. The power of love.

It also left Angela absolutely nowhere to move to if they wanted to try evading it. Arcana Slave passed through surfaces like they weren't even there, and with Binah and Gebura fighting right outside the main exit, it left her isolated, but the room's defenses should've accounted for this.

Except with the Qliphoth Deterrence so low, there was the distinct possibility that the Queen's power was far more than it was built to account for.

She had accounted for countless possibilities and variables. Even the Queen to an extent, but given all the death, they should've fallen, transformed like the others already had.

But then there was that agent.

Goddamn Don Quixote, that frankly stupid, absurd fixer obsessed lunatic who was like her buoy in a stormy sea.

They should've killed her first thing.

But now all they could do was watch and feel as the beam penetrated through the room, steadily wearing away at her chassis, powering even further, clothes burning away, false skin tearing apart.

Metal warping and heating and expanding as a practical sun was being fired out towards her.

Warnings flashing. Difficulties moving, eyes shorting out. Even with her chassis's immense defenses, she was not wholly invincible. Heat tolerances could still be exceeded, Pressure from every angle...

And the last thought that ran through her mind as everything winked out one by one was that of everything considered, everything planned and executed...

She had forgotten that in this facility, victory often came from the stupidest, most absurd things.

And in this case, it was a pair of magical girls, hand in hand, derailing everything she had planned for so long on a whim, all resulting from the manager's curiosity on what would happen if the two met.

Angela hated this facility with every fiber of her being.

And now she knew no more.

This Faust was not a Faust who believed in uncertainty.

Faust could understand why some Fausts did, but here of all places, where even a small slip-up could lead to instant, irrevocable death, Faust wasn't exactly fond of the concept of leaving Faust's life up to a gamble.

So Faust took the information of the Gesselschaft rather frequently. Fausts were rather helpful to Faust, too, especially given Faust's location in time and space.

L-Corp HQ was a place many Fausts wished to know more about. It wasn't exactly a frequent place where Faust ended up across the mirror, seemingly. Only one other had, and chronologically, Faust was behind Faust by a significant margin. Still using the Forsaken Murderer's equipment. Faust was distinctly glad Faust had been able to exchange it for the equipment of Alriune since then. It was distinctly less constricting.

So Faust took the information Fausts provided, and applied it in exchange for knowledge of Faust's own. It was a simple, simple service, and had saved Faust many times.

It helped to know the path this was going. 50 Days, and then some kind of rebellion occurred due to large and frankly justified grievances housed by the resident AI, and lead to the eventual creation of a place known as 'The Library'.

Faust was rather interested in the sound of it, even if it meant Faust was likely to die for a little while, by Faust's own accounts.

Faust was rather sure that wasn't going to happen now, though, given said resident AI had been thoroughly disabled by a dual attack from Central Command Team Captain Don Quixote and the Abnormality O-01-04.

The 'Queen of Hatred'. It was a name that elicits groans from some other Fausts in the Gesselschaft. Apparently even beyond HQ, it was a headache. A curious Abnormality in Faust's own eyes though. It's effective human nature, its 'magic', which differed from other forms of magic practiced in the City, apparently something to do with the 'Light' that was currently shooting upwards into the skies above the facility.

And yet it was hostile much of the time the moment its ideals were questioned, extremely difficult to manage, and typically more trouble than it was worth.

And then was Don Quixote. Or 'Sancho Panza', as the Gesselschaft informed.

A bloodfiend, a Second Kindred of the Manchegan family. Absurdly powerful. And also simply absurd in general. The 'shoes' she wore changing them into someone completely different.

And someone who the Queen of Hatred was utterly infatuated with. And who, consequently, Don was also utterly infatuated with. They'd become a pair, and the bloodfiend kept the magical girl on the straight and narrow, directly countering information possessed by other Fausts in regards to the nigh impossibility of keeping such an entity sane for extended periods.

Perhaps even if Faust didn't believe in uncertainty, uncertainty found Faust anyways, given the scrabbling notes Faust was asked to take regarding her and the relationship formed.

Both basically relied on each other heavily. Each stabilized the other, and it made them dangerous. Even if Don never utilized Bloodfiendish attributes beyond the occasional burst of hysterical strength, it seems she could learn magic. It prompted theories among Fausts as to whether or not Bloodfiends and Abnormalities shared more with each other than standard humanity. But from Faust's own perspective, it was simply fascinating to watch the two.

Countless suppressions won due to the two's energy, optimism, and death beams. Ordeals handled in record times, stabilization of a whole department during the suppression of the Red Mist. They were practically one and the same at this point. You didn't talk about one without mentioning the other.

And now they had effectively broken the track of where this timeline was headed. It was Malkuth's idea apparently. Give the two the exact coordinates of Angela's position. Warp to somewhere Angela couldn't see, and blast.

And it worked. It reasonably shouldn't have worked, even the Sephirah who suggested it was shocked when it worked. When Faust had relayed the information to Faust, the entire Gesselschaft fell silent for a while as it was processed on how drastic a shift had occurred.

The Seed of Light Project was supposed to fail. It lead to the formation of Distortions, which lead to the Pianist, which lead to the revenge of a bitter man and eventually the release of Light in full.

It was a series of events that cascaded and lead to the formation of countless things which shaped the route of the City and now...

Faust was left in a sea of uncertainty that practically no Faust had been left in before.

What a bother. The intercom came on.

"Qliphoth deterrence is up to above normal levels, everybody! Group up and clean through the rest!" Malkuth's voice was excited regardless of the baffling nature of this all. Control had been cleaned up a moment ago, and it left Faust with little but time to think as wounds healed in the gentle pulse of the Regenerator.

"Getting lost in your own head again?" A voice called from the left as the form of Ishmael came in, clearly wounded and blood-soaked. Though the crimson of that Mercenary's suit blended in with it well.

"Faust is simply ruminating on possibilities from here."

"I'll take a guess that you thought the chances of us actually winning were pretty low."

"Correct." Faust answered. Ishmael huffed.

"Figures, I suppose. The odds were stacked against us, even with the gear. So, what, you're figuring what comes next?"

"An idea of it. This is uncharted territory." It was. Effects of the Seed would have to be catalogued and listed, compared to other realities where it was released again later after malformation. Would Distortions still become a phenomenon? Would Golden Boughs? 

"The chances were that low?" Ishmael blinked, seeming skeptical.

"Faust would place the odds lower than those of successfully performing Repression work with CENSORED."

The sunset-haired agent just stared for a long moment before deflating, leaning against a wall. "Oh. So then, wise and mighty sage, what do you think happens now?"

"Faust anticipates one of two possibilities. Once suppression is complete, the Sephirah will either let us go, our contracts fulfilled, and we go our separate ways after collecting our pay. The alternative is, like many of the Sephirah intend on doing themselves, we will be buried with the facility."

Ishmael's eyes widened. "So there's a chance we will die anyways is what you're saying."

"I believe the probabilities are rather low at this juncture, but it would be foolish to utterly discount the possibility, given the extremely low chances that lead us here in the first place."

A sharp exhale from Ishmael's nose. "Yeah. Guess even our AI overlord wasn't expecting laser beams from the broom closet."

"Maintenance catwalk A-24." Faust corrected, and Ishmael's eye twitched. 

"It's a metaphorical closet, you...." Ishmael's anger simmered down. Faust had noted it was likely the suit causing such a thing. She had become far more irritable since donning it. It seems she realized it too. "Be glad to get this damn suit off. Ugh."

"It is likely for the best, even if we are released. Outside of Qliphoth Deterrence, the suits will be significantly more difficult to control." Faust advised.

"No wonder when it went down, I felt like..." Ishmael started, a pointed realization in those yellow eyes of hers, voice lowering to a murmur Faust could only barely make out. "...that bastard..."

She shook her head rapidly as if breaking from a trance. A sigh. "Nevermind. Have you heard anything about-"

It was then both were interrupted as the door beside opened, and in came pink. The stars of the day. Don Quixote, staff floating by their side as if uncaring of gravity, and beside them...

The Queen of Hatred. A sight which caused Ishmael to freeze up just a touch. It wasn't surprising. Abnormalities simply could have that kind of effect on people. An odd feeling that permeated the air like a pressure. The force of their will on the world only held by Qliphoth Deterrence. But it didn't mean that tension wasn't still palpable.

And here she was, casually striding hand in hand with the Agent, both with smiles on their faces.

And more than a bit of blood tracked in, but that was par for the course for everybody at this point. Both were proud, Don raising her staff up high as she casually grabbed it with her free hand.

"Hark, we hath arrived, victorious!" the agent proclaimed.

"The forces of love prevailed against the hateful machine!" The abnormality beside cheered.

Both Faust and Ishmael just stared quietly.

"I'm... surprised you're not down in Central?" Ishmael eventually spoke, unsure.

"We would, but miss Malkuth summoned us! I knowest not why, but so it is! 'Twas their valiant strategy that won us the day, after all!"

"Even if it's less fighting than I expected." The Queen's twin-tails seemed to almost sag a little. It was one of the oddities that pointed her out as distinctly inhuman, hair seeming to respond like limbs.

"But what fighting there was was indeed glorious! I, Love, and the Red Mist herself engaged Lady Binah soon after! It was a battle for the ages, the mere thought of fighting alongside such a legend, even as they are....!" Don seemed to practically vibrate, eyes alight. Her enthusiasm seemed to infect the Queen, her own eyes sparkling just a touch. It was hard to say whether it was at the subject or the speaker, however.

"Are Binah and Angela both...?" Ishmael made a motion of a throat slice.

"Nay! Lady Binah relented after being disarmed!" The agent boasted proudly, raising her head up just a bit.

"Yep, those arms went flying!" Both other agents could only blink at the Abnormality's words. Ah. Figures it would take that kind of effort to get such a being to relent.

"As for Lady Angela... our Arcana Slave left them in quite a state! Took a bit of effort to pry them from the earth! But Sir Hokma believes they're still mostly functional and repairable!" 

"I hope so. They may have been a villain, but I could see the goodness that lied within! Their draw in the world left them with a terrible hand from start to finish." The Queen spoke.

Oddly spoken, but Faust found herself agreeing with that assessment, given what Faust knew.

"That sounds like a terrible idea." Ishmael's tone was flat, eyes narrow, clearly wondering what the hell was going through their heads. "She just tried to murder everybody."

"Faust would like to remind you that literally every Sephirah has attempted the same during their own breakdowns."

"And you don't exactly see me being chummy with them." The sailor's arms crossed.

"This place hast been full of immense trials and tribulations for all! T'would be folly to judge them for something many of us have experienced." Don began. "I distinctly remember you falling asunder too once, Lady Ishmael! Thy bullets and sickle alike art quite troublesome!"

Yellow eyes shied away, orange hair sliding down the wall just a bit more. "WHITE damage is different."

"'Tis merely more focused!" Don countered. "But a focus that is most unpleasant!"

"Everybody needs a helping hand once in a while." The Queen spoke. "Even me... as much as I feel I should be... better."

Her eyes seemed to grow a touch more shadowed, but at that, Don leaned into her side with a knowing smile.

"Like so!" Pivoting, they gave the magical girl a large hug, chasing away those shadows as the agent nuzzled her cheek, the Abnormality giving a giggle.

The two really were made for each other. Honestly, it was kind of startling just how close they both appeared to each other now. Were it not for the hair and the Abnormality's ghostly complexion, they'd practically be twins.

It was then, finally, that the boxy Sephirah of Control arrived. "Oh! You're already here, good!"

She stepped in more fully, moving around the two magical girls as the yellow haired's gaze locked on.

"We did as thou instructed, Fair Lady Malkuth! Tis' all settled?!" She vibrated, seemingly ready to practically bounce.

"That it is! Cleanup is practically done, and I came to congratulate you both." Her eye's shutter rose, giving a happy gaze. "You both saved us, the facility, and the wing's goal all in one swoop. It's rather hard to put into words the level of thanks we have, really."

"T'was no issue at all! Tis' the duty of fixers and maidens alike to put down such villainous acts that threaten the lives of countless!"

"It's our purpose!" The two spoke together, eerily. Malkuth's singular eye shuttered closed for a moment like a camera, pausing before continuing. "...Right, of course. And for this accomplishment, we've added a quite hefty bonus to the end of your contract. As a gift from us."

"We don't need money for these things!" Queen seemed almost slightly offended before Don patted her shoulder.

"Nay, but should they not be able to express gratitude?" she commented. "We may not care for it, but if they do, then is fine to accept it! Tis' more rude not to."

The Queen looked at her for a while, seemingly processing it. "I mean, as long as we put it towards helping others!"

"Tis' the plan!" Don grinned, and Queen seemed to follow.

"On the subject of plans, Miss Malkuth." Faust's words drew the prosthetic's attention. "Faust would like to inquire as do if the Sephirah have decided a course of action from here in regards to the facility and its current residents."

"Well, we've been discussing that." Malkuth spoke, singular eye glancing down to notes on occasion. "Originally, Ayin's original plan involved burying the facility with everyone in it. Buuuut, well, honestly, most of us kind of disagree on it now."

"They wouldst have...?" Don blinked, voice falling. "An act of villainy so cruel seems... different than he."

"Well, it was the old Ayin doing that. Not this one. I think X would've disagreed too, but... well, they're not here anymore." Her posture deflated somewhat, tone mournful.

Faust was still unsure why the manager decided to take a plunge into the giant pillar of light, all things considered. It came off to Faust as rather cowardly, especially given what the purpose of this entire facility was.

But perhaps the former Ayin had something to do with that to ensure this is how it would end. Which was... saddening, really.

"So, new plan we've come up with is similar, but well, we're doing an evacuation! Get everybody out of Records storage, pay out contract fees, etc, etc. Then we're burying the rest of the facility."

"With, ah, all the Abnormalities?" Don's face looked a little worried.

"Well..." Malkuth trailed off a moment, flipping a page in her notebook. "There's been a fair few people who are willing to play 'guardian' for them. Laetitia, some of the Training Dummies, Scorched Girl... most of them are too dangerous, but... well, we're considering it, as long as they take full responsibility and know what they're getting themselves into. Outside of Qliphoth, Abnormalities get... strange. Warping the environment and all. Same goes for E.G.O equipment. Maintenance is not something you can easily do and corrosion can happen a lot more frequently... but, uh, as Gebura put it, 'it's their hill to die on if they want to keep using it'."

"So does that mean we can leave?" The Queen asked, eyes wide and pleading.

"For you... well, you did help save everybody and I imagine Don is more than willin-"

"YES!" The agent's voice interrupted with immense volume, bouncing." Of course! Have no fear, Miss Malkuth, for I shall help guide our Magical Maiden in the ways of the Cityfolk! We can finally pursue the dream!"

Queen's eyes lit up. "You mean we can..."

"Be heroes!" Don and Queen both finished at the same time, each seemingly hyping each other up. 

"Prithee, we shall become righteous Fixers and help the countless folk of the City's streets!" the agent proclaimed, and both Sephirah and agents could only watch as they continued to speak on 'righteous deeds' and 'defeating of villains' in various tones, deaf to the world around them.

Ishmael leaned towards Malkuth, whispering. "You know this is going to go terribly, right?"

Malkuth's vocal processor lowered in volume significantly. "The City will probably survive them?"

Faust could hear the Gesselschaft making a poll on that topic.

The resulting odds were not good. Faust elected to say nothing, though. It wasn't Faust's problem to deal with.

Hopefully.

The evacuation after took quite some time. The sheer quantities of people who needed to be unfrozen, debriefed and summarily let out took quite a lot of effort, manpower, and patience.

Which was something that was getting lower and lower for many people in the facility. Many agents and clerks simply, slowly began to filter out. Numerous of those Faust had come to respect, gone on their separate ways.

Outis had doffed Magic Bullet, finally. Though she knew the contract itself would find its endpoint some time. Returning home was simply more important.

Ryoshu, the Captain of Safety left too, with that E.G.O equipment of theirs, synergizing well. Faust had an idea of what future lied for her, the way her eyes narrowed at further mention of spiders, at how that blade almost seemed to rumble in its sheath.

There was Ishmael and Heathcliff, Ishmael wanting to continue her wanderings across the City before heading home to the sea to close out matters. Heathcliff behind her. The two seemed halfway ready to tear each other to smithereens, and yet still fought for each other's sake. It reminded Faust of a brother and sister, not that either would ever admit to that. Heathcliff did speak of having plans before once they got out of here, but...

They seemed to have forgotten it. It left them listless in a sea. Something Faust understood well. No wonder they clung to Ishmael such, for if anyone could navigate those waters, it'd likely be her.

And then, of course, there was Don Quixote. She and the Queen, hand in hand, speaking of a path of heroism, a path of becoming the brightest star in the sky.

Faust didn't know if they'd reach that goal. Maybe they'd die in a week, the immortal magical girl left to fend for herself, causing untold casualties. Maybe they'd just settle into some monotony, never ascending or descending. Maybe that part of Don Quixote would come out at some point, and who knows how the other might react to the situation.

But Faust wished them well regardless. It was the polite thing to do.

Even some of the Sephirah seemed ready to leave. Some weren't ready to fade away. Gebura, Malkuth, even Hod, funnily enough. Plans discussed in earshot, the idea of better prosthetic bodies to acquire with leftover funds from the Wing. Faust had no idea where Hokma went to after the codes had been given to unfreeze the others, but given he vanished the same time as Angela's body, Faust had a good idea of what they were doing.

And then there was Faust. Faust had been part of the skeleton crew left to help unfreeze the last of those in Records. But now, that vault now lied empty.

Faust, and Lobotomy Corp. as a whole had been evacuated.

The last few packing bags, whatever they wanted to keep.

And Faust was... unsure what Faust wanted to do, now.

"Miss Faust." Faust's thoughts were disrupted by those simple words from the one beside. One of the others who had stayed. Yi Sang. That one member once of Training, now of Extraction, and now perhaps, none at all. "Might I ask... what are your plans now?"

Faust couldn't help but blink. "That is... yet to be determined."

"Then, I would like to propose to you an offer." The poet began. "Me and Lady Binah have been discussing a 'round trip' through the City. To sir ourselves with new experiences and to witness what the results of this project unfolds. If, perhaps, you lack a direction, perhaps would you be interested in joining us?"

That was... huh. The moment Extraction had opened, and more so, the moment Yi Sang and Binah had met was... rather a sight, all things considered. The philosophical talks and eloquent works had brought the rather lamenting state of the agent up by a large margin. The few times Faust had been privy to listening in...

It was rather enjoyable. Even if perhaps Faust wasn't as elegant with wordplay as the two, she could keep up, and to them, that seemed all that mattered.

Faust did not know what would come next. Faust doubted if something like that vaunted 'Limbus Company' would ever even be formed. It was a murky place of possibilities, of uncertainties, brought upon Faust despite her wants. A sight that no Faust had seen before.

But this... she didn't know how this 'round trip' would go, whether it would end prematurely, whether anything would come out of it, but...

She was certain it would be interesting. "Faust... would be more than willing to do so."

And they saw that pale face give a small, genuine smile. And Faust could feel something similar onto her own face.

Whatever the future held, even if Faust was the only Faust to see it, to experience it, at least Faust would not be alone.

And so, side by side, Faust marched out of the facility, out of this grave, this place where fate had been veered wholly off course.

By a pair of girls, projecting beams powered by Love and Light and all that was good. It was utterly ridiculous.

And yet, such was life, full of uncertainties, no matter how much Faust wished them away.

But perhaps, just for a bit, she could believe in them for now. To witness the blooming of that seed, to witness a future that shined strong and bright.

Perhaps it wouldn't so bad, after all.

Chapter Text

The Magical Girl of Love was a person, right? I mean, it was rather clear to her, but apparently it was far less clear to these people! They wanted things like 'birth dates' and 'ID' and all this strange stuff she didn't really understand that much.

This City was weird. It reminded her a lot of her own home before they arrived here outwardly, but there was so much more complication. Files and documents and layers upon layers of obfuscation that made doing anything a real pain!

Back home she was recognized immediately! Not that she needed to use the powers others gave her too often other than getting through some doors or maybe getting some food here and then, but still!

It was clear how much work was going to be needed. Villainous things penetrated into countless parts of society. Like those tax things! Who does that? Adding more money onto everything to be given to... someone they didn't even know?

Don explained it was to help keep things running. So she trusted that, but it felt... wrong.

But she trusted Don. She trusted her a lot.

When she first woke up here, she didn't remember anything of how they arrived. Why they were here, in that metal room filled with pipes and gadgets and gizmos.

It left her with too much time to muse. She didn't particularly like musing for too long on thoughts. It lead to problems and doubts and questions. It was better to do things! To perform her job, her role, her chosen duty for which she was born. To protect others from villains.

Then people were filtering in. Talking about things like work and attachment, writing on their little notepads.

Attachment. Despite her knowing its meaning, it was so... detached from it funnily enough. It beat around the bush, it sounded so clinical compared to words like friendship and love and care. 

Maybe that was the point. They'd ask her about the things, maybe do some little activities, but she could tell none of them really had their hearts in it.

There were occasional breaches of monsters, at least! Those were exciting. It allowed her to do her purpose, to take down villains. She didn't know quite what most of them were, though. Weird things like sharks with legs, plant people, giant icky gnarly bees and one time there was that weird... buff dog thing????

She still had absolutely no clue what that was about. But it left her satisfied nonetheless when the job was done and peace returned to the land.

Peace... the times where she was most discontent. It was supposed to be a happy time, but it left her... aimless. She was made to fight villains, but if there were no villains to fight... what was she supposed to do?

She tried not to think about it too much. It was temporary, it passed. It was just... lonely and boring and left her with too many thoughts...

Until someone else arrived, at least, to fill that time. But most of them were fleeting, detached things who listened, but it was debatable on whether they cared, no matter how much they seemed to try to appear that way.

Until her, at least.

Until Don Quixote.

She remembered the day she arrived clearly, donned in that weird white suit whose texture reminded her of a ball of lint. If said lint had... teeth?

The attire people wore in that place was baffling.

Her initial words also sent her for a loop.

"Ho! Tis' quite a sight to see thee! I had heard pray tell of a magical maiden now dwelling in these halls, but I could scarcely believe it!" she spoke wildly, full of energy. It was such a contrast to the others she had met that it felt like short-circuiting in her head for a second.

The others felt drained, neutral, doing the bare minimum, but Don was... a force of presence. One that couldn't be denied. A storm of positivity that threatened to drag others along with her.

"Oh! Yes, I'm the Magical Girl of Love, at your service!" She winked, almost on instinct. "Who... are you?"

"Ah! Prithee, I've forgotten to introduce myself, a most unjust action!" She cleared her throat. "I am Quixote, Don Quixote! Don as a signifier of my nobility!"

"Nobility?" She couldn't help but tilt her head at that, and Don's eyes filled with vigor. "Quite so! Would'st thou be interested in mine story? I hath heard thou art a purveyor of such!"

They were offering to tell... her stories? Her own hands twiddled, but out of sheer curiosity, they replied with a simple "Sure!"

And then she was promptly swept away into that storm. Don wildly gesticulated, acting out certain parts, tones and inflections as she regaled that tale. They weren't in that dingy metal room, they were elsewhere, on the road, on an adventure.

And it was only that annoying beeping that drew both out of it.

"Oh, hum." Don seemed to deflate. "Tis' time for me to leave. I wouldst' stay and continue, but manager esquire does not enjoy me being overlong in these places!"

She paused for a moment though before turning. "Ah, um, didst' thou'... enjoy mine tale?"

"It was amazing!" Her eyes were filled with stars. "Please tell me you'll return! I want to hear more!"

Don's face seemed oddly surprised. It lasted just for a moment before a grin washed it away. "Very well! I shall inquire with mine overseers as to returning! If thou wishest for more, than I shall provide! Ah, though..."

Her tone shifted for a little, quieter. "I do wish to hear thy stories too. Mayhaps we can... exchange? One of thy tales for one of mine?"

A quiet awe built within the magical girl. "You... want to hear my stories?"

"Prithee, of course! Why wouldst I not?" She answered like it was the simplest thing in the world.

She couldn't help the grin forming on her face. It was the beginning of something wonderful. Sharing stories and tales, Don returning time and time again. She spoke of far off lands and terrifying beasts, and of fixers, heroes who righteously fought for the people against the unjust.

It was something Don aspired to be, something she believed and knew would be with all of her heart, and the magical girl couldn't help but believe in that too.

The more they spoke though, the more ideas popped into her mind. Especially after one conversation in particular.

"Magical Maiden! Thou hast been the brightest star in this facility in mine time, but... ah, I cannot help but notice something." Don started, trailing off just a bit. There has hesitance, almost embarrassment.

She blinked. "What is it? Is... something wrong?"

"Mhm, perhaps? Tis' simply something I noticed, but thou hast never actually told me thy name!" she answered, and the magical girl was left confused.

"But... I have? I'm the Magical Girl of Love, silly."

"But... nay, that is not a name. Tis' a title. What you are, not who you are."

"Who... I am? But i'm... I am the Magical Girl of Love....?"

"Tis' true, you are the Magical Girl of Love!" She proclaimed, moving closer. "But through thine stories, I see a vigorous, righteous, kind person, willing to set aside difference and turn dark to light. I see one who cares deeply about thine fellows, about the lives of others, about the world at large! Tis' something too large to be held by merely a title! What if there will be others who take the title in the future?"

Don grasped her hands, a pleading look in her eyes. "Thou deserveth to be remembered for thyself, not for simply what thou represent."

Remembered... for themselves? She cared beyond... what they were made for? Beyond the purpose, the duty, the thing they were made for? It was...

New. Strange. They didn't... understand. It was their life, but she saw... more? Was there more? Was she seeing something that... even she didn't know?

There was worth beyond that? She hadn't... considered that before.

Before the choosing, she... she barely even remembered, but...

It was an emptiness that pervaded every part of her. Nothingness, or something adjacent. Worthlessness. But then came the choosing, kneeled before that altar, then came her senpais, her sisters, then came being. They were wanted, feeling the adoration of countless.

To know there was something more there, that someone valued what lied beneath...

It stirred a feeling deep down. She had known many feelings. The Arcana, neutral as it is, is oft connected with emotion. And she was connected to Love! Of course she understood it.

But this one... she didn't know what it was at first. A panging in the chest. A fluttering. It was odd, but...

It wasn't unpleasant.

"Wouldst thou like one?" The words stirred her from her thoughts.

"Ah...?" Right, the name.

"I... don't know. It's... what I've always remembered having."

"Thou not rememberest a mother, a father?" Don's own head tilted a little.

The memories before were... hazy. Foggy. Vague shapes. Something painful. Laughter.

She only shook her head.

"Then we have a new quest!" Her hand rose upward with a single pointing finger. "Finding you..."

The hand lowered gently, booping her nose. "A most goodly name! Though, until then... wouldst' Love simply work?"

Such a strange person, but... "If you really want to, alright..."

"Yes, tis' an excellent step forward! Now, I have prepared us a most splendid selection of stories and treats today! Stories from the North, a most cold and treacherous place!" She went on, pulling out one of those curious books of hers, lined with all kinds of images and other interesting details. It only added more to her tales, put her more in their places.

Fixers truly were something, weren't they? Even without being chosen, countless still fought against evil in their own ways.

It made her wish 'the choosing' was less obscure. But perhaps it was needed. The Arcana's power in the wrong hands spelled disaster and destruction, spreads of minor Arcana dealing damage while true villains behind schemed.

But she could still dream. Don herself was enthralled in her stories, and she spoke of wishing they could become a Magical Girl herself. She wished it was that easy.

Though, after she got that suit... that outfit that looked like her own. She thought it was some weird costume thing at first, but then she had the staff! It was different from hers, the head was the same but the length was dull grey, with a weird little... module near the top.

And it could fire stars like her! She didn't seem to have any control on what kind though, rainbow in hue.

"Doth this make me closer to becoming a Magical Maiden?"

She could only stare, face scrunched just a little. "An outfit isn't what makes you a magical girl? It's the choosing! That's important!"

"Ho, but what of these stars that twinkle so? They are most useful magical tools, nay?" She shook said staff a little, tiny stars moving out in random directions and speeds.

"But is that of you or that... fake staff?" She really wasn't trying to be mean, but it seems Don wasn't wholly deterred.

It wasn't until during one suppression, she saw sparks of pink dance between her fingertips, making a finger-gun almost on instinct against a large worm, and a deafening boom erupted, sending both worm and girl flying in opposite directions.

She warped, managing to catch her. The girl giggled, despite the danger, the wounds to herself. "Look! Doth thy eyes see!? T'was a spell!"

She looked over, seeing the worm's remains splattered, a distinct dent in the ground near the impact.

Was that... truly magic? It felt like magic from a distance, looked like it. But... could one wield the Arcana so? Wield it for the sake of justice... without being chosen?

Before, it felt like she was aimless here. There were breaches and minor Arcana about, but there was boredom and peace and it left her scrabbling for even the mildest bit of stimulation.

And then Don Quixote arrived and it felt like everything shifted. There was excitement and things to do even between bouts of heroism, enraptured and enrapturing the yellow-haired agent with tales and stories, props brought along, magazines and books perused.

And now, with this... maybe there was a reason she was brought here. Don may not have been part of the choosing, but... she had a heart of purity. The righteous spirit, the will to push on through hardship for the sake of others.

The Arcana may not have chosen her, but she was worthy of its power, clearly. It responded... the form wasn't right, but it responded.

She had the potential to be a magical girl, choosing or not.

And perhaps... perhaps her purpose here was to kindle it. She was... the youngest of her sisters. Was... was this the Arcana's way of giving them a trial? A test?

Or maybe... a companion. Magical Girls were never supposed to be on their own. They relied on each other, their strength and weaknesses complemented. Raising each other up through Arcana and word and presence.

She never had a choice but to continue on after things fell apart. First was Happiness, swallowed by Greed as she coveted her own desires. Courage turned to Wrath as her friend betrayed them, ruining a world in the process. Justice fell to despair as everything began to fall asunder.

And then, there was her. Alone, pillars of the team crumbled around her. The last to be chosen, the last standing.

What was she to do other than keep going? For their sake, for the world's...

For peace. Even if... even if it meant that she, too, was left by the wayside.

But then she woke up here. Then the girl met Don. And now...?

Something bloomed in her chest. It was something she hadn't felt in a long time.

Hope, blossoming besides that other strange, not unpleasant feeling from before.

Don was still looking up at her expectantly, stars in her eyes, and she couldn't help her own lips curling upward. "The start of one, at least. But maybe we can start from the beginning...?"

More worms began to crawl up from the ground, burrowing through metal like dirt, causing her to emit the tiniest of 'eeps'. "After this!"

Don stumbled back to her feet. "But of course! We shall sweep this 'Food' aside and make us the room from which to train!"

From then on, it was she who became the teacher. Don... a new apprentice.

It was so strange, now being the one teaching instead of learning. She'd... become the senpai. But... 

Once they got the fundamentals of the Arcana down, it was clear that Don had a real talent for it. In a few days she'd gone from that unstable explosion to actual Arcana Bursts, even an Arcana Beats!

She didn't think a human could ever do something like that, though... honestly, she wasn't even sure if Don was a normal human.

"A basic technique for any magical girl is that of Arcana Sight!" She explained to Don. "It's an important tool! It helps one track down others through the bits of Arcana they have!"

"Even everyday people?" Don had wonder in her eyes.

Love rapidly nodded. "Even they have something tiny within. A spark, it's called! Now, focus that energy, let it flow through your eyes. A steady stream, go slow!"

She demonstrated herself, eyes slowly lighting up like beacons, showing her the motions, the finger-signs that guided, a peace sign over the eyes.

It revealed the Arcana in full. The currents running through the air, lines of energy far, far below that wafted up in the tiniest of amounts.

People had little lights inside them, those sparks, nestled within their chest, typically dull, but still present. The sign of life.

Don was... different than that. Whereas most was a dull spark, hers was larger, more developed. It was this... pulsing presence, like a heartbeat. Hungry, desiring, yearning.

But neglected. Did she... even know what lied within? That swirling mass of life, hungering to take in more? She wasn't quite Arcana, but neither did it indicate she was human.

Especially when she noted the shoes of all things to have a similar kind of presence. She didn't mention it then, though. It was clear that it was something more personal. Maybe it would come up, but for now, it was... fine. Under control.

They were too wrapped up in the feeling of having a partner again to want to pry, especially when it seemingly aided her control. Thus, there were now two magical girls here. Having adventures poking around this strange facility, protecting the people, doing their duty, growing and developing closer and closer.

And then both of them were out. Walking out of that place was relieving in some ways. She tired of those steel walls and piping. But the outside was... different.

Especially with that pillar above. When both had finally caught a good look at it, both couldn't help but stare. She noticed it was something everyone was doing. There was a mesmerizing quality to it, the two finding a good vantage point to get a better look.

Leaning on a railing, overlooking the immediate vicinity of this 'L-Corp', air saturated with energy. Looking with Arcana Sight was... it was something she couldn't describe easily, and when she pointed Don to try the same, she could see her mouth drop like an anvil.

She had seen the Arcana in its full glory before when the time came for the choosing. It took her breath away, made her feel like nothing else.

But this was... something higher. Greater. The way it looked was like... the source of it all. Of magic as a whole. It seeped into the air, spreading in every direction.

"Thou art a part of it, didst thou know?" Don eventually managed to speak. That caused her to look towards the agent, blinking as she continued. "Thy cell, t'was an extractor of a kind. Lady Faust said as such. When we exchanged stories and shared in happiness, energy was collected! Tis' something shared by all of the beastes and others of that place. A little bit of all of them lie within that beam, including thyself."

"So... it was... harvesting? But... what will this much energy...?" Love was confused, certainly... energy... from them? From all those other strange beings? Did that mean she was like them somehow? Were they also Arcana of some kind, then?

"T'was something about a disease. An apathy that has slowly consumed this place. I knowest not how effective this will be, but... mayhaps we saved more than simply our fellows if it is the case. The whole City, saved by our actions!" Don's hands moved to her waist, a proud stance.

The whole of this City... her eyes steadily drifted back to the beam, watching as energy continue to pour out. But she focused on the flow. Energy surged out like countless strands and streams, especially flowing to those who looked at it. Gently, steadily, like a drip, it flowed into others. Those dull sparks. And with its presence, each was kindled, bit by bit. Eyes aglow with a life that seemed to have been forgotten.

Like this place had drained it all dry. Even Don Quixote's own mass seemed to swell, just a bit. It seemed just a bit less hungry, a bit more full.

Even herself. That larger energy that swelled throughout her being didn't grow, but... shifted. It touched upon old wounds and scars of her past in mental, and pressing on felt... just a bit easier.

She felt just a bit more full. Complete, in some sense. It was hard to quantify, but... it wasn't bad.

Both stayed there for a while, and as they did, Don used the time to unveil her plan.

It was something she'd been working on for a long, long time. Becoming a fixer, creating an 'office'.

Step 1: Acquire a house.

"Location is most important, Love!" she explained. "As is the size. It needn't be too big, but it must at least have two floors!"

"Two floors?" Love blinked. Oddly specific.

"Mhm! The first floor is the office itself, the workplace! And above is where our home is proper! But... location! Down in the Backstreets, tis' cheaper and closer to those who need our aid most!"

The more she went on, the more it was clear how much care had gone into this. It was a process, and though things like the 'Backstreets' kind of went over her head, she could follow along enough. Apparently the 'Nest', the place where they were was likely going to collapse soon.

Not like, fall literally, it took her a second of panic and Don's placating gesticulations to clarify. But since the Wing... the place where they came from was no longer to be working... there was a vacuum. 

That was something she understood. When it came to matters like Major Arcana, it was funny, because she always remembered more hassle after they were taken out than before. Countless spreads of Minor Arcana scrabbling among what was left, looking for the tiniest bit of power or items or resources, like scavengers.

It was similar here. Groups called syndicates moving in, harassing the people, making it theirs before selling it. It was horrible for the people here. 

"Can we help?" It was a simple question she couldn't help but spill out.

"Ah?" Don's speech paused. "Oh, the people of the Nest?"

The magical girl's head rapidly shook, and Don gave a firm nod. "Of course! But we need to get things in order first! Tis' unwise to fight without somewhere to lay thy head within! So, we acquire a housing! And then, we work to get Fixer Licenses!"

Acquiring housing was... not as bad as she thought it would. It was a humble place, two floors, as she wanted, located on a wide street. The Backstreet was... quite different from the Nest. In the Nest, streets and people were more orderly. It reminded them of home, of tall buildings and countless people milling about doing numerous jobs she could barely fathom.

But this was... downtrodden. People moving about were far more varied. Strange varieties, some more metal than man, some clothed in nothing but rags that barely fit, patchwork. Eyes and heads paranoid, distance formed between each other. Stares at her and Don, predatory. Even with that pillar still shining its light, some... must need more than it to be brought to the light.

Yet Don herself was nonplussed.

"Those outside of a Wing's hold are on their own! They have none to protect them but righteous fixers, but lo, there are nary enough to cover everything! And this is why we are here!" She proclaimed in that empty space. "We will fill these halls with many a need and table and cabinet, and we shall aid the people thus!"

Step 2: Acquisition of a Fixer's License. 

Don informed them before that the fixers were headed by great associations, but none shined as brightly as the Hana Association. Their local building stood out amongst the greys and browns, a stark white monolith of a building that stretched above the surroundings, and Love had to step in to stop Don from vibrating out of her body.

"Ah, I thank thee, Tis' simply... so overwhelming!" Were those... tears falling down her face? "To be here, before the presences of some of the strongest Fixers... Oooooohhhhh~"

It took more than a few minutes to calm her down. She felt like she was getting deja vu, considering the times Don had helped her calm down. But eventually, they got to actually speaking. And then came the papers.

Because apparently, to them, she didn't exist. And having an 'ID' was important and required and there were so many tests. And people were confused by her, especially physically, taking a bit of blood for aging and the numbers made no sense to them, apparently. 

And now Don was there, fighting for her with words while she just sat here to the side, quiet, thinking about all of this.

Through it all, Don was so passionate about her being a part of this. It was... it made her feel like she belonged, even if these people in their weird white suits disagreed. And Don fought with them on it, for her, against these 'Fixers' she so idolized.

That feeling stirred again. It still felt so out of reach, but... oddly familiar.

Love was an emotion the Magical Girl understood well. Many simply considered it the hallmark of relationships, but... there was so many types of love. It was more than just ooey-gooey... stuff.

She loved the people, and they loved her in return. It was a simple, spur of the moment thing for them, seeing their hero, something that rises and fades like the tides. For her, it was simply how things should be. 'Agape', as it was sometimes called. Unconditional, empathetic love for others.

She loved her senpais. Sisters in arms, holding each other up. It started as 'Philia', that feeling of equals with respect and care for each other. Eventually it shifted to 'Storge'. The love for a sister, for a family, for that is what they were until the Arcana reversed and left an emptiness inside.

She struggled with Philautia, but still knew it in part from others. Self-love, being kind to oneself. But she... she parted with that, fled her alongside the failures to keep things together.

None of them were the feeling she felt, standing beside Don, that smile, the interminable will to care and help her at so many turns, even if she didn't intend it always.

None of them captured the entirety of the feeling, the one that made her feel like she was truly wanted, like this is where she wanted to be forever, fighting crime, nursing wounds, laughing and enjoy each other's... presence.

Oh... this was... this was that, wasn't it? That type...

Eros. The one she'd never truly felt. The one blind spot. Romantic love, maybe even...

Ew ew ew ew, nope, not thinking about that part! But romantic... did she love Don in that way? Did she want to stay with them, by their side forever, to revel in every moment, to be close to one another unlike any other?

It was... what she had been wanting for a while, wasn't it? It's what they'd been doing, even, barely without a second thought. Why she was here for this 'Fixer License'.

Eventually though, Don pulled her from her reverie and understanding, blinking rapidly as she was tapped on the shoulder, and to the one before them at the desk, that stern looking woman reviewing everything.

"Ah, wha'...?" She mumbled, a little lost.

"A name. As your 'partner' has explained, you don't have one. However, for things to be settled, it is a requirement to have something put on your License. Have you come up with anything?"

"Ah, um... I can change it later, right?" Nerves crept into her voice, but Don's consistent patting calmed them.

"Certainly, though you may need to reapply to assure us you are the same individual. Given your... uniqueness, I doubt that will be an issue, but it bears noting."

"Ah, then, you can call me Love! It's what Don calls me, at least."

A quirk of the Fixer's lips, but it was typed into that little computer regardless. "Then congratulations, Love, you've now been properly registered. Now both of you will need to move to the physical part of the test, to assure us you have the bare minimum of skills and physical ability to perform the work."

It was perhaps the easiest test both had ever done. It kind of made her worried, actually, for the bar to be this low! Just a couple of tests of weight and illness, a dummy which she promptly vaporized with an extremely simple Burst, and what amounted to an obstacle course?

Yet Don too went through with aplomb, confidence and focus.

And then, they were registered. It was funny how simple it became after the whole 'existing' thing was sorted out.

And when Don went to hug them, celebrating, that feeling rose again, that excitement roiling alongside as she was swept up in Don's wake again. She practically wished to stay in that embrace forever.

Love didn't know if Don felt this way towards her, but... she coveted this feeling. She wanted it, more of it, filling that space where her connections cracked and shattered.

She'd make sure it wouldn't happen again. That they could stay together, tell stories, fight villains...

Forever, maybe. She didn't know if someone like Don would... live as long as she could, but she'd find a way. But for now...

They were going to be Magical Fixers. They were going to help others, save people from themselves. And they'd be side by side, caring for each other all the way.

And in that thought, at least for the moment, The Magical Girl of Love was content.

Happy as both made their way to their new home, hand in hand, smiling amongst a sea of sour faces.

Chapter Text

Living with an Abnormality t'was quite the experience. But it was much more pleasant than most assumed it would go!

The Queen... or Love, as Don preferred them, adjusted to life here slowly but surely. Steadily that place they bought became a most goodly home as furniture was gotten, moved in hence, and promptly broken in with use!

It was mostly just like living with a regular roommate.

Mostly. The main thing Don noticed was the shifts. It started small, those dull grey walls she desperately wanted to paint over but they hadn't settled on a good shade yet. And yet, she didn't need to, because pink seemed to literally infect the walls, slowly but surely, coming from Love's own room. Lady Malkuth before had mentioned that Abnormalities outside of that ever-strange Cli-foth Deterrence could warp the environment around them, to create their ideal environs!

Hers involved more than a fair amount of pink. But t'was perfect, as she was planning much the same! Though even Love seemed confused by the phenomenon.

"Oh, are we painting now?!" The magical girl seemed excited at the idea, ogling the walls.

"I was planning it, but nay, t'was not my doing."

"Huh?" Love blinked. "It... wasn't? Then... did a villain break in!?" 

She suddenly was on high alert, scanning, staff called to her hand.

"Nay, I think not." Don spoke, trying to defuse, only leading the pale girl to seem even more confused. "Tis' possibly thy own doing!"

Love blinked. "Eh? Is this like that whole sleepwalking thing? I remember Happiness used to do that..."

"Thy energy!" Don explained. "Dost thou rememberest mine words on the room thou wert stuck within?"

"That they were... harvesting my energy for that big light?"

"Mhm, precisely!" A vigorous nod. "T'was said that outside of that place, said energy exudes and seeps into the environs, changing it! I... know not how it works, honestly, but is said these changes are to 'suit thee'."

Love looked down to herself slowly, her hands, eyes beginning to glow. "I... did this?"

Don's worry grew as she looked at those appendages like some foreign body, and the fixer stepped closer to her. "Mayhaps. But thou art aware of it now, nay? If it is related to thy Arcana in some fashion, it could be possible to control more, ah, actively?"

"I've... never heard of anything like this before..."

"Some aspect of this place compared to thy own that causes it?" Don offered. It truly was a strange phenomenon. But... it did give her ideas. "Oh, what if we test! Perhaps if thou think of some kind of design, or a piece of furnishing, it will come to be?"

It lead to an experience with a little laptop they had purchased and looking to furniture stores and magazines.

Eventually, both settled on a most comfortable idea. Bean-bag chairs. A most pleasant seat, cushioning one's exterior from all manner of things! Also rather simple, too! T'was a perfect point of testing.

And one night later, a new fixture had sprouted alongside the ever pinkening walls, discovered as Love practically shook Don awake. "Don, Don, look!"

A pair of purple and pink bean-bag chairs, settled comfortably within their upstairs living area. Still bleary-eyed, blinking away tiredness, she eventually realized what they were looking at. There was control. Eventually her mind started vibrating with ideas, and she couldn't help the grin forming on her face.

"It worked!" Don moved over, collapsing into the bean-laden cushion. It was just as comfortable as it looked, the girl alongside them giggling as they too fell into the chair.

"These really are comfy." She eventually spoke.

"Indeed! Tis' a most enveloping thing! It reminds me of a hug."

"Well..." Love's chair and herself scooched closer to Don's own. "Doesn't need to just be a reminder!"

"What art thou-" Don's words fell quiet as the magical girl crossed that little distance left, leaving Don encased in both cushion and arms alike. The following giggle from the girl made Don smile, returning it with a smile. Don had noticed she had gotten a lot more cuddly since they'd gotten out of the Wing. She wasn't exactly sure why, really, but it felt nice and warm, so she saw no problem. It just reinforced their bond!

Regardless, this gave direction! Ideas flowed hence from her mind, wild doodles and sketches of designs to make the office stand out further, for the sign in the front, for the interior. Pinks and purples and large angular designs adorned the walls soon after, furniture gaining a certain softness that didn't exist previous as they moved through the designs. It was a lot of work, but it was filled with discussion and ideas and laughter that made Quixote's heart sing just a bit.

It made them so glad she was able to bring them out of that cell. For her to not have to be alone in this. She'd try to fulfill that dream regardless, of course, but...

It was better to not be alone.

Three days of drafting and planning and building and this empty drab space became something Don was rather proud of. Color filled that space, but Love suggested something a bit more after Don suggest hanging something like stars from the ceiling.

A little application of the Arcana, and glowing stars now danced and drifted through the air like motes of dust. It left the whole room aglow, even with the lights off those little star-shaped things lit it up. It was a soft, warm light, like a starry sky above, enough to see, but not disturb the senses.

"How dost they... stay?" Don asked soon after. "Mine own stars from the staff last only for so long!"

"Oh, they're constructs. They're made for this kind of thing!" The Queen explained. "Um, i'm not as good as the others were, especially Justice, but... the Arcana can take physical form as much as energy! It's... probably how that furniture was made, but usually it's a lot more work than just thinking it! Here, use your sight and watch!"

It was a curious process to watch. Energy pulled from within, shaped in molded in particular patterns, ways, structures. It turned from a glimmer in the hand to something more, feeding energy out steadily.

But the way it was done, the shaping... it felt familiar. Don didn't know why, it was an intense sense of deja vu. The technique and style felt... amateurish? Why would such a thing pop into their head? They'd never seen anything like it before, and yet, it felt like she knew it. Her own fingers moved almost by instinct without her realizing.

Love formed a little star the size of her hands, let out to drift amongst the others.

And yet, once Love's own focus relaxed, she noticed what Don was doing. Hers was... quite a bit bigger. Her own eyes were still focused on Love, but the hands moved and shifted, tips shaping and curling. It was far more intricate, hers was more of a basic glowing shape, but hers had more definition, hardness, even something like filigree embedded into its five points, glowing a soft but strong scarlet red.

"Don?" Her eyes pointed to her hands, and a few moments later, the yellow-haired fixer blinked, looking down.

She nearly dropped the thing, reeling back as it drifted from her grasp. It was a much larger star, more closely compared to a head than a hand. Its interior was hollow but glowing with light both pink and red, swirling together.

"I...?" Don couldn't find the words, simply staring. She made that. That thing floating there oddly, beautiful. Its red was sharp enough that it seemed to absorb the softer pinks around it almost hungrily.

Love too stared, eyes flickering back from the star to Don and back. "Wow... it's pretty..."

"Ah, but..." Don's words stumbled, unsure. "I... didn't even know I was..."

Those words seemed to attract Love's attention even further. "Making it...?"

Don hesitated for a bit before eventually nodding. But then the magical girl's expression turned from wonder to joy. "Then we must've found it! What your specialty is!"

"Specialty?"

Love nodded vigorously. "Yep! Different people are really good at different parts of the Arcana! I'm way better at energy. You know, our big arrays, the blasts, so on! Happiness was really good at boosting themselves, big bursts of speed and strength, moving from place to place! Courage was too, though, uh, they usually pushed it too far." 

She seemed a little distracted at that before catching herself. "Oh, but Justice! Justice had the same kind of focus! I mean, you've seen her swords before when we had to... you know."

She remembered that suppression most vividly. Usually Lady Rodion had things like the 'Knight of Despair' under control, but she remembered the time where they both had to intervene when they managed to get to Central Command. Countless blades formed and thrown. Were they not pointed against them and their fellows, perhaps she'd appreciate the craft.

"Justice was the best of us when it came to constructs." Love's tone grew nostalgic, eyes a little distant. "Dozens and dozens of blades, and she could control them all like an extension of herself! She wasn't the strongest of us, but she was the eldest, she lead me and the others in drills, using her magic to make fake Arcana or using her own blades like foes. Maybe she didn't have Happiness's raw strength or the breadth of knowledge of Courage, but... she had experience and control better than all of us combined..."

"Thou must've truly respected them."

"Oh, of course! She was... like a big sister. Always so calm and dignified. Which is why seeing them like that..." The girl's hands shook just a touch. "It's so wrong. But... mhmmm... That's not important. What's important is it gives a direction for us to go in!"

"Direction of...?" Don was confused.

"Lessons!" Love proclaimed. "You've learned to use my own kind of magic pretty well, but this is the first time I've seen it from you! Your own Arcana pulsing!"

Mine... own?"

"Yep~ I mean, you've been using it to channel our attacks and stuff, yeah, but that suit and staff tints it towards me! I think. I guess the suit's like a itty-bitty part of me or something. But that's not important, it's that I get to see this!"

Hands gestured towards that star still drifting. "This is all you, Don!"

There was a lot to think about there. It was clear the suit had some effect on how magic came out. She could sometimes even hear that little bit of Love brushing against their own consciousness. But then, how didst they...? And why... "But, why is it... red?"

"That's because it's a more natural hue for you!" Love spoke before elaborating. "You've seen... my senpais, even as they were. Arcana is not simply one color! It comes out in whatever is most fitting for your own Arcana! It's like... an expression of oneself! I'm not... uh, versed in all the meanings, but it's different from person to person!"

"And mine is... red?"

"Mhm-hm~! It's a strong color! It attracts the eyes quite a bit, stands out even amongst a lot of others! I guess that's why a lot of people use lights like that to mark danger?" the magical girl questioned a touch, rubbing her chin for a second before continuing. "Oh, but it also goes well with my pink, too! Shades of love! Both stand out, it's just a matter of... intensity? I think that's the right word?"

Intensity... was she intense? She supposed, maybe? People did get put off by her words a lot. Maybe it was the yelling? Really, it was other people who didn't express themselves enough, it felt like.

But... that was her own thoughts. T'was biased. She'd never really actually looked at herself with that sight, had she? At least not much, the fringes when they used it when fighting. Hands lined with pink. But looking further down, they could see it shift. That pink faded, became sharper, brighter, an intense hue of scarlet.

It followed their limbs down into the core of their body, a pink aura from the suit, but within, a large, pulsing mass. It beat relentlessly, in and out in a rhythm like a heart, energy pulsing out from it to the body. Like some kind of second circulatory system. There was a feeling to it that felt foreign, yet familiar. It was that same feeling Don got when seeing that shaping. Something on the tip of their tongue that refused to make its way out.

That feeling grew as they noted the legs, and how it connected to the shoes...

Which seemed to have something of an Arcana of its own. Pulsing, beating, just in time with hers. But there was still a clear separation.

A line drawn that intertwined, but not became one. Like how the E.G.O equipment did. Was it because she had always worn them? Was it... something more?

Don didn't realize the odd look on her face until Love approached, a touch of worry on her own. "Are you okay?"

"Ah, prithee, I am most alright! Simply... pondering mine own body and magic. Tis' simply something I have not considered much until now with this gift of sight. Mine Arcana... is it supposed to look like a beating heart?"

"You haven't looked at it before?" Love blinked. "That's like the first thing most do!"

"Ah, well... I suppose I was quite captured by thy own for the first while."

The magical girl's eyes widened a touch, looking away. Why were her cheeks... redder? "Oh, that's... ah..."

"Art thou ok-?"

"Fine! Very, very fine, not important!" Love waved her hands in front of her, face almost panicked for a moment. Don moved to speak, but the magical girl beat her to further words. "Anyways! Yours is kind of strange. Not bad strange! Even if I, uh, thought you were a minor Arcana when we first met."

There were so many things to process there that the Fixer had to take a moment for thought. Was Love... hiding something? She seemed almost... embarrassed by their own Arcana? But it was a beautiful thing! That lattice in pink and purple that shined ever brighter since the two had set up this place.

But also that she thought their own was strange. That was... really concerning, honestly! "Thou hast not seen... others like me?"

"Not here, nope!" the girl assured with a nod. "Yours is a lot bigger than most people's. Probably why you can use the Arcana so well! I don't know why, though. You weren't chosen by her, I know that. But humans are usually a lot smaller! But you are a normal person otherwise, so..."

All Love could give was a shrug. A mystery of great proportions within themselves. Perhaps it could be a goal! They'd just have to... research something, maybe? Maybe she could reread some of those old Seven Detective Holmes books, he always had good ideas!

But the conversation went on, and the two got into training up this power of 'Arcana Constructs'.

Love definitely wasn't the best at it, but to Don, it felt like every part of it just slid into place. It was hard to grasp consciously at first, like she was tugging at knowledge that evaded her vision, only bits the muscles remembered. But the more she experimented, the more she figured out how to do it more herself than whatever strange knowledge cropped up from elsewhere.

Mind worked to match the muscles, and lo and behold, she steadily learned over the week how to make very useful things! Eating was much easier when they could make their own silverware and plates! I mean, there was the little weapons and shields too, but eating was quite important, as fighting villains on an empty stomach was most unacceptable!

The day it came into practice was another day that was hard to forget. For it was but a few hours ago when that light shining from the center of the Nest finally came to a close.

A final surge of energy upward, one that made the sky across the entire city shine with gold for a near minute.

And then, soon after in that very early morning, the clouds parted from that final discharge and the sky above glittered. The City's murky nature pulled apart for a bit as the lights of the City dimmed to nothing, revealing a practical kaleidoscope above, the two looking up at it from the roof of the building.

"Ah, just like in the books! A sky filled with so many lights..." Don couldn't help but comment.

Love meanwhile just stared in wonder. "I haven't seen something like this in... a long time."

"Prithee, neither have I! But the stars are all right there! Memories of the constellations come to mine head!"

A pointing finger. "There, the Dipper! The Great Bear below!"

Love followed along, seemingly trying to puzzle it out herself. "I never learned much about the constellations... Justice was more focused on them. The patterns of the stars and the powers they can give..."

"I know some! Many have stories of their own! There! Tis' Orion, a once great Color of myth and great hunter of beasts! Auriga, one of the greatest behind the reins of a chariot! And there, Ophiuchus! The bearer of the serpent!"

"Why would someone hold a snake?"

"Tis' their friend! They were once a great healer who learned secrets of medicine from the serpents!"

"Snakes know medicine? I always thought they were... kind of spooky."

Don gave a mock pout. "No creature deserveth poor treatment for its looks alone! Even such a squiggly beast as they. Dost not the deeds of health and knowledge outweigh the 'spooky'? Were my life to be saved by one, I wouldst give it much heed!"

"I suppose... I guess i'm just used to... how they were back home. Minor Arcana could come in shapes like that..."

"Tis' different here! Such slitherers are merely animals mostly! I suppose the healer's was a bit more, but still! Regardless, there are so many more!"

Don went on for at least an hour before light began to filter in over the horizon and the day started in full. It was a day for the newly christened Starlight Office to participate in its first big contract.

The expulsion of a minor Syndicate troubling the local area. The supposed 'Brass Heads'. Suppliers to other locals in the realm of illicit prosthetics. Part of a much larger organ trade.

The more both read, the more it curdled anger. Such a thing just left there, villainy plain and clear. Taking people's bodies, bit by bit, chunk by chunk, sensation and experience and life.

Don could understand the need for prosthetics in some places and times, of course. But full-body was...

Extreme. More than a bit. Especially cheap ones like these who didn't even try to mimic a human body, didn't try to alleviate the issues lingering from the mind. Just left them cold and hungry with no recourse, all for a bit of Ahn.

Sickening. Even the smell around their 'base' left her nose near perpetually scrunched. She was used to the smell of bodies. There wasn't a shortage of them in the Wing, deaths mourned and avenged. It gave drive and energy to see it through, but this was...

Rot. A sickening smell of long, long dead bodies. It was hard to ignore. The building itself was situated off the street, behind what felt like layers of alleyways and tiny side-streets. It might've been a storage warehouse, once. A long mildly curved roof of faded, banded sheet metal, cheap concrete cracking at points, darker stains covering bits and pieces of its front.

Nobody lingered around here long. There wasn't even a guard detail outside. But everything pointed to here. The details, the implications, the smell that still bit at their noses.

The two clad in pink stood out like a sore thumb against the murky gray and steel and blackened concrete.

"Ready?" Love spoke, drawing the fixer from her thoughts.

"Ah, prithee, of course!" Don nodded, staff in hand. She was ready. The door was locked, of course, but with magic...

A finger jabbed towards the hole, a finger-gun formed behind it as a small burst of magic shot out. Metal warped and burst in a moment, and the door opened. Pale yellow lighting hung from above, illuminating a solitary hallway. Not a soul. Both looked at each other. This was growing more and more suspicious.

Don wasn't an idiot, despite what many people thought from her ways of speaking, her outlook. But she'd survived for so long in that Wing for a reason. She'd learned to adapt, to understand when something was wrong. Some people called it a '6th sense' of a kind, it was common among the more veteran agents. From the look on Love's face, she likely felt it too.

This was a trap of some kind. But... why? Nothing seemed wrong with the contract at the outset. A simple mission of punishing the unjust! Yet... this place spoke in its essence something distinctly worse.

Both crept forward, staves at the ready, steps light as the hallway was crossed bit by bit. Until they arrived to that singular door at the end. A sound reached through that corrugated metal. A loud, screeching, mechanical sound.

The sound of a grinding saw. Beyond the door was a large, open space, and the source of the smell.

It was practically a butcher's shop. Long, wide tables lined the sides of the large open floor, each line with body parts. Sorted, categorized, many tossed aside like rubbish, flies swarming the air.

There were numerous 'workers'. Full-bodies in various shapes and sizes, each whose exterior had the coloration of brass splattered with blood. They each worked mechanically, sorting and sorting, uncaring of anything around. But above was the largest figure, hanging from rails in the ceiling.

Much of its length appeared like a mechanical spine, arching down from above in a curve, its upper half a bulky, boxy thing. Numerous smaller arms separated out from the bulky-housing, each adorned with tools or length or other apparatus that Don couldn't even figure out. Its head took the form of a large, singular yellow eye, glowing brightly against the darker ceiling.

It was at the door opening that the thing proceeded to swivel on its mount, numerous rails in the ceiling giving it ample movement.

"Specimens arrived." its voice was monotone, clipped, minimal. "Ahead of schedule. Lock outside deemed insufficient. Assessing value regardless..."

Its eye seemed to bore into them, scanning thoroughly.

"Yellow-haired specimen. High value parts. Prioritization, eyes." it started, before moving to Love. "Unusual haired specimen... error. Parts not on market. Potential inhuman aspects. Extremely high value."

They were... being looked at as Ahn. Parts to be disassembled. 

It rose an ire within Don's heart, especially as another began to move in from the shadows, steps heavy, thumping.

"Well, ain't this somethin'?" It was another large full-body, at least twice the height and width of a normal man. Arms thick, more resembling a hydraulic press than a set of fists. Their voice was synthesized, male. Distinctly accented.

"Wasn't figurin' more would take the bait. Thought that little end had dried up. Guess I was wrong, though." Massive arms shrugged, hands level as the man rolled their comparatively small head, a pair of yellow optics boring forward, a small bowler hat atop that metal dome. "Absolutely no idea what the fuck you're wearin', though. This ain't a pageant, princesses."

"Thou standeth before righteous fixers of Starlight!" Don held her staff out, pointing its tip towards the hulking man. "Magical Girls of Love and Justice!"

A moment past before a guffaw burst out from the man's audio speakers. It continued on for several seconds, causing both girls to scowl. "Really? Righteous fixers?  Magical Girls? You lot are fucking daft, holy shit. Newbie fixers really are all utter dolts in their own ways. Even weirder than the last group."

"Last... group?" Love's face hardened further.

A digitized snort. "What, you think you're the first group through here?"

Many of the surrounding 'workers' slowly turned. Tools picked up. "Dumbass. You're the 12th. You think that was put up for people to stop us?"

Steam hissed as the massive arms pumped tension. "Nah. That was put up to lure lambs like you right to our grasp."

"Despicable villains!" Love's staff swung, a bolt flying out, only for the giant man's hand to practically backhand it away.

"Cute."

"Recommendation:" The full-body above spoke behind the figure. "Maintain physical cohesion for the blue-haired specimen. Primary part of worth for the yellow is the eyes."

"Got it, doc. Boys, you're on Blue." The large figure's head shifted, right towards Don.

"I'll handle you, Eyes." Malice crept into their voice as the man lunged forward with a punch, the workers beginning to try and swarm Love in the meantime. Don breathed in, focusing.

That punch, even with the E.G.O Suit could easily knock their lights out with a direct hit. They had to play this like an Abnormality.

Her staff spun to life in front of her, channeling energy before an array formed, a finger-gun behind it as raw magical energy met hydraulics and the air warped, force meeting force as a practical detonation occurred, stale, fetid air forced into rapid motion, some of the closer surrounding workers sent back, as well as the figure themselves, some lights knocked out in the blast. The 'doctor' backed up thoroughly, ocular still scanning.

Steel skidded across concrete as they got their bearings.

"Well." They rose up, glancing to the arm. Not really any damage, but the heat blackened it. " Really are somethin' special, aren't you, Eyes? Good, good!"

They stepped forward. "You know how long I've been having to tear apart small fry? I've been waiting to really put this body to its paces."

Vents along the back opened, steam pouring out as they gave a laugh. "Finally getting a chance. You're standing before Belivere, soon to be associate of the Middle."

Engines roared as they began to speed up. "And i'm going to make sure there's nothing left of you but those eyes of yours."

Determination flared in Don Quixote's own face. "And you stand before Don Quixote, Magical Girl of Love and Justice! Tis' more than enough talk-"

Magic flared in her staff, pooling with power. "-have at thee, villain!"

And the battle began in full, Love beside working on her own magic as the workers began to swarm, even more coming from the shadows. She trusted in Love to handle it, and Love trusted in her.

This was just another suppression, atypical as it may be.

Belivere was raw force incarnate. They were powerful, they were fast, boosters along the back making them practically glide along the ground to great speeds.

But Don could tell they weren't maneuverable. Don remembered that old lesson. An object in motion stays in motion, unless acted on by something equal and opposite. And this fellow? Well...

That was a lot of metal to keep going like that. They prepared, energy gathering, but not to fire something, nay, but rather to warp.

Teleportation was something Love and them had experimented with towards the end of the Wing. T'was a most important power! To move hither and thither wherever one may need to move hence in but an instant. Love had described it as 'pinching'. Time and Space were most tumultuous things, but they were connected! T'was simply a matter of connecting their current time to somewhere else, pinching both together for but a moment, effectively tricking space into thinking they were somewhere else through their own Arcana.

Don honestly still didn't understand it in full, but it was more than enough for them to warp some feet forward, right behind where Belivere was.

"The hell-?"

That motion continued, tons of steel crashing forth through the doorway they entered into this horrid place from, smoke rising. And it gave her time to act. The machine didst not know of its marking from the very first move. They knew precisely where they were, regardless of eyesight, her own Arcana filling in the gaps, for even a being such as they possessed Arcana within, withered but still very much a target, mark shining through their Arcana Sight to allow them vision as they could see the villain stumble and slow down as they tried to prevent further damage to the building.

It gave them plenty of time. Magic came to them, Arcana channeled in full, swirling, ascending them into the air, the outline of wings flaring behind.

A hand pointed, readied and cocked before that array came to life. "Arcana Beats!"

Lances of pink punctured through the smoke, knocking them further off-balance, but a digitized roar echoed back from the hall as they landed, prosthetic swiveling and moving to all fours, bounding through the fog like some kind of great ape. Pockmarks had formed in the armor from the blast, but it was still superficial. They needed more. 

Arcana continued to build within Don as their staff spun in front, quiet chant forming a barrier to hold back a wild swing, shattering but taking much of the punch's force with it.

"Fancy tricks. Guess you do have reasons to think you're some 'magical girl'. There was no mouth, but Don could feel the spit that'd be practically flying if there was. Two hands rose, hydraulics pressurizing as the ground before them became a mild crater, her own movements barely getting her out of the way.

"But you think i'm going to lose to some fuckin' righteous shitheel, Eyes?"

"Tis' more than thou deserve for such horridness, of course, I know!" The staff in front spun, heavy impact of the staff colliding with the man's fist. That caused more of a visible dent. Arcana coursed through the body, purpose through her mind, fixer ducking the resulting backhand from the blow.

"This isn't anything. You think we've been luring fixers in ourselves? That we could submit it so many times?" More wild swings followed, each sending Don further back, stars sent in-between only serving to cause the brute's anger to rise further.

"You fixers are the reason, fuckhead. A little cut of the profits, and they were more than willing to let us keep putting it back up."

Don's eyes widened. Someone... on the inside? Within the association!? Anger rose, Arcana rising even further as pressure filled every ounce of her being. "Thou art a liar!"

"You think I have the need to lie! HAHAHA! You are a fuckin' moron, Eyes! That's just how you Fixers are. Ahn's what matters. Power's what matters. None of this 'righteousness' shit lasts past the ninth grade!" Belivere reared back, and rage grew with the magic flowing inside.

How dare them. How DARE THEM. To question the path, to subvert the Associations in such a way for something so, so....

Despicable.

Don roared herself, rising into the air once more.

The fist flew forward, and so did magic be expelled from Don's body. "ARCANA SLAVE!"

The yellow lights of the room nearly blew out from the force expelled, a wave of pink that crashed against the prosthetic's body. Steadily, that pooled force within Belivere's fist petered out, acted on by that opposite force. And then it kept going, Don channeling more and more as it pushed those tons of steel backward, tumbling.

And soon after, so did Don. Energy left their body, collapsing to the ground. That Arcana within pulsing, raging. They could feel something creeping in.

Doubt. How could this have happened? How could the Association just... let this be? Luring people to their deaths for something far beyond what a Grade 9 could handle?

It had to be folly, right? Some lie, some taunt, but that naggling voice within...

What if it wasn't? What if there was some rot within the Associations, hollowing them from the inside out? Allowing this, ending the lives of Fixers for the mildest gains.

Villains just as great as this, even if it were not their hands executing the task. Negligence, corruption, these too were heinous deeds of the highest order, cutting the lives of those who would be heroes short.

It filled them with something, a strong feeling, roiling within. They could hear the sounds of footsteps approaching.

"That it?" Belivere's voice was flat. Disappointed. Don looked up, that looming figure's steps slow and looming. Their whole chassis was turned from burnished brass to a blackened hue. Those optics very slightly cracked. But they still stood. "For all that talk of righteousness, I expected more than just a hot flashlight. Guess that's what happens when you believe in a lie. Nothing but hot air."

"Mine duty is no lie." She breathed heavily.

"And where's it gotten you? Up shit creek without a paddle." they retorted. "Not like your blue-haired buddy is any better."

Don's eyes widened, searching for Love. The workers... they had swarmed relentlessly while this was going on. Love was doing her best, lances tearing apart some, but...

Many survived, parts just replaced on a dime, pulled from the lines. And there were so many. Even for someone like her, they could readily be bogged down.

"Once i'm done with you, Eyes, she's up next. Maybe I'll keep that brain of yours intact. Let you watch. Show you where this hero shtick gets anybody. You ain't one. Nobody is." They took a step closer. "Just a fuckin' mercenary. And soon to be nothin' but eyes."

The words, the threats... that feeling within grew. It was only then they could identify it. They knew this burning, caustic feeling, rising up.

They knew this energy that began to flow around them, violet hues rising.

It was hate, hate, HATE.

And it rose up to consume them whole.

The next thing Don knew, they were coated in oil and blood. A voice was yelling, something shaking her shoulders. She felt like she was being ripped from a nightmare, and a few moments later, they could identify that voice, turning.

It was Love. Love too was coated in much the same as her, but her face. Fear, shock, worry.

"Don!" Love seemingly recognized something she couldn't, throwing her hands around the fixer in a desperate embrace for a moment.

It was then they saw what had occurred. This place... it was entirely ruined. Holes in the ceiling poured in grey light from the overcast skies above, illuminating the environment more than the failing lights did. Countless bodies of those 'workers' were strewn around the floor. The Doctor too, hung limply from its mount, half-attached, partially eviscerated.

And Belivere...

He was halfway ash. Melted to the floor, nigh unrecognizable if it weren't for their proportions. What... what had happened? The last thing Don remembered was anger and then...

Nothing. A blank. Love pulled away, a few tears pooled in her eyes.

"What... Love, art thou... alright?" It was an innocent question, but the way Love's face scrunched... it carried a lot of weight, seemingly.

"Am I... alright? Haha..." the magical girl's voice drifted off, releasing her grasp. "I should... I should be asking you that, you... what you did..."

"What... what happened?"

"You don't... remember?" Don shook her head at the Queen's question. Love looked with concern, something grave in her features that grew darker. "You... you reversed, Don."

"Reversed?"

"It's... not a good thing. You remember my senpais... that's what happened to them."

"I... be-became a monster?"

"No, no, you just... you had these shadows grow and you were... so, so, so mad. You... tore them apart, Don. All of them."

Silence hung for a few moments, the fixer's eyes widening with realization. "It wasn't... both of us that...?"

A shake of the girl's head and Don's hands shook. "How didst I...?"

The girl took a moment to clear her throat. "Every expression of the Arcana is... multi...faceted? I think that's the right word. It means it has multiple parts. Strength and Weakness, Life and Death, that sort of thing. We embody these...ah, aspects, their power flows through us, and it affects us. It heightens them, but the other is also heightened, too. And it's very, very important not to give into that other side! Because then the Arcana... reverses. And then bad, bad things happen and..." Love tried to control her words, but it was clear there was a bit of panic in her breathing.

"I lost my senpais that way. You coming back... that doesn't really happen, at least without someone else to help..."

Those words settled, but it reminded Don of something. "Hast thou... ever done so?"

Love's face looked almost offended. "No, nonono, of course not! That's... what broke everyone else, and..."

Unsurety dripped into Love's tone, and Don blinked, continuing. "But... I don't... I cannot remember what occurred when I was... inverted. If our Arcana are of the same expression, wouldst... wouldst that not be the same for thee?"

Her eyes widened for a moment before she slowly blinked. "Would... be the same for...?"

A countless myriad expressions crossed the girl's countenance. Shock. Worry. Fear. Even a touch of anger, but it all faded one after another as they emitted a tiny, weak "Me...?"

This was a bad idea, wasn't it? "I... apologize for bringing it up, mayhaps we should..."

"No, no... I..." A hand moved up to the side of Love's head, clutching slightly at hair. "There are times... before. When I thought something was... missing. There one place and then... somewhere else."

"H...have I fallen too?" she continued, eyes beginning to glow. "How long have I-"

Okay, that was enough of that. Don closed the distance, hugging them close. "Thou art not fallen! If thou art fallen, then so am I. Is that thy belief?"

While Don could not see their face, nestled into her shoulder as it was, she could feel her return the hug, hands desperately clinging to their back.

"No, nononono, you're fine, you're okay, you're here, it's fine, it's..." She trailed off, shaking like a leaf.

Don's own grip tightened just a touch. "Then thou art much the same, Love."

"Am I? But what if... I do so again? What if I hurt people, innocent people, what if I...?"

"Look to mine eyes, Love." She pulled back, just a little, both practically nose to nose. Don's face reflected just a bit in the magical girl's eyes. A hardness and determination present, contrasted by Love's fear. "Thou wouldst not let me do such a thing, and neither I for thou. Dost thou understand?"

"I..." Being this close, every minute expression change could be seen, Love stuttering through feelings until Don leaned in, foreheads pressing together.

"We art partners, friends 'till the end. I won't give up on thou. Thou wouldst do the same for I?"

Don could see the other gulp. "I would. That's true, I..."

She seemed to want to say something, but struggled with the words. Don simply smiled. "Then that is more than enough for me! Come now-"

She pulled away from that closeness, grasping Love's hand, interlocking it within her own. "Let's get this contract finished up, clean ourselves up and then we will find some most wondrous dessert foods for us both to bury our woes within! Mayhaps some Iced Cream?"

Love's eyes were distant, lost to other thoughts, but the grasp, the words, it sparked a glimmer in her eyes.

It was enough, for now, a small smile forming on the girl's face. "Maybe..."

"Then it is settled!" Don didn't even give a chance for doubt, pulling Love along. "Let us leave this most fetid place! Reversing or not, we have still done good today! Even if it is a most messy kind."

It was a tumultuous day, of course. And required investigating afterwards. Talking to the association members, going up the chain to figure out who authorized that contract to be put out.

But Don found them, reading through those filings. Reports were made, talks were had.

Don hoped it would amount to something, but for now, cleaned up, they were more than content to partake in iced cream alongside Love, who... seemingly had never had it. Tasting it, the Abnormality seemingly momentarily found some kind of rapture.

Only for it to be followed by brain-freeze when they ate too fast.

"Why's something so good have to hurt my head!"

"Moderation is key, Love!"

Despite those words, they got it again and Love swore it was some plot against their mind to not partake in sweet treats. Don was inclined to agree.

A long day ended soon after, the sun setting and the two went home. Despite the success of today, there was still a sort of miasma that hung over Love, it was clear. She tried to show happiness, but it felt glassy. A front. It made Don worried, though she tried to hide it herself, couching it in trying to make Love happy.

It wasn't until the time to sleep came that it became more obvious. Don had acquired them both a set of matching pajamas, big fuzzy baggy things in yellow for herself and pink for Love. Supremely soft, and yet within that, even as Love had a smile on her face, their eyes were far, far away.

"Good night, Don." Love spoke as she moved to her room.

"Good night!" Don waved back. Though in actuality, Don was unsure if they could sleep. They laid in bed for a while after each went to their rooms. They couldn't tell for how long, that worry continuously roiling around in their head.

That's when she felt it, rising up. Then, they could see it. The pink stars that floated even in here flickered, hue shifting.

That purple again. Don didn't hesitate as they rocketed from bed, moving down the hallway quickly until she reached Love's room.

Within was that violet hue. Love sat on the edge of the bed, head in their hands, murmuring.

"What am I doing here? If it happened once, it could happen again, and she doesn't..."

"Love?" Don's voice was soft, but it caught the girl's attention, freezing. Slowly her head turned. Their eyes shadowed, eyes brightly glowing. Don couldn't even see their pupils.

"N-no, you shouldn't... you shouldn't be here, i'm..."

She stepped a bit closer. "You're you, Love."

"But am I?" Her words tumbled out, hands shaking. "Am I Love? Or am I just something pretending to... pretending to be them? If I've already..."

Don closed the distance further as she was busy with her hands.

"You are to me." She began. "Prithee, if thou art a pretender, thou have done such a job that thou hast made it more than real again."

Her eyes widened. "What do you... what do you mean?"

"Thou art worried about the idea of the fall still, tis' clear. But thy compassion and want to do good is still clearer than the mid-day sun! And thou have succeeded at that, time and time again. We saved the Wing! The whole City, possibly! Thou brought me back to mine senses before. If you were what you believe you are, wouldst thou have done that?"

Those shadows receded just a touch, Love's arms hugging their own chest, shivering. "I... no..."

"Then thou aren't that! Tis' simple, no?"

"But what..." She started, stopping with a huff, eyes looked downward to the floor, something like shame on her face. "What if something happens? What if I... hurt you? I can't stand to think... I can't..."

Don scooted closer, leaning into Love's side, driving thoughts from her head at the contact. "Let us assume the worst happens. That thou turneth into some monstrous beast or something akin. Or if I... do the same."

Eyes met, Don's golden eyes shining in the light of Love's own. "Dost thou think I wouldst not do everything in mine own power to bring thee back? Wouldst you not do the same for I?"

"Ha... this question makes me feel like i'm having deja vu." Love sheepishly rubbed their neck.

Don gave a little chuckle. "We did talk on this not but some hours prior!"

"That's... true, it's just..." A hand rose up, Love covering her eyes. "I would do the same, I know that but can I trust myself to.. to succeed? I tried before with the others, multiple times, but it... it never went anywhere."

"And yet, here I am." Don's physical presence leaning in.

"That's... right." Love spoke, almost as if realizing it just now, hammered it in finally. "You... you are. I... succeeded?"

"Verily." Don nodded. "And I greatly thank thee for it."

"Hah. Maybe then..." Her hand slowly lowered, face a little more relaxed. Don could actually see her pupils again, even if they still glowed a bit. "Maybe... I can do it."

"Tis' the right mindset to have! Thou didst it once, thou can do so again!" Don then stopped herself. "Not that i'm intending to, of course! I quite prefer having mine actions be mine own. And remembered!"

"As do I..." The violet hue began to fade from the warm, replaced once more with those softer pinks.

Don grinned for a moment before their face became a touch more serious, voice included. "Art thou... going to be alright, now?"

Love paused, considering. "I... maybe it would be selfish of me to ask..."

"If thou'rt suffering, then a bit of selfishness is more than alright, thou knowest?" the fixer assured.

"Mhmmm...." Love seemed to hesitate. "Would you... Could you stay? Here?"

Her face seemed to grow red, looking away again, body language seemingly regretting their words. "Ah, no, don't mind that, it's silly, i'm-"

It was then that Don Quixote more fully pulled themselves onto the bed. "Tis' not an issue! Thou'rt mine best of friends! Tis' a small matter indeed. Plus-"

Don took up the far side, rolling over. "These blankets are quite comfy from thy aura! Such a thing is better shared!"

Love's reddened face just watched as the fixer casually flipped open the covers, sliding beneath. "R...really?"

"Of course!" she spoke it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, raising an eyebrow. "Thou wert not expecting me to say yes?"

"Ah... it's usually pretty intimate... and I usually cuddle my pillows..."

"Then consider me as thy pillow if thou needest such!" the words somehow made Love's face grow even further red. "Ah, thy face... thou truly must be coming down with something to be so reddened!"

"Oh, that, it's... nothing, it's fine!" Love too slipped under the covers, and the two were rather close. "You're... sure you're alright with this?"

"As long as thy arms don't strangle me in mine sleep with thy strength! I will say if there is a problem!"

They were very close now, facing each other. "If you say so..." It was then that Love's face quirked oddly. "Are... you still wearing your shoes?"

"Mine feet are always mounted atop Rocinante! They wouldst be most alone and cold without mine presence." Don proclaimed before her voice suddenly became far softer. "But... ah, are they troubling thou?"

"Oh, no, no, it's just... surprising?" Love had no idea what to make of it, clearly, but it seems Don's presence won out as she began to cuddle them, holding the fixer close.

"But your warmth is nice..."

"That it is..."

It fell into a comfortable silence, Love seemingly reassured by the presence of the other. Lights dimmed slow but sure as eyes closed.

"Goodnight, Don."

"Goodnight, Love."

Fading away as tiredness took hold, Love's arms were still continuously clutching Don, fading just a bit in strength. She still felt a little like a teddy bear, honestly.

Murmuring quietly as she seemed to drift off, she heard a quiet whisper. Something which Don wasn't even sure if they consciously said.

"I love you."

Don's sleepiness fled for a moment, eyes widening into saucers. Did she... hear that right? They...

Loved her?

That... oh. That made a lot of sense, didn't it?

Don remembered those training programs, the messages they tried to burn into their brains when it came to abnormalities.

Abnormalities, no matter how humanoid they look, are not human. Abnormalities were not to be trusted, Agents should never try to get close to an Abnormality.

And yet... Love was here.  Love was a thinking, breathing being. They thought, they felt, they lost, they laughed and cried and and everything in-between. The Head did not come upon their own head, as they did with all that they deemed inhuman.

They were a person. A wonderful, caring, if sometimes moody and very anxious person. And maybe they could do some things most humans couldn't, but that didn't matter.

And they just said, if sleepy, that they... loved Don.

Was that why their face was... ah. They were... holding back affection. They had become clingier, hadn't they? Though the two always were a bit physical.

Did Don love her? She wanted to stay by their side. She cared for her immensely.

She was here, letting them squeeze her like a plushie. Maybe she had loved them for a long, long while. She was the spark after all. The one who reignited the fire in her heart. For justice, to be a fixer, a hero! Something which she thought would be crushed by the Wing, that she had relegated to a dream.

But that dream was becoming reality, day by day. And Don was so happy she could do it hand in hand with her.

Maybe she was strange to feel such things towards something others felt such distrust towards. But if she wasn't human, then she was better was all Don could think.

They'd need to talk about this, it was clear. Perhaps it had been brewing for a long time now, but, within her grasp, feeling and watching Love's mouth have a small smile, Don couldn't help but to match it as she closed her own eyes.

"I love thee too." That gentle, fading whisper.

Whatever happened, they'd be together. And for Don, that was a dream come true already.

Chapter Text

It was a few days after the contract with the Brass Heads, and Don was... antsy, a little. When she submitted that tip-off about the lying contract, they requested updates or... any kind of news for when things were possibly resolved.

The idea of such a grand institution, the Hana Association, the heart of Fixer work itself having corruption was.... unspeakable, truly.

That villainy can infiltrate even such a sacred establishment sent shivers down her spine.

There were a couple of smaller works between, patrols to fill space, smaller bits of crime stopped, but that issue still lingered in her head.

Which is why they were rather surprised when a sudden knock occurred at the door. Stirred from their morning paper, Don practically leapt to her feet at the sound, quickly moving over.

A visitor? Had their exploits spread? Was, perhaps, one here to give a contract more personally!?

Her steps sped up, opening the door to be met with a practical wall of white. Don rapidly blinked, before looking upward to be met with a face. Dark brown hair, short and well-kept, and blue eyes below that looked down to Don's own golden gaze, who looked up with the practical stars in their eyes as they realized who was before them.

"A fixer of the Hana!?" Don's excitement led the fixer to practically vibrate in place, doing her best to hold it in.

And failing. Spectacularly. Despite this, the Hana Fixer seemed unmoved, only giving the slightest quirk of the brow.

"I would be, yes. I would assume you are Don Quixote of Starlight Office?" Their voice was surprisingly higher pitched for the size.

"Yes, yes! Please, come in!" Don shuffled to the side, allowing ingress.

The Hana Fixer did move in, their height nearly hitting the top of the door-frame. He was huge! Perhaps the only one Don knew of who came close was young Meursault from Records! But even they'd likely be a bit shorter.

"Much appreciated, thank you." His tone was level, calm, that gaze scanning the surroundings. "Thank you. Do you have a proper desk somewhere? I believe it is best if we sit down."

"Ah, of course! Come hither, I shall show thee!" The room crossed as the fixer eagerly showed the Hana through to the other side of the room. The Hana in particular was rather interested in the floating stars, giving them curious looks.

"Quite the decorations you've made here."

"Mhm! Verily, we have been doing much to make sure things fit as best we can, making our most ideal home! Now please, sit!"

On one side, the Hana sat in a quite regular chair. On Don's, a rather oversized beanbag chair that threatened to swallow her whole.

The commotion downstairs seemed to have woken the other resident though, Love descending down the stairs, rubbing their eyes. "Don, what's...?"

She caught sight of the Hana, eyes widening. "Oh! A visitor, welcome!"

A nod. "Thank you. Now, if we would get to business." The Hana found their proper position for comfort, one leg folded over the other, hands settled atop. "I am Arth, of Hana South 5. I was sent here for three matters. None bad, I assure you."

"Three?" Love seemed curious, finding their own seat beside Don.

"The first, of course, is the matter of the Brass Heads contract, and that complaint given to us in very colorful vernacular."

Did she submit it with that much color? It was only three shades!

"As you requested for an update when more came to light, you'll be happy to know that the issue has been solved for the moment. The individual, whose name is irrelevant at this juncture has been removed from the Hana Association, stripped of grade, and promptly banned from further Association work."

"That's... it?" Don blinked slowly, surprised.

"Ms. Quixote, while I and others are well aware of the problems caused by their actions, there are rules and guidelines for these matters. I know of your consideration for Fixers as 'righteous arbiters of justice', if I remember the exact words correctly-"

Was that... when they made Love's case? They... heard that?

Well, she supposed she did have a lot of eyes on them. And she did raise her voice just a bit, perhaps, but...

"-and while keeping peace and civility in the City is part of our goals, we are first and foremost, professionals. Incidents like this hurt that reputation, yes, but how we handle it is just as important." The Hana continued.

"Wouldn't it be handled if you just struck them down?" Love tilted her head a little.

"We're not tyrants, Ms. Love. That is for syndicates, not Fixer Associations." Arth replied. "However, perhaps you may be pleased to know that the families of those who have fallen to this case have been informed and compensated. And I have it on rather good authority that they are, put bluntly, pissed. If I were to give an estimate for how long until a Shi contract is put on the man's head, I give it two days, maximum."

"Isn't that... the same thing, then?" The magical girl seemed rather confused. 

"In effect, perhaps. But to the people, it's simply a matter of grieving families utilizing Association services to handle the issue in a clean, concise matter that does not put blood on our hands."

"Tis' about keeping a look of neutrality?"

A tiny hint of a smile appeared on the senior fixer's face. "Now you're beginning to understand, Ms. Quixote. We have done all we need to. The remainder of the matter will sort itself out from here."

"What of the second matter?" Don asked.

"The delivery of a message, more or less." Arth began. "The Director of South 5 would like to thank you for that tip-off. And also apologizes that such a thing happened in the first place."

Acknowledgement from a very Director of the Hana!? Her visible energy began to rise as he continued, clearing his throat.

"While the loss of Fixers in this way is lamentable, and should have been avoided, your words helped put a stop to it. As compensation a large bonus has been added to the contract's original payment, though with a caveat." he explained. "The Hana would like for this to remain quiet. Please don't speak out on this further."

Don blinked. "May we ask... why?"

"Put simply, the investigation has been... a rabbit hole, more or less. While we know of the incidents with the Brass Heads now, the one we have removed was with us for four plus years, and as such, we don't know how many other casualties they may have caused inadvertently, or whether or not they were acting alone."

"There could be more?" Love's eyes widened, Don's much the same, and Arth rose some hands to placate the growing fear.

"We cannot be sure. This is, and I must repeat, speculation at this current juncture. However, this entire situation is mostly unprecedented, and the Hana would like to move with the utmost surety that such a thing is fully resolved with not one loose end. We cannot discount the possibility, but this is something that takes time, and until then, confidentiality is of the utmost value. You understand, yes?"

A terrifying possibility, but... Don knew they could trust the Hana to right this wrong. A sharp nod. "Mhm! We understand. Dost thou wishest us to sign some kind of document?"

"Not on my hands at the moment, but you may expect something in the mail in a few hours in regards to that. Word alone is enough for this moment, given your... nature, as we've gleaned." Arth continued, though it left Don a touch confused.

What was that meaning? Was it their honesty? Their surety of justice? It had to be something good if such trust was extended.

"To the final matter, and what I believe you both may find most positive." the Hana began. "Your actions and valor in the defeat of this Urban Plague level threat has been distinctly acknowledged as something well above your current standing, and thus, you are to be commended. Both of you have been promoted to Grade 8. Congratulations are in order for your first grade up."

Don stopped entirely. They had... graded up? Already? Truly? It was a most momentous day, but little could stop Don from rising from that engulfing bag of beans, grasping Love beside, and practically jumping with joy.

It was the first step of several, but it still felt so significant, and Love's own grin bolstered her mood further.

They left soon after, but it left the office giddy for the rest of the day. Everything seemed to be looking up and up.

Though, one matter did bother her, just a little.

Her noble steed, Rocinante. It wasn't... well, it wasn't a problem. Or... Love said it wasn't, when they went to bed that night. Kept assuring her it was fine.

Didn't mean they couldn't tell there was a touch of worry on the subject. They'd slept in the same bed more than a couple times after the first, Don still worried for their mental health (and maybe liked being their plushie more than a bit), but the shoes...

It was slightly uncomfortable for Love, and that was unacceptable, but looking at it through Sight, and thinking back...

Don could not ever remember a time without Rocinante. Could not ever remember donning them beforehand when their home rested in that little room.

And now looking at its presence further, she could see what its purpose may be. It snaked up the legs to that place where her own Arcana rested. And it seemed to almost... bind it.

Thin, gossamer threads of energy that entwined and tangled around it subtly. That pulsation from it held in place.

But why would it need to be... restrained so? Removing them had never come to mind. Like the idea simply couldn't exist. Even now, thinking about it felt... wrong. Could it be... doing this to her, somehow?

Love too was unsure when they asked them later, sitting side by side on those most encapsulating chairs.

"Well, I do know of some artifacts that can enhance one's Arcana. That's what things like the staff are meant to do~! It helps focus and hone it, kind of like, uh, glasses, I guess?" She scratched the back of her neck. "Never really tried those though, so..."

"Dost thou think... mine steed couldst be holding back something... bad?"

"I don't know what it'd be, really." Love seemed antsy. "You really don't need to go out of your way for me, I like you just as you are, shoes and all~!"

"Nay, thy discomfort is known to mine own senses!" Don proclaimed. "Getting to the bottom of it is a most pressing concern!"

Love blinked, face hardening a touch. She didn't outwardly seem happy, lip quirking, hands antsy, even her twin-tails twitching just a little. "Well, if it's something you really want to try, then we should proooobably take precautions."

It's what led them to a larger back-alley, a four-way intersection between some nearby buildings. It was more than enough space in case... something happened.

Don was honestly unsure what might occur, but Love was taking things very seriously as they formed a magical circle beneath Don's feet.

"So, remind me of the purpose of this... array?" Don asked, Love's concentrating expression holding before fading a bit after, seemingly stabilized.

"Well, it's just in case~! Separating a person and a bound artifact like this... well, arcanic energy can flood out! Especially since these shoes seem to be partly made for holding it in! So this should help stop anything really bad from exploding out violently!" Love explained, before quietly adding in another "Should..."

Don kneeled down. Alright, she was doing this. "Well, Rocinante, thou hast done me a most goodly service over these years. I do believe that means thou deserveth a moment of reprieve."

She went to untie the shoelaces, but... hesitated. Hands shaking just a bit. Why? What was... wrong? Why did it... hurt?

She kept going, shaky hands or no. Steadily undoing the knot, bit by bit. Then came the shoe itself.

She pulled but it... stuck? She blinked, sweat beginning to drip down her brow. Why wasn't it moving. She pulled harder... harder!

She sat on the ground, both hands finding a firm grip and pulled with all her might. And eventually, it was free.

A bare foot met the open ground as one part of the pair landed alongside it.

A pressure was growing in her head, but nothing else happened. With her Arcana Sight, she could see those binds straining.

Just a little more... another set of laces untied. Her heart felt like it was racing a million miles. What was beyond this? Why was her body acting this way? She didn't understand, her body didn't want to understand, but she needed to.

She pulled on the other foot, and that resistance was even greater. She grit her teeth, tugging for several seconds. It was glued, like it was just as desperately trying to stay on as she wanted it off, but yet in the end, it slipped.

It was quiet for a few moments. She swore she heard something... dripping? Things grew hazy, consciousness wavering.

But the last thing she saw was a rush of something red flowing outward and a shock of pain intense enough that she couldn't help but audibly scream out as darkness consumed her mind.

The Magical Girl of Love had fought many, many things over her tenure. She had fought great beasts that harnessed the power of the stars, things from deep, dark depths, things that twisted the Arcana so harshly it turned it into something unrecognizable.

Even in Lobotomy Corp, there was a sense of familiarity with the strange beings that lied there. They were weirdly shaped and acted in ways odd and obtuse, but they could see how they worked, what they were in truth.

But as those shoes came off and a practical wall of blood gushed out in every direction, every sense in her fled for a moment as she tried to reinforce the barrier.

It sputtered and crackled, trying to hold, so ultimately, she had to release it in some manner. It was a rather simple option to simply uncap the field, releasing hold of the top portion, and a geyser of sanguine followed, at least more than two dozen feet into the air.

But as the pressure released, blood falling from the sky like rain, her magical sight still functioned, and before her...

All she could see was red. A crimson tint that coated every part of the alleyway beyond the sticky liquid that now flowed down its walls.

It was not simply blood, it was a presence. It was something old, hungering. It was something that extended out from beyond Don's mortal shell in the form of countless blood vessels, extending like spiderwebs in rapidly cracking glass. It was starving, hungry, sucking up everything into its presence, enough that only its hue remained in that sight. That pulsing, beating thing in Don's chest that practically doubled in size from before pumped with life.

As the blood rain slowed, the fixer before Love began to rise. There was force when she looked to them. A presence that couldn't be denied. It reminded them...

It did remind them of one thing from her own world. That kind of power that warped everything around itself...

It reminded her of a Major Arcana, and she couldn't help but feel fear.

Though it paused for a moment as Don actually took a moment to look at themselves, confusion filling her features.

And... was she blushing? She almost looked embarrassed, if the Magical Girl were to guess.

"What in the world is this...?" the voice that came out was Don's, but the tone... it was deeper. It lacked the joviality and mirth that she exuded. It was something more tempered, leveled. Soon after, the blood surrounding seemed to begin to move. Shifting like some kind of being. It flowed up to her shoulders, whereupon it seemed to solidify.

Air rushed and liquid squelched into place as something that almost resembled a boa. Could liquid just form something so fuzzy looking? It flowed behind her, and her hair too seemed to almost come undone. It was normally rather tamed, close to the head and well-kept, but now it seemed to rise, far messier, flowing behind much the same as the drape.

"D-Don?" Love couldn't help the minor stutter in her voice, and the noise startled the other, freezing.

Before they turned and those once golden eyes locked onto her, and through them was a cherry red that felt like it pierced into her.

...how long has it been? Since they had awakened? How long had it been since those shoes had been thrust upon their feet? Since they had felt the Thirst?

How long ago had Father set them on the path of this 'Dream'?

Blood coated the surroundings, splattering every which way. It was old, fetid blood, nothing but liquid iron. It had not gone as far as she thought it would, though. Eyes glanced down to the glowing circle beneath. It was held back, somehow. Even with such pressure...

What was this? Why had she been called forth now? This was not the place she was expecting to awaken in.

Where was the room of metal and blood? That promised timepiece?

As she looked down, rising herself to her feet, she too noticed...

Why was she in a pink dress? She was not one for dresses. It was never her styling.

"What in the world is this...?" She couldn't help but comment on the absurdity of such attire, how open it felt. She could feel the red rushing to her cheeks, the embarrassment if they were seen by the Family like this was...

That was a thought too much to bear. But this... was it... that which they had become? She remembered only the barest glimmers of between. Metal walls and monsters. Some hue of pink that her mind associated with laughter. Something like happiness. How queer, especially as the dress's presence seemed to almost press inward with something similar. It was still little compared to the Thirst, but... she could not deny its presence.

Rising, her Armadura settled upon her shoulders. It had been felt like too long since she had its subtle weight and fluff there, billowing.

"D-Don...?" a voice stirred her, and ruby eyes flickered over a moment after. A girl stood there, amidst the blood. An outfit like the one she wore, being so ridiculously pink and frilly. Skin stood out, white as snow, blue hair fading to deeper purple. Yellow eyes narrowing like a snake's, subtly vibrating. Fear. It was clear from the body language. "Your Arcana... it's so..."

She fully turned to the girl. "Why am I here? Who are you to name me such?"

"You don't... remember? I-it's me, Love, your partner!"

Partner? She was... working together with this... honestly, she didn't even know what she was looking at with the strange staff and bright colors and... everything. They didn't even smell human.

Her eyes narrowed, tone low. "Love. Really?"

"Y-you... were the one who suggested the name..." Love spoke. "But... you aren't Don Quixote right now... are you?"

Don Quixote... was that what she named herself? Ha... what a joke the world had played on her. She... truly had stepped into what her Father wished to be, hadn't they?

"Not the one you know, and not by that name." her voice lowered, controlled but just subtly dangerous.

"Then who are you...?"

Should she answer that? She knew even not why she had been awakened, why they were here, in this ridiculous attire, before another who talked and sounded human yet smelled of other. "Answer my first question and perhaps I will."

"First...?" The girl before her looked confused. "Why you're here?"

"Correct."

"Well, me and Don both had questions. On the shoes, on why she didn't remember even putting them on, or why they had a strong Arcana."

"Arcana?" They couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, but the girl nodded vigorously.

"Magic, you know. Like..." She pointed in front of her, and at the tip of her fingers an array like that on the ground formed, if far smaller, before a beam harmlessly fired out, poofing out of existence at a certain distance.

She had never seen such a sight before. There was no apparatus, no implantation visible in the arms. Just a single gesture of the hand and intention to form it to being.

It reminded her of Hardblood Arts, but... different. Hardblood required substance. It took what was already there and shaped it. This was... inexplicable, pulling it from literal thin air, but the girl did it so casually, continuing on without skipping a beat. "That~! Everyone has a core of Arcana, and Don's was strange, and the shoes were strange, so we wanted to test taking them off and..."

She gestured wide. "Um, here we are...?"

This Don... the them of now... actually managed to overpower Rocinante's will? They had enough drive when even... when even she could not? When she desperately tried to when Father...

When Father sent them so far away... when her home and people became little more than ravening dogs. But a thought came to mind, considering this, considering this 'partner'. "Is the Dream... still alive, then?"

"The dream...?" Confusion met Love's face, clear thinking going on before she seemed to remember something. "The want to be a fixer? Like what Don wanted?"

"Yes, correct." Oh, if only she knew the true extent behind that name, it was so funny hearing it like this, correct in multiple contexts simultaneously.

"Um... well, we are Fixers? We have an office and everything! We just got to Grade 8 yesterday!"

That caused eyes to widen. The dream... that languid thing that led them to misery trying to achieve, to try and grasp... it was becoming reality? A bloodfiend could...? "And there have been no problems?"

"Well... there was the bit at the start where the Hana didn't really like me since I didn't have one of those ID things before, but we sorted that all out!

Ha... haha... hahahaha... was this a dream? Some figment of the mind? Did Father... did his ridiculous, juvenile idea actually have merit?

There might've been some point? The want to pursue it was one thing, but to achieve it...

"Are... you alright?" Words from Love stirred her from thought, worry clear on the other's face. "You're... shaking."

A blink, eyes looking down. Hands subtly shivering. Hah... this thought was overwhelming, wasn't it? The mere idea that it was real, that there was some purpose to it. That Bloodfiends could find a place amongst the humans in such a way...

Especially given something else inhuman stood in front of her, achieving it alongside them.

"I think... I would like to put the shoes back on now." It was a simple statement, casually uttered in a quiet tone.

"What...?" The inhuman being before her blinked.

Red eyes narrowed. "Do I need to repeat myself?"

"No, wait! We did this for answers, and we want them!" the girl exclaimed, some amount of bravery coming to them.

Troublesome. Her voice dipped dangerously low. "That does not mean you will get them."

"Then what's stopping her from just doing this again!?" Love's voice raised. That gave pause. If she could do it once, then... she could do it again. And they'd be back here again.

How utterly, utterly, annoying. A sigh rushed from her lips. "If you truly must press. My name is Sancho Panza."

Not that the last name meant much. Sancho was always confused on why Father insisted they keep it despite being part of the Manchegan family.

It wasn't like her biological parents ever mattered.

"So that's who you are, but... what are you?"

She figured that was coming, but it didn't stop her eyes from looking away. "A Bloodfiend. Second Kindred."

Sancho hated the term. It was so... demeaning. A fiend was something never associated with good contexts in any book or story. They were hellish things, spirits and demons and villains.

That word resounded especially sharply in her head as she thought of it for some reason, but it summed it up well, she could admit. Antagonists, never heroes.

And now this seemingly 'heroic' being before her knew they were dubbed as one. But it was not contempt that lied in Love's gaze from the declaration as her eyes flickered back to the blue-haired's face. There wasn't a spark of knowledge or knowing. 

Instead was confusion. "I... huh. I was expecting some kind of Arcana creature, but... guess this place really doesn't have those..."

"Is that what you are?" Sancho raised an eyebrow. So this Arcana was something like lifeforce. But also magic. But also a kind of creature? This sounded like horribly inefficient usage of words.

"What? No! I'm a magical girl!" Almost seemingly on automatic, Love struck a dynamic pose after those words left her mouth.

The bloodfiend could only stare. Utterly, truly, horrifically ridiculously juvenile. But even as a hand subtly moved to pinch herself, the resulting minor pain only served to illustrate that perhaps reality was more ridiculous than anything her or Father's dreams could come up with. "I think i'm putting Rocinante back on now."

"But... why even... why even have this? This... chaining of yourself?"

Sancho moved to pick up the shoes from the ground. They were in distinctly dirtier condition. Filthy, honestly. Were it not for her own fears, she'd give them a bath. She bore it though as she parted blood on the ground, settling on it. "It was not my choice."

"Then why...?"

Sancho's eyes rose upward to the sky above, a sigh escaping once more. She was quiet for a moment after before they spoke. "Tell me, Love. Are they happy?"

"Don?" Love asked, hesitating. "They're very happy out here! Much better than that Lobotomy place."

They named a place after a lobotomy? And she was there? That nearly knocked the intended train of thought off track, but Sancho held, head leaning over to glance to the girl. "And you care for them?"

"Immensely!" There was a certain vigor to that word.

Sancho's voice was flat, gaze narrow. "Then heed my advice and prevent this from happening again. The shoes are for protection. For both you and I."

"From...?" Love was still rather confused.

Her eyes closed. "The hunger. The thirst."

Hands moved for the shoes. "You can likely find the specifics if you search for them. Do not wake me again."

Then, a shoe slipped back on. It almost seemed to glide out of her hands and onto the foot, shoelaces tying. The fetters began to take hold, vision fuzzy.

The surrounding blood seemed to be pulled in, flaking off the walls and roofs as Rocinante retook in its strength, other shoe about to slip on.

"We could find a way..." Love's words barely reached Sancho, already bleary again. Her eyes seemed... sad. "Something to stop it... there must be a way."

Sancho couldn't control the dull croak of a laugh that came from her throat. Long and slow. "So many have tried. Better than I. Older than I. Wiser than I. It's led to nothing but misery, Love. Misery and pain and death and far, far worse things still."

She gestured to the shoes. "These are the best we have. Perhaps the best we ever will have."

Something hardened on the other girl's face. It was something determined, her hands shaking. Anger? Frustration? "When you asked about that Dream, you weren't expecting us to actually be doing it, right?"

It took a moment for her to answer, beyond simply the fetters still trying to act. Where were they going with this? "Truthfully... no."

"I could tell. From how shocked you looked. Maybe not your face, but your hands, your eyes. You believed it something that couldn't happen, but we're here! We're doing it, and will keep doing it until we're one of those Stars! So if this can happen, this impossible thing, then who's to say that's not impossible either?!"

Sancho's eyes widened for but a moment. "Do you not want Don to be happy?"

"If what you're saying is right, then you are just as much Don as she is, which means I want you to be just as happy!" she declared, words assured. "They mean so much to me, and so for them, for you, and maybe everyone else like you, we'll find some kind of way, mark my words as the Magical Girl of Love, we will make it true!"

Such confidence... hah. Perhaps it was the tiredness, but she almost wanted to believe it, truly. "Perhaps that confidence will last. Perhaps not."

The other shoe began to slip onto Sancho's feet. "Just make sure... the Dream... comes..."

Consciousness began to slip away, words falling from her lips. It was a comfortable darkness, and in the moments before it was completely lost, she could feel herself tumble, and rushing forward, practically warping on top of them was that girl, stopping the fall. Cradling her.

That last thought that came to mind was comfort and warmth. Something she couldn't help but lean into.

Were that it could last forever...

Don Quixote woke up slowly. Her head ached just a bit, but... she felt warm. Surrounded by blankets. Her eyelids were heavy, but she opened them to find she was...

In her own bed?

She stirred audibly, trying to move but there was a distinct weakness for the moment.

"Don?" A voice besides, familiar, worried but... just as warm as what she laid in. A chair beside the bed and in it...

Love. Her eyes focused on the fixer like a hawk, widening before the girl practically threw herself upon Don.

"You're okay! You're here!"

"Ah?" It was a small noise, forced to accept the hug. Not that she would decline, but it covered much of her. "Verily... why wouldst I not? What..."

She thought back. What were they doing last? They were...

Oh. Oh. Rocinante. "Ah, art thou-!? What occurred!? I pulled off mine steed and then... I am here?

Love pulled back. A bit more of a serious expression on her face. "I... think we have a lot to talk about."

The following conversation, that fill-in of what occurred steadily caused Don's eyes to bulge more and more.

"I'm... a what?"

"A Bloodfiend." Love gave air-quotes. "I tried to figure out that whole, uh, internet thing you mentioned, but I couldn't...  find that much? Mostly rumors and things about monsters! But you're not a monster, this other you didn't seem like a monster, so... I dunno? They seemed to be able to... mess with blood, though? They formed it into a big fluffy scarf... thing?"

It sounded unbelievable, really, the more they spoke on it. The complete change in tone, the eyes, the way the shoes were...

Protection. From herself?

But most of all...

Their name wasn't Don Quixote. She always had assumed it was, from the shoes. It was a mark of nobility! She remembered those words clear in her head, but the more she thought about it...

Were they even her own? Who truly was she? This... Sancho?

It was a name that sounded familiar on her tongue, but with it came a kind of unexplainable bitterness. She truly didn't understand. But it wasn't like she could just... ask. The way Love put it, taking those shoes off again was a bad idea.

But she needed to know. And she did have an idea of where to look.

When it came to knowledge, the internet had its uses, but it had limitations, too. If they wanted knowledge, it would be best to get it from the source. Or, well, a source.

Hence why they were here, before this large building in alabaster and wood.

A library of the Dieci Association. These places weren't open for all, typically only for fixers, and certainly not freely. The Dieci had no care for Ahn, however. To access knowledge, one must provide knowledge of their own to be added to the shelves.

Luckily, between Don and Love alike, demonstration and explanation of an utterly unknown thing such as the Arcana was more than enough for them to allow entry.

The inside was truly massive, and just as magnificent as texts had described. Almost the entire building was one massive room, bookshelves lined high, layers of upper floors that ran high up the sides of the building, each accessed by grand staircases.

Light poured in from countless angles upon the bookshelves, stained glass windows with designs of keys and fists and the logo of the Association itself.

Both took a moment to bask in it, Don's eyes sparkling with wonder despite the reason for them being here being something not precisely pleasant.

But they could still talk to one of the Librarians! Don knew much of the Dieci's order, but among the lesser spoken are the librarians of the Dieci. While their colleagues are known for studying and then using that information, the Librarians learn and remember everything. It is their purpose, to make sure every shelf and text is where it should be.

They were not flashy, but they were important, and Don was eager to speak to one.

When they asked one of the librarians for help, the topic of Bloodfiends made the red-haired fellow narrow his eyes.

"If you're looking for tips on how to kill them, you'd be better off looking somewhere else." His voice was a touch abrasive, seemingly jumping to conclusions.

"Eh?" Don's confusion was evident, the librarian stopping.

"Oh, wait, are you not one of those Hunting Offices?" the man seemed to blink, only then more closely looking at the fixers before them. 

"Nay?" Don replied, and something like relief seemed to sink into the Dieci.

"Oh thank heavens, the last people who came in asking about Bloodfiends were and they were some of the rudest Fixers I've had the displeasure of attending. Come with me." the librarian gestured, and the two began to follow them, moving up the stairs. "Guess the outfits don't line up, but you never know with those types. Sorry about the rudeness."

"So... people hunt them, then...?" Love asked.

Grey eyes glanced back for a moment. "Main reason a lot know about them. Because those 'hunters' are a very loud minority. People who've suffered because of them, usually. Very... single-minded. If we're speaking on a more personal level, though..."

He slowed down a bit, voice leveling and quieting. "Absolute assholes. Care about nobody but themselves and their plight. If you're not with them, you're probably against them."

A sigh followed. "Actual Bloodfiends would probably be more civil."

They lead the duo to a section closer to the back, more shaded, their deft hands picking a couple things from the shelves, bringing them to a nearby table.

"Here. A primer on Bloodfiends, as well as some historical records." The librarian offered.

"Tis'... all?" Concern came to Don's features.

"Unfortunately, yes." He seemed disappointed by his tone, eyes breaking eye contact as he looked down to the scant volumes. "Bloodfiends are... rather notoriously reclusive these days. Most isolate themselves from society, preferring their own. As such, much of what we have is older. I apologize."

"Nay, tis' more than alright, wise Dieci." Don normally would be more... outward with her voice, but quiet was valued highly in these places. "Thy help is much appreciated."

And the documents were helpful. There was a lot to learn.

The primer was not the largest thing, but it gave a starting point.

By its words, a Bloodfiend was effectively a person afflicted by a specific disease. She couldn't find a name for it, only those afflicted, but this 'sickness' was seemingly how it worked and spread. The disease's effects were varied and strange.

It was spread through bites by another who had it. It created a kind of servitude to those who turned them, and those above them in the 'chain'. It caused an intense fear of water, greater and greater depending on how far down the chain the afflicted was. All Bloodfiends also sported red eyes. But most notably beyond that was the simple, distinct fact.

Bloodfiends eternally crave blood. A 'thirst'. A hunger for more that can never be fully quenched, with bodies to last for theoretically forever.

It was not enough for them to simply drink blood from a bag, it needed to be fresh, straight from the source. But apparently even contact in such a manner, a bloodfiend draining blood from a person dooms the other, not by just turning them into another, but moreso turning them into some kind of thrall. A 'bloodbag', as they were bluntly called.

Don was aware of none of this before. Reading it made them feel like they were reading the rundown on some kind of strange monster, not a disease. How could this be a disease? Sicknesses were simple, they hurt the body in various ways. Maybe something gets inflamed or something goes wrong with cells, but this...?

It was Love's words after they handed it over to them that summed it up best in her head.

"This doesn't sound like a disease, it sounds like a curse."

It really was, wasn't it. But the way she said it drew Don's attention. "Tis' something thou art familiar with?"

"I've seen it a couple times. It's one of the... darker parts of the Arcana." Love explained. "There were some villains who used it, they cursed whole bloodlines with all kinds of nasty things!"

A shush caused her to stop for a moment, folding in on herself a little as she controlled her volume, rubbing her arms.

"Diseases and bad luck and deformities... it can get really gross and weird and icky." She stuck her tongue out in disgust.

"Have you seen anything like this?"

"Not of this scale... But usually there's solutions and people to handle this sort of thing, but you don't... have that here. So maybe it just spread over a long time and changed."

"Such a thing can change?"

"Mhm. It's an effect on one's own Arcana, your lifeforce, your, uh, soul. Different people can have it manifest in different ways because of that, just like everyone's Arcana is a bit different. This is... bigger than I've heard of these things doing, though. Maybe they're just different here, or this is something more. Like the work of some Major Arcana or something. Whatever it is, its origin has to be really, really powerful. That's something I don't doubt."

Beyond the primer was the historical documents, which painted a far broader picture. Many of them related to a war.

Apparently some centuries ago, humanity and Bloodfiends fought one another. There wasn't any info on what exactly started it, but... it was a great war for the fate of humanity, in effect, from what she could read between the lines.

The Bloodfiends were lesser in number compared to humans, but each's strength eclipsed humanity, and their ways of spreading bloodbags meant that number could easily swell. Humans fought back blood with steel and iron and fire and bullet alike. The Bloodfiends were each split into families, each different in their own ways.

Some had blood like acid, using it to melt away others. Some gorged and grew to become giants, arts of flesh in tandem with blood forming countless arms they whirled like dervishes. Others formed armor and weaponry from it.

Among them, one name that stood out was the Manchegan family. One of the strongest families of all the Bloodfiends. And yet, they sat out of the war. Until, one day, that changed. The records of losses for humanity shifted into victories.

Because the Manchegan family fought for humanity. They would... fight against their own kind. Because of the whims of their leader, their 'First Kindred', one who was said to be a 'righteous knight'.

One known to wield a great lance of blood in hand, side-by-side with their 'squire'.

And their name was-

"Don... Quixote...?" Her hands shook, eyes glued to those words, and the magical girl beside her noticed it, she moved over carefully, hand around her back.

"Did you...?" Love started to question, but they just moved the page up to Love's perspective. Yellow eyes read quickly, slowly widening until she got to that name. "Then they're..."

"The true owner of Rocinante." Don finished. "Then I must've been... part of this?"

"They call him a First Kindred, right?" Love started, lowering the document. "'Sancho' said they were a Second Kindred."

Assuming something like Fixer Grades, then that would put her... just below. Realization dawned more. "Was I... their squire?"

Things fell into place more and more as she thought about it. If this other 'Don' was spoken of like a knight, then mayhaps her dream came from them? Given Rocinante as some form of protection?

But the things Love spoke of with Sancho didn't make sense. They stated that there was no choice. But... why?

Was the dream hers or... theirs?

Her brain was running wild, trying to process it all when she felt Love nuzzle the side of their head, that grasp shifting into a full-on hug.

"I'm here for you." her words soft, it was an immense reassurance. She wasn't alone, this wasn't the end of the world. It was a puzzle to solve. Together.

Eventually returning the works to their respective shelves, they asked the librarian a question on the way out.

"Prithee, if thou wouldst lend an ear for inquiry?"

"Was it not enough?" The librarian's face was a touch sullen.

"No, it was much goodly information, and we are most thankful for thy aid. But I wished to know if thou knew any more about what occurred to the Manchegan family after that 'war'."

"Ah, yes, the bloodfiend champions. Of that I am unsure. That's not in our library."

Don's face sunk just a touch. It figured, but-

"However, I can make an inquiry to other libraries on the topic, if you'd like." they continued.

"Verily?! Thou speakest true?" Don realized the rising volume of her voice and giddiness, forcefully trying to cut back.

"I do." The Dieci replied. "Though it may cost some knowledge of your own for the service."

"Oh, I could give some more explanation on Arcana!" Love contributed.

"Perhaps. I did see the rather interesting article that came in from that earlier. I'd consider that sufficient. Though I must ask, to what end do you seek this family? Bloodfiends as a whole are not something most Fixers poke around with for a reason. It can readily kill you or quite worse in the case of their thralls or the affliction itself."

"Tis' a personal matter, if thou must know. We are seeking one related to the family, and seek info on them to confirm matters." Don explained. The librarian's look narrowed for a bit. Was it too vague? On the nose?

But it settled out. "I see. Very well. Contribute more of your knowledge, and I will send copies of what documents I can find if I can find any. Do you have a card for your office?"

Don produced it without a second thought. Soon, perhaps, there would be answers.

It was a few days after they had returned home, and for the most part, some kind of normalcy had returned to the Office.

Normal as they got, at least. Patrols, even a new contract! It was a simple mission of escort, but it was another place to put their name further on the map.

Love had somehow gotten even more clingy. Aside from battle, it felt like there was nary a moment when they were apart, hand in hand. Perhaps they sensed her tension from the information. Love herself had put much of her own problems to the side for a moment, acting as a constant comfort.

Don loved it, definitely. It was pleasant, even when Love was now the one offering to sleep in her bed for a while. At this point the fixer wondered if the two should just get one bigger bed considering how consistently this was happening at this point.

But eventually, she did receive something in the mail. It was a pile of documents within a box marked by the Dieci Association's logo, with a single message attached to the top of the pile.

'Took some digging, but found quite a bit from a Library up in District 16. I will warn you ahead of time, this is not a story with a happy ending. Documents here are sorted by date. I don't know who you're looking for, but I wish you luck. - Devin, Dieci South Section 3 Librarian'

Reading the message, they put it aside, pulling out the first document. It was a simple thing, a flyer of sorts, not even really a document, just advertising.

'HAVE YOU WISHED FOR FUN AND ENJOYMENT FOR THE WHOLE FAMILY?'

'WORKING ON A BUDGET, OVERLY STRESSED?'

'KEEP YOUR AHN AT HOME, FOR ONE PACK OF BLOOD, EXPERIENCE A WEALTH OF ATTRACTIONS AND RIDES FOR THE WHOLE DAY!'

'SHOOTING GALLERIES!'
'CAROUSELS!'
'HAUNTED HOUSES!'

'AND SO MUCH MORE!'

'COME TODAY AND WITNESS THE HARMONY OF MAN AND BLOODFIEND!'

'ENJOY YOUR STAY AT...'

'LA MANCHALAND!'

Don couldn't help but swallow, a pit of dread forming in her stomach.

'This is not a story with a happy ending.'

She was going to be here for a while. And she sincerely doubted she was going to like what came next.

Chapter Text

Love was concerned. Very, very worried for the sake of her partner. Her friend, the one who'd pulled her from that languishing metal tomb.

There was a certain intensity to her at the moment, having read through that pile that arrived through the mail.

Combing through it herself, she could understand why.

It was a kind of story told in disparate pieces. Newspaper articles and journalistic reports from long ago. It told the story of La Manchaland.

From what Love had saw earlier in those old, dry war reports, the Manchegan family fought against their own kind for the sake of humanity. It was... enviable, really! To have the strength to go against your fellows for the sake of others... it was a mark of heroism. And Don... Sancho was among them.

Battles won on the backs of her and her father, casting down the cruelty of these 'Families'. It meant she was always a hero, stories perhaps even more fantastical than those she regaled before.

It made her wonder if this other 'Don' was like Sancho had become. A force of joy and mirth and charisma that dragged everything in its wake. She could picture it, Sancho, seemingly practically minded being dragged into that hope and inspiration.

But that element of force that led to how she met them still baffled her until she kept reading.

La Manchaland was created some years after the war by the Manchegans and... it was a success. A huge, rousing success. Even former veterans of that war commented that perhaps it was the first big step in removing that wedge placed between human and Bloodfiend.

It was open for one and all, Backstreets, Nest, La Manchaland cared not. Just lend some blood and it was all they would ask. Many journalists seemed to wonder how it even worked, and though Love was still learning much about this new world, she could see why.

Money was something in her world, too. Maybe it didn't dominate society there as much as it seemed to here, but these places needed to pay for things, right? Electricity and plumbing and simply being in particular places? People wanted money for that stuff.

The most La Manchaland had were donations, of which there were many, but it still seemed strange. How was this park so different that it could operate like this?

Later news did pick up on some winds of controversy. Services from members of the staff had gotten... weird? Antsy and far more high-strung. But why? Had something shifted in the staff of the place? More reports of oddness, even a casualty that happened by accident...

Where the staff afterward had sucked the body dry of blood before the corpse had even gone cold. Were they... starving? But what about all the blood they'd gotten from the customers? Was it not enough? How... how big was this family, anyways?

It only slowly spiraled there as while the staff maintained a veneer of cheer, it was gradually becoming more obvious that something was wrong. There weren't more deaths, but...

It was like it was all leading somewhere, and that final article sealed it.

'MASSACRE AT HIT AMUSEMENT PARK LA MANCHALAND.'

In a handful of hours, this once place of joy and dreams has turned into a waking nightmare, as the Bloodfiend staff all at once began to attack visitors, customers, and even the few human staff that existed.

The few living and terrified eyewitnesses spoke of the staff descending upon them like rabid, starving animals, taking whatever they could from drawn blood, to the point of licking it from the floor.

Hours after, the entire amusement park vanished, furling itself into a sphere before disappearing into the ether. It has not reappeared since, leaving only fear and terror in the local populace from the empty space where it resided.

The reasons for why this occurred are widely speculated, but reaching out for comment from a veteran of the War still fresh in many's minds offered some potential idea.

"It's a travesty, but I don't think it was malice." they began.

"It's just a matter of their natures. I met the man who ran it once, and he was genuine in his want to live alongside people. But I don't think he discussed it as much with the rest of his family as he should've. I don't think the blood was enough for all of 'em. Maybe nothing ever would be."

Love couldn't help but feel deeply sad at such a thing. Someone genuinely trying their hardest but failing because of... something they couldn't control. A kind of tale she had heard time and time again, oft leading to the formation of villains. Tragic ones, lost in their own misery. Destiny loved to weave such tales, though Love knew not why. Maybe they were a villain of some kind too? A little harder to beat that up, though.

Don... didn't take it the best. There was fear and horror and depression cast upon those normally shining golden eyes. It felt as alien to see in them as it was to see Sancho. She did what she could to help, of course! Don had offered so much support to her in the past that it felt natural to offer much the same.

The main idea she had beyond normal bouts of care and cuddling was distraction. She wasn't... the best at that. At least when it came to herself. But! This internet thing was rather handy when it came to tips and ideas!

One idea in particular caught her idea. A place absolutely full of distractions. A marketplace!

It was a place nestled between particularly high buildings, a place of many stalls and wares. And it was most active near sunset.

Her mind curdled a touch on taking a break from her work, but...

It was for Don. And luckily, she was open to the suggestion. An evening stroll some blocks away...

And there they were. Lit by lights that resembled the very sunset above them, it stretched for what felt like miles, a labyrinthine sprawl of streets full of so, so many things. Easy to get lost in, but hand in hand, the two would ensure they stuck together like glue.

The hustle and bustle of this place was great, but so was... well, much of it. The smells of food rose swiftly all around the pair, enticing and almost overwhelming. The sounds of vendors they passed by, hawking wares, the sounds of conversation.

It was something entirely new for both, really. But that was the point, and by the look on Don's face, glancing to so many stalls, the plan of distraction seemed to be working.

Love could see several trying to lure them in, but their Arcana spoke of ill intention. Small, dark things, fetid.

But eventually, one building out of the way did draw both's attention. It was a bit more out of the way, tucked partly into an alleyway. Almost more of a stall put up on the spot.

But what drew the attention wasn't the construction, rather the person behind the counter. They were rather tall and dressed in a way that stood out. Differently to the pair, but compared to the more simple clothes, the deep blue overcoat contrasted with a white puffy front that reminded Love more than a bit of Courage's attire. A tall blue hat coated in ribbons, trailing to dark towards its top.

But most prominent of all was the face, or lack thereof, hidden behind a white mask that looked more than a bit like a bird.

"Oh my, you two are rather distinctive." His voice seemed to cause Don to notice them, and when they did, they almost seemed to lock on. Like there was some kind of unnatural draw. But when Love tried to view their Arcana...

There was nothing. Love's eyes widened. Everything had Arcana! Even the beings here, from the smallest bird and bug to even great beasts, you didn't just not have it. Did he... hide it somehow?

She couldn't see his face but for the glint of red that came through the mask. "Would you both perhaps care for a reading?"

"A... reading?" Don's head tilted a little.

"A tarot reading, of course. A glimpse of what fate may have in store for you. No charge, I'm simply curious." he offered.

Tarot? That was... something associated with the Arcana. Love swore she remembered Courage speaking the word once, but... the specifics she couldn't remember. Something about grand design?

"I know not of such things..." Don seemed just a little hesitant.

"Ah, perhaps I can introduce you then. It will only take a few minutes of your time, I promise." his voice was pleasant, gesturing to the chairs in front of the stall. Slowly, Don sat, and cautiously, Love followed.

The man pulled out a deck of cards. "Ah, before we begin, perhaps it would be best to introduce ourselves."

He began to shuffle them deftly. "If you'd like, of course."

"My name is Don Quixote! And this is my partner, Love! We're aspiring Fixers and Magical Girls!"

"Ah. An interesting name, a storied one indeed. And magical girls... such a concept fit for a stage and stories abound." His voice remained calm, gentle as those cards moved so quickly between hands.

"My name is Sanson. I suppose, for the moment, you can consider me a magician of sorts myself. Though I far prefer a stage than fighting for justice. Truly, it is fortuitous that we meet here and now. Tell me, both of you, do you believe in destiny?"

That was... quite the topic. Destiny... the idea of things being all lined up. That things are meant to go in a specific way. It was something they knew well, so it was taught among the Magical Girls.

Following the line of fate could give strength, but its hold was tight, and things were certainly meant to go in particular ways. The Arcana could change it in some instances, but... some things just always came to pass.

She had accepted it at first, but as her sisters fell, it became more and more of a tense relationship with the idea. But here...

Love wondered if it held any sway at all.

"Tis' a grand idea, but, does it not mean that something caused much of the world's suffering as much as its boons?" Don answered. That was similar to her own thoughts, but...

"It's kind of a meanie sometimes. Maybe it needs to be beat up!" Sometimes you needed to go more simple.

That comment caused Sanson to chuckle. "Mhm, well, that too is such a grand idea itself. Beating up fate, holding it at your mercy. It's a humorous image."

"What dost thou thinketh of such?" Golden eyes asked as much as the mouth.

While that mask covered much of their face, Love swore they could see the few visible muscles curl upward.

"My, my, that's a complicated one." His face tilted upward as he spoke, a mild hum as he thought. "Mhm, perhaps I don't subscribe to it in a traditional sense. Rather, I more closely believe in the concept of flows."

"Flows?" Love's head tilted a little. She'd never heard of such a thing.

"Surely you've felt it at some point or another. You meet another person, and find an almost magnetism to them. Perhaps you get along well, or they're so charismatic it feels less like a conversation and more like being dragged in the other's wake." Sanson began, before his face lowered again, and Love felt like she was being bored into. "Sounds familiar, does it not?"

It did. It really did. That's... what she felt with Don before. Even now. Swept up in them, drawn to them like a moth to a flame, following it relentlessly.

The want to be close to them, to hold on tight. She couldn't help but nod.

"That is a sign of a flow. A strong one, at least. Everything has a flow. Think of it as currents in an ocean, bound to move in a particular direction because of wind or other parts of nature. It's possible to go against the flow, of course, but it can be difficult, risky. Some are easier to follow, others more difficult, some flows are great waves that go very long ways, others minor and ephemeral. There are those who can find those Flows, even. Make their choices more... purposefully. As for the rest of us... ah, we can only guess."

The deck was laid face down. "Though... some have methods to make it a bit easier. Or, at least, to peer a little. That is what tarot is. Cards, each with meanings, laid out in a spread. One then tries to divine their meaning. Some consider it a life-changing pull of the cards. Others... well, it's just a little fun."

Hold on. "A spread... of Arcana?"

She could feel Sanson smile again. "A more uncommon phrase, but yes. Tarot cards are separated into two varieties. Major Arcana and Minor Arcana."

Love didn't know how to take that... Arcana as... cards? To divine possible futures? But... the Arcana was so much more than that! Unless... it was simply how the Arcana mainly manifested here, in such a place where the general amount was far... lower.

No Arcana above all, no Arcanum running rampant, no girls getting chosen by the Arcana to do battle.

Just a set of cards whose meaning was up for interpretation. It made her feel... small, a cog out of place. They felt a pat from Don on her shoulder, seemingly noticing. She gave a small smile. "Let's give it a try. It could be a most interesting thing!"

Perhaps it might give some understanding, viewing it from a different angle. She resettled herself, and Sanson clasped their hands.

"Now, which of you would like to go first?" Sanson asked.

"I shall take the fore! Though... ah, afore that, I must inquire, truly, what dost thou believest the cards mean with thy speak of 'flow'?"

"A good question." The man's posture shifted, one leg crossing over the other. "I consider it your current flow, so to speak. The path you are currently on, and where it may go, assuming the natural course. Now, to the spread."

They pulled four cards from the top of the deck, laying each side by side, face down. "Now, many do spreads in their own ways. Some prefer three, some prefer five, others more. I prefer four. To speak of which is which...

They moved a finger, going left to right from their perspective.

"The first is the past. Where you have been. The second is the present. Where you are. The third is the future, a nearer one. The fourth is a farther one. Closer to the end of the flow. Now, let us begin."

They flipped over the first card. It depicted a spire, going high above to the clouds. But it was falling asunder. Fire bloomed in its windows, its top shattered by a lightning bolt, a pair of people tumbling down to the ground.

"The Tower. A rather nasty one. It represents upheaval, destruction, a sudden, shocking thing that tore down the foundations and sent all tumbling to the ground." Sanson regaled.

Love knew of the Tower of the Northern Pass. It was an ominous thing. A broken, floating mass of brick and lightning, casting a shade over the north of her home, forbidding all from crossing, and to those who survive, casting doom upon them.

Don's expression was complicated. Given everything both had found, it made sense. A troubled past she could not recall. Forced into shoes to restrain their very self. What among that massacre could've caused such a thing? Was it there that it even occurred? But Love knew one thing for sure.

It certainly fit that card, and Don's own attention increased on the spread before her.

Sanson turned over the next. It depicted a tall hooded figure holding a lantern. A wizened figure, snow at their feet, cane in their off-hand.

"The Hermit. The wise man. He searches for knowledge, braving the heights of a great mountain for enlightenment. It is a card of reflection, introspection. The search for one's self."

It was reflective of what they were doing presently, but... that did not match the Hermit they knew. That decrepit old thing, the Hermit of the Azure Forest.

The man that turned Courage to Wrath. One of the Arcana that splintered their being, tore them apart, left nothing but empty and hollow rage. That was wisdom and enlightenment?!

It left a bitter taste, but.. it made her think. What if... they were reversed? What if they lead others to regress rather than enlightening themselves?

Leading them on a path to damnation with wisdom and malice entwined. A truly despicable being.

"Now, for the future." Another card flipped. Within it lied a woman, bare but for a sole cloth draped around themselves. Some kind of... small poles lied in her hands? Wands or staffs, perhaps? Surrounding them was a wreath of green, and surrounding that were a myriad figures. A winged man, a bird, a lion, a bull. It was... a bit more abstract than the others, certainly.

"The World." the magician began once more. "She who celebrates and dances, for she has found harmony between the disparate elements of their life. It is not a static thing, it is flowing, ever-changing. A unity to last for a lifetime."

The World... that was something she was unaware of, if it was a Major Arcana. Unless it was something more... fundamental. Ground beneath one's two feet. But more so, Don's reaction was what more caught her attention. There was that strain again., but not a dullness in her eyes, that glimmer still present as it should be. Something like consideration and realization slowly forming.

Love had an idea of what she was thinking, but... could such a thing come to be? How would it even happen, and...

Would it even be something Don or her would want to happen?

"And finally..."

The final card flipped. It was a curious card. A nude woman at the edge of a pond, pouring water into it and the grass beside as she began to step into it. Above, the stars shined brightly, one large one in a golden hue.

"The Star..." Sanson's voice slowed for a moment, just a touch before they carried on. "The one who nourishes the land and themselves. They who have found both the spiritual and physical alike, and causes both to flourish. It is a card of positivity, often adjacent to the Sun. It is hope and strength, a showing of blessing by the world that surrounds us. The Star holds all they need within themselves, and the only thing they need to accomplish what they need is the courage and will to do so."

The Star... perhaps the Guiding Star? She had heard the stories, but had never seen such a thing herself. A star that appeared to heroes in times of great need, heedless of the time or the shifting of the constellations above, pointing them to where they needed to go.

Some disbelieved in it, really, a myth or fairy tale, but Love always found the idea rather pleasant. The idea of someone watching over them beyond simply Arcana... it was nice. The stars too seemed to have prevalence in this place, in their own ways. Those 'Stars of the City' came to mind. Those who shined so brightly they had their own kind of gravity and sway that could shake parts of the City to its core.

Freedom in a place where most struggled with doing anything, at the cost of countless others too stretching out to try to grasp it for themselves. The Stars were feared and coveted and hated and desired, all at the same time. 

It reminded Love more than a touch of the Major Arcana themselves, in their myriad aspects.

The magician shrugged in the meantime, pulling Love from her thoughts with his words. "If you want to take such things with any gravitas, at least."

This Sanson's words were confusing, really. On one hand waxing on the importance of such things, but shooing them away when they felt like it. Like a lazy attempt to dissuade and defuse despite knowing there was something to this.

And there had to be, really. It was the Arcana. It didn't lie. It wasn't always good, wasn't always evil, but its presence was still here, and though she could feel nothing from the cards, even their symbols could evoke power.

Beside, Don seemed to have some matter of faith into it too with her own words. "Thou believest this tells of success?"

"There is a chance, assuming the flow is correct." Sanson answered. "But while outwardly positive, it would be wise to consider that even amongst the Stars, the night surrounds one when they come out, dark as can be. It is hope, yes, but the star requires the will and want and strength to seize it."

He glanced to the cards, scooping them up in one go back into the deck before they began to reshuffle it. "Is that something one would be willing to risk? Willing to take a chance for?"

Don gave not an iota of hesitation, gold shining ever-so brightly, just as much as what lied on the card beforehand. "Forsooth! Mayhaps that dark night arrives, but an adventure is meant to test one's strength! Of that much I know. Were I alone, there is a chance such a thing can overwhelm me, but I know I can trust in mine Love beside to aid, and I to them much the same!"

Even if the magical girl knew what Don was referring to, hearing her refer to them as their Love did cause her face to feel rather warm, sheepishly turning away even the smile on her face was still clearly visible.

Another little chuckle. "I can very much see that. Ultimately though, it truly is up to you. But how about your partner's own reading?"

Their shuffling continued before stopping, and four more cards laid face down on the table.

"If, of course, you're interested." Sanson offered, hands gesturing politely as the man gave the table room.

Yellow eye peering from the side, Love took a moment to recover herself, clearing her throat, adjusting the large bow on her chest.

She breathed in. "Alright... I'll look."

"Very well. As before. Left to right, past to present to future."

Gloved hands moved to flip the first. It was a curious sight. A large wheel with several spokes, high in the clouds, surrounded by several animals... similar to those within the World, Love noted. Except one. Atop the wheel lied a strange beast with a distinctive headdress. Wings sprouted from its back, but unlike a normal animal, its face was human, and in its hands lied a blade.

It was Love who spoke first, recognizing it. "The Wheel..."

"Indeed. The Wheel of Fortune." Sanson added on. "A very symbolic one. The wheel is ever-turning, unable to be controlled or stopped. In many ways, it refers to cycles. Day to night to day again, life leading to death which in turn can create more life. Certain things being bound to happen. Not exactly fate, simply the natural turning of the world, life following its most natural flows."

The Wheel was a peculiar thing. Back home, it was part Arcana, part artifact. The beast and its wheel, two parts of one whole. It was a being that did believe in fate. Chained to it. It was not something evil, not something good. It simply was.

Love never liked the idea of it primarily for what happened to those it saw interest in, but for such a thing to be connected to her...?

She tried to think of how it might relate, but... nothing exact came up. Was she in some kind of... cycle...?

Realization. The talks before.

'Hast thou... ever done so?'

She could hear Don's words in her head, but it was her grip that stopped her from shaking. That touch that reminded her she was okay.

"Ah... I suppose it is relevant." Sanson spoke. "But regardless of the card itself, remember this is the past. If it is something relevant, then it is something behind. But what represents the present?"

Another card flipped. This one was... a distinctly darker figure. Horns from the head, wings on its back. One hand raised up, the other down below. Its face was closer to a bat's than a man, and its lower legs similarly were furred, clawed. Below it were two horned humanoids, bare and chained to one another.

But the most curious thing of all was not the details, but...

"Why is it turned around?" Love spoke.

It was upside-down from the two's perspective. Sanson adjusted in his seat. "That is rather intentional, you'll find. The perspective of the Arcana change depending on what angle they're viewed from. Every Arcana can be upright or-"

"-reversed..." Love began to understand.

"Quite so. This one though... perhaps it would be best to explain the upright first."

A pair of fingers moved and deftly swiveled it around.

"The Devil." he began. "He who enchains and entraps those within his influence. A tyrant who forces excess and addicts those to vices. A symbol of oppression, addiction, and dependence. Once drawn into his chains, they are difficult to remove, lingering."

Love was reminded of the Tyrant of the East. That goat-headed Arcana who kidnaps others, turning them to thralls just as inhuman as they were. They praise at the start, but steadily it drained them of all they were, until but a husk was left, no different from minor Arcana.

But the inverse of such a thing...?

"Predictably, then..." the card rotated once more. "The reversed Devil is to break free of such chains. It is control and freedom, in some sense."

Freedom? Love could only blink. Were there chains? That... cycle? She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to parse it. 

Had those chains existed since long before? How long truly had she been like this? Those thoughts spiraled up. It reminded her of why she didn't like thinking too long on this sort of thing. The thoughts of what might've happened, what... did happen threatening to consume her, and yet...

She was still herself, right now. She couldn't deny that. Was, perhaps, that the freedom it spoke of? Beyond simply being freed from that metal tomb, there was some... smaller measure of control of herself.

Because of Don. Because of the love she sparked and kept lit. With her, it felt like she could stand up straight on her own two feet, take such a thing head on, but... was that not also like the card? The other interpretation, the dependence...

Could she do so by herself? Did... did she want to?"

Love didn't know. Such a thing was hard to grasp. But she did know one thing, at least.

Were this connection chains, they were the most comfortable chains she'd ever worn. The warmth and connection... Love still didn't fully know if Don truly loved her in the way she did for them, but... 

It was enough. That's what mattered.

"The future, then." Sanson's words rose her attention. This was perhaps the most important part. A hand, a movement, a card unveiled.

A man astride on a white steed, clad in silver armor, his face... well, there was no face.

Only a skeletal visage. They rode astride amongst countless. Kings and poorest alike. Corpses surrounded the figure as they waved a black banner high.

"Death." It was a word that held gravitas as it flowed from the masked man's mouth, and Love couldn't help a shudder.

Death. She knew Death. All knew Death. The greatest of the known Major Arcana. Something enough to rival Arcana herself. It was something known and dreaded.

Death came for all. It cared not about who you were, when you were, where you were. It arrived precisely when it meant to, uncaring about decorum or inconvenient timing. It was rarely ever physically present. Its shadow was cast over every tree and stone and plot of dirt. It was not a positive force, but its aid was notable for the presence of good as much as its seeming cruelty just the same.

She had grown used to its presence. Death was a necessity to stop evil, oftentimes, as much as she wished it was another way.

Was it now... coming for her? She couldn't focus, shivering. But an unexpected hand steadied her. Sanson. That glimmer of red visible through the mask shook some thoughts from her, enough for his words to speak.

"It is a terrifying thing, is it not?" he began. "Death. However, one should consider that this card is not simply a guillotine. It is, at its forefront, change."

Love could only stare, a long blink before her expression became... lost. "What?"

"Think for a moment. What is death, in a broader sense? And don't use the word 'die or 'killing'." It was a challenge of sorts as much as a question.

Death... it was someone being laid low. The final straw of their being giving way. It was...

"An end?" Love spoke, unsure. But the man before him leaned back in their seat.

"Quite so. It is an ending of something or someone. It doesn't have to be someone's body, but a matter of who they are. Think back. Are you the same person you were several years ago? Your friends? Loved ones?"

She... well, she wasn't sure if she'd changed that much. She was still a magical girl! Still wanting to fight villains, banish evil and protect the people! But... she had changed over the years regardless. From that person before they could barely remember, that nobody, to a new recruit. To proving her place among the team...

To watching each fall apart in their own ways. Death came to them, perhaps not in flesh, but in what they believed in.

Was that... her fate? Would she go over that edge again? Could she come back, or... was this something different? What would happen to them?

"Perhaps what lies further can elucidate you." Sanson spoke... it almost felt like he read her thoughts as that last card turned over.

It was not what she was expecting. It depicted three figures. A man and woman in the nude, and above was a winged individual, a radiant light shining down upon all. Plant-life bloomed around the two below, one tree notably lined with a curling serpent.

"Oh, I see. The Lovers." Both girls couldn't help but stare. The name alone brought implication.

"A card of union. Of partnership. Of love. Quite fitting for one such as yourself." Sanson explained. "Though, of course, it does not necessarily mean romance. It is unity, harmony, and choice, on occasion. But of course, it does oft mean the more obvious of things."

Love couldn't help that red rushing to her face, folding in on themselves a touch to hide it. Oh, by the Arcana, this was embarrassing. But that was... preferable to the alternative? So many thoughts swirled around in her head in a panic it was hard to cobble them into something about trying to read and glean the actual meaning.

There was just the thought of Don and little else. And from a glance, she could see those eyes lingering on her. But that face... it was pulled into a smile...? Were they laughing...? No, wait, there was... redness to her own cheeks too?

Huh? Wait... what?

"Thou needn't hide thy features, Love." Don started, leaning in. "Tis' good news, nay?"

I mean, she wasn't wrong, but...

All thoughts stopped as her hand moved to prop them up, the other hand helping fix posture. So gentle and warm... and so close!

"There, much easier to see! And better for thy back!" Love likely was closer to a beet than a person by now.

"Indeed." Sanson was in the process of gathering those cards back into the deck, the moment breaking from the sound of his voice. Oh... right. There was a stranger here. "Quite an interesting reading from a very interesting pair of people. I hope that was interesting?"

"Ah, um, yes." Love stuttered out, trying to reassert herself. "That was...very informative."

"Verily, t'was most insightful!" Don nodded. Their hand moved away as she stood up from the chair, leaving Love just a touch saddened for its absence... before she offered that hand again to be risen up.

She took it. She always would.

"Thank thee for thy service, sir Sanson! I hope thou haveth a most fine evening!"

As I to you both, Don, Love." Sanson gave a minor bow. "Farewell."

That was... an experience, certainly. Don seemed satisfied by it. She was... well, concerned was an understatement.

The thought of the Arcana as simple cards... it still irked her a touch. When they began to walk away a question came up in her head.

"Oh, wait-" she turned to ask, but...

The stall and the man who resided in it were gone. All that lied there was an alleyway, dimly lit in orange from the market's own lights.

Don noticed too, still hand in hand. A rapid blink, a rubbing of eyes. "Where didst-?"

"Gone..." Love finished. "He was strange already, but now..."

"Was he? They seemed a most fitting person for a varied place such as this!"

"You didn't look at him magically, did you?"

Don's eyes narrowed. "Nay?"

"He... didn't have a visible Arcana, Don."

"What...? Thou art sure?"

A nod. "Never seen anything like it before. Like they were hiding themselves somehow, or... were they even there?"

"Thou thinkest an illusion of some kind?"

"It's possible, but... all I know is there was something more behind that mask. Something he wasn't saying."

Don seemed contemplative. "But... did they seem villainous?"

That caused the girl herself to be put into thought. There was... suspicious things about them, assuredly. The hiding, the mask... but there were no attempts to harm. They seemed more... curious than not. Someone wondering about what lied under the cards just as much as the two did.

Were they being judged in some way? Evaluated? But to what end?

"I don't think so. Someone... after their own ends, maybe, but... they don't strike me as a villain yet." Love eventually spoke.

"Hm..." Eventually, that musing turned to a shrug. "Then I believe thy word! Mayhaps they are simply a friend, if a strange one!"

That was true, but that nagging feeling of more lingered in her mind until their partner... sniffed the air?

"Oh! Dost thou smell that?"

Love squinted at Don's exclamation, trying to focus on the smell. There was so much here it was hard to exactly parse what Don was referring to. The confusion must've read on her face, because Don didn't wait as she was pulled along.

More stalls passed by, but as they were dragged along, a scent did begin to stand out.

"Smoke?" Love spoke up. Was there a fire? Something dangerous? Villains, in a place like this!?

A bit of panic came into her mind, duty reminded of, but there didn't seem to be any chaos around, no panicking civilians or screaming.

The source was eventually revealed, and it seemed to be... a pop-up restaurant? Smoke rose from above, but smelling it more clearly... it was more... rich than a standard fire.

"Tis' bar-bee-que!" Don explained. "A cultural favorite of District L! They use special fuel and tailored smoke to make the meat fall apart just right! A long history lies with such a thing!"

"You know all kinds of stories even beyond your own adventures, huh..." Love didn't know even food could have stories like this.

"Oh, ah..." Don looked away for a moment, rubbing the back of her neck. "Tis' just a tidbit. Lady Ishmael regaled me on such before from her own readings. Supposedly is a classic and I've wished to try it!"

Oh, that... sunset-haired girl. Right, she remembered her. Good at fighting villains, at least. And food history too, apparently? Well, she could admit it at least smelled good. Her own mind was still plagued a bit by the thoughts of what came before with that Sanson, but...

They came to this market for the purpose of distraction. Maybe she needed a bit, too. So, with a smile, she took the lead herself for a change.

"Then let's eat!" she grinned, and Don too followed suit.

It was, in fact, one of the most delicious meats they'd ever had, and the memory of them and Don enjoying it alongside each other's presence, surrounded by hustle and bustle... it would stick with the girl for a while. Enough that it became a more regular haunt for the two after particularly long days of patrols and contracts alike.

Those days did keep coming, especially as the two began to move further up and up the ladder of Fixers.

Grade 8 to 7 to 6 to 5 to 4. They changed and grew stronger. More than just skills, Don eventually introduced her to augments, which was...

Well, it was certainly strange, but extra strength and speed? Well, it was really handy! Even if she did have to relearn a lot of things. Accidentally cracking apart a plate once soon after getting some... well, it was embarrassing! But those skills were very useful.

Especially as things progressed in the Nest above. As word of the Wing's collapse grew, other groups became interested in trying to assert themselves within its corpse.

And steadily, war brewed. Factions she had no clue gathering up, at least from what Don informed them. Big syndicates, the Thumb and the Index, gearing up to try to take the place over. There was still somewhat of an opposition in the Nest proper though. Some Agents had settled there instead of moving farther away, and in the lack of proper Wing support, they'd stepped up to the plate.

And was tested as the war became hot. Really, it was more than just three big factions, because with the Index and Thumb came a host of others. Smaller subordinate groups. The Kurokumo, the Stray Dogs, the Night Awls, the Carnival. Some not even associated with either, but looking to carve their own piece out of the Nest.

And more so, its people. She hated that. Those villains, the lot of them. Different flavors each, but all who needed justice. The people needed to be protected, and so officially, they started taking contracts against the smaller fish, taking out rungs one at a time, easing pressure, saving lives!

The Thumb weren't happy with them dislodging the Kurokumo, though. Tangling with them...

That was a lot more dangerous, even the lower echelons were tough fights, especially with those guns.

After being introduced to them, even with their more newly honed reflexes, Love did not like guns. Not one iota.

So much of this effort consumed their time and thoughts that the strange permutation of the Arcana the two had encountered, along with the man connected faded out of mind.  Further investigation into whatever happened to La Manchaland too... leads dried up. It was a myth these these days, a fairy-tale save for ancient articles.

There were so many more important things than chasing a ghost.

And more important feelings, too. Her love for Don had not abated. Grown stronger, in fact, as the two rose slowly to become local heroes. Love felt like she had firmly found exactly where she wanted to be.

Until a little over a year after that day, the office had received something in the mail. The office hadn't changed much in those months. A couple of new amenities. Don had been taking up cooking, too!

But the mailbox outside hadn't shifted a bit. She checked it fairly frequently, now that she actually understood what half of it was. A lot of it typically was pamphlets and fliers for events neither really cared for. Sometimes scams.

This one though was a bit more curious. It was a neatly sealed letter, stamp and all. And the color of it was a striking blue, standing out in the morning light.

And it was addressed to Don Quixote, in extremely flowing cursive.

"Don! You've got mail~!" Love called out, and scampering down the stairs came Don herself, still in PJs.

"For me? Tis' not another of those scams?" She slowly crossed the distance, and upon nearing one another, the letter was exchanged, of which the resulting look was rather quizzical.

"Tis' a well-made seal in wax... but I recognize not the writing..." Eventually, curiosity getting to her, the fixer broke the seal. And within was a letter lined with filigree, alongside some other papers. But the letter came first, Love leaning over Don's shoulder to read alongside.

Dear Don Quixote (And Lady Love too, I would imagine). I had heard from the grapevine that you were looking for information on a particular topic before and I believe this may be of use to you. Enclosed as well are means to pursue this, if that is your wish.

If it is accepted, then I wish you the best of luck in pursuit of this flow. Perhaps we may even meet one another once more.

Warmest regards,

Sanson

Both could only stare, memories returning.

"He knows our address?" Love spoke first.

"Tis' simply means our names have spread! For what we pursue though... couldst' they mean...?"

Fishing for another paper, it appeared to be a flyer. It was a standard fare informative type, she'd seen many on open boards for fixer contracts at this point.

And lo, it was in fact for a fixer contract. An open contract directly posted by the Hana Association of... District P? Love squinted as they read, trying to remember where that was. She'd seen a few maps before... wait, wasn't that on the opposite side of the City? Far to the north. But what could...

OPEN CONTRACT

TYPE: EXTERMINATION

AREA: DISTRICT P

GOALS: EXTERMINATION AND DESTRUCTION OF BLOODFIENDS RESIDING WITHIN THE PHENOMENON: LA MANCHALAND.

FOR MORE INFORMATION, SEE-

Oh no. She paused in reading, glancing to Don's face. 

Her hands shook just a touch, face conflicted, eyes narrow before they closed.

"How could they know about that? We haven't been telling anyone, right?" Love asked. This was confusing. He was confusing. What was their plan here?

"I knowest not." Her voice was a bit darker, more serious. "But, if I wish to learn of mine origins... of Rocinante. Of why I ended up here, then... that window may be closing. I know not either how it has returned, or why the Hana seeks its demise. But if they do, then it is sure to fall in time. And with it, the truth."

She fished for the last pieces of paper.

Tickets. First Class WARP Train tickets.

Even though money was still something Love wasn't the best with, she knew the price of such a thing was very high, and two? For both of them?

Sanson had resources behind them, certainly. And it was clear they wanted them there, especially given the tickets were for today, at noon. Such short notice...

But Don's determination was clear. "I must go. Tis' not a question. But I will not drag thee along if thou-"

"Of course i'll go, silly!" Love didn't hesitate.

"Even if something terrible could occur? Mayhaps Sancho would..."

"Don." Love tilted her head, still on the fixer's shoulder to look straight at her. "You're a dummy if you think that's gonna' stop me from coming. This is important for you, so it's just as important to me!"

The girl rose up, practically hopping to stand fully. "We're Magical Girls, and Magical Girls don't abandon each other! It'll probably be be, but as long as we have each other, I know we can get through it!"

It really was that simple. There was confusion and skepticism. So much of this seemed so convenient, that they just happened to know about Don's investigation. That they met before, that this.. could easily lead to something big. But where Don went, she too would follow. It was a fact, and she didn't dare to go against it.

Don paused for a moment before a smile broke out. "Thank thee, mine Love."

That additional word... ah, how that never failed to fluster her. She'd been doing it more and more since that day. She at least had enough composure to not look away though, her own smile growing as her face flushed. Don's did similar.

"Now, let us prepare!" she declared.

"We have an adventure to undertake!"

Chapter Text

P Corp was quite a bit different from L. Everything seemed... taller. Buildings and structures and people alike. The Backstreets of L was somewhat plain, countless buildings usually one to two stories. Maybe three if a building was particularly influential, like the headquarters of local Associations and the like.

But here, 3 felt like the lower end of things. Around the already rather large station loomed countless spires of glimmering steel that stretched up for many, many floors. There was also the nature of the structures architecturally. Almost everything seemed to be... curved.

L buildings were usually utilitarian and plain, many kinds of boxes and simple, angular shapes, but nigh every building here seemed to bend in some fashion. Whether the structure itself was more circular, or its points simply turned to loops, it was ever-present.

Almost as much as the fliers that seemed to be everywhere. Well, on closer inspection, they weren't fliers, really.

They were missing posters. Countless faces and names. Don recognized none, but she knew each had their own stories.

Ones that were likely painfully cut short.

She had done some reading on the phone, connecting to this District's internet. And more importantly, the news.

La Manchaland had indeed returned. Reports of an amusement park appearing in the evening sporadically before vanishing come morning, and with it, a host of Bloodfiends, desperate for any kind of blood they could get.

The air of the locals was rather down, clearly. People still moving to and fro to work or other establishments, but there was a clearer tension in the air than in L's backstreets.

It could certainly have tension at times, especially with the ongoing conflict above, but... the mood reeked of a lingering gloom and paranoia.

Who would be next? The fact that she was connected to such a group...

Don still wondered what the root of it all began with. There was clear suffering in those articles even prior to the massacre, yet those in charge didn't care?

Was... she complicit? Was she some kind of cause? Those mysteries bounced around her head, begging to be answered.

After having settled a minor stay in a hotel, both surveyed what had been brought. They didn't come unprepared, more than a few tools packed away.

Don had added onto the suit a bit as time had gone on, now that she could customize it a bit, given no more policies hanging over her head.

Specifically, the addition of some actual storage. A belt strung between the upper and lower parts of the dress, hidden beneath the corset. From the belt were a couple satchels, but the real star was the little pack towards the back. It was about the size of a water bottle, but with integrated dimensional storage, it could hold a whole backpack's worth of items inside.

Don had learned quite a few things about battling as a proper fixer out here. Healing magic was good, but many times, neither one of them may have the energy for such a thing after a long fight. Medical supplies and tools, emergency supplies in case they got stranded somewhere. A pair of K Corp Ampules, one for each of them.

But most notably for this trip, a set of Arcana Constructs they'd been working on.

Her own skills with Constructs had grown quite a lot. While that unconscious talent helped, learning how it functioned firsthand helped a lot more, as well as adjusting it to how they fought.

She'd gotten quite good at making distracting displays to cover Love when she needed room. Smoke-bombs and caltrops weren't exactly the tools of a righteous fixer, but sometimes, if one's enemy disregarded chivalry, the field needed to be leveled.

For this trip alongside was something that couldn't be exactly made so easily on the fly.

Water bombs. Of everything Don had learned about Bloodfiends, their weakness to water specifically was one of the things that stood out most. It was such a simple thing. It fell from the sky on rainy days, the entire southern part of the City was flanked by an ocean. (Or the Lakes specifically, as lady Ishmael would assuredly correct.)

For things so strong, it seemed so odd, especially since it didn't seem to do physical damage. They were simply just afraid of it. Which, given that their goal here wasn't to exactly kill every Bloodfiend, something of a deterrent could give both space.

Especially if they tried to bite. Don had no clue what might happen if she was bitten. probably nothing, but...

Well, really, they were more worried about Love. How did her otherworldly nature interact with Bloodfiends? Could she turn into one? Did it only affect humans?

She was never able to find that out, unfortunately. But playing safe was for the best.

So stored in the pack was a dozen large opaque spheres filled with water, constructed material something like glass.

If she set it up properly (which she made sure to!), then they'd burst on command, spraying water in every direction!

And shrapnel, probably, but that was more of an inconvenience! Mostly.

At least to Bloodfiends. At least she could evaporate the glass shards if problems beyond occurred. The benefits of Arcana.

Maneuvering the Backstreets as noon crept to evening, Don consulted a map. Apparently, the main operation meetup and presumably where La Manchaland appeared was... a giant empty lot?

It was a weird thing. Something she had learned about the Backstreets is that everything is used for something. You don't just make cavities with nothing in it for no reason. And yet here one was. But why? Was it something about the District's policies? Was it used for events or something?

Was this where the amusement park was the first time? Avoided like the plague afterwards, like some kind of curse had seeped into the land itself?

It wouldn't surprise her at this point with how people seemed to talk about it.

But getting to the camp, some of that tension was put aside because... because...

There were so many Fixers here!

Some smaller, but those she recognized... 

The gleaming steel armor of the Zwei West, those gallant knights known to protect targets and areas for days at a time!

The Cinq West besides! Those whose aim and focus were as great as any snipers, finding and focusing out a foe's weaknesses until they were no more.

Ah, to be truly among such valiant fixers...

"Don?" Love's words besides caused the fixer to blink. "You're vibrating."

"Ah?"

Looking down, she was in fact vibrating. "How can I help it when such wondrous fixers are here! Those of the Zwei and Cinq West are legends I've spoken of before, and they're here!"

Love seemed a touch confused, head tilting. "Aren't we in the North, though? Why would people from the West be here?"

It was rather simple, really! But as Don opened her mouth, another voice answered.

"It's because the West are known for talents in holding positions." a stern, feminine voice answered the query rather simply.

Don blinked. That wasn't what her answer would be, but it was something rather true. But that voice... the fixer turned to find...

Oh, that was one of the Zwei West right before them. Ah, to be so close, to see every gleaming plate and that massive blade... even as she had advanced, her love of Fixers had not abated that much.

"Tis' correct in an aspect, thank you miss..."

"Paula." she curtly introduced. And then another Fixer nearly slammed into her, leaning over the side of their shoulder, wide hat and furred collar taking up a large amount of space. "And Camille!"

The look on the Zwei's face was extremely disgruntled, but... ah, that was...

Camille of Cinq West Association, Section 3! A frequent sight in read magazines. And maybe bits of a stream or two. Their techniques for dueling were quite insightful!

"And you both are from District 12, aren't you?" Camille asked.

Don stared for a moment, but it was Love who managed to cobble the words up, confusion bleeding into every syllable. "How... do you know that?"

"What, you don't know?" Camille seemed surprised themselves. "You two are viral, you know!"

"We are?" it was a simultaneous proclamation that got Camille to pull out a phone...

Other than the phone on a stick in their other hand. Were they recording?

"This popped up 2 weeks ago, people have been sending me a lot of interesting videos from over there to review, but this one...!" he continued in that showy voice as he pressed play, turning it around for the two to view.

It was a video titled 'This District L War is getting crazy...'

It was a slightly shaky camera footage from someone three floors up. And below was...

Them, both of them on the street below, and before the two, an array of Thumb members.

She remembered this. It was a flanking maneuver to cut off reinforcements so the other Remnants could move in on one of the Capos who had been leading a good portion of the Thumb's advance so far.

Love took up a position behind, Don leading from the front. A minor gun-line of Soldatos took aim.

"FIRE!" ordered the one behind them, and with near perfect unison, they fired, and before Don's fingers, an array formed.

It was an experimental construction. Something specifically meant to handle projectiles, given... well, Love had problems with dealing with such things. A reactive shield of sorts. The faster the incoming target...

Bullets pinged off the shield, and began to ricochet back violently. Parts of the ground were ripped apart, a couple Soldatos caught in the way flung to the ground.

... the more power it'd get on the rebound. It was a reflector and amplifier of energy in the same breath. Don went somewhat on the offense after, taking advantage of the chaos the hail left in the ranks. Stars swung out, arms rapidly moving.

And behind, Love's chanting got louder before the entire video flared with white light as the words "ARCANA SLAVE!" hit the air.

A beam that decimated what was left. It'd become a common tactic for the two when dealing with fights like this on the streets. Don running distraction and cover so Love could do her thing. Most still didn't expect it. How could they, really?

Camille lowered the phone. "So, of course I have to ask..."

The Cinq moved, positioning themselves besides Don, looking out towards that other camera on a stick he held, getting more than a bit close for comfort.

"How'd you do it? Was it special effects? You were in that beam too, so really, shouldn't you be crisped?"

Don blinked, unsure whether to look to Camille or the camera, the Cinq with a photogenic look before Don took a step away. A look of insult rested on her face, eyes narrowing, lips pursed. "Thou wouldst call us frauds?"

Don's chest puffed out a little, standing as tall as she could manage. "I am Don Quixote of Starlight Office, fixer and magical girl! Me and mine partner Love's duty is a most real endeavor, as is our strength. Tis' folly to cast aside that which thy lack understanding in."

Camille's eyes blinked, before glancing to the phone for a second. "Wait. Chat, is this for real?" Their gaze shifted back over. "Are you putting up some character? I mean, I see the effort, the costumes and everything, but..."

"It's true!" Love also came in from the side. "We're Magical Girls of Love! It is a most sacred duty, and that involves the protection of the people from evildoers and villains!"

Paula beside simply stood with something almost dumbfounded on their face, trying to keep up a look of impassiveness and narrowly succeeding besides her eyes, while Camille was certainly thrown off more than a bit visibly.

"This... really isn't a bit?" Camille pressed a bit further. "If that's the case, shouldn't you be in L, fighting that 'war'?"

"Tis' true, yes. However, we art here on personal matters, not that it will not stop me from saving whomst I can from the clutches of the Bloodfiends."

"You mean you're not contracted to be here?"

"Nay. And I suppose thou wouldst be?"

"We would." Paula answered. "It is a joint operation between the Zwei and the Cinq, to rescue a client from La Manchaland."

Don blinked. "Ah... a client?"

"Correct." the Zwei nodded.

Don's face scrunched. "Wouldst... thy compatriots be here for the same task?" 

"I believe most of them are here for perimeter defense, moreso. Why do you ask?" Paula asked.

A worry came in her mind. "I was curious whomst here was to make up the rescue party for the rest of La Manchaland's victims."

Both Paula and Camille stared, and Don's words filled in the blank. "When mine partner brought up why thou wert here, while thine words are correct, mine answer wouldst' have been different." Don began. "The Zwei West are excellent defenders, tis true, their blades are a most excellent shield. But they too are rescue specialists, nay?"

"That is... correct. But I was not aware of a contract of that nature taking place beyond ours. If you're looking for rewards for those missing-"

The Starlight fixer could feel an eye twitch. "Why wouldst I care for rewards? Tis' not my desire. It is to see others safe and sound. Are the Zwei not they who call themselves 'Your Shield?"

"For those willing to pay the price." Paula answered.

"Yeah. They're the shields of whoever enters an official contractual agreement." Camille looked skeptical. "You think they'll defend anyone off the street?"

Anger began to rise up within Don's form, arms trembling. "A Fixer wagers their life on more than simply the shallow promise of capital! I have met many just and right fixers among the Associations, and to reduce both they and thyselves to mercenaries who care more about lining pockets than the honor that comes with the service is a disservice most unjust!"

Paula's impassive face only gained a notch of confusion, but the Cinq besides...

Camille's face became judging, incensed by the words. "Okay, look, this whole... magical girl shtick is cute, but this is getting ridiculous. Do you even know where you are, who you're talking to-"

"We art at the staging ground for the Extermination contract for La Manchaland, and thou art young Camille of Cinq Association, Section 3. Frequent feature of the Fixer's Monthly magazine and currently #7 in the 'Fixers I want to have dinner with' contest." Quixote recited. It was simply facts among countless she filed away in her head.

"Okay, so you know..."Camille's eyes blinked, narrowing on opening again. "Hold on, i'm only #7?"

Don opened her mouth only for the duelist to continue.

"Nevermind, that's not important for right now. But if you're knowledgeable about Fixers, then I'm sure you know another fact." Camille's hand subtly moved for the weapon at his belt. "That I, as a Fixer of the Cinq Association, am not one to waste breath on mere words. When we want to settle something or make a statement, we duel. An official duel to the death."

It was clearly made to try to dissuade further words, but Don's eyes met his, a fire alight inside.

"Then wilt thou heed mine words, should I best thee in a duel?"

Both Association Fixers before her had widened eyes.

"What?"

"Should I best thee in a duel, wilt thou swear on thine honor that thou shalt assist in rescuing others who have gone missing besides thy client?" The fixer reiterated.

"Um, Don, is this...?" Love behind seemed a touch nervous, and the Cinq before her...

"Hold on, are you seriously challenging me to-"

The final straw broke, and she could not help but spill the words. "I, Don Quixote, Magical Girl of Love and Fixer of Starlight Office, challenge thee to a duel!"

Those words yelled out stopped several surrounding conversations. Eyes were on both.

"Camille, you cannot seriously be considering-"

A hand rose to stop Paula's words, azure eyes focused purely on the gold ones before him.

"You understand that's not something we take lightly."

"Quite so, young Camille. Tis' why I offer it. For I know that we speak in a tongue not as natural. Actions matter. But I will say a duel to the death would be a bother if I were to win. Thou cannot heed mine request within the grave. So, perforce, I suggest we fight to a yield instead. Is that acceptable?"

Camille seemingly mulled it over, a sharp exhale from his nose. "Fine."

Casually, they adjusted that phone on a stick, looking at it. "Alright ,chat. Guess we're going to have to delay the La Manchaland overview just a bit. This shouldn't take any time at all."

Simply, the phone was taken from it's mount. "Paula, hold this. Give chat a good view, alright?"

Brown eyes stared. "You're really doing this?"

"They were disparaging you too, you know."

"That's not..." Paula shut her mouth, irritance finally making itself known as they snatched the phone. "Fine. But only if you ditch the 'sidekick' thing."

"Deal." Camille spoke with a momentary smile, turning back to face the magical girl.

"Alright then... Out of pity, I won't throw my gauntlet at you." the rapier was drawn, and Don's staff rested in her hands, others beginning to back up, giving the two space.

"En garde, petit nouveau!"

Don had never fought a Cinq Fixer. Don never wanted to fight a Cinq Fixer. But their fighting styles were something Don knew intimately.

The Cinq of the South preferred raw speed. They were blurs of blue and steel whose points could strike dozens of times at once, or a single, lightning quick jab. Those of the East closed distances, oft using fists or shorter weaponry in tandem with pyrojade to set foes ablaze.

The West, however, were a bit apart. They were focused, precise to the utmost degree. For the first few moments, Camille's eyes seemed to try to pierce into Don. But she knew it was less contempt and moreso analysis.

Finding weaknesses, the chinks in the armor. And hammering them relentlessly once they were opened.

But Don had some tricks of her own when it came to analysis.

Her free hand rose as a finger-gun, pointer finger aimed center mass as a small array formed at its end.

"Arcana Beat!" A thin lance of pink rocketed forward. Camille's rapier rose to deflect, but...

No sound of impact. Merely a lingering purple that began to outline Camille.

He blinked. No damage, examining his hand for a second. Beat was not to be confused with Beats. There was a distinct difference! Its main purpose was not to incinerate, it was to mark.

And with her gaze alight, they viewed them from both angles, physical and magical alike. His Arcana was average for a human, a sapphire blue that matched their eyes. But within, highlighted by that mark were the cracks. The doubt, the pessimism.

It bled into their movements too as he decided to move on the offense. Simple steps forward. Testing. The staff's tip clashed with the large rapier's point. It was a probe, just as Don did to them.

A continued circling, before suddenly, he lunged. Starting low, Don tried to interpose, but they suddenly arched high.

A thin line of red traced into her right forearm. It stung, but she held, using that unfortunate position to launch an assault of her own. An array formed before the staff before the other hand moved to quickly fire.

"Burst!"

An impulse of force exploded from the array, sending Camille near flying backwards. But in the air, he pivoted quickly, landing on his feet.

An adjustment of that wide-brimmed hat. "Alright, guess it really isn't special effects."

"Tis' not, nay." Don affirmed. "Neither is this."

The staff swung out, and from it came a hail of stars. Slower projectiles, ones that only put Camille off for a moment before he adjusted, deflecting and evading.

But their purpose was distraction as Don closed the distance, and her staff began to shift.

While the staff had grown immensely comfortable, there were times Don needed something different. And her studies in Arcana Constructs had borne fruit.

From the top of the the staff, it began to change, light coalescing and forming, point extending forward until that blunt staff became more like a large lance, Don lunging forth with gusto into Camille's defense.

The sudden shift combined with the stars running interference caught Camille off-guard, the resulting clang deafening, the tip of that spear managing to break through and score a solid strike on his chest.

Thrown off, teeth gritting, the Cinq focused, trading more wounds as they scored another hit against the forearm. It shook from the blow, but her grip remained firm as she was pushed back, forced to wheel around the Cinq. The lance tip broke apart and in its place from the side, the staff transformed into an axe, a diagonal swing downward as Don's loop turned rapidly into a spiral.

The ground below Camille's feet broke apart, axe hitting empty air, and then, that glint of steel from his rapier shined, the arm exposed from such a maneuver.

And the staff clattered from her hands as that rapier firmly pierced the hand. She was forced to take a step back, hissing.

Disarmed. Camille's look was dominating as that rapier point aimed dead-center with another step. Pride, almost to point of arrogance. "Those were some neat tricks. But I think it's time for you to yield."

So assured of victory. But Don Quixote breathed in, before, in one swift motion of the arms, something formed, and steel clashed.

Camille was taken aback, and though they blocked the first assault, a long thin slice cut into the duelist's side as the fixer before him practically became a momentary blur, darting past.

The speed whirled him around as blood trailed down. And before Camille was Don, each hand carrying a thin blade, each with an almost blunted tip. Purely for slashing, and slashing alone. Those blades faded into air as Don released her grasp on them. The damaged hand still bled, twitching, before she quietly whispered something. A minor glow, and the main puncture seemed to not bleed as much as before.

"Mine resolve will take more than that to crumble, young Camille. Tis' not the first time I have been disarmed. Thy strike was clean. But I will stand against thy injustice, thy disregard, just as I have stood for my fellows, the people, and all who need protection."

A larger blade began to form as if pulled from an invisible sheath, a longsword almost longer than she was tall.

"Tis' more than just mine oath as a Magical Girl. It is mine desire and dream. We are Fixers, it is in our very names to right wrongs, to save lives."  The blade in her hand gleamed as it fully formed, thrust to the side for a moment.

"If thou believest we art less, then show me the results of thy belief." Don proclaimed.

A crowd was certainly beginning to form as surrounding fixers watched this unfold.

Camille's eyes narrowed. The showboating wiped off his face as he observed the drawn blood with their free hand.

"Alright then." Camille spoke, breath low. "Let's get serious."

And the duel was renewed.

Don had evolved her fighting style a lot. It was night and day to Love compared to when they first met. The staff was simply one part of how she acted. Construct combat was something that came intuitively to her, with or without the staff.

It was one of those things that came from Sancho, seemingly. The blades she wielded, paired and long were both creations she initially made in her experimentation with weaponry. They came naturally, like an extension of her being. Don hadn't really wielded many swords before, and yet, she already knew these blades.

Love could only watch mesmerized as the duel continued. Both had become blurs, one of blue, the other of pink. Swift slashes from the longsword came one after another, each hit flowing into the next, Camille's smaller rapier could somewhat keep up, but Camille was forced to play safe, evasion and subtle jabs towards the body.

But those jabs were answered by the weight of the blade before him deflected with a screech and clang. 

The duelist shifted the angle, trying to get a stab through. And yet, Don did a maneuver that most swordsmen would call foolish. She practically threw the sword's width outward, knocking the rapier wide but leaving her weaponless. But she wasn't, as those twin blades entered her hands once more.

She could hear the barest of voices from her, like a low chant.

"Spring Dragon... Autumn Lotus." she mouthed.

Each weapon had a name, and like the weapons, Love believed they too came from Sancho, that voice speaking them almost on autopilot. So much of the combat too. It was like they'd memorized a dictionary of technique and simply executed it to the letter.

For Don's eyes barely left Camille's own, watching and seeing how they reacted to the pair of blades slashing forward in an X shape.

It was thanks to Camille's own reflexes that they managed to evade it, pushing off the ground backwards, the top of their shoes just barely cut by the cross as he regained footing some distance away. And yet, Don followed them, using augmentation of her own.

They were called 'Frictionless Gliders'. Much of Don's suite of augmentation focused on speed and reflexes, but those were one of the most versatile. On command, it shrouded the legs in a layer of energy, friction reduced to effectively zero. It was like being able to slide on ice on demand, and with how she lunged forward with that X, the fixer carried the momentum to follow.

Even the Cinq, masters of single combat could be overwhelmed, but Camille still held their ground even against those two blades. Clash and clash, a constant ring of steel that at this point had drawn more than half the Fixers in attendance to watch. A few jabs had hit arms, blood drawn from her sleeves, and yet besides the gritting of teeth, Don did not relent.

Camille managed to break through with a distinctly unconventional move, a rapid kick. It was blocked by the twin blades, but pushed her back regardless, with the other fixer leaning into it as her Gliders activated to create a gulf of space between both.

Love knew what that space meant, if they were bringing out the might of those Constructs. The swords dissipated, and in their place formed a massive hunk of metal lined in pink. A boxy bow larger than herself, bottom hitting the ground with a thunk. "Thousand Pound Bow..."

Camille's eyes widened as she casually formed an arrow the length of a small spear from thin air, bowstring formed of soft pink light.

"Arwe." with that word, the arrow fired, a lance launched at near the speed of a gunshot. But beyond the initial surprise, Camille steeled themselves and deflected it.

So came another, and another. Don's pulls of the bowstring growing faster and faster. But Camille seemed almost comfortable. Ranged weaponry was always a strange thing in the City, from what Love surmised. Its use was ease rather than the range, for higher level fixers simply had the skills to get around them.

Camille's steps moved forward, moving past arrow after arrow.

Shots like this were predictable, no matter the speed.

Closing in, Don's own gaze hardened, and the angling of the next arrow formed was different.

Don Quixote was not as predictable as the arrows.

As Camille closed the distance, rapier ready to pierce through, the hold on the arrow shifted. It wasn't an arrow anymore.

It was the lance it looked like. And instead of using the bow, she took it in hand and chucked it directly, strength augmentation in full force. Not towards Camille's body, but their foot stepping forward.

And with a squelch a moment later, Camille's foot was pinned to the ground, but his momentum kept going, the duelist's eyes turning to saucers as his rapier's angle lost its endpoint. Tumbling down, Don dismissed the arrow, and the back of her forearm met Camille's throat, one of those smaller blades in hand.

And Camille was wholly stopped dead, the duelist choking for a moment as the air in his throat was forcibly removed by the maneuver.

Silence reigned but for the drip of wounds from both to the concrete below.

"Yield, young Camille." The words were firm, eyes steady as gold met blue.  There was pain, and soon after... realization, blinking, stupefied.

They lost decisively. Those wandering, lost eyes met Don's, and from that now parched voice. "I... I yield."

The forearm moved, blade dismissed, and Don helped Camille find his footing. His face scrunched. That wound in their foot was rather distinct.

From the floor, Don gestured, reaching out her arm, and the staff returned to her hands, moving on its own.

"I beseech the light most azure, let compassion rain down upon our wounds. To mend body and relation." she quietly chanted. And from the staff, light did glow. Wounds began to heal. Tears in clothing began to mend, Camille's face simultaneously relaxing, but stupefaction still present.

"I... ah." the Cinq seemed to fail to find words for a bit. "I suppose you are more than lights and bluster. Can't say I've had a fight like that before."

"Thou fought well, young Camille. But thou must remember something." Don's voice softened back to its more normal tone. "When thou art well known enough, thy own techniques may be used against thee."

Camille blinked, and Don noticed. "Thou truly not rememberest thy 43rd lesson stream whose topic was on dodging high-level projectiles?"

Realization dawned. "Wait, you're... you watch my streams?"

"Dost the name SuenoImpossible ring any bells?"

The Cinq was clearly thinking before eyes widened. "Wait... that collab stream 3 months ago when I was fundraising for my colleague's operation... that giant donation was you?"

"Mhm! T'was a good cause!" Don nodded. "But, to that point, tis' good to consider that others may be familiar with thy own techniques for such reasons, and may plan ahead!"

Camille was quiet for a bit, defeat now fully registering in his eyes. "You played me from the moment you pulled that bow. You knew my footwork."

"And anticipated thy foot's position."

He massaged his forehead. "Clever... damn. Ha."

He breathed out a sigh. "I suppose we are always learning. I accept my defeat, and a Cinq does not go against a duel's outcome. I will try to look out for other survivors. I give no guarantees on success, especially with something like... this."

"Tis' all I ask, young Camille." Don's staff left her hands, floating to her back. "Success is a treat, but not guaranteed. The effort thou puts in towards goodly acts is what matters."

There was a disbelieving look on the Cinq's face. A huff, a turning away towards that phone still pointed forward in Paula's hands. The Fixer behind was not exactly amused. "If you say so. Anyways, chat, sorry you had to see that-"

"You okay?" Love moved in after, and as things settled, others began to break away other than some lingering eyes on the pair. Not that Don cared much.

"Quite fine. T'was wounds I could more than bear for mine creed."

Love's face was still concerned, the girl moving to nuzzle Don a bit. "I don't know if you should be risking your life for someone like that. Do they... will they even listen?"

"Tis' tradition since its inception that the Cinq respect duels above all else. Their native language. I have faith in that much, even if they... still lack in other respects. There is good in him. I knowest that from watching his streams. But they are set in their ways, like stagnant water. And in such cases, action is most necessary for things to flow once more!" Don explained, nuzzling back, the two's eyes meeting before foreheads touched.

"Trust in that. Mayhaps it may not be immediate, but such things can plant seeds. They simply need time to blossom." It was a common part of stories read over and over. A stone knocking someone from their perch, leaving them to question. To consider and understand. And in the end, a foe may turn friend to save the day.

Perhaps it was cliche, but it was a hopeful one, one that Don clung to, as they did with many bits of hope scattered throughout the pages. Many around seemed to consider such a thing naive. Foolish. Gazes judging, contempt for such thoughts.

And yet, despite this year of trial and tribulation, she kept firm. Part of it was her own belief, but seeing how Love's eyes sparkled just a bit more at the words... she was part of it too, to be sure.

Two girls helping each other keep that flame, that flickering star of optimism alive.

She had met many a deplorable one who called themselves fixers. Wretched things willing to shirk lives, call out allies for the sake of themselves or profit or both.

Things that tried to shake the foundations. But she got up, and she knew that as long as she kept going, that notion of righteous fixers, of those who care for justice, for people, for all that is good and right, acting with honor...

They were those fixers. They were the example. And if the number out there that followed such things was small, then she would kindle that goodness wherever she could.

But she had met others. Those she once called fellow Agents and Clerks, fighting for their new home, like Rodion, leading the others from that other little office of theirs.

It was not a duty she expected, nor precisely wanted. But she took it and did it in the way Don was more than proud of, given how the tides had been held back.

There was lady Gebura too, the once Red Mist. She had seen them at their lowest. But they had risen up, and had read more than a few articles citing their potential return, their protection of others, even if that Color was filled by another now.

She was still worthy of it.

And, of course, her partner. The one she loved and who loved her in return. She who inspired her, she who was inspired. That wondrous Love.

She had changed in smidges and shades. It was clear they found the City a far, far worse place than her own home the more she learned of it. Full of villains from top to bottom. Many forced into these roles, cast into them by happenstance, by others, simply by birth.

She had been shaken many a time. Just as Don had too. But together they still grew. She hardened just a bit more when it came to matters. When it came to lives lost.

Don still remembered those times the hardest, when those tears fell during more harsh contracts, it felt like something broke inside. But Don stood. She helped her as she could. Cuddles and hugs and... perhaps a chaste kiss or two. Things had progressed more slowly on that front, but... Don was comfortable with it. Love's happiness meant so much, and it was clear that vice versa applied. 

Each building up each other's broken parts, putting them back together with care. Stronger. Better. She wouldn't be here if it was not for Love.

That dreamy musing was broken by the other though, as even amongst the nuzzle, the magical girl's eyes trailed elsewhere.

"Everybody's going to that big tent? Should we...?"

Ah! The operation! It must be a meeting for an overview of the situation. Breaking apart just a bit, still hand in hand, Don nodded. "Tis' a wise move. It means the time nears, and we must avail ourselves with every bit of information we can!"

Inside the tent was a different story, however. The interior itself was made up of two things. A set of three long tables and many chairs, and a computer and projector setup on the far wall. Many fixers sat down, and the two found their own place near the middle of the bunch.

The meeting was led by a curious pair. Han-ul, a fixer of the Hana North, who looked like they needed a coffee, judging by the minor sag beneath her piercing gaze and the flat tone in which she spoke. Recording prohibited, causing only a minor gripe with the Cinq nearby before another began speaking.

Someone of P Corp by the name of 'Alessio', apparently. Their gaze was distant, voice reading things off simply and clearly. Many would call it flat, but Don simply thought it was more than enough. Their attire definitely drew a couple of looks. It was a strange thing, perhaps not to locals, but to the two, definitely. A strange bodysuit of a kind, ribbed with glowing orange lights, a coat worn over it. Even the shoes seemed connected to it. It looked comfortable, but honestly Don was wondering how they even got into the thing.

"However, La Manchaland was largely unknown and invisible to the public until 2 months ago. And the raw material that makes up this 'amusement park' is-

"We know all this already. Just get on with it." some fixer called out.

"Ah, mm..." Alessio kept that mostly blank look, but the tiredness on their face seemed to multiply. "P Corp. has the responsibility to share sufficient information to all participants of the mission."

"And like I said, we all have more than sufficient information, got that!? Let's stop wasting time and-"

Don's hand twitched. Why were people like this? If they already knew, then why were they even in the tent? She was about to raise her own voice before the Hana beside spoke up, 

"You seem to be under a severe misconception." she began. "Of course, i'm sure some of my present company are consummate professionals with the skill and grit most people wouldn't dare scoff at."

Her gaze moved from the fixer to the whole room. "But the truth is, most of you are... fodder. Common as muck, painfully average, garden variety, bargain bin Fixers who are most likely going to meet their dirt-filled miserable ends while stuck on Urban Nightmare duty their whole careers. That's all you'll ever be."

Her words quieted most any remaining conversation in the room. "Most of you will fall by the wayside before this path leads you anywhere of even passing significance, let alone joining the ranks of Grade 1 Fixers like myself. Some, maybe one or two of you may make it to Grade 1, sure. But I can guarantee you won't even dare dream of getting anywhere near the greatness of a Color."

Her gaze focused on the original speaker again, boring fully through them. "Hm. Maybe your best will be the honor of dying next to one. Feeling the disparity between yourselves and those who are at the top of the City."

Those eyes intensified just a bit more before she looked wide. "So, know your places and pay attention to the briefing."

Most did quiet, but Love move close and whispered. "Geez, did they really need to be that harsh?"

Don was inclined to agree, but... "Likely not, but tis' in the best interest of the Hana to quiet such things, making it a one-time occurrence. They were very inconsiderate of their fellows."

"I think I prefer Mr. Arth to them..."

A quiet nod, but it did lead to consideration. There was some truth in Han-ul's words, she could say that. There were many, many Fixers who died too soon. Lives cut short. But that was simply part of the business. The risk associated.

The two were definitely strange compared to most Fixers, even beyond their magical natures. She knew that other Fixers simply didn't advance this fast. Some might take many years to get from 9 to 4. They'd done it in under one. A meteoric rise. Of course, that was due to the jobs they were taking being very dangerous ones. Most wouldn't take such risks.

Most weren't like them. 

The meeting continued, and from it, some key facts were learned beyond what they already knew.

P Corp didn't know much about La Manchaland's appearance or even its history, but it was a threat.

Murmurs from other fixers about the housing market especially. P Corp's most assured thing. Don didn't know too much about the technology. Something about housing protection? But it simply dropping in the middle of a populated area...?

Well, that shook people's confidence, and P Corp wanted it dealt with. The only reason P Corp hadn't sent in its own was due to La Manchaland's manifestations being limited to the Backstreets.

But beyond that, the other information was notable. It appears from nowhere and begins playing music, luring others in. Something about it might even be hypnotic.

Whoever enters does not return. And all that lies within the park are...

"...Only Bloodfiends." came another voice. A man with silver hair spoke up. A black outfit with many belts and bullets below, and a peculiar axe lined with spikes.

Others seemed disbelieving of Bloodfiends. That they were just a myth. If they didn't even know that was real, then... how could others be speaking of 'sufficient information?'

The two rarely ever worked side-by-side with other Fixers like this besides the efforts in the ongoing war, but... well, the people they were working with there were former colleagues. Strange by Fixer standards.

It was strange to hear of so many other Fixers here being baffled by such information. It presented a touch of worry if they didn't even understand the extent of what they were facing.

Those in black seemed to have experience, at least. And judging by how they carried themselves, and how they referred to those of the park...

"How should we know what the Bloodfiends are thinking? Those monsters are born twisted." came the voice of another of the silver haired's fellows as the talk went on.

They were Bloodfiend Hunters. Probably like those Devin spoke about when they had first started researching. Single-minded on causing them to suffer.

Given what she was without the shoes, they couldn't help but feel a bit of discomfort, leaning against Love for support. Hands intertwined, Don breathing in as they focused on what was relevant.

La Manchaland was separated into three main areas, each with a 'device' that needed to be activated to access a fourth in the center of the park.

Where he likely was. Their goal.

And they had 6 hours to do it before the park closed and they were shut in. Which would be... bad to say the least.

But it was more than enough time. Assuming an hour and a half per area, that still gave another hour and a half for what remained. Not unreasonable.

Assuming the Bloodfiends were reasonable to handle. Reading about what they could do and experiencing it was a different story, after all.

A new voice chimed in, a hand raised. "So, who's going with who? And to which Area?"

The source certainly stood out, looking at her. A petite height complimented by an eastern style, red and black with quite distinctive pink eyes and long black hair tied into four very long braids. They didn't exactly look like a standard fixer. The way she held herself reminded Don more of the folk in L's nest. Especially those with more 'noble' origins.

It certainly drew Don's curiosity on what would draw someone like that here.

"You will be assigned to teams and Areas based on our internal data analyses of your individual capabilities, potential, and alignment." Han-ul answered. "We intend to avoid bottle-necking too many people in the same Area."

That was... something. It likely meant that both were to be paired with others here. She sincerely hoped it wouldn't be with those Hunters, but they had a sizeable party themselves.

They wanted to talk to some of these Bloodfiends. Figure out more of what truly occurred here. Those like the Hunters, beyond being uncomfortable to sit around with were sure to see that as hostile to their own aims.

Killing fellow Fixers was at the absolute bottom of her wants for this venture. Knocking them out wasn't out of the question, though.

"If there are no more questions, I will be assigning you all to teams and Area pairs." Alessio finished.

Part of Don wanted to ask about if there were truly no rescue efforts, but given the reactions of others already...

The answer was plainly obvious, as painful as it was. They would have to be the rescue if none else would.

Alessio handed out little slips to each group. A designation of which area they'd be going to. And in the pair's case, it was... 

"Area 1." Don quietly read.

"Your evaluation's pretty high." Alessio noted. "Don't expect the biggest group with you."

Well. That made things a bit easier, at least.

Spots were chosen for each group to gather beforehand for each group to acclimate to each other.

Area 3 was wholly those Bloodfiend Hunters. The name 'Fanghunt Office' was thrown around by others, so she supposed that was them.

It made her relax a bit. Area 2 was a far more motley group. Fixers of all shapes and sizes.

And with them...

"Oh. You." it was a familiar voice. That pink eyed girl again, arms crossed. Following them was a small cohort of people. Given their similar attire... bodyguards? Led by a rather tall one with glasses.

"I was hoping we would be sent in by ourselves, but I suppose you're a cut different than those bargain bin Fixers being sent to 2." she spoke.

"Thou... knowest of us?" Don blinked.

"Well, I saw you use and conjure at least five different weapons to fight that Cinq earlier. Kind of hard to miss with how loud you were." she answered.

"Ah... I see." Don trailed.

"Hello anyways!" Love greeted cheerfully. "I don't know if you heard our names back there, but that was my partner Don, and i'm Love. It's nice to meet you!"

The girl before them narrowed her eyes, sighing. "Jia Xichun. And behind me is Wei."

The man behind gave a short, formal bow. 

"Tis' a pleasure, lady Xichun!" Don gave a mild curtsy in response. "What brings a fair lady such as thyself to such a place?"

Xichun's eyes seemed to be scanning Don's face as she spoke, as if looking for something. Confusion flickered briefly after as they seemingly failed to find it.

"Personal business, unrelated to the extermination contract." Xichun answered, maintaining composure.

"Ah, quite fortuitous! We are much the same, then. The extermination is not our priority either." Don replied with a smile.

"Really now." she seemed unbelieving. "Weren't you the one not 15 minutes ago literally dueling someone to the death over not saving people? You clearly care, for some reason."

"Saving lives doth not equate to the deaths of Bloodfiends, whomst, may I remind, are people just the same."

"You... what?" Xichun seemed taken aback by that statement.

"I mean what I say. Our goals are also personal, and relate to finding information on the events that occurred here long ago." Don explained. "What happened was a tragedy, and I seek a truth within it."

"I'm also here to help!" Love chimed in. "But what she says is true. The Bloodfiends here are tragic villains, forced into this situation. We will defend ourselves if we must, but we seek the heart of the matter, to stop this for good!"

"Uh... huh." The Jia tapped a foot. "Well... look, as long as you don't stop us from what we want, we'll work together as we can."

"And pray tell, what personal matter brings thou to this place? Thou art not a Fixer, tis' clear from thy attire and demeanor."

Xichun rose an eyebrow, before a hand uncrossed to vaguely point at the two. "Okay, that's the pot calling the kettle black. You two look and act like you belong on a TV show, not a battlefield."

"Touche." Don admitted, before Love chipped in beside. "But you're not refuting it, are you~?"

The noble held Love's gaze for more than a few seconds before sighing, deflating a touch. "Okay, yes, i'm not a Fixer. I'm... looking for information on something, alright?"

"Thou art not used to working with others like this, art thou?" Don surmised. They were being rather dodgy.

"What are you... ugh." Xichun sighed, frustration bubbling as she stepped forward, lowering her voice as the distance between . "Look, if you really want to help, then I'll explain when there aren't so many prying ears around. You never know who's listening."

"Do you think that's wise, Lady Xichun?" Wei spoke up quietly after the Jia stepped back. The first words they'd heard from the man.

Xichun glanced back to him. "Look, we're going to have to be working with them either way, and do they look or act anything like you'd expect some rival would?"

His glasses glimmered as olive eyes scanned the two, scrutinizing. "Perhaps not."

"Rival?" Love blinked, squinting. "You have those kind of things here?"

Don leaned over to her. "Tis' likely not the kind of recurring villain thou art thinking of, Love."

Xichun gave a sharp exhale. Minor amusement on her lips. "'Recurring villain' is a colorful way of putting it."

"Regardless!" Don's voice rose. "We should likely speak about each other's capabilities, to see where our gaps may lay!"

Xichun hesitated before shrugging, giving in. "May as well."

It was a long, informative talk, and they'd learned a fair bit about Xichun and their group in the process.

Xichun wasn't a traditional Fixer, but it was clear they could hold their own. Their martial arts were quite good! And the way they handled that fan was quite elegant. Apparently from where they came from, even nobles needed to know how to fight well.

Likely because of whatever 'rivals' she seemed so concerned about. Wei and their cohorts were similarly trained. Though Wei in specific was quite good, from what they could tell. Apparently they were once a 'Heishou'. The word was familiar, but Don could not place it.

But soon enough, something slowly began to manifest in the air above the lot.

"Almost time..." Love spoke up. "Can you see it, Don?"

There was something definitely forming, but with regular sight, it was hard to tell.

With magical sight, however... it was immense.

It took the form of a massive sphere, glowing red with light. It pulsed like her own Arcana, a massive heartbeat that, with each thump, seemed to manifest itself further and further into physical space.

Countless veins extending out like a tree of immeasurable proportions. It was like the park itself was a living, breathing thing. In physical sight, it was something like a massive sphere that gleamed in the descending sunset's light. Many fixers moved to back up, and Don and company did similar.

"La Manchaland is beginning to manifest." Alessio warned, even if it was obvious.

Slowly but surely, something else began to fill the air. Music. It was cheery. Or... trying to be. But the instrumentation was distorted and warped, like coming from speakers half-melted. Notes were discordant. It still gave off a tune of trying to be welcoming, but...

It was clearly wrong.

Steadily, the orb began to descend to the ground, those ephemeral veins spreading across the ground in her and Love's vision.

And then, the sphere began to split open. It unfurled outward in strips, like some kind of flower.

"From the moment the music began to play, which measures at 1612 hours today, La Manchaland will be open until 2212 hours." Alessio confirmed.

From that flower came the massive form of an amusement park. It's walls stretched high, and surrounding buildings were warped out of the way, bending unnaturally to accommodate the sudden new addition. She supposed that was the 'protection' P offered.

Countless spires stretched high behind its pink-hued walls, and in the distance, a massive Ferris Wheel could be seen dominating the park's skyline.

And below it and far closer was its entrance. A bright neon sign.

LA MANCHA
LAND

The L in said sign looked like it was about to fall off, but it clung on relentlessly.

Then, suddenly from its gates, a practical wave of flesh was spat out unceremoniously. Like water flowing out suddenly from a clogged pipe, countless bodies spilled from its gates.

And the air was thick with the scent of iron.

Fixers surrounding began to raise weapons, especially as many of those bodies began to move.

They were dressed in a wide variety of attire, but they all seemed to be... costumes? Ball gowns and aristocratic attire. Masks were seemingly almost sewn into their faces. Strange red growths formed from parts of their body like crystals, hands consumed into claws.

"Bloodbags." Don realized.

Beside, Xichun's nose turned. "Ugh. Seen a couple of these things before. Who put them in that getup, though? Not even put on correctly."

It was true, some of them were put on almost in a rush, outfits beneath the gowns and suits visible.

"Some kind of welcoming party?" Love theorized.

There seemed to be growing murmurs amongst the fixers.

"Hold! Don't approach La Manchaland yet." Alessio pleaded from behind. "We must allow it the first ten minutes post-manifestation to expel its wastes. Stand behind the line for safety."

 One larger fixer stepped forward, however, donning a gas mask and a large tank on their back. "They're all... they're all from the Firefist Office! I recognize their outfits underneath, they're from our Office!"

He sounded positively giddy. Don breathed in. This was going to turn ugly without someone to stop them.

"Haha! I told ya'll, boys! I told ya'll! I told ya'll that the boss ladies are going to make it!" That fixer began to move forward.

"Like I said, please hold for at least ten minutes until they finish-"

"That's not going to stop them!" Don yelled as the Firefist fixer rushed forward towards one of the Bloodbags. "Big Si- hurk!"

His exclamation was cut short as the diminutive Don Quixote cut in front of him in a rush, a free hand stopping him in his tracks, firmly lodging itself in his stomach.

"The hell are you doing, you're-"

"It's not them."

"What? No, the hell you think you are, you don't know them, you-" the man's glee slid off for anger.

"It's not them!" Don Quixote's voice rose exponentially, causing even the large fixer before them to flinch. "They're gone. Dead. What you're seeing is their shambling remains."

"What? No, nonono, they're right there, they're-"

Slowly, that bloodbag shambled to its feet, mouth opening in a slur. "Laaaahhhh..."

It steadied itself. "La... la... Manchaland... bloom your smiles... of joy..."

The fixer Don was holding back began to shake. "What the hell... sis... sis, it's me! You can come in, we can get out of the basement, we can..."

His words became more spaced out. Something like sniffling behind the mask. Realization.

"La Manchaland, let's all... dream free here... we hope you enjoy your stay..." The bloodbag continued. Something quirked in it's lips though. Something shaking, before suddenly, it lunged towards Don and the Firefist alike.

"Wait!"

Don didn't heed them, in one motion, the smaller fixer sent a kick directly into the Bloodbag's chest, sending it flying back through the air several feet, back into the others.

Who also began to stir at the sudden disturbance.

"La Mancha..."

"The p-lace... to be..."

"La...La...la..."

The horde slowly began to rise, but Don Quixote looked back to the Firefist. "Thou needn't be part of this fight. To fight thy greatest allies, one's own kin, even the remnants of such... tis' a pain one should never feel."

The staff glowed in Don's hands. "It is on my honor as a magical girl, as a fixer that I will avail thou of this. Thy sister will be returned in one piece, so they may rest as such."

Behind, the Firefist's hands clenched.

"No... no, I..." His breathing steadied as his hands shook. "I promised her we would move out of there... we would get a place in the sun. We'd make sure they never scoffed at us again."

They moved beside Don. "We'll get paid. I'll.. they'll... pay."

Anger began to surge, and as the first ones stepped forward, it wasn't Don who struck first, but the other fixer. A hand surged out as one moved forward, and they grabbed it by the neck.

"THEY'LL ALL PAY!" Anger surged into rage as their other hand thrust forward, and the Bloodbag's head popped like a watermelon. Dropping the body, that now free hand aimed forward, and from it streamed liquid fire. A swing of the hand, and half of that crowd was coated in napalm, those murmurs turning to animalistic screeching.

Don grimaced, but...

It was better than the alternative. The Bloodbags kept coming, flaming or not. The staff flung out, one Bloodbag sent tumbling back, only for two more to take its place.

"You really don't know how to not make a scene, do you?" Besides, as more Bloodbags began to surge in, so did Xichun, a whirling fan decapitating one to the right.

"Tis' part of mine creed to help those in need!" Don focused as her staff began to change. She needed something different to handle this many. The end of the staff extended, the staff becoming more of a sword-spear, a broad blade forming at the tip of the star.

"So is mine~!" Love too came in swinging, a finger-gun raised as a beam of light seared a hole through another. "A magical girl's duty is to fight evil and right wrongs!"

"And together, this torment the Bloodfiends have caused shall meet its end!" Don charged forth into the crowd, fire rising with every one of the Firefist's cries to the side, and by the steps behind, others were beginning to join in as well. Don could only hear the faintest sigh from Xichun before focus on the fight took hold of her in full.

The extermination had begun in earnest, and the night was still young. This was only the first steps into hell, even as the rising smoke spoke of them being in the thick of it.

But Don was prepared. They were ready to see this horror ended.

To find out the truth. Even if the shoes below them trembled ever so slightly. 

Even if it would tear their world apart.

Chapter Text

The groups had split off after the scuffle at the entrance. Countless Bloodbags lied dead, but all of them had made it through.

Love was unsure what to make of what happened.

That poor gas-mask guy... she saw him take that one body, carrying it off somewhere. That outburst... it...

It reminded her way too much of Wrath. She remembered those pained screams that burst from that mouth that twisted into a snout. The acid spilling every direction as that warped body ran forth without a care in the world for their own safety. 

That 'Firefist' was much the same. Screaming and throwing themselves amongst the clawing dead, a firestorm rising around him. Yet he wasn't stopped or deterred.

Just coated in blood and oil by the end of it. How much of it was his or the Bloodbags... she didn't know.

She could only hope they found some measure of peace if they met again.

As for this place... well. Love liked the color Pink. It was a nice, warm, happy color. A shade of love. She thought she could never have enough of it.

She was now learning there was, in fact, a limit to how much pink was reasonable. Every direction she turned was shades of pink and purple, all bleeding together into a bright morass that honestly made it a little hard to focus.

The whole of Area 1 was like this. Shops lined with various arrays of clothing and masks all hued by trails of purple lights, the 'streets' illuminated by bright pinks. In the distance, numerous beams shot into the sky, moving back and forth, drawing attention to one of the largest attractions.

"Shooting...Rage?" Love squinted as she looked to the sign, making sure she was reading it right.

The others beside also looked closely.

"Is that a typo?" Xichun asked. "Or some other weird thing, ugh."

"Mayhaps tis' a way to get one's stress out? I have shot a 'gun' more than a few times, and it was quite satisfying!" Don offered.

"Maybe if we weren't going to be attacked by bloodsuckers, it'd be something." Xichun added.

"There's not many out here, though." Love noted.

And it was true. Love had heard of amusement parks before, back home. Places of joy and merry with all kinds of rides and other attractions. But those were places meant to be full of people, but this was just... dead.

The long street before them coated not in the steps of people, but decay, a popcorn stand stood empty, lines of triangular flags littered the ground. It was eerie. It did give room for the group to explore, though. A particular little stall to the side caught Love's eye.

"Oh hey, I think I found a... map?" Love stopped herself as she actually looked at the thing. It was a kind of brochure, talking about various attractions, a map practically stapled to the thing. 

Feeling Don lean beside her shoulder, she adjusted. The map was... certainly something.

Three main areas. Currently, they were in 'Pretty and Wonderful'. Which was... debatable? A large area to the south called 'For Your Mental' (which was just a weird kind of theme for an amusement park, the more she thought about it). And 'Eternal Carnival'.

And that big Ferris Wheel in the center...

"It must be Area 4, but... it isn't named?" Love poked a finger towards it. Don's face  contemplated.

"Mayhaps not a proper area, simply a junction between all? Mayhaps where the central operations were run for the day-to-day." Don suggested.

It made some sense. Quick access to any part of the park as needed if something happened.

"Probably just some simplified overview anyways." Xichun spoke up, having picked up one of their own. "Though, looking at it, if I were to hide a 'device' in here, it'd probably be in the biggest attractions. And here, it does ramble on about that Shooting Range.

"There art several rides attached to it. Fashionista Show, The Tea Party... Fixer For a Day?" Don blinked at that last one, squinting after. "But mayhaps that building is our key to moving hence.

"My lady." Wei tapped Xichun's shoulder, drawing all's attention. "We have incoming."

The whole group readied themselves as the street was looked down. In the moments they hadn't been looking, that street steadily become less empty. Ranks of Bloodbags, led by several more distinct figures. Compared to the eye-covering masks, these wore more prominent full-face masks, snouts pointed like a bird's. Long red dresses, blades in hand that resembled half of a crooked scissor.

Magically, she could sense these were in fact Bloodfiends. It reminded them of Sancho, that beating presence, but... this was far more muted. Sancho's Arcana extended far beyond them, seeking more and more, the strength near overwhelming to vision. This was like a pale shadow. It still reached out, but it was far more... dull. It scrabbled for more, but it seemed almost anorexic. Veins more resembling thin wires, some connecting to other Bloodfiends. That pulsing far more faint. Like something slowly dying and fading.

Manic laughter rose into the air as one towards the front began to speak. "HA HA HA! It begins! It begins again! The eradication party-party! More humans, more excitement! More exciting-excited humans!"

As they stepped forward, Love drew her staff, Don following suit.

"Oh, if only they held this party more often, three times a day, even! So, i'll send one of you back out there with two days to live. Go tell the boss who sent you here, that we look forward to their visit later!"

"How about no." Xichun's voice rang out, flat, disinterested.

"No? No!? I give you such a wonderful offer, and you say no! Well, that's just rude-rude-rude!" They brandished the blade, and the other bloodfiends and bloodbags amongst them seemed to ready themselves as well.

"Not even willing to consider our events? We've got so many here to cover, you know! Popularity contests, fashion shows... well, you've got that one already covered, I see, but there's nothing wrong with trying a new style! Isn't that ever-so-exciting! You really won't reconsider?"

"Thy words betray thy intent. Were thou honest in thy want to show such rides, mayhaps t'would be an offer, but thou seek for nothing more than our blood, tis' clear." Don declared.

"Oh-oh-oh! Such speech! Such voice! And that dress! Ah... perhaps I'll taste you first. I'm so excited to try, that much is very-very-very true!" the Bloodfiend spoke. " Let's see how the appetizer goes~! Don't bruise too quickly!"

And as the red pushed forward, Love breathed in.

If the previous fight was indication, this would be horde tactics. Those Bloodbags moving in first, leading the vanguard, hands warped into claws and blunt instruments alike.

Love wasn't fond of those tactics. It constrained room and space and hindered her from using bigger spells.

But she'd learned to adapt. And moreso, learned to invest.

Augmentation and upgrades for speed were nice, but Love wasn't quite as interested in them. Don handled that need. What she lacked were other areas. Arcana Slave was really useful! But it needed charging and chanting and foes like this didn't give the time for such a thing. But crowds still needed a solution.

The answer came in what others called 'Charge' systems. It was a pretty common tactic, using physical force against foes, building energy, or recycling it for later use. And Arcana... well, apparently it was more compatible with such things than she thought was possible.

A Bloodbag lunged, trying to smash its gauntlet-like hands down upon her, and she interposed the staff between, a mild defensive chant. It hit the staff hard, and it thrummed in response.

Love wasn't exactly comfortable with the idea of others messing with their staff. It was their chosen tool! As they were chosen, it too was plucked from the streams of magic, given form by her will. It was made for her. Buuuuuut...

Well, seeing what an upgrade could do before in that workshop they visited definitely made her consider it.

And as the staff thrummed, crackling with force, she did a mild impulse outward, angling her grip under the staff into a finger-gun to push them back.

And that only fed more energy inward, staff minutely vibrating. She took a step forward, staff in both hands as she swung it outward like a bat.

And that energy released. A crack both from the Bloodbag's neck followed by an arc of pink-hued lightning that seared through its body before bursting out, hitting another behind, and another behind that. The first slumped, the other two left near paralyzed for a moment. 

More than enough for that same staff to start launching starry bolts out, further feeding the system as each made its mark. A repeating cycle.

Driven back by lightning and star, Don swooped in, staff extended once more into a sword-spear that she swept out in a horizontal slice, and the battle became comfortable, given she had room to work with once more.

It was the roles they'd settled within. Love working from the back as artillery and fire support, and Don leading the charge, in the thick of it to protect her like a loyal knight.

The presence of that Xichun girl and her cohort made things interesting, though. It was their bodyguards that primarily took the front, mostly martial artists, hands strong enough to contend with those blood-coated claws, legs and knees enough to shatter bone. They covered Don's flanks as she took the lion's share of attention alongside Wei, who fought with a similarly long-poled spear... halberd? Whatever one called it.

Xichun herself seemed to be more of an opportunist than a direct fighter. A guard might take a hit, and in a moment's notice, Xichun would practically slip in from the back, a whirl of wind and fan, filling in that place as the guard recovered, before retreating all the same. Back and forth, launching in and out.

The Bloodbags steadily fell, and it still left a dozen or so Bloodfiends before them.

"Ah-ah-ah! That was quite the display! But now for the main course!" The Bloodfiends moved forward, and their tactics became rather clear as the corpses of the Bloodbags began to drain.

Blood rose up like smoke, streaming through the air towards each. They drank of it, and so did their weaponry. Some of those crooked blades seemed to practically complete themselves, a whole other blade forming on. That almost scissor-like look of them before completing into a set of shear-like weaponry made of hardened blood.

It really was an appetizer. Setting the stage, blood still lingering over the ground like mist as the street became their playground.

It was clear from the offset that the Bloodfiends were a step above their chaff, and those weapons...

Were quite suited towards handling the likes of martial artists. A blade met a reinforced forearm from one of the bodyguards, holding it off, but suddenly, more blood coagulated, forming the other half at a moment's notice, and with a snip-

A scream, blood gushing, half an arm taken off. And that only poured more blood onto the battlefield. 

More fuel. Love was beginning to understand the true power of a Bloodfiend. Even small wounds gave them a greater and greater advantage. And all it took was one big loss...

The bodyguard stumbled back. Xichun tried to move in, but before she could...

The opening allowed those now closed scissors to thrust forward without interference, digging a trench into the man's chest, widened by them wrenching the blades open once more.

Dead. Love's eyes lost a little focus. Even now, her mind still screamed at her for such things.

Failure, failure, failure. Repeating like a mantra intent to drag her down, yellow eyes flickering to amber.

She breathed deep. She needed to focus. Let out the pain. Her feet left the ground, the magical girl hovering as a hand aimed forward.

Xichun rushed in regardless of the death, a swift knee knocking the Bloodfiend back.

"Arcana Beats!" Love called, and a hail of light erupted from an array. Thin rays seared and pierced through the bloodfiend's dress, then the shoulder, then one firmly in the head, lingering there as for a moment, those eyes gleamed hatefully, a tinge of purple amidst the pink.

It touched on that other side just for a moment. Something the two learned she could safely do, and with it, those voices quieted just a bit. It was a technique. Something Don had read once said that letting out emotions were often better than keeping them in, and... it was true.

Even if that shade of hue still haunted her, made tension rise through herself as it was released. But...

It was better than letting it stew. So much better.

And as the staff thrummed once more, the feedback from that Beats collecting, she knew she needed to get an opening. Deal with this before it became worse.

So she winded back her arm and proceeded to toss the staff forward, above that crowd, spinning violently. Then, with a distant grasp, she activated that building Charge.

And from the staff as it slowed to a stop midair came a thunderstorm. Lightning arced downward all around it, Bloodfiends shocked en masse, jittering or paralyzed. But especially notable was the damage it caused through the weapons.

Those blades, sharp as they were, were pure metal, all the way down to the grip. Hands seared, weaponry dropped or unwittingly clenched even further as muscles spasmed.

And as the lightning died down and the staff began to return, the others seized the opening. Don's spear thrust forward, cutting into the crowd, Wei and the others following up, pummeling or cutting asunder numerous to the ground.

Heads and masks crushed, some tried to fight back, but from such a position, even for a Bloodfiend, it was a losing battle, being wholly disarmed.

One towards the back tried to run, hindered by her dress, Don catching them by the back of their collar, yanking them harshly.

"Ah!" Fear seeped into that Bloodfiend's voice as Don whirled them around, spear rising to their neck. "P-please... don't kill me..."

"I swear, it's... I didn't... I... we're so hungry, I can't... we can't think straight, we're... we're..." they began to babble, beginning to sound like they were bawling beneath that mask, shaking like a leaf.

"I know." Don replied, blade unwavering. "However, we too value our own lives just as much. We have bested thee in battle. Yield thy weapon, and mayhaps thou shalt live."

The scissor-blade clattered to the floor immediately. "Alright, there, please.... I'll just... we'll live in the shadows like before, like we don't exist..."

A sigh, spear lowering a bit. "I am a fixer of mine word. However, we require something of thee. Dost thou know of the 'device' in this area? We need its location."

"T-the button! Oh, that's, um, simple. I-It's in the Shooting Range, with... ah... the Barber."

"The Barber?" Love moved up carefully beside, looking curious.

"Y-yes. Our... forebear. T-the... Third Kindred w-who... runs this place. Who gave us these dresses, these... masks." A hand moved up to it, and it was then Love realized...

"You can't take them off, can you?" Love asked, and it only caused the Bloodfiend to tremble further.

"I..." Their voice steadily lowered in volume. "No."

It was a tiny voice, fear rattling within. "S-she... it was meant to... make things f-f-festive, but... it's a prison. I... haven't seen my own face in so, so long... i'm probably hideous... it's probably a blessing, but... we're so-so-so hungry. I can't... even eat those hemobars. Just the gnawing, and..."

"Hold still!" Don ordered.

"Wha- ack!" It was a single, precise cut. A simple blade formed in her other hand, dismissed as its job finished. And the mask began to fall.

What was underneath was... oh...

It was a face clearly meant to be young, but... wrinkles had invaded it. It was like they'd shriveled. Fear present in those red eyes, but now that they were visible beyond red points, the tears alongside could be seen.

A hand cautiously moved up, the Bloodfiend flinching. "Ah, you... why?"

The fixer closed her eyes for a moment. "Thou hast had a great injustice put upon thee. To wholly deny even the smallest of succor is a great crime in mine eyes."

"B-but..." The Bloodfiend's voice seemed to rise with confusion. "...we feed on humans... your kind, we... shouldn't you... not wish for us to do that?"

Don's face turned downward. "Tis' true. Thou feast upon human blood. And yet, from mine gaze, I see little difference betwixt thou and a Rat. Thou wert given a hand most foul, much as they. Thou doeth what thou need to survive. One defends thyself from such things all the same. Were I to give advice..."

Her eyes opened again. "Focus thy efforts on taking the blood of those whomst deserve it. Those whomst hurt others not for preservation, not for good, but for little more than their own gain and greed."

Red met that golden gaze, and soon broke from it. "O-Okay... bad f-folks... I can do that, I'll just..." 

Steadily, the Bloodfiend backed up. "Hide... I need to..."

Fear wholly broke them, beginning to run, nearly tripping over their own dress. It was then that Xichun moved to the other side of Don, arms crossed again. "Didn't know those things could ever look that pathetic."

The sword-spear's tip vanished, transforming back into a regular staff, floating to Don's back. "Two centuries of malnourishment wouldst do that to any."

Xichun's lip quirked, and her voice softened a touch. "I guess so. Or make them completely insane."

"Or both." Love added. It was kind of pitiful, really. Supposed 'monsters of the night' reduced to little more than animals. But... there were still people in there. She could see that. When one becomes that hungry... Love could see even her own morals waver. Eaten up from the inside out by their own body.

It put La Manchaland's fall into more perspective.

"Art thou faring alright, lady Xichun?" Don shifted the conversation, looking to her. "I cannot imagine the loss of one of thy men..."

Pink eyes looked away. A sigh. "It's... fine. They knew what they were signing up for. I just didn't expect... something like it to happen this quickly."

"T'was an unexpected maneuver." Eyes downcast, Don continued. "We fight an enemy with little prior experience. But we understand now. Their life... dost thou knowest their name?"

"Xu Ping." Wei was the one who answered first from behind.

Don's eyes flickered over to Wei, and the body collapsed. "Etch Xu Ping's name upon thy mind. Learn the lesson they have taught, that this 'Hardblood' can form on a moment's notice to overwhelm a foe. Do not err in the same way. Wouldst we had the time, I wouldst bury them, but..."

"We don't have it..." Love's own face was saddened. "One can only pray that this path of the Arcana leads their soul to somewhere nice..."

A moment of prayer followed from the two, though Love could tell Xichun was not much for it.

"We've got our location now, at least." Xichun stepped forward, and their men fell in behind. "Let's get moving."

Opening her eyes again, she steadied herself. There was much more to go. And...

It was likely this death was to be the first of several. She tried not to linger on that, though, moving along with the others.

Maybe the attraction would be nice?

Don lead the group as they moved down the street, getting a better look at that 'Shooting Range'.

Or Rage. It really was a strange error, the more Don thought about it. Everything else seemed labelled right. So maybe it was truly intentional.

The front of the building was certainly eye catching beside the sign. The entrance itself in the form of a big Bloodfiend's head, eyes and mouth alight with pink. To head in, they'd have to be 'swallowed'. 

She could at least give some appreciation to the design! Something like it truly did catch the eyes and made for a rather unique entrance.

Beyond was a continued path of a tongue, a small winding queue line, wholly empty. Though past the line was something she didn't expect.

A very familiar stall, perched up against a wall, manned by a masked face they knew.

"Refreshments?" came Sanson's voice, ever calm, as they had a small array of snacks and beverages lined on the stall's counter. "I know water is something rather hard to get around here."

"Sir Sanson?" Don could only blinked. Xichun behind already looked ready to fight, Don raising a hand to block. "Tis' not a foe, Lady Xichun."

"What?" Xichun was confused. "You know this guy?"

"They're the one who told us about La Manchaland's return..." Love spoke, trailing off, caught off by the appearance as any other.

"I did, indeed." Sanson answered.

"How didst thou know we were searching for it?" Don's eyes narrowed. "Thou wrote of a 'grapevine', but the only ones who know of our interest were those of the Dieci, and thou do not seem the type to have such connections."

"The grapevine needn't simply be people. Information comes in many ways. And I have been working on learning the flow of things rather intimately."

Don stared. "Thou... spoke before of those whomst sense them..."

"It is something more acquirable than I originally thought, back then." Sanson admitted.

"Okay..." Xichun interrupted, an accusing finger pointing. "Who even are you, actually? Because you claim to know these two, and led them here, and you look like the Bloodfiends we've been fighting."

"I see you've been making friends." Sanson seemed undeterred, not even looking to the Jia.

"Tis' very rude to ignore when someone's speaking to thou, sir Sanson." Don's eyes narrowed a touch as Xichun seemed to pout more than a bit.

"Apologies." An incline of the head in respect. "To answer the question, I am Sanson, as the others have spoken. A magician, on occasion where the needs arise."

"Are you a Bloodfiend, though?" Love asked. "I wanted to ask, but your Arcana... it's..."

"Ah. You can see such things, can't you? Or my lack." Sanson's head tilted just a bit. "A magician prefers to keep secrets, but I suppose I will let you on the fact that yes, I am a Bloodfiend, though not one of here. I suppose that fact changes little, in the end."

"Why art thou here, sir Sanson?" They cut to the heart of the matter.

"Why, i'm here for you both. Don, Lady Love. A story such as this is ripe for roles to be filled, and in this case, well, perhaps you can consider me a guide. As for why i'm here, specifically..." Sanson's hands moved, pushing the drinks and foods a bit forward. "I was not jesting when I offered beverages. Hydration is important, be you Human or Bloodfiend. It is simply the type that differs, in the end."

Don carefully picked up a bottle of water, sniffing it. It seemed alright, to her eyes and nose alike. It was cold, too.

"I suppose a sip is alright." Don did partake, though... how could they stand it? Not simply Sanson, a Bloodfiend admitted, who just handled water like it was wholly normal, but... she too didn't react much to it. Or water in general, really. Was it the shoes? Did the fear fade with the instincts?

It was refreshing, at least. A cool feeling down the throat.

Don could feel Xichun's gaze boring into them from the side, eyes meeting for a moment, the former blinking blankly. "Is... something on mine face?"

The gaze held. "You wouldn't last a day in Hongyuan."

Don... actually had no idea what that was, confusion filling her features. Xichun shook her head and sighed, tone becoming dismissive. "Nevermind. But you-"

Her attention turned back to Sanson, who only acknowledged them with a slight tilt of the head their direction. "You're not with the Bloodfiends here?"

"That is correct." Sanson answered.

"Then why the mask?" She pressed. "I've seen a couple of bloodfiends before, and none of them had masks like the ones here. But you do."

Sanson leaned back in their chair just a bit. "Simple. Because it was commissioned from here."

"Commissioned? From who?" Love leaned in a touch, examining the mask more herself.

"A little Bloodfiend by the name of Nicolina. A deft hand with thread and clay and foam and near any other kind of material made for a stage alike. An excellent costume-maker. She designed so many of the dresses and suits you've seen those here draped with. The masks they wear." Sanson reached down, pulling something up. It was a rather familiar bird-like mask, still half-studded with sewn thread at the edges, a touch of blood.

The very mask Don cut off mere minutes ago. Sanson seemed to study it, tilting it in his hand. "It's a shame how her craft has gone. Now they just make masks like these. Rough, overly simple, not a care for flair or the subtle tint of other colors that adds far more life to them. Back then, she believed that such masks as these only served to scare people. Her needle drifted as hunger set in. Nicolina withered slowly but surely, and the Barber was left in her place."

"Dost thou... think Nicolina still lies within?"

"Ah, now that's a question, isn't it?" Sanson's red eyes seemed to light up beyond that mask at the question. "200 years of starvation, isolation, and madness. Quite the odds to go against. But why ask me?"

The magician gestured down the hall, where lights flashed. "Why don't you ask her yourself?"

That... was true, Don supposed. She put the water bottle back down, half-drunk. "I thank thee for the refreshment, sir Sanson. I believe I may follow up on that offer."

"Very well. I wish good luck to all of you on your travels." Sanson bowed. "Enjoy the attraction."

With that, Don sallied forth down the hall, though still slow enough that they caught Love snatching a bit of red licorice from Sanson's stall before moving up, sneakily trying to put it in Don's bag. "Thou needn't be so sneaky, Love."

"I mean, it looks pretty tasty. Might be nice to snack on later?"

That was true. Assuming it was what it looked like. But given the water seemed fine, she allowed it.

Xichun and theirs followed behind, the Jia glancing back to the stall after the others passed it.

"Wait, what?" She exclaimed, stopping the party's movement for a moment as they looked back.

And Sanson's stand once more vanished into the ether. Don moved over, patting Xichun on the shoulder to catch her attention. "Tis' not the first time they've done such."

Xichun's gaze split between both the now empty area and Don. Something exasperated came on her face, and they pushed past. "Fine, whatever. Let's keep moving."

T'was quite clear to Don this Xichun was unused to strange happenings like this. Perhaps Lobotomy Corp simply inured them against such things. It was simply another fact of life.

Sanson could just go wherever they pleased, whenever they pleased. She simply accepted that and moved on.

Entering the main hall, it was quite the display. A quite large room headed by a long wooden table that separated the room into two halves. Beyond it lied a large checked space, and moreso, a variety of decorations. Numerous layers of cardboard each depicting a curious scene. A village surrounded by layers of trees, a more prominent, if smaller building standing out amongst them.

Though the whole display seemed to have seen better days. Paint faded in many places, chunks of the cardboard had holes shot through them, or simply just signs of decay, chips and dents. Given this thing was over two centuries old, it was surprising it was still in this good a shape.

Some weapons sat on the wooden counters. Toy guns, it seemed. Don inspected one. It was themed like some kind of hand-crossbow. Though it was clearly a toy,the bowstrings elastic. A large tube fed into the bottom of the grip.

It was soon after the lights fully flickered on after a moment. A spotlight coating the scene past the counter.

From above, a speaker turned on. A recording began to play, and it sounded rather old, a bit of a tinny static in the background as it went on. It was a rather cheerful female voice.

"Welcome, one and all, to the main attraction of Area 1, 'Fantasy Blood-Shooting Range'!" it began. "Things might get a little too spooky for little ones, so hold on tight to your mommy and daddy's hands!"

Don lowered the toy as it continued. "Oh, and don't forget about the 'Fashionista Show' attraction! We worked really hard on it, and if you visit, you can pick up a free souvenir gift!"

Then the recording sputtered. Or something like it, the microphone nearly screeching with a yelp from who was behind it. "Gah... Sancho!"

Don and Love's eyes widened, immediately paying more attention. "Sheesh, you spooked me with your staring again, my grace."

A distant voice could be heard speaking, but words were indistinct. "Well~ I'm thinking of giving out a few souvenirs here! Lady Dulcinea just won't stop teasing me about how my attraction doesn't get a lot of visitors."

They were here. It was something Don knew, but hearing it directly, that distant voice which they could easily picture themselves matching the tone of... it fully solidified it in Don's mind.

Maybe this 'Nicolina' had answers. If they could get through to them. If... there was anything left at all.

But soon after, as much as they wanted to hear more, the mic cut off, and a sound like a microphone adjusting whined through the room. More words, but the quality had suddenly jumped significantly.

"Wanna' know something?" it was the same voice, but a lot quieter, like they were whispering into the mic. "Long, long ago... a forever ago, really... Bloodfiends and humans weren't as friendly as we are today. How sad and tragic is that?"

Friendly wasn't exactly the word she'd use to describe it, from what they'd learned. Not that Bloodfiends exactly displayed themselves in the open at all in today's times.

"Hating each other like cats and dogs, their every meeting resulting in big brawls." the speaker's voice rose bit by bit. "Bloodfiends hunted every human they saw... while humans returned Bloodfiends' appetite for human blood with hatred for their kind."

Then, the display before them began to move. Ancient mechanisms groaned and squeaked, but steadily, four figures rose. One one side, Bloodfiends, depicted near cartoonishly monstrous. On the other, a pair of humans, one a simple civilian with a blade, the other a more knightly figure with an axe held overhead.

"Oh no!" her voice rose significantly. "Bad, bad Bloodfiends are trying to eat those humans! Whatever shall we do?"

Silence met the speaker. Casually, Don raised the toy gun, took aim, and pulled the trigger. A small foam ball flung out, hitting one of the Bloodfiends.

"Oh! I heard that thunk~! I didn't even think those things were still loaded. Was it towards a Bloodfiend~?" the voice asked, lilting more than a bit.

"Aye!" Don called out. "One must protect the people and drive the foes away from harming others! Tis' no different than villains!"

"One-hundred-percent correct!" the voice cheered, and Don swore they could hear clapping over the mic.

Then, from behind the cutouts of trees came things far, far more three dimensional. Bloodbags.

"Now! Here's a chance for you to defeat those bad, bad Bloodfiends! How splendidly exciting is this!?" The speaker devolved into mad cackles, and the toy gun was tossed away.

Love picked up her weapon, but seemed rather dejected. "I wanted to try the actual range..."

"Wait! Wait-wait-wait-wait, hold on~!" The mic turned back on, and the Bloodbags stopped shambling. "You... you actually want to try the shooting range? Really~?"

"Dost thy mechanisms still work?"

"I mean, I've been working on them again! But, ah, hm... let's see..." The sound of switches being flipped, and suddenly, a target began to move into view, squeaking into place over one of the Bloodfiends. Out of curiosity, Don rose the crossbow again and fired.

On hitting it, a gong-like sound played out.

"Oh, it does~! Well, now I feel a little mean! All these people come in here, making a mess, none of them even care for my attraction! Don't they know the work I put into this!? They all just want to push that button, and they don't even play along! Very-very-very rude! Isn't it a wonder I skip to this~?" they continued. "Bloodbags, fall back but stay on stand-by, we'll keep this exciting~! Let's see if this works still..."

Steadily, the ceiling groaned as another mechanism worked, and the Bloodbags that emerged steadily shambled back in place. And from that mechanism above came... a score-board. Lights flickered on, still working, if somewhat dimly. "Perfect! See, we'll play this game, but we'll do it with some risk. People love that kind of thing, right? So, here's the rules. I'm giving you all 90 seconds! Your goal? Shoot as many targets as you can! Different targets are worth different values! But, if you hit a human target, bzzzt, that's a point reduction~ All you need to do is hit 1000 points with all of you together! And if you don't? Well, we go back to what I was originally planning, of course! Sound good?"

Don wasn't expecting this. And neither was Xichun, clearly. The Jia was clearly preparing for battle, but now they simply looked more than a bit dumbfounded.

Regardless, Don was ready, and Love seemed genuinely excited.

"Tis' more than acceptable!"

"Alright then! Contestants, take your places, pick up a gun, get a feel for it! I'll give you... say, a minute! Then we'll begin!" the speaker crackled before turning off.

Xichun looked at the thing before them, unsure how to even hold it. Don observed it, leaning over.

The Jia clearly was not prepared, face unsure. "I think I would've preferred the other."

"Harden thyself, Lady Xichun. Let me guide thy hands! Hold still, let me move you a bit."

Xichun's eyes narrowed, but she sighed. "Fine. But i'm going to be terrible at this anyways. I've... never shot one of these things in my life."

"Be not afraid, Lady Xichun Such a thing is merely a toy, but let me adjust thy grip here... and here..."

Hands settled more comfortably. "Close one eye if thou must to get a better sight! I know it has helped more than a few at mine old work!"

Xichun's gaze intensified, scrutinizing. "Your old work used guns?"

"Indeed! T'was rather common! Even the support staff used pistols." Don nodded along. "Just keep that grip in mind, aim, and fire. Remember to lead thy shots if they're moving!"

Don then moved to position as Wei and the others too took hold of the guns. Xichun's gaze lingered a while, like they were trying to open a puzzle box, before the speaker started up again.

"Time's up! Get ready, starting the counter in 3~ 2~ 1~!"

A set of bells sounded, and the diorama steadily came to life. Targets began to move, and a volley of thunks followed, metal ringing as balls hit the targets. More parts of the diorama rising, Bloodfiends and humans alike moving as if clashing with one another, Bloodfiends descending back into the floor as the targets on them were thoroughly shot.

More even came from above, as if lunging through the air, alongside little, quick bats whose small targets offered even more points.

It was honestly pretty well made. Some targets hiding behind others to be harder to land, various angles. Love hadn't used a pistol like this in a while, but given the lack of recoil and her own gained skill with ranged weaponry, countless targets were shot, Love following suit.

The others, though... It was varying degrees of success. Wei seemed to handle it fairly well, some of the bodyguards having less than stellar aim.

Xichun though... They were definitely struggling. Even with the tips, it was pretty clear she just... did not have good aim. Maybe it was different when she was launching a projectile that wasn't herself?

But eventually, from Xichun's gun, they heard a click. A glance over, and several clicks later...

She was out of ammo. A hiss almost like a cat followed from her mouth.

The entire area was on a slight slope, many of those spheres slowly rolling back down, but numerous too were being caught on the environment.

Meaning a refill probably wouldn't come so easily as the time ticked down, down, down.

40 seconds had already passed. 430 points.

"Oh! It looks like one of our contestants has run out of ammo! Now, isn't that a problem? You could wait, but that time is going down. Tick, tick, tick! Or maybe you could try something more proactive? Hm-hm~ What-ever-will-you-do~?" The speaker sung mockingly.

"Lady Xichun! Canst thou take to the field and retrieve ammunition?" Don suggested.

"Can't do that and fire at the same time, you know." Xichun replied, gaze judging.

"Nay, thou cannot, however-!" Don adjusted her position, able to reach over for Xichun's crossbow as well as her own in the other hand. "I am ambidextrous!"

The Jia blinked, and as the time ticked down, they wasted no time as she casually vaulted over the wooden counter to the field beyond. "Don't shoot me!"

"I wouldst never harm a fair lady such as thee!" Don called out as Xichun moved, lowering herself to make themselves a smaller target.

The managed to get some balls unstuck, kicking them vaguely towards the funnel at the base of the counter. Don could feel the suction working, practically yanking the things into the gun's mechanism. She focused, and began to fire. Firing two firearms was a bit more difficult than one, but it did mean they could hit a lot more targets.

"Oh-oh-oh! What a trick! But being on the field like this is dangerous, you know~!" the speakers called out, and from behind the trees, Bloodbags appeared. "Oh no! The big bad Bloodfiends have noticed you! Do you defend yourself, or do you keep helping with the ammo!? Better think fast, HEEHEEHAA!"

More cackling rose as they began to move towards Xichun. Thirty seconds remained, and so did another 200 points and another click soon sounded as Wei also ran out of ammunition.

He didn't hesitate to join Xichun as she dodged lunges towards herself, a low sweep dropping the Bloodbag to the ground.

"Love! Dost thou believe thou can dual-wield as well?" Don yelled over.

"I can try!"

It was a quick switch over, Don taking up Wei's weapon alongside Xichun's, her former one lent to Don, and the two fired a great array of projectiles as Xichun crushed a Bloodbag's head beneath her heel, Wei covering them as another moved in for the kill. Blood trickled down tile floor alongside more ammo as countless pings continued to hit targets.

Ten seconds, fifty points. Everything blurred out for Don as they focused on nothing but those circles, reactively hitting each repeatedly. Long-shots for squeezing the most efficiency, narrowly avoiding the two doing battle, alongside those they battled continuing to move in from the sides.

Ping, ping, ping was all they could hear, until...

Those bells sounded again.

"Oh~! You're out of time, let's see that final score... wow-wow-wow~! That's 1036 points! Very, very good! Hold on, I think I still have..."

A moment passed, before from above, a stream of confetti rained down from above. Alongside heaps of dust, causing several coughs.

"Ah, right~, haven't cleaned it in a couple of centuries, but any-who... to the most important question... how'd you like it? Was it everything you were expecting~?"

"Would've preferred less people trying to kill me." Xichun's answer was flat.

"But that's part of the spice, right~? Adding some nice sizzle into it, after all, I think I've got a pretty good idea of fixers these days by now, and they love this sort of thing."

"I mean, I thought it was fun..." Love admitted sheepishly.

"I concur! But also agree on the Bloodbags being more than a bit much!" Don gave her own impression.

"Noted~, less...murder. A bit. Probably? Hm~" the voice continued on. "But anyways, a deal's a deal~ So let's see, where are we..."

The microphone turned lower quality again, like how the speaker started.

"Now! I'm sure kiddos are most excited for this part of the attraction! Welcome to the 'Today, I'm This Area's Fixer' attraction!"

As it spoke, Wei and Xichun returned to the other side of the counter, the latter's face seeming ever more confused the longer this went on.

"When the bad Bloodfiends appear, use those toy clubs we handed out earlier by the entrance to knock 'em all down! Adults can play too! Now beat that stress outta' your sys-"

The speaker screeched, feedback piercing, most forced to cover their ears.

"NO! Nonono, we don't need Bloodfiends pretending like those toy clubs hurt. Not anymore." the microphone turned clear again, voice frantic, desperate, but as they went on, somber. "The only pain... the only pain here... is what he left us with."

He... their progenitor? The real Don Quixote? What... what did he do?

"That sounds really mean anyways!" Love called out. "I thought this place was originally made so people could get along? Why'd they have that? And why would Fixers do that?"

"I know, right!?" the speaker's high pitched voice near burst the speaker. "But on the first part, second part, ehhhh~. Aren't you fixers here to beat up big, bad bloodfiends anyways? That sounds a bit, uh... hypo-critical? I think that's the word~! Not that I agree with it, the messes you all leave! It's really, really annoying." Their voice shifted away from the mic, but it still picked it up. "The blood's worth it though~"

But following that, spotlights flickered on. "But let's move on! We're not done quite~ yet."

The sound of a clearing throat, and the scene changed again. A large kind of facsimile of a platform rose complete with steps, the top grassy, the bottom dark, cavern-like.

"Now, the bad Bloodfiends who want to hurt humans have all been driven underground." she started, and two figures rose from behind the platform. A Bloodfiend and a human, shaking hands. "Only the kindhearted, righteous Bloodfiends remain on the surface."

A rainbow rose behind the two figures, decorations like flowers attached. "They made a pinkie-promise with humans that they won't covet human blood anymore! That they'd live peacefully, happily ever after, together! Because what's better than peace, right~?"

But such a thing couldn't last, something coming up from the front. A pair of Bloodfiends, hunched, depressed, pitchforks in hand, like they were some kind of demons.

"But wait, oh no, the bad, no-good Bloodfiends are crawling back up to the surface again, sneaking and slithering up to drink human blood! And that's no good! Even when they fought back and beat them down, our human friends grew scared that the big, bad, scary Bloodfiends might come back to hurt them again. Spending every hour of the night trembling in fear of no-good Bloodfiends... not getting even a wink of rest. And you know how important sleep is to skin maintenance. A bad sleep-cycle is a leading cause of hair loss and various nasty skin conditions!"

While the off-hand comment was... odd, this lined up pretty well with the research. This must've been soon after the war concluded. She still wondered what caused that conflict in the first place. Was it Bloodfiends? Humanity fearing for their own survival?

Though Bloodfiends winning probably wouldn't have ended well for either side, the more Don thought on it.

The platforms and figures lowered, the spotlight now on a lone figure. A near ghostly white bloodfiend smiling, finger in the air, pale hair fluttering behind.

"That's when a Fixer, righteous and just, comes up with an idea most ingenious." the speaker started up again.

That phrase. Something vaguely stirred in Don's mind at it. Like something spoken many times over, enough that it had been ingrained there like a seed. It drew their attention at the very least.

"What if... and I mean really, what if... we could create a place in which humans and Bloodfiends may coexist in happy harmony? There, the kindly Bloodfiends will protect humans from evil Bloodfiends... while humans will voluntarily share their blood with the kindly Bloodfiends. How's that? Now isn't that really an idea most ingenious?"

It sounded like a simple idea on the surface. And reasonably, it should have worked. And perhaps, for a while, it did. But ultimately...

"Sounds doomed to failure." Xichun echoed her own thoughts.

"Well-" The speaker's voice cracked just a touch as it continued. "It's only natural that such grand, impressive ideals would be met with some resistance. But a great leader is often flanked by capable vassals who help them realize their ambitions. And soon..."

Behind, another diorama rose. A familiar, if far more intact gate of an amusement park, Bloodfiend and human hand in hand.

"La Manchaland was born! La Manchaland, where your smiles of joy bloom. La Manchaland, where everyone can dream free!" she spoke, excitedly. Look around, all! Look at all the smiling Bloodfiends, giving you a toothy grin!"

And yet, silence reigned, lingering for a silence that lengthened to become uncomfortable, the only sound being the fading spotlight above flickering.

"Where hath they gone?" Don asked, voice more somber. "Thy smiles?"

"They're right there, don't you see them?" The speaker turned on again, holding a moment. "Wait, are... are they not there? There's supposed to be Bloodfiends there to greet you!"

The sound of clattering came from the other side of the speaker. The cheer put aside for irritation. "Ugh! And things were going so, so nice, of course some people had to skip out on their jobs."

"But thou art avoiding the question." Don pressed. "You very much know we art simply not here for thy attraction, fun as it was. What truly happened after?"

The speaker paused for a moment, before they replied, tone a lot more quiet. "Tell us, oh-so-inquisitive adventurer, what is your name?"

A choice was there, really, unspoken, but Don considered both options all the same. But... even if Sancho dwelled within herself, as she was... "Thou shalt know my name is Don Quixote."

"Ahh... haha..." That voice drifted off a little. "To use that name... you've gone as insane as the rest of us..."

"Nay!" Don exclaimed. "I knowest not it t'was not mine original name, but it is one I consider mine own. In fact, mine own reason for coming here was to avail mineself of information towards whomst I was!"

"Ah... hahaha. Really now~? That voice... ah, I knew that voice was sort of familiar, but... hm~ hm~ hm~ Maybe it's time I stepped down there myself. I need to see this with my own eyes. Stay right there! Don't move an inch!" The speaker crackled once more before shutting off.

"Who you were?" Behind, Xichun's eyes seemed to near bore holes into Don's head.

"Indeed so, young Xichun. I wouldst elucidate thee further, but thou hast not told us of thy own informational needs yet."

A hand moved to Xichun's forehead, rubbing it. "I'm looking for a particular River, alright?"

"You're looking for a river in a place filled with people deathly afraid of water?" Love's head tilted.

Xichun gave a mild growl. "Look, I have my sources. What about you? Who are you, really, Don Quixote?"

That's what i'm looking to know just as well~!" A voice broke from the side. The same as the speaker.

A figure with rather average height sauntered out from a maintenance door, highly distinctive. A blood-red dress in many shades, well tailored, small parts in the sleeves, legs, and upper chest revealing very pale skin. Hair tied back into twintails that curled like a spring, going from black to red the further one went down, red highlights in the hair sticking out.

And covering their face was a bird-like mask, beak far longer than the others, a pair of scissors in their hand quite a bit larger than other blades they'd seen before, either. The Barber, most likely, given everything else.

But as she moved into view, they seemed to freeze, staring at the three girls. The others behind were preparing for battle, but the one before them then squealed with excitement, feet tapping rapidly.

"Look at you all! Oh, those outfits are adorable! I could eat them up~!" She approached a few more steps, and Xichun took a step back.

"Now now, that's rude~! I just wanted to take a closer look! My eyes aren't what they used to be~ But you two, oh, you're precious, matching outfits, hair, everything, ohhhh~. But... who's 'Don Quixote'?"

"T'would be me!" Don exclaimed. And those eyes behind the mask widened. 

"You, you're... hahahah, HAHAHAAAHAHA!" They trailed off into laughter, even seeming to try pinching themselves with their long red nails.

She froze afterward, looking at them. "I'm... not hallucinating? It's really...."

That voice suddenly turned almost bitter, taking a few more steps forward. Love besides readied herself to protect, but Don stood still, even as they came quite close, those red eyes boring into Don's gold."I knew it! I knew you would look good in a dress, why did you never wear any of mine!? Why-why-why!?"

"Thou'rt... Nicolina, I wouldst assume?" she stood there, though her voice wavered a bit with unsurety.

The aggression slowly bled out of the Barber, confusion filling that void. "I am, but you know that already, right? Right? I haven't changed that much, have I?"

Something vaguely desperate in her words, but Don simply looked at them head on. "Lady Nicolina, mine memories of thee don't exist. From mine own perspective, this is the first time we've met!"

"You..." She trailed off, those eyes narrowing, but her tone turned almost worried. "You... really don't remember?"

A shake of the head. "Nay, I swear such on my honor. I knowest a former name and rank, but little more."

The Barber was quiet for a bit, mask tilting down just a touch, those glowing orbs shifting away from her gaze.

That free hand of their shook a touch, spooling up to a rumble. "And here I was thinking I'd get an answer... I spent so long on that outfit, you know? Got your size and everything, found the right hues..."

The way she spoke of it... it gave Don an idea. "Dost thou... still possesseth it?"

"Eh?" Nicolina focused a little more.

"The outfit? Mayhaps I am not... ah, quite the same, but wouldst thou want to see me wear it?"

The Barber's masked expression looked blank. "R-really? You..."

That shaking continued before her free hand shot out, grabbing Don's hand harshly. "Yes-yes-yes! I have been waiting so long for those words~! You'll love it, I promise, I promise!"

Don was then quite literally dragged along, the others of the group left to watch as Don and the Barber disappeared back into that doorway.

"You two make the weirdest situations." Xichun commented. Love looked over, worry dancing on her face as she moved towards that door.

"Yep~. But we get through this all together. Just have to put some trust out! Don knows what they're doing!" And then, she too vanished through the doorway.

A sigh slipped through the cracks of said door as Xichun more slowly tailed behind.

"The things I do for info..."

Jia Xichun was having perhaps one of the strangest nights of her life. She'd been through more than a few bad nights. Assassins and 'suitors' looking to take advantage of her. But nothing quite as odd as this was.

Here she was, in the parlor of a half-mad Bloodfiend with a hairstyle that made even her cringe a touch simply from the thought of the upkeep involved in those spirals. Her own style was more than enough to deal with, thank you.

They and Wei were stuck watching a pair of self-proclaimed 'magical girls' be ogled by said Bloodfiend who wielded scissors large enough to cut a man cleanly in twain.

Don was changing in a back area to whatever outfit this 'Nicolina' had prepared. Honestly she wondered at this point if it would be better to just try to kick this Bloodfiend's ass and be done with this area. This was wasting time, but these two seemed keen on playing nice with what was effectively a serial murdering blood monster.

But there was immense curiosity in seeing how this might play out, too. This 'Don Quixote' seemed to have a strong connection to this place... somehow. But she couldn't piece together how.

Because, from every angle they could look, Don did not have a bit of Bloodfiendish nature. No red eyes, no thirst for blood, hell, they drank water in front of her (Stupid as it was, that 'Sanson' was the most untrustworthy person they'd seen in this place so far, and that was certainly saying something given the manic tailor before her.)

She had to be human. And yet this 'Nicolina' knew her. This bloodsucker who'd been around more than two centuries, and given how Don hadn't remembered meeting them before, it was clear that if the two had met, it was before this 'La Manchaland' reappeared here. And given what she read and heard in the reports...

That meant that weird yellow-haired girl was at least two centuries old. Which wasn't impossible, but... she had no signs of things to extend life. And she certainly didn't act her age, speaking in that strange, archaic dialect. And then there was that magic she wielded.

Xichun knew magic, H was adjacent to Q, after all. She knew the glyphs and symbols carved into talismans and blades, able to create inexplicable but very useful effects. This wasn't anything like that. There was symbology in those weird circles that sometimes accompanied it, but the way she used it, conjuring items from thin air, making those circles from literally nothing... it was even stranger than that Corp's singularity.

And that mention of a workplace. One with guns given to everyone? Even support staff? Guns were not something of an interest to Xichun, but the expense that would be involved in such a thing... it had to mean they were working for something very influential. A wing? That loudmouthed braggart of a Cinq mentioned something about District L, right? Were they from Lobotomy Corp? What the hell went down there that a power company needed that much firepower? Or that 'magic', for that matter.

It was mysteries piling atop one another like a mountain, and it was one grand thing that she was very interested in, given why she was here in the first place. The river was one route towards getting that 'clue' she needed for the Evaluation, but what lied before her...

Could she be as much an answer? What was Don Quixote?

Or that weird girl attached to her hip, for that matter. 'Love', Don called her. If Don was simply weird, 'Love' was inexplicable.

There was just things about that girl that seemed... off. Not as much in demeanor, that was the normal brand of weird, but... there was a certain presence to them. Like a kind of pressure to the air, like a gravitational force that almost forced acknowledgement. There were other little things too. Seeing Nicolina look more closely at that dress, she swore she could see those twin-tails of hers twitch. Like they were antennae of some insect, or whiskers on a cat. Her eyes seemed to quite literally sparkle when something caught her interest.

She had the sneaking suspicion that whatever they were, it wasn't quite human. But given they weren't being smited by the Head... maybe something like those Bloodfiends? Adjacent or sourced from one?

And then, soon after, that curtain began to shift.

"Ah, I believe I am ready!" Don called out, and when the curtain was pulled aside, Xichun's eyes were pulled in.

The first thing that drew her eyes were the colors. It was almost entirely red and black, the top wholly a bright cherry red, and the bottom a black that made gave a great deal of contrast. The shirt was long sleeved, arms that flared out before being tied back into the sleeves just before the hands. The front had a practical ridge of cloth like seen on a layered dress that formed a V around a large cravat, attached to the collar via a large oblong pearl. Below, the lower was held by a pair of small belts right atop each other before flaring down into a pure black dress.

Funnily enough, it was more covering than that 'magical girl' getup, but to Xichun it felt like they suddenly became far more...

No. Nope. Nada. They were not having these thoughts about this person they had just met not but an hour ago.

She could at least admit the look suited her, that pale skin standing out, long yellow hair above billowing down.

She readied herself knowing the likely reaction of the Barber, anticipating the squeal, which came like clockwork.

"I knew it'd look so good, it's almost perfect!"

Beside the Barber, Love meanwhile looked like like they were slowly becoming as red as that shirt, her eyes wide as saucers, staring openly,their mouth slightly ajar.

Xichun honestly thought they looked a bit like a fish. Don only smiled on seeing the other girl, moving close, a gentle hand moving to close that jaw. "Dost thou like what thou eyes see, my Love?"

Xichun could see the other girl's legs wobbling first before they near fainted, Don catching her, Love looking like a beet in her arms.

"Oh. My. Word. You two are adorable! It's like a cheesy romance flick!" Nicolina clapped giddily. "How long have you two been together? You've got to tell me the details~"

"Ah-hah-um-well-" Love sputtered in a near incoherent stream as her brain seemingly was trying to restart, ears near steaming.

"T'was a most auspicious crossing of paths when we met at my old workplace a little over a year ago! I believed then I had to set aside mine dreams within that place, and yet!" Don rose a hand, a singular finger pointing skyward for a moment before curling down, poking Love in the cheek gently. "Love reignited mine desires! My dream to be a Fixer, a hero! And since our release from that place, that is precisely what I have done, Love alongside! I am a Grade 4 Fixer, Operator of Starlight Office, and a Magical Maiden of Love!"

They settled Love back on her feet, the other girl's legs still a little wobbly, their face still looking more than a bit like a strawberry, but at least she didn't fall this time. "We art great partners! Together, we can overcome any foe! Any challenge!"

What bold claims, indeed. But from what they'd seen, they certainly had more than a bit of power to back it up.

"What a story! You've really been busy since you left, hm~?"

Left. So they were from here? But how did that work? How could they...?

"So I have! Thou I rememberest not a time I was here at all. Thou never answered mine question befo-"

"Ah, ah. Hold on now~" Nicolina raised her hands as if framing a picture. "The more I look, the more I can see what's missing! What would make it perfect. Where'd you leave your boa thing? I was designing the dress with it in mind!"

"Boa...thing?" Don squinted.

"Oh, that... big fuzzy red thing?" Love eventually spoke up, finally calming herself. Even if her eyes still seemed to be magnetically attracted to Don still.

Don glanced back to Love after they said that, but Nicolina's words rang out regardless.

"Yeah! That, um... what'd you call it? Armadura... something?"

"Armor...?" Don blinked, moving to contemplate. "Let me... try something."

Don closed her eyes, and under her breath, they began to whisper something. Energy danced and crackled at her fingertips as another of those circles formed. But now they actually had time to look at the thing for more than a brief moment. It was indeed a circle, more of a hollow disc of a kind. A hard outer layer, its inner portions formed of what looked like hearts. There were other more esoteric designs, a slight red tint to some among the white and pink glow.

Her hands moved and pulled and shaped something like clay. It wasn't the circle itself, more the area around it. Xichun watched as space itself seemed to warp and weave like an exceptionally hot day, and with more crackles, something pulled out from the ring.

It was something like what the others were describing. A large, long tuft of blood red fur. It moved up to her shoulder, settling upon it. A minor loop of red held it in place around her neck, drooping down around her back like some kind of strange shoulder cape.

"Ah! There it is! That big red boa! Ah, perfect-perfect-perfect! I love it~!" The Barber seemed to practically bounce. It was still strange how this Bloodfiend was so feared here, and yet here they were, giggling like a schoolgirl.

Perhaps this is simply what Don Quixote did to people.

"Though that wasn't Hardblood... it looks almost just as I remember! You've really picked up some strange talents out there, huh?"

"Tis' a simple thing. T'was... molded by mine subconscious." Don explained, but her tone hardened a bit afterward. "But stop assailing the area around thy bushes! I wish to know things, but thou keep denying them."

The Barber's eyes visible through the mask froze, widening for a second before narrowing. A breathy sigh came out. "Still have that part down. Cutting right to business. Taking the fun out of things."

"Didst we not have fun? With thy game, the dress?"

"That's true, but..." She started but stopped, something like a growl echoing out through the mask. "It's something I don't like thinking about! The past is the past, it's gone! We're out of that time now, out of it.... no more starvation, no more... no more..." 

Hands shook, nails clenching into her palms. A drop of blood to the ground as a nail dug deep.

"Ah, i'm sorry if it was..." The fixer pleaded gently.

"Where did you go, Sancho?" Her voice turned soft, a clawing, desperateness to it. "You going out there, having all these adventures... but you don't even remember us... haha..."

"Lady Nicolina...?"

Don slowly approached, but that name... Sancho. That was... wait, that amateur recording at the start! She was Sancho? And the way the Barber referred to them then, your grace.

Don was a Bloodfiend. Someone higher up on the totem pole than them. But they weren't. Unless they...

Found a cure? That couldn't be possible, right? They still were living so long, and yet...

Questions bubbled, but as Don gripped Nicolina's shoulder, the other startled back.

"Don't touch me, i'm-!" The Barber stopped, looking down at her hands. "What am I... doing? Ahhh... I need some blood, would help, help stop this..."

"Nicolina!" Don repeated, snapping fingers, and it seemed to get her attention.

"Ah? What is...?" She looked to Don as if realizing they were there. "Oh, oh right, you're... you're here. You're here! In that outfit! That's good, good-good-good..."

What the hell were they witnessing? It was like they were just... rebooting? Cycling and forgetting? They seemed like they were having a mental break.

"Mayhaps the others should... leave."

"Leave? Who...?" The mask scanned. "Oh. Oh right... others. Warm humans, full of... mhm... yes, yes, they should leave. Very much, you got in first place anyways~! It's not like... anyone else actually played the game, just killed Bloodbags and Bloodfiends, so really I guess they were all just losers, haHA!"

A manic giggle echoed through the room, and the air became a bit more tense. She waved the others off. "So... shoo. Back to the main room. I'll bring up the button and you can go off to... do whatever it is you want. Need to talk still, need to know... Sancho."

Xichun's eyes narrowed. "Fine. But look, just quickly before that. Do you know anything about Rivers?"

Maybe they'd get something more out of this crazed woman.

The Barber shuddered. "Rivers? Eugh, those... horrid currents, full of water? Why would I go anywhere near one!? No, shoo, get!"

The Bloodfiend moved forward, shooing others out like a cat. Xichun relented. So not them. That was one big one off the list. But the more she learned, the more she wondered if this Sancho was the key to things.

Forced into the hallway, they listened in on the door. The other magical girl hadn't come out yet.

"She is a most important part of this too!" Don's voice yelled.

"Don't care! You two are... cute, but I can smell the... the blood. Just get them out." The Barber was just as biting back.

"I'll go, please don't fight! I'll just stay outside the door, okay?"

"Love..." Don's voice trailed.

"I know you can handle it! And if something goes wrong, i'll know, trust me!"

A sigh. "Farewell for a moment, mine Love."

The doorknob turned and Xichun backed off as Love entered the hallway. Her face was a bit worried, but she closed her eyes, breathing in, steadying herself.

"You're staying?" Xichun asked, knowing the answer.

A nod. "Need to keep watch over them. But you can go! If they hit that button thing, we can meet up in the next Area!"

Sounded fine enough to them. They'd spent more than enough time here as it was, but... it was worthwhile. Hopefully the next area provided something more to sink into.

Assuming whoever was in the second group didn't already finish it off. But that was mostly a ragtag group. Who knows how they'd go.

"Alright." Xichun turned. A smallest bit of impulse came up, slightly turning her head as the other bodyguards and Wei moved ahead. "Be safe."

Love's eyes widened a touch at that, but they gave a grin. "No worries! Like Don said, we can handle anything!"

She kept that gaze on the strange non-human for a moment longer before moving out.

Hopefully that was true. There were questions that still needed to be answered. Regardless, she made her getaway, and in the main room, a large button had risen up from the dioramas. Ornate, lavish.

And too tall for her to properly reach.

The fact that Wei had to push it is a fact they would never let slip.

She really needed to invest in boluses to give longer legs at some point.

Room shut, Don stood alone with the Barber. Nicolina lingered at the door for a time, listening, fingers clenching in and out. She was trying to calm herself, breathing audible through that mask, moving away from the door.

"Art thou... okay?"

"Ha... haha...haHAHAHA... okay? No, no, nonono, i'm not okay, Sancho. None of us are, and it's..."

Hands moved up, nails moving down the sides of the mask as Nicolina held the sides of it. Her grip shook, shuddered. Don looked around before offering a chair. The Barber stared at it for a bit before slowly, steadily, they sat down, hands moving down to the lower cheeks, elbows resting on her lap.

Don pulled up a chair herself, scooting close. "What happened?"

Silence reigned for a while, those red eyes behind the mask closing. When they opened, they glimmered sadly.

"To put it in a way that's super easy to understand..." She started, breathing in, seemingly hesitant to say the next few words.

"We fucked up."

Chapter Text

"We fucked up."

That was certainly a statement to start things with. Don leaned in, an eyebrow raising at it. "Ah... pardon?"

Nicolina sighed, leaning back in the chair, hands over the eyes. "I don't even know where to begin with this..."

"Mayhaps thou couldst start where thy attraction ended?" Don suggested. "La Manchaland was born, what happened hence?"

The Bloodfiend before her straightened, adjusting posture. "I guess that works. Well..."

She cleared her throat, putting on that same tone as before. "It was a success! A most wonderful, great success~! Countless humans came to try of all ages, all walks of life, Backstreets, Nest, old or young, rich or poor, none of it mattered! Because all you needed to do to get in was donate a bit of blood and voila~! A pass to La Manchaland! Maybe Ahn revenue wasn't the highest, but it wasn't like we were paying much more than lot fees, La Manchaland was self-sustaining~."

"Pray tell, there wouldst be a 'but' soon, nay?" Don could see where this was going, and as those eyes behind the mask broke from Don's eye, favoring the floor and twiddling hands...

"But for all that success and attendance and smiles we sowed... we were still hungry."

"How?" Don asked. "I saw papers, when we were... first looking into this place. There were many thousands per day, nay, there couldn't have been a shortage of blood... couldst there?"

"That's true~!" The Barber put on a lilting voice, eyes locking back on. "So, very-very-very true~! We got thousands of blood packs per day, and that meant several per Bloodfiend! But the blood doesn't stay fresh for long~ Since you really don't remember, let me fill you a little in on this wonderful fact~ 

A hand moved over, the Barber reaching for something behind, within a drawer of a desk.

"So, blood! Wonderful, wondrous blood. Bloodfiends all love it, bloodfiends all need it. But blood isn't just a liquid~, it's life. It's not just a physical thing, it reinvigorates us, mind and soul and everything! But that blood loses its freshness quick, and stagnant blood...? That doesn't do really much of anything for our appetites! So, of course, that righteous, brave Fixer, our First Kindred, our Father came up with a most. Ingenious. Idea~."

Her tone slowed, lowering as she rose her free hand's finger up, just like that one cutout.

"What if, and really, what if..." Her voice took on a faux masculine tone. "We came up with a way to condense blood to what we need! That way, we could store it for later, we could produce it en masse! So, this brave and genius Fixer speaks to a wonderful, beautiful tailor, and they get to work!"

She fully turned back around, an object in her other hand. It was a red, rectangular brick the size of a hand. "So, years of toil and experimentation, and here we have it, the future of Bloodfiends."

She held it out. "Go on! Try it~ It's perfectly safe. I think even humans can eat it!"

Looking at the offered block, Don eventually took it in hand. It had a smooth texture that reminded Don of beeswax. Carefully, they lifted the thing to their mouth, giving a nibble.

Before immediately coughing, spitting the bit back out.

This is what they had? The taste of a crayon. The inner texture like chalk. Flavorless. Abysmal.

"Oh, doesn't agree with you?" Nicolina spoke, tone almost mocking. "Well, that's too bad~! It's all we had. But~! It gives everything a Bloodfiend needs! E-everything.... ha... ha."

She trailed off, an intensity burning into those eyes. "It was a mistake. Me agreeing, me settling for this. But I could not refuse him! It's in our very blood to heed to those further up the bloodstream. That's why so many of us did it. Why we went along. Maybe we had hope! Hope that it wouldn't be so bad, but it..."

Nicolina lunged forward out of the chair, suddenly very close, mask butting into her chin, clawed hands gripping into her shoulders.

"IT WAS MISERY!" she yelled, pent up anger unleashing. "We tried! We tried so hard, but it only got worse and worse and worse and worse-"

Hands shook, the Barber breathing in before continuing. All Don could see now were those red eyes and the pallid, wrinkled flesh that surrounded them. "Blood isn't just physical, it's emotional! We hadn't had a moment of happiness to ourselves, because without blood, it faded! We couldn't feel anything but anger and misery and torture. Our stomachs were filled, but we felt so empty. But he didn't do anything! He just kept saying we'll get used to it, even you tried to get through to him, but he wouldn't..."

Tears streamed down, and even with those claws sinking into her shoulders, Don adjusted and moved herself a bit forward, throwing arms around her. That grip from the Bloodfiend paused, frozen from the action.

"I'm sorry." Don spoke softly. "I... remember not this pain. This thirst, this anything. But what I know is what whomever I was, I should've done more."

Nicolina stayed quiet, hands slowly moving to return it. She spoke, voice near a whisper, leaning into Don's shoulder.

"You... hah..." she started. A feeling of wetness upon the back. "You really are different, huh...? I remember... your eyes. The way you'd look at others, always so... detached. Like you hated whatever you were looking at."

She pulled back, looking at Don dead on. Those eyes of Nicolina's seemed... remorseful. "But now... your eyes are filled with so much more. They're... softer. And so are you... I still don't know why they're not red, but..."

"Tis' the shoes, Lady Nicolina. A construct forced upon me." the fixer explained.

"Construct...?" She blinked, looking down, examining. "Wait, wait, those things? Those ghastly, awful things?"

"Thou'st... mine steed is a most fair thing!" Don mimed offense.

"The brown clashes with the black! And it's so dirty! He would never heed my fashion advice for this stuff!"

"Thou... refer to thy 'Father'?"

"Yes! Him and his weird tastes!" Nicolina's arms stretched out as she exclaimed. Then they seemed to blink as they looked back up to Don. "Wait... the shoulders! No, nonono, I put holes in the shoulders-"

They frantically got out of the chair, leaving Don to only blink, glancing over.

The shoulders had in fact been pierced by Nicolina's claws, a set of holes that stood out given her pale skin underneath. They returned with needle and thread.

"Hold still, I'll fix it up, no worries!" Her tone was rapid, but sitting down, her work was careful.

"Should I not change-"

"NO!" They yelled, before stopping, catching themselves. "No... Don't... don't need to, j-just hold still."

The needle moved, thread sewn in. Their hands were rather deft, to to be expected.

"But... thou knowest of the shoes?"

She sighed, speaking as she worked. "Hah... shoes. That's what they are now, I guess. Father made those things with so much blood of his. Rocinante. It can turn into a horse, you know?"

The fixer could only blink. "Verily?"

"Yeah! A full sized horse made of blood. It looks kinda' weird, but... it works?" Nicolina minorly shrugged. "Don't know why they made it. Or that they could do something like that. Hah... I guess he really did want to fit in amongst humans."

"So... how did this lead to..." Don made a spinning motion with a hand.

"Oh, ah..." She could hear the Barber scoff as she worked. "I guess I'll continue. So! You have a bunch of Bloodfiends, forced to snack on awful, terrible things, denied of their happiness, all while surrounded by the very thing they desire. Really, the only thing stopping them at this point was their most righteous Father and that little thing called 'filial impiety'. Like I said, Bloodfiends want to follow the leader! And we did. We tried and tried. But the thirst... the hunger... when you push it so far, the rules that once seem ironclad start to bend. Things you thought of as unspeakable... you think about them and... well, it's a matter of survival. So, one of the overseers hatches a most ingenious plan."

"A most devious plan, indeed." Another voice cut in. Two heads snapped to the right, opposite the only door inside.

And there was Sanson, walking in as if from some unseen entryway.

"Wait... you're-" Nicolina started, but then a staff in his hands rose, and the Barber fell quiet.

"Sir Sanson, what art thou-?"

"There is something very important about telling a story, something you know very well." Sanson took a step forward. "And that is pacing. If everything is spilled out all at once, then what draws one further in? What questions remain? A good story keeps one on the edge of their seat, dying to know what lies around the next bend. And that-"

Sanson moved up to Nicolina, still seemingly frozen, before the top of their staff gently bopped them on the head. "Is why you aren't a very good storyteller-"

"Ow, hey-!" The Barber's freezing broke for a second, only for the magician to raise that staff again.

"We were having an important talk, sir Sanson!" Don's anger rose, and she too rose from the chair, eyes narrowing.

"Calm yourself. I do not deny you information." The staff hit the ground, and suddenly, in a puff of smoke...

Nicolina was gone. "I merely postpone it, when the time is more ripe."

"Nicolina!" Don yelled, drawing her own staff before pointing its tip threateningly towards the taller Bloodfiend. "Where hath thou taken them!?"

It was at this moment the door burst open, Love with a hand raised, an array aiming right for Sanson, crackling with energy. "We've heard enough, villain!"

"Ah, I see perhaps this was a bit heavy-handed. My apologies, but it was necessary. She's perfectly safe. Simply exited stage left, as it were."

"Thou hast given us nary a reason to trust thy actions, and I am now inclined to side with my Love. Neither of us do not wish to harm thou, but if fair lady Nicolina is not returned..."

Sanson seemed unphased by the threat, near unmoving. "I'm afraid that will not be possible at the moment. However, if information is what one seeks, then perhaps one needn't ask any but yourself."

A step forward, the point of the staff nearly touching his chest now. "Don Quixote... will you regale us with one of your wonderful adventures?"

"What...?" Don's face contorted with confusion. "Tis' hardly a time for such a thing when thou wilt not let others tell their own tales."

"But this isn't their tale." Sanson replied. "They are but a cast member in a larger play. It is you, Don Quixote, who leads this showing. You who will bring it to its conclusion."

Confusion made its way for anger, golden eyes narrowing at the azure man's red. "Thou wouldst reduce her role to cast member? Despite their suffering, real and true, despite their misery, despite everything?"

"It is simply their role-"

Magic built in the staff, and a moment later burst out as she rammed it forward into Sanson's chest, only for the man to casually move his staff, intercepting it as it swatting a fly. Air rushed by as force erupted, and yet, save his coattails and tassels pushed back, he was unmoving, even as that force caused significant damage to the room behind.

That gaze lingered, the staff raising, and Don felt what Nicolina must've felt. A freezing, a stillness, body forced into non-motion.

It was then Love behind her fired her own barrage, and once again, Sanson just casually blocked it, a barrage of bolts from those fingertips, casually blocked by them moving the staff as if they were conducting an orchestra.

Sanson's power was undeniable, and yet all they could do was watch as Love too was caught in that grasp he extended out.

"Now, now, that will not do. Not at all. There are important thing we must do. And you, Don Quixote, must share it."

"Tis'... villainous... not even... mine own actions..."

"It is simply a little guidance. Now, Don Quixote, let us set the stage... this room is nice, but this is a tale that requires a proper stage, a backdrop, music to set the mood." The magician's wand waved, extending out, and the room warped.

Furniture simply bleeding away as if it weren't there, walls shifting and expanding into something like a stage. Don could barely move, but closing her eyes and focusing, she tapped into that magical sight, to try and get an idea of what was truly happening.

And it was... strange.

Most Arcana had a very distinct, bright presence, but like Love had mentioned before, Sanson's Arcana wasn't immediately apparent looking at him.

But looking around him at the shifting terrain, the reason became a bit more apparent.

It was there. But it was transparent. Or at least obscured in some way. Rather than color, the shifts around them appeared more like a hot, hazy day. The air warbled and wavered in countless ways as a backdrop settled, blue mountains, clouds above, strange bits of plant life and rocks.

All at the side of a what seemed to be a river.

"Recall." Sanson began, before his arms rose skyward, gesturing up and around. "Recall the days of adventures you once lived!"

Don blinked, feeling like she could move her mouth again. "Thou shouldst knowest that I live adventures to this day!  Thy question spans the breadth of an ocean!"

"Ah, but some are much more memorable than others." Sanson continued. "How about this tale? Let's call it... The Hallowed Adventures of Don Quixote and the Knight of the White Moon."

Eyes widened slightly. That name...

Sanson's head changed in a poof, a knight's helmet replacing the mask. "Ta-da."

"Thou'rt... a poor choice." Don forced. The name kept trying to slip from her mind like sand, but that was a fact she knew.

"Mm. Perhaps. Well, I suppose there is at least one other here that can work for such a role. A perfect time for both to change into something more fitting for the occasion." Sanson's staff hit the ground, and that magic whirled around both themselves and Love, smoke obscuring, coughing.

And then, they were in something different. It was... armor? Burnished plates of metal strapped of them, shoulder-pieces, a chest-plate, forearms, knee-pads. Scuffed and worn, but undoubtedly real metal. Underneath was what looked and felt like... pajamas? White with red stripes, part of it draped over their back like a cape.

But most importantly... her staff was gone. And in its place was... a lance? Looking at it, poking it, it seemed to be rather plain... and made of foam.

She supposed there had to be cost-saving somewhere.

Love, meanwhile, took on a very different look, especially given how used Don was to how she looked normally. A blue tabard draped over her, likely armored in places, a scarf around the neck, the stitched emblem of a moon on the chest. But most notably were the other props. Weapons. Weapons that seemed very familiar. A thin blade ending in a blunt end. A great wide longsword longer than a man. A boxy apparatus that floated behind...

It was like her Construct weaponry, down to a T. And given Love's own looks at she glanced to said weapons, she must've realized the same thing.

Sanson cleared his throat, head back to its normal mask. "The pair sought a certain river, the tales of which have been told only through legends. Only the Knight of the White Moon knew the path to finding it. Don Quixote was merely going as directed by the Knight.

A river... like what Xichun was looking for? But Don... Don did not remember this tale. The Knight, perhaps, but this...

"Oh, excuse me, 'The Trio', not a pair. We cannot forget our dear Rocinante. Each had a very distinct sound of footsteps. The Knight, an experience yet relaxed gait."

Don could see Love's posture subtly change, Sanson's will forcing itself upon them.

"Rocinante, a stoic yet powerful stride."

Her feet tightened, feeling like a vicegrip was put upon them.

"And you... stumbling hither and thither." Sanson's attention firmly rested upon Don, that gaze of his seeming to intensify as he continued to speak. "It is a deep, deep place where no one dares tread. The deepest part of the City, once challenged by countless adventurers, Knights, and Fixers..."

In the backdrop, strange cutouts descended and floated about, looking like clouds of starlight. "A quiet, terribly tranquil place inhabited only by the floating nebulae."

"We... only..." Love's words were forced from her throat. "have a little further to venture."

Love looked to Don, and yet it felt like it wasn't Love, for a moment, trapped behind glass formed over the eyes. "Once we find the river, I will guide you to the place that will be your residence henceforth. An abandoned lighthouse where no one visits."

They stepped forward. "Please, make that place your home."

The lighthouse... the lighthouse?

She knew that place. She knew that place so well. Her home, from what felt so long ago. A place she could not leave, yet was not a prison. A place of Fixers, a place of adventure.

The first place she truly remembered, a world she was held in for so long. But she never knew why she was there.

She simply woke up on that bed, door sealed. Just her, a pile of books and magazines, and Fixer memorabilia.

But this... this filled in gaps. She was brought there by the Knight. But why? Something about that River? Was it... why they forgot?

Something flickered at the edges of her mind as she thought about it. The sounds of a cave. Of dripping water. Of an oh-so-blue river-side.

Of fear. An intense, horrible fear.

"Ahh, the knight has given our hero a place to live. What a kindly knight. Such loyal friendship brings tears to my eyes." Sanson continued to narrate.

"How dost thou know this?" Don managed to speak, drawing their 'guide's' attention. "Thou spoke of three. Yet, nay, thou were not among the three in this story that has fled even mine own mind."

"Ah, that is a question, isn't it? But I am simply a humble narrator. What you know, I know. So perhaps the better question to ask is why you don't remember, yourself." he replied. "But really, this is not the most exciting start, so let us move on."

The scene began to slowly shift, floor beneath them moving. "In this tale, we look at but one of many, many adventures of Don Quixote. Through the journey, the great adventurer Don Quixote visited many villages.

And from that blue, they slid to another stage. An open clearing, a bright blue sky and clouds, a mockup of a quaint little village before them.

"And, eventually, the adventurer arrived at a village of shepherds."

Oh, this one she knew, and as those warping strings tightened, it was clear it was her time to speak.

"A village of shepherds, indeed... upon my arrival, I couldst see plainly that the village was routinely terrorized by a band of highwaymen and raiders. Verily, I could see the palpable fear worn on the faces of the villagers. Thus, I inquired of them to learn what plagued them so." she regaled.

It was one of many travels categorized in her mind, further back. There were times before the Lighthouse, but everything became more... hazy the further back they went. There was no proper order of events, simply collations she put together bit by bit.

A set of stories, disorganized but existing. And she knew they existed in some form. Not just a delusion, there was something.

But what? What were they, truly? How did they fall into events here? Was this before she was a Bloodfiend? Was it... even them?

When she turned to look at the 'villagers', though...

Most of them were cut-outs aside from... wait. That was an actual person... hold a moment, was that one of Xichun's bodyguards? A tall brunette, forced into plainclothes. They were seemingly on an even tighter leash than the two, given how they shifted. Or rather, the lack of it.

"Oh, my!" Their mouth moved as if on strings. "You must be the brave and famous adventurer Don Quixote! Please, deliver us from pain, milord."

"Alack for woe! The wicked caitiffs-the bandits-fell upon thy village! I, Don Quixote, shan't let pass this plain villainy and bullying unanswered!" Her tone was filled with exuberance outwardly, but Don inwardly had growing worries.

If one was grabbed, then... the others... "Worry thee not, for I promise thee on all that is I, that I shall rout the no-good bandits from thy village!"

"But... there's too many to defeat all on your own, dear adventurer!"

"Do not let such fear plague thy mind, for there are no adventures in which I, Don Quixote, have not prevailed! Wouldst thou not agree?"

"Ah... hold on a minute. Something feels off, doesn't it?" Sanson interrupted. "Who might you be talking to? The Knight of the White Moon? Or... your brave steed, Rocinante?"

Don's eyes narrowed, gaze intensifying. Who they were talking to... but those choices... it was not the Knight. And yet... Rocinante wasn't simply one to talk to so readily, to be brought into a conversation...

The pieces clicked into place. "Nay, tis' a trick question. For while Rocinante is a dear, trusted friend, they are not the talkative sort. And no Knight joined me here."

They focused on Sanson. "Which leaves but one. A most loyal squire. It must be Sancho, and thou hast cast me not as mineself."

Sanson gave a slow clap. "Ah... haha... you are indeed far more astute than realized. Perhaps then, we should strive for a bit more accuracy?"

A snap of the fingers, and suddenly both of them were wearing wholly different attire. Love was in an attire made of browns and reds, golden accents prominent in shirt, coat, and epaulettes alike. Don herself sported similar, but far differently hused outfit. It still sported a coat of brown and gold, but the shirt and pants alike were of a far more stark white, a large red scarf filling the edges of vision, flowing down the back.

It spurred thought and memory. This... they'd been in this outfit before. This was...

Things began to blur in her head. It felt like falling asleep, yet it promised not rest, but...

Memory. The stage became hazy, indistinct. She wasn't there anymore. She was...

At that village. Thoughts of now faded, only then remained.

A wide field before the village's front. Sancho stood there, air escaping her lips in a sigh as she rubbed her head, red eyes looking to her Father.

"This is a bad idea." It was really the only thing she could think, now that she could actually see what they were up against.

More than two dozen Syndicate members, wielding a variety of weaponry. Knives, hammers, blades, an eclectic bunch, really.

"Come now Sancho, we've faced far larger battalions before!" Don Quixote was nonplussed, and Sancho's eyes couldn't help but narrow.

"With our powers." she pointed out.

"And now thou shalt do so without! Isn't the idea exciting?"

A sigh followed from Sancho's mouth. "Not exactly, no."

Okay, maybe she was a bit curious how this would go. Not that she'd openly admit it. The idea of doing so was... embarrassing. That they would lower themselves like this, and yet...

The idea was... refreshing to some extent. Simply working with just one's skill, not unrelenting strength of a Bloodfiend. It was novel.

Not that they still believed the odds were good if they were handicapping themselves like this. They were just humans, but... they were supposed to be similar.

Don Quixote beside didn't seem to care much, looking over to Sancho with the slightest pout. "You know, Sancho, the more you sigh, the less thou seemest mine squire and closer to mine deflating balloon!"

"Please tell me you at least have a plan of engagement?" The Second Kindred didn't even acknowledge the other comment.

"Tis' most simple, my squire!" They moved, settling themselves atop Rocinante. "I and Rocinante shall sunder their ranks, and thou can use such opportunity to capitalize."

Sancho simply gazed to Don's eyes, narrowing. "That is very optimistic."

"You simply underestimate the power of cavalry!"

The syndicate members began to approach into earshot.

"What's this, now?" One of the members closer to the front spoke up. "The hell are these pair of twats doing?"

"What's wrong with that horse?" another spoke up, further back. Some murmuring continued. 

"Hold thy approach!" Don proclaimed loudly, drawing the attention of all. "Thou art the brigands who have been assaulting this fair village?"

"The hell's it to you?" that first member shot back. "Don't tell me they managed to hire somebody."

"It is everything to us, you think Fixers would stand and let such a thing go unimpeded?"

"So they did. Thought they were mostly cleaned out." The member, wielding a large hammer gained a more predatory look. "Thanks for tellin' us. Makes this a lot more appealin' if they got more than food to grab."

"And you believe you can pass us by to claim such ill-gotten things?" Don's own voice turned low.

"And you think you can stop us? It's two on twenty four. You think we're just a bunch of Rats?" The apparent leader growled.

"Rats would have more sense." Sancho retorted, voice flat, unimpressed. It was a somewhat motley band. Not Rats, sure, but she wouldn't be surprised if they were close.

"Alright, enough of this, kill these idiots!" The leader commanded, and the other surged forth.

"Ah, and there it is. Remember limitations, Sancho!" they they rode in headfirst, that cherry-red horse carving a line through them, numerous tumbling out of the way, but one ending up on the end of Quixote's lance.

But it still left numerous running towards them. She sighed, her own lance prepared in hand.

Don was right when they had spoken of fighting larger groups before. 30-60 Bloodfiends at a time. But it was a very different kind of fighting. Heavy usage of Blood Arts, be it liquid or Hardblood. Lacerating storms of crystalline blood to keep foes at bay, extending reach momentarily to deliver immense sweeps. And actually having reinforcements.

But they didn't have that luxury. Just themselves and La Sangre, that tried and trusted lance design. Luckily, there were some advantages they had, even as the 12 pressed forward, one sweeping a blade in.

La Sangre was quite a weapon for a situation like this. The blade was deflected with a clang, and in return, the lance's long reach opened them up for an easy counterattack. Two quick jabs to the chest before she bounded back, three more weapons descending and looking to cut them down and meeting empty air. They had to be careful not to be surrounded. 12 weapons could easily put them into the grave.

They attacked erratically, trying to constantly move in, but them being in a wide open field gave plenty of room for her to continuously back up. Jabs continued to lacerate, subtle barbs at the end of the lance. It was slow work, but they were beginning to lag and falter. Losing stamina from blood-loss.

It was a very human route of killing, really. She had heard of stories and theories of before civilization, humans trailing wildlife for miles, bleeding them out and following them to their soon to be resting place before finishing them off. This wasn't far off, one already keeling over, easy to finish off with one more jab to an exposed artery. More blades came in from the sides, so instead of moving backwards, Sancho suddenly moved forward, lance skewering further in, angling to the ground and acting as a pole for her to momentarily leave the ground, leaping off with the lance before meeting it once more.

A spare glance to Father. Faring well enough. Their speed atop Rocinante was more than enough to outrun the fools. But in that time, Sancho turned around and-

Don stumbled back, ripped from memory as a blow to the head hit her. Shaking it, dizzy, blinking, and they took a look at what had unfolded.

Numerous cut-outs before them, each of stereotypical bandits and thugs. They were... animate? They wobbled around, pictures moving on the cardboard as if actually attacking. One lunged towards her, and she backed away, jabbing with...

Oh, right. This lance was foam. And yet...

The thing stumbled from the stab, falling back flat on the ground. She guessed they would play along, at least. She moved for a wider sweep, her own augments working as she cleaved a wide line aside to hit several.

"Oh, now is that a move a human could do?" Sanson commented from the side.

"Many a fixer could, aye!" Don spoke as another powerful thrust through sent the rest of this group tumbling to the earth. "As am I. As others are."

"Ah, but is that what Don Quixote believed, then? What he wanted?"

Don was quiet for a bit. "Dost it matter what Don Quixote wanted? Is it not moreso what Sancho wouldst do?"

Sanson's head tilted just a touch, thoughtful. "Hmm, touche. Perhaps you are getting into character. Or is it the character returning to you?"

Don couldn't help but frown. Their irritation and anger with this magician continued to grow, though that was stopped as they finally had a chance to look over to Love and...

Were they on... an actual horse? Even everything else was cutouts, it didn't seem like they could conjure the actual things on demand, and her shoes were still on...

They rode on that horse, using a fake lance not unlike her own, wheeling amongst the cutouts. Though their stupification only grew when they finally turned on that horse to reveal...

"Sir Wei!?" She couldn't help but yelp.

It wasn't a horse, it was Wei, their lower half simply turned into a horse. They could do that!? That was something people could do? Neither Love nor Wei seemed to stir from her words though, seemingly caught in the Bloodfiend's grasp still.

"Ah, that. It was really quite fortuitous." Sanson spoke. "Of all the present cast members, for one of them to be able to perfectly fill in that role of Rocinante... truly, there could not be a better pick than a once Heishou of the Wu. Stoic, loyal, a reliable steed ever-present for the sake of their master. Am I speaking of Rocinante or him?"

Don's gaze narrowed, shooting to Sanson. "What hast thou done with lady Xichun?"

Sanson hummed. "That would be skipping ahead. Besides, right now, don't you have to help Don Quixote?"

Don's eyes refocused, and some of those cut-outs began to animate, pulling something like... throwing knives?

Her eyes widened, realizing what was happening even as Love continued to wheel around atop Wei's back. 

She came in, lance swinging upward as if a blade, and...

La Sangre cut through an arm, a gout of blood gushing as Sancho disarmed the syndicate member, a follow-up jab from the back of the hilt sending the man as a corpse to the ground. Another one turned, hearing the noise, only for the Bloodfiend to grip the side of their head and yanked downward to the ground, the side of the jagged lance meeting their neck and slitting it in a clean motion.

"Ah, shit, they didn't-" The leader's words cut off as Rocinante barrelled through them.

"Sancho! I told thou such ruffians were naught but caitiffs before us! Dost thou believest me now?" Don spoke.

As others began to wheel around, blades swinging to meet the Second, clangs of metal on hardblood met the air.

"You nearly were turned into a pincushion." Sancho's teeth gritted as they met that steel, reigning in strength enough to turn it to a challenge, a kick sending its wielder tumbling back into what was rapidly turning into a now disorganized mob.

"Ah, and yet, mine most dependable squire is here!" Don called out, and Sancho sighed. It was mostly clean-up from there, now that they were without a leader, firmly on the back-foot. They scrabbled away on the dirt path, some even having left weapons behind. It was a pathetic showing. Even if one had landed a good hit.

She idly rubbed the spot where it had landed. A dash of blood, but nothing that couldn't be mended by her nature.

More than enough to anger, though. She breathed in as her Father stepped off that horse. "No syndicate shall ever dare invade thy village again after our demonstration of might. Haven't I declared it upon mine arrival that no task is beyond us?"

There they were, sweetening up those villagers behind. It was good to do a right thing, though when payment, or lack thereof was brought up...

"Your running shoes look like they could fetch a nice price..." she blurted out. They were nice, really. If there was something they could gain-

"Fie on thee! A Fixer doth not dole out justice based on promise of capital!" Don glared at her, and Sancho closed her eyes. How true was that in actuality? Clearly Bari had to get their equipment from somewhere, and it didn't look like the kind of gear she made herself. So it had to be from jobs.

And if justice happened to occur during them, well that was all the better, wasn't it? But no, Father still clung to the most idealized version. The ones of storybooks, which, well, she wished were true, but...

Well, if there was anything she knew, it was the world's harshness. As much as they dreamed and hoped.

It would eventually rear its head once more. Sancho just wondered when that shoe was going to drop.

"When would it, indeed?" Another voice intruded into memory. "Why don't we move forward, just a little more? To another tale?"

Memory ceased, Don wrenched back into the present. These visions... so vivid. Like they were back there in the moment, every sensation, every minute detail returned to them. Seeing Sancho, feeling Sancho... it was much different than hearing about them.

They were so different. There was a certain... sternness. A practicality and realism that she... well, she'd been regaining some of, but for Sancho, it seemed almost suffocating to their true thoughts, like a constant slamming of a hammer keeping down her dreams and wants and desires because of something like shame, like it was unbecoming to have such things.

It made Don a little sad. Thinking about what might've lead to it. To restrain themselves out of instinct and sap the joy they desperate want to have...

But didn't deserve, perhaps. At least in Sancho's eyes. She didn't know why they felt that way, just that they seemed to.

The setting and stage moved to something different... a cave? Colorful, ribbed in shades of blues and ferns, a golden light from its center around... a helmet of some kind?

"You know where this is, do you not?" Sanson asked, besides. Turning, Wei had vanished once more, simply Sanson standing to the side, Love closer, still in that trance.

Looking to the cave and that... helmet...

"Tis' the... oh." Remembrance, though of tales moreso than memory. "A Noble and Knightly Helm of the Absolutely and Incandescently Resplendent Mambrino?"

She remembered this story, and Sanson's head inclined.

"Oh, indeed. But before the helm lied a trial most dire, don't you remember?"

"T'was a fell beast, a man-eater, a most large and horrifying-"

"G...grrr..." Came a new voice. Well, not new, it was rather familiar, feminine and... oh, wait, was that just...

Out came a petite form in a large, fluffy bear costume, and within was Xichun, whose face looked distinctly close to snapping.

"Gr-" They vibrated a moment, before a paw jabbed towards Sanson suddenly. "I knew we couldn't have trusted you, you beaked fu- grrrrrr-" The hold reasserted, though the growl that came out was far, far more genuine than probably even Sanson intended.

"Sir Sanson, this has gone much too far." Don pivoted towards them. "If thou really wishest to do this, though couldst not at least have used a cut-out?"

"Why ever would I need to?" Sanson's head leaned a  touch, as if confused. "Clearly they have that fierceness, that brutish nature, that oh so very long hair-"

Love too seemed to vibrate, resisting as well before they broke free, eyes narrowing as she looked to Sanson. "Okay, that's more than a bit rude!"

"They're but a minor member of the cast. You needn't put so much weight on-"

"Stop with that!" Love continued, glaring. "You're dragging real people into this without consent, it doesn't matter how min...or..."

That hold began to return, Sanson speaking once more. "Now, now. We have a story to tell. If you would, Don Quixote?"

Don could feel a vein bulging on her forehead. How dare they, how dare they! She tried to act, but that hold... all she could do was watch as Love was forced back into that role, and as her own lips started to move.

"Really? A bear?" she began, dismissive. "I can obliterate that poor animal in less than three-"

"Oh, please." Love's words too were dismissive, in a different sense. That fake lance they had been given was put aside. "Where is the fun in that? We shall battle this fell beast like the Fixers from the books!"

Don could feel that pull of memories trying to suck her in, but her teeth gritted, biting her tongue, pain keeping her present. They weren't doing this again. Not now, not when a friend was forced to be a foe.

"Grrrr!" Xichun's arms raised, trying to be threatening. Love prepared themselves, knuckles cracking.
 
"Now, behold, Sancho! A true fixer's strength!" And Love lunged forward, and the two began to grapple.

It was... certainly a sight. The magical girl contesting against... a tiny bear-costumed woman. That image was going to be burned into her brain for a while, wasn't it?

Growls and exertion filled the stage, both forced to try their hardest, and her own mouth was forced into speaking.

"Father, if you're really intent on doing this utterly ridiculous act, leverage would help." Sancho's unimpressed tone slipped from her lips, and worry came in.

"Very...right!" Love's grip shifted, moving lower, suddenly gripped Xichun's midsection. "Lift with one's legs and-"

Fear spiked, a realization of where this was going as Xichun lifted into the air suddenly, Love bending backwards as she shifted into what could clearly be a suplex.

There was no mat or anything, this was...!

Panic seeped in as they remembered Love's other augments, the standard package, the strength increases. Something like this could readily hurt them quite badly.

She had to act fast. Two actions at once, Sanson being distracted by the sight enough for that hold on her body to slacken, for one hand to spool up magic while the other-

She reached behind herself and hid her hand, and with a brief flick, a moment of connection was made and item transported, a tiny array pulling one of those water orbs from the pack came into her other hand. If he was holding this up with his will, then maybe...

In one motion, she did two things. With one hand, magic spooled and constructed forth, projecting it out at the space behind Love as they began to bend backwards. The first thing that came to mind for cushion, a bean-bag chair. It was something, but more notably...

The other hand swiveled quickly, chucking the orb directly at Sanson. It was a cavalcade of events that followed.

Sanson moved to block the orb with their staff, seemingly anticipating something, but the orb simply shattered, flinging water directly onto Sanson and drenching them. And the effect was rather immediate. That hold on them and the others felt like it was cut, strings falling to the wayside, that warbling in the air from the magic shuddering.

Even if they were some First Kindred, something like that could easily shake the focus of even a normal person, and even if it was clear they had some control over that fear of water...

It was more than enough to still work in their favor. Love used that chance, twisting as not to completely send Xichun head-first to the ground, both collapsing into the plush bean-bag, the Jia making a squeaking yelp that sounded almost like a mouse for but a moment.

The Bloodfiend looked somewhat like a sopping wet cat, visibly bristling by a subtle tremor with their movement. "That is quite-"

"ENOUGH!" Don roared, silencing the magician and all others. That foam lance dropped from her hands, those yellow eyes boring into Sanson. Her voice dropped some octaves, anger seeping in as she continued."That is quite enough."

Don turned fully, facing him. "Thou showeth that thou knowest much about me, mine past, facts even which I am not privy to. And yet, thou'rt blind to who I am now, tis' clear as day."

Her eyes glanced to the piled two, who watched on, still partly entangled in each other from the fall and the bean-bags. "Thou believest thou can simply come in here, rope my friends, my allies, mine partner into thy story, force them into combat, hurt them?!"

Her hands shook, meeting those red eyes of Sanson's, narrowing. " Mine oaths... be it as a Fixer, as a Magical Maiden and mine own convictions... none allow such a thing to go on. To allow the innocent to fall in harm's way. Thou hast gone too far. Far too far."

"I only wish to be-"

"This is NOT the action of a GUIDE!" With a flick of her hand, one of those thin blades from before formed in her hands with a rapid array. Its edge glowed with pink, pointing towards Sanson. "Thou hast dragged many into they tale, forced them to take part, forced us to fight. There is no guidance, merely puppetry. And thy true colors show themselves through them, villain."

"Ah, I see. A quite difficult cast. And a shame, for such a story to be cut short." Sanson didn't seem particularly bothered with the blade or the accusations, disappointment in their tone. 

"Thou argue not against my words?" Don's glare intensified.

"Why would I? It's true. I did do many of those things, used this vile puppetry. But I did it for you." A hand outstretched for a moment, meeting that blade's tip. With a movement of a finger, they pushed it aside, and Don felt a force as strong as a well-wielded blade, nearly knocking it out of her hands. That hand turned upside-down, as if offering... or presenting. "This tale is all for you, and none other. Only for you."

Sanson's power was still utterly overwhelming, even if those strings were cut. A mere movement of that finger... her gaze did not loosen. She would not cow before such things. "Is it, though? Or is it for Sancho?"

"Do you believe there is a difference?" Sanson asked, that minor tilt of his head so fitting for that bird-like visage he wore.

"Mayhaps I was merely Sancho once. Mayhaps they still lie within me. But there is a gulf of 200 years between them and I. 200 years of new memories and experiences. Of new dreams mayhaps not sparked by myself, but those which I have taken in nonetheless! Which I shant repress as she did. Tis' something to be proud of. That alone makes us worlds apart."

"But what will occur when the story is told in full?" Sanson asked. "When that gulf is shortened? When all comes to light?"

He began to walk to the side. "This is merely the first part of it. But I shall offer an intermission. But the story must continue. It must be told."

They gave one last look to Don. "Prepare yourself for that, or do not. The wake has already picked up, the flow rushes like a raging river. It will come nonetheless at this point. "

And then, he simply vanished. There was no great poof, no flair, one moment he was there, and in another, empty air lied, like a switch has simply been flipped. The stage around them shifting, fading into the walls as if never there. 

And there the three were, two still collapsed in that mushy mass of a chair in the middle of a half-ruined dressing room.

It was Xichun who spoke up first, finally untangling themselves. "What an asshole."

Don lowered her blade, dismissing it with a huff, her eyes closing for a moment. "Truer words hath not been spoken."

"An awful, villainous trickster!" Love exclaimed, pushing herself to her feet, dusting themselves off. "They're no better than that Hermit! Luring one in with promise of friendship before abusing it in every possible way..." 

A growl came from the magical girl's throat at the thought, that glimmer of amber forming momentarily in her eyes. 

Don noticed it, patting her shoulder. "Calm thyself, my Love. Art thou both alright?"

"Well I nearly had my neck broken, but... i'm fine. Ugh." Xichun noted, before gripping at the suit they were still wearing. "But I need this off now, I swear, if Wei sees me like this..."

That thought stopped her, something of panic seeping into her tone, eyes wide. "Wait, where is... I know they were...?"

Wei and that other member of Xichun's cadre weren't here. Just the three, and this ever quieting room. The Jia's hands shook. "I swear, if he lays a hand on them..."

"Mayhaps they were simply sent back from where you were... taken." Don suggested, before her face softened, a sad note in her eyes. "I apologize for you getting dragged in. This is... tis' not right."

"Look, it's... well, i'm not exactly happy about it, but..." Her arms... or paws, at the moment crossed. "Pretty clear there wasn't a choice. How did you meet that guy, anyways? What's his deal?"

"We met them almost a year ago, when we were first starting out as Fixers." Love explained as she worked to get the costume off. Thankfully, it seemed their regular outfit was underneath, but the more they pulled, the more it was realized how... ephemeral these outfits were.

They seemed to tear and fall apart at the seams, almost, like they were cheaply made. Perhaps it was magic that kept them together moreso than actual construction. But the girl continued speaking regardless. "It was at one of those market things, they had a stall? They gave us a reading with tarot cards."

"And then vanished the moment we looked away." Don added. "T'was strange then, but we didst not hear a word from them until we received word of La Manchaland. We were tipped off about it's return by them, but... I still knowest not how they knew. They know many things they were not even present for... mine own memories."

"The way he was talking towards the end was almost obsessive." Xichun spoke, violently ripping that bear costume from herself, free of its fuzzy yoke, though some bits of fluff stuck to her, forcing her to dust herself off. "Like a stalker or something."

"I wouldst not put it past them at this point." Don too worked to take off the attire. They took another glance to that boa... it was rather comfortable. A softness like a pillow. Perhaps Sancho had a point for that.

Beneath was that dress of Nicolina's, which brought them back to another important point. Nicolina was taken away, but where? They still needed to talk to her. And perhaps the others, but...

Time was still ticking. Maybe they'd run into them again. But there were still two other areas. Had other Fixers managed to get any buttons? There were many questions, but first of all, she needed her suit back on. 

"Lady Xichun, wouldst thou be able to return to thou group on thy own? I need time to return to mine proper attire."

The Jia sighed. "It's not that far. I should be fine. It was mostly empty out there anyways."

Don nodded, looking to Love. "Dost thou wishest to go alongside?"

Love's eyes widened, face hardening into something offended. "What, no! I'm not leaving you alone! Not again, not after that!"

Her hands moved out in an x shape as she ended that sentence. "We're sticking together! I'm not... I couldn't stand the idea of them just... taking you away like that Nicolina..."

I don't believe they wouldst' do such a thing, but if thou wishest to stay, then thou art more than free to!"

"Just don't take too long." Xichun noted as she moved to leave. "Spent enough time in this Area as it is."

The door shut, and both were left by themselves. Don deflated a touch. Stress was building in her head, so many thoughts running concurrently, it was more than a bit overwhelming. The odds, the magician, Nicolina, that ticking timer, everything. She tried to keep herself focused, but Love's gaze lingered on her.

"Are you... are you alright?" Love reached out, and Don returned that hand with a move into a hug. The magical girl was quiet at the action.

"To tell thee the truth, nay. Tis'... so much. All of this." Don admitted, her hands tightening a little as her head found its way to the crook of Love's neck. "Mine memories forced back upon me, the casual abduction of others and that magician and..."

Love returned that hug gently, patting Don's back. "Shhhh, shhh. It's alright. It... is a lot. I know. That Sanson... he's really, really strong."

"Thou couldst see what he was doing, then?"

"Yep." That P popped. "He's got such control over everything, the amount of Arcana he's hiding... he's at least on the level of a Major Arcana. But... we know those too can fall!"

She pulled back a touch, letting them look face-to-face. "We've fought that big mountain of meat, that leg-wreathed heart, that big red mimic thing! They're also overwhelming in their own ways, but we've found ways around them, we beat them! And I think we've seen a glimpse on how back there. Those water bombs... they broke those strings, that focus. So it's not impossible to break free. We just need to think of ways to break it!"

"But even without... thou saw that strength at the end? Threw aside mine blade with a flick of a finger..."

"That's another problem, yeah..." Love's worry crept back in for a moment, eyes drifting to the side. "But! Maybe we don't need to fight him. He's not after that. All we need to do is make telling that story a real big pain! And I have some ideas for that~!"

"Thou... do?"

"Yep~!" Love declared, releasing her hold entirely. "I'll tell you, but you should change, we'll talk while you do! Don't wanna' keep miss Xichun waiting too long!"

A bit of confidence returned to her. They could make a plan, they could figure out something. Sanson was a puzzle they simply have yet to solve. But there were ideas, spoken on by Love's words as they changed back to their normal attire, the outfit of a Magical Maiden. They could do this. It was just another task, perhaps something like Repression duty!

Deny the magician his story, repress its desire. Putting it in terms like that made it seem far more approachable. Far more reasonable.

Something they could handle. They'd dealt with ALEPHs before. This was just adjacent.

Moving out from behind that curtain, staff twirling, comfort in her hands, she felt ready.

"Um, that other dress..." Love started, a bit sheepish, red on her cheeks. "Will you, um... keep it?"

Don gave a smile, moving over and putting a hand under her chin. "Anything for you, my love~"

Don could swear she saw steam leaving the girl's ears, looking like a cherry for more than a bit, which made her smile all the more. It wasn't too hard to put the dress away in her bag, even if they needed to fold it relentlessly.

But she was ready. They were ready to move on. To whatever the next area held. Maybe it'd be done already and they were worrying over nothing.

But that little naggling voice in the back of her head said otherwise. That this Area was but the beginning.

And to that, she thought that maybe it was best if they just found out, moving out from the Parlor, the Range, the Area, and into the next.

Chapter Text

Any remnants of sunset that lingered in the sky were firmly gone now, Don noticed, all that lit was the incessant pink lighting all about that did little to calm her nerves as they approached the supposed path to the next Area.

Xichun's group, though... the moment she saw their state, Rocinante's steps increased thrice-fold, rapidly approaching, Love not far behind.

Numerous seemed to lie on the ground, only Wei and Xichun standing, the latter seeming near furious.

"Damn magician..." She hissed, one hand clenched into a fist while the other massaged a point on her forehead. Her gaze near snapped to the two as their footsteps approached.

"What... what happened?!" Love exclaimed, worry filling her features as she rushed over to look at one of the bodyguards.

"That Sanson just... took them out. There's no injuries or fighting, they're just..."

"Knocked out." Wei too seemed a bit rattled, guandao out, though notably they seemed to be... missing their shoes. Must've been with that transformation earlier. "When I was pulled out of that 'stage', I found myself back here, with all of them already taken out. It's mere luck that other Bloodfiends did not find them before I arrived."

"Just left them to die..." Don's own anger rose further, but she tampered down on those thoughts, as she could feel the suit trying to amplify them. She controlled her breathing, trying to stay calm. "Thy own roles were insult enough, but this... truly they consider us nothing more than props to be discarded."

"Everyone except you, at least." Xichun added, teeth gritting just a touch. "His power... took them out without a care or motion... and we can't just leave them here."

There was something rising up besides anger in her voice. Realization, perhaps, the true extent of what that magician could do. Realizations of what they hadn't. If they could do this, they easily could have killed each and every one. But no, they had to play around like a cat batting a mouse.

"And yet the time still ticks. How much time has passed?" Don asked.

"A little under an hour." Wei answered.

"Still plentiful time, but... my forces have been devastated..." Xichun paced minorly with frustration.

"Lady Xichun. While it is not the most preferable idea, our options are limited. I suggest you should accompany the two onward and I will see to it that the others are safely brought out."

Xichun's eyes momentarily widened, before narrowing. "That doesn't..."

She stopped, huffing as realization came. "Either this or we're going to have to cancel this, and we can't, not when we're..."

Hands shook before eventually, something just a touch snappy came out. "Fine. Alright. If it gets too troublesome to get back afterwards, just wait at the camp."

Wei nodded, already beginning to move to gather the bodies up, leaving the Jia to approach the two.

Love was skeptical. "Are you sure... this seems... really bad?"

"I've seen you both fight, and while I'd prefer to work with my own men... I have to push deeper." There was still clear frustration, but something else... almost despair, in small part, quickly buried.

"Fair Lady Xichun, we shall take up your guard, thou needn't worry a hair on thy head. Though... I question what importance this river holds that thou wouldst feel the need to risk such to find information on it." Don inquired.

There was hesitation on Xichun's face, clearly mulling it over. "I have a timer of my own. I need the information for a certain... event. A very important one, something i've been preparing for a long time. Is that enough for you?"

They were certainly beating a bush's surroundings relentlessly, but... "Aye, tis' more than enough. There was some information we picked up from that 'play' that may be relevant."

Xichun's eyes narrowed. "Before I was dragged in?"

"Mhm." A nod. "Pray tell, doth thou knowest of a 'Knight of the White Moon?'"

That clearly caught her attention, gaze intensifying as they stepped closer. "Tell me everything."

So that's how the trek towards Area 2 went, Don regaling the tale back as they moved down path.

As they spoke, that irritating gaudiness and flashy lights began to move to the wayside, brick roads growing quieter. Light still here and there, but more... somber. Trees bare of leaves stuck up from the sides of the road, grass beneath dead and dried.

"So... they were here."

"Thou knowest of them?"

"Yeah, to an extent. They're... not a legend, but a myth. Tales of one who's wandered the many Rivers beneath the City among other places. They're the one I've been looking for traces of. The Rivers... a lot of people have tried going down there, but charting it... trying to find what you're looking for, especially when so many of those rivers will just kill you for looking at them wrong... hay in a needlestack, really."

"What are these rivers, anyways?" Love's head tilted just a touch. "I think I heard something about that before back in L..."

"They're... well, they're effectively magical rivers." Xichun started, finger-quotes for that descriptor. "Best way I can put it. Nobody really knows where they came from, but... they probably were here before the City was. Probably will be here after. They're almost singularities in of themselves, able to do impossible things... but getting to one..."

"A journey most treacherous. Sanson spoke of 'nebulae' inhabiting such places." Don commented.

"Among other things, yeah. Monsters and the like. Worse than the Ruins in a lot of ways if you don't have a guide, and it varies by the Rivers too." Xichun explained.

"Even if you learn about whatever river you're looking for, isn't that just... one half of the problem, then?" Love asked. "If getting down there is so dangerous..."

"That's not as much a worry." The Jia waved off. "But we're getting into the Area. Keep your eyes sharp."

A little bit of quiet fell back over the three as their eyes were focused, and the blonde did note something, slowing down. Wooden signs were stapled to a nearby tree gave directions to a couple of places. An infirmary, a... confessional?

Don had to blink at that one as she read on, the last for something called 'Haunted: Bloody Mary'.

"What's a bloody mary?" Love squinted as they slowed beside her.

"Hm, I believe I have heard this tale once upon an eve!" Don answered, putting on a more dramatic voice. "Tis' a fable most grim, it is said that the title of 'Bloody Mary' chanted thrice hence 'afore a mirror shall bring about ghostly apparition behind thou and take thou to a most early grave!"

"You have ghosts here?" Love's face contorted a bit oddly. Something of memory. Of trepidation.

"Not like that." Xichun commented, moving past, the others beginning to move once more as they flanked her. "I think that's just a rumor kids like to spread around."

"Like that, thou sayest?" Don rose an eyebrow. A bit of a silence came, Xichun crossing her arms.

Another long breath, the Jia's eyes looked away. "Look, you learn a lot of things about life and death where I live. Ghosts are one of them. Not what you think they are."

"I shall take thy word, for lo, I believe we have arrived." Don spoke as she slowed down. The surroundings were certainly different now. A large square, ground of polished tile, numerous buildings surrounding them. The architecture had shifted to something... older. Less ostentatious. Gothic, Don believed was the term. Of swooping buttresses and tiled roofs, almost adjacent to stories of yore, which was something she could appreciate.

The largest building loomed above, the one bit of neon with its front sign.

HAUNTED
BLOODY MARY

The letters seemed to drip downwards as if bleeding. Mannequins of bloodfiend caricatures flanked the doorway. Though really, what drew the most attention was the sight a bit before. Large crystalline structures seemed to burst from the ground. Bodies strewn about, both Bloodfiend, Bloodbag, and Fixer alike. It was clear some battle had gone on out here. And yet, it was quiet.

"The Fixers were through here... there's quite a few... dead, though..." Love's fingers twiddled, anxiety rising.

"May it have been swift." Don's eyes closed for a moment, a moment of thought and grieving. It was courtesy that'd been steadily ingrained in them, something they'd done for the fallen in L-Corp just as much. Courtesy that others may have never given for them. Courtesy that they deserved. They could not bury them. They did not know their names, but granting them a moment of her time was a courtesy all Fixers and innocent lives should have.

Love oft joined in, though at the sound of footsteps, one of her eyes peeped open to see Xichun marching past.

"Well, if the last button was in the biggest attraction, it's probably here. Maybe they already pressed it, but we may as well make sure." she idly commented.

She breathed in, straightening as she prepared herself. "Then we shall sally into this 'Bloody Mary'. Forsooth, mayhaps the Overseer here yet lingers within."

"Though he might barge in again." Love's voice was tinged with irritation.

Xichun's eyes narrowed soon after. "More like he will."

"Thou needn't fear. Such a thing is expected, but I shall not allow a thing as before to occur again."

The Jia glanced over. "And how...?"

"Mhm, to speak such loudly is revealing. All I say is one needn't worry thy thoughts on the matter, for we have an attraction to partake!" And then Don sallied forth through the doors, past those caricatures, and the three entered a land most haunted.

The foyer had certainly seen better days. There weren't any exact signs of more fighting yet beyond a vague smell, but there was some disarray. The faux wood flooring lined with gashes and scratches, stairwells lined with holes, guardrails having outright chunks taken out of them.

Paintings once grand now were torn away, in particular, a rather large piece that loomed at the top of the stairs, who with her patchwork of memory...

"Mine father..." she whispered as they ascended, Love close-by catching on to that quiet tone.

"Someone really wanted to destroy it. It's not wear, that's clawmarks." the magical girl noted.

"Unless, mayhaps..." Don's words were drowned out as a speaker crackled to life with a loud whine.

"I welcome you all with all my heart, dear guests, to Haunted: Bloody Mary." It was a male's voice, somewhat melancholy in tone, a mild sternness present within.

The speaker seemed to actually be inside the ruined painting. "You find yourself in the castle of an ancient, once-prosperous kingdom that has long fallen to ruin. Now, you must explore every corner of this derelict castle to unveil the true secrets of the old kingdom."

A mild pause came before it continued. "Please note that there are several installations with the explicit purpose of inducing fear. If you have a heart condition, or cannot handle horror very well, please reconsider partaking in this expedition."

"They want people to feel scared?" Love seemed really confused. "Why would people want that?"

"Not all live such an adventurous life such as us, Love. That spark of adrenaline and fear... tis' many a ride and attraction in these places that are meant to spur such things in a safe, controlled manner, for to many, tis' quite exhilarating!" Don elaborated.

"Oh... huh. I never thought about it like that. I guess it is sometimes nice when we're not, um, threatened."

"Yeah, some people are addicted to that kind of thing. Adrenaline junkies." Xichun added as she too stepped up near the painting. "If you've seen those big rails curling around above, those are for roller coasters. Same kind of thing. Puts you on a track in a car, then moves it at really high speeds."

"Woah... is that really safe?" The magical girl's face didn't look fully convinced, but that sparkle in her eyes indicated more than a bit of interest.

"Tis' supposed to be, yes! Though with such things, problems can occur if maintenance is not done frequently. Tis' the reason I hesitate on trying a ride here, besides the time factors..."

Xichun looked over to Don, incredulous. "You... want to ride the rides in this two century old park?"

"Tis' merely temptation! One that I shall not partake within, I promise thee!" The fixer quickly defended, before the speaker started up again.

"Hm? Sancho, your grace, if you have something you would like to tell me, please come closer and... I missed a line, you say? What... ah, I see."

The person seemingly cleared their throat. "Let the fire of courage light your way in this adventure of cold, bone-chilling fear."

The speaker whined a little further before shutting off, leaving the group to just stare for a bit.

"Why is it starting to seem like you were the only competent person working here?" Xichun jabbed a finger mildly in Don's direction.

"Tis' only two attractions that have had such..." Don was to reply, but Xichun stepped a little closer, leaning as she interrupted.

"Two for two, Sancho."

That caused Don's face to scrunch. Her tone lowered a little. "Prithee, do not call me such. For it is not who I am."

Pink eyes met yellow, the former questioning, but seeing the clear discomfort, they backed off, a bit of quiet before she eventually added. "It was meant as a compliment, you know."

As Xichun walked away, Don was left to stare. What a strange individual this Xichun was, truly.

The trio began to move through the halls, presumably where the attraction properly started. There were more obvious signs of battle here. Splatters of blood that wasn't fake, still wet. A body or two of a Bloodfiend.

Numerous burn marks. Don crouched down to one, rubbing off the soot onto her fingers, smelling it. "District L blend... that one from the Firefist Office has been here."

That caused Xichun to pause, the group behind slowing as she craned back. "You can tell where the fuel came from by the burn marks? The smell?"

"Tis' a most distinctive thing, Lady Xichun." Don answered simply as she rose back to full height. "L is known for its fuel and smoke alike, something carried from the era of Smoke. We frequent a restaurant of bar-bee-cue that uses such blends! Such things are also just as good for combat, if applied correctly."

"Burns are kind of hard to heal, too..." Love added. "I've had to tweak my own spells a lot because of them, it wasn't too common back home."

As Love spoke, she glanced over to one of the walls of the hallway. All kinds of paintings passed by, as well as an... oddly placed mirror? Love peered at it for a moment, squinting at its strange location before it suddenly turned transparent, revealing a figure behind wearing a mask akin to a goat skull, yelling out.

Love momentarily turned into a squeaky toy, near leaping into the ceiling from the sudden startle, Don rushing in to catch them in her arms. 

It was a comical image, Love ending up in what was effectively a bridal carry as that Bloodfiend behind the mirror cackled as the glass turned back into a proper mirror once more. "Tis' just a spook, my fair lady."

Love blushed red, wholly embarrassed, wiggling before Don managed to right them back onto her feet proper. "I don't... hah... I don't know if I get it."

"They're still doing this?" Xichun had turned around at the sound, only vaguely looking at the two as her eyes were more focused on the mirror. "There were Fixers through here and they still want to play-"

The ceiling behind dropped, revealing a passage, another Bloodfiend rapidly dropping from above, screaming.

That scream turned to a squeal as, seemingly on reaction without even turning around Xichun kicked behind herself, landing right between the legs. The Bloodfiend stumbled backwards, clutching that most sensitive spot with a lingering hiss as the noble turned around.

"You clearly heard me talking, so maybe you'll answer that question." Xichun cut to the chase, managing to cast a minorly intimidating presence even with her small height.

"Y-you've certainly g-got kick... not the first time this has happened, though... told them to change this up..."

"Start. Talking." Xichun growled, and the Bloodfiend cowed.

"I-it's just part of the attraction! It's not meant... not meant to hurt anybody." they stammered out.

Don stepped up beside the Jia. Her eyes looking deeply to the Bloodfiend, to the fearful gaze beyond that skeletal mask. "But indeed, there art many arriving who would hurt thy kind, and have."

"N-not... everyone here... wants to hurt humans. Many do, but... the Priest would be disappointed."

"The Priest? The Overseer of this Area?" Xichun pressed.

"Y-yes, he's... why we still try. Why they still tried..." The Bloodfiend's gaze shifted to those corpses. "Even knowing it might fail. It's... what we're supposed to do. What the others... forgot."

Sadness crept up through Don's thoughts. So there were still those who... tried to make it work, even so hopeless as it was? "There are two questions I wouldst like thou to answer. The first... that other group, didst they press the button? The 'device' in this area?"

"T-they did, from what I know. Most of the... fighting others did was in self-defense. Some Fixers did die, but there was that big one... the one with the gas-mask... he plowed through everything in his way. Even some of the people he was working with."

Don frowned a bit at that. She expected something like this. All that anger, ever rising, in need of an outlet. It might turn self-destructive, if it hasn't already. Her suit felt odd for a moment, bubbling fear and remembrance, and a glance to Love...

Ah. Right... with how they described that 'Courage'... history repeating. They needed to find that fixer, but first... "And the other... where is that 'Priest?' I wish to speak to them."

"You... you're not going to...?"

"Nay, nay, no violence if possible." Don shook her head. "Just conversation."

"I... well." The Bloodfiend hesitated. "They're at the Confessional, like they always have. It looks like a church... if you want the quickest way, it's... well, it's on the other end of the attraction."

"Thou have mine thanks, and in apology for young Xichun's actions..." Don's staff rose in her hands, and with a quiet chant and a touch of the star to the head, healing energy flowed through that Bloodfiend, and their body visibly relaxed.

"O-oh, you... thank you?" The confusion radiating off the Bloodfiend was palpable. "I'm just going to..."

And without another word, the Bloodfiend just casually hopped back into the ceiling, leaving the three alone, and Xichun to side-eye Don. "I don't get you."

"Am I so hard to parse?" Don immediately replied, one eye glancing over to the noble. "Dost thou not see the value of kindness, lady Xichun?"

"Back home, this kind of thing gets you killed." she retorted, arms crossing. "And here... you've seen how unstable these Bloodfiends are, right? Like that Barber."

"Aye, tis' true. But that is why one must assess the situation and the individual and make judgements hence! Tis' a skill I have learned very well in mine previous employment. If there is a chance for us to not have to shed blood, is that not a good thing?"

"Even if you put aside not killing people being a good thing to do, there's the practicals too!" Love added on. "Less threat of wounds and injuries and use of energy... that seems good!"

The diminutive Jia sighed. "Look, maybe there's a point in there, but how can we trust them not to simply turn on us and send whoever is left here?"

"Dost thou think I do not keep such things in mind?" Don's head tilted, and Xichun's eyes narrowed.

"You... do?"

"Mhm! Of course, it's always a possibility!" Don nodded vigorously.

"But that doesn't mean we shouldn't try!" Love finished the thought, leaving Xichun to stare.

A moment of silence came, she was clearly thinking. "You two are weird, you know that?"

"Tis' not the first time we have been told such, but if kindness is what makes us such, then it is a badge we shall wear with honor!" And they marched forward down the hall, though they stopped for a moment, glancing back. "But let me leave thou on a question to consider. If thou believest our extension of trust is misplaced, then why hast we earned such courtesy enough for thou to share thy goals, knowing each other only so much, even having endangered it inadvertently?"

Xichun paused for a moment, eyes narrowing, and was about to open her mouth, but Don was already walking away. "Hey, you can't just ask something like that and walk away!"

"Whyever not?" Don asked with a shrug of the shoulders. "I told thou to consider it! Now come, there are frights to be had before we reach this place's end!"

"The first time was just a fluke, I won't jump next time!" Love called out, rushing after. Xichun was left to watch them begin to round a corner, that question bouncing around in her mind. She... was unusually quick to trust them. So was Wei too, and yet... it didn't feel like an incorrect decision. She could only sigh, speeding up to catch back up as that question lingered in her head.

What a baffling pair of characters they were saddled with.

It took around 3 minutes for another Bloodfiend to cause Love to near do a back-flip from a Bloodfiend bursting from a apparently fake wall, and was caught again by Don. Don couldn't help but smile.

"Dost thou understand the appeal of such a place now?" Don asked. Love looked up from her spot in the fixer's arms, clearly embarrassed.

"It's unfair, clearly! But, ah, I suppose I, um... like being like this." Her voice turned quiet, the girl curling in on herself a little, even her twin-tails shifting as if to try and hide her features.

That smile turned to a grin as Love's face reddened. "Then mayhaps we should travel like such more often!"

"Ah, wait, that's not-!"

"Nay, tis' settled! If thou like being like this, then I shall accommodate thee!"

"Hold on, um...!" Love's words were lost to the wind as she stumbled over herself, brain clearly overloading.

"You two are so sappy you're going to become trees at this rate." Xichun commented. "Surprised you don't have rings on each other's fingers."

"R...rings?" Love seemed genuinely confused, but Don smiled. "Mayhaps a topic for later, my love. But we have only known each other for a little more than a year."

"A year? Hah. I suppose some truly do find those to whom they belong with."

"Belong... ah. Oh, like..." The gears in the magical girl's head finally seemed to sputter back to life. "I-I mean, w-we're just... friends!"

The Jia gave the flattest, most unimpressed look they could give. "Friends."

"Partners!" Don exclaimed.

"Y-yeah, partners!" Love more shakily said.

Xichun glanced between both of them. "I think you two are saying entirely different things with the same word."

Love only looked more confused. "What do you mean, partners has... more than one meaning?"

The Jia facepalmed. "Oh, for the love of... how is the person literally called Love this dense abou-"

Her yelling was stopped midway through as a literal column of bats flew through the hallway rapidly, passing just above their heads, and Don swore she heard Xichun made a squeak like a mouse alongside Love covering her face.

Don took a moment to process that before chuckling. "Lady Xichun~?"

She seemingly was taking a moment to recompose themselves, that voice giving her the realization she was heard. "You heard nothing."

Love was still confused. "Huh?"

"You heard nothing!" She yelled in reply before stomping off, now leaving both to watch.

Love blinked before looking up to Don. "She called us weird, but she seems plenty weird to me."

Perhaps from her angle. Though to Don, it seemed a bit more simple. It reminded her of that brief moment as Sancho again. That repression. Heavy walls built around themselves they try to not allow even the smallest crack in. 

And yet, despite that, it still occurs. They were human, after all. In reply, Don simply adjusted Love in her grasp. "Mayhaps we all are, in our ways. Tis' part of what makes us unique!"

"Um... are you going to put me down now?"

"Dost thou wish to?"

"Um..."

"Speakest thy true thoughts!"

"Maybe... a little longer...."

"Then a little longer we shall!" Don then galloped forth, Love in hand, the girl giggling a bit as she moved onward to catch up to their other compatriot.

Eventually they caught up, but aside from a couple other scares, (most of which automated), the place had become oddly barren. Occasional bits of blood and some destroyed and burnt machinery and scenes were present, but it seemed the ride was going out of order for the most part, at least without Bloodfiends active to operate it. There were a couple early on, but given a couple other bodies...

The rest were likely in hiding like that one they talked to. There were still sights to see. Dioramas of banquet halls, of insidious torture chambers and catacombs, more bats, which, from what Don could tell were actually real? How that was possible was something she could not figure, though.

The three reached what seemed to be the final room of the attraction. It was decently well decorated, what seemed to be a kind of stage on one side, the main exit before them, just in reach, but more notably...

There'd been a battle here. And one rather recently. Numerous bodies were scattered about the room. Bloodfiends and Fixers alike. Whole sections of the floor utterly scorched, some even still carrying lingering embers.

Which meant that Firefist had to still be lingering somewhere past.

The speaker crackled on again though. "Congratulations, O brave adventurers. You have uncovered every secret of the kingdom. It is time I let you leave. Should you face such terrors in the world beyond, remember your bravery here and triumph over them as you have today. And now, please give a warm welcome to the Bloodfiends of the attraction 'Haunted: Bloody Mary'. They'll be here for the 'Spooky Scary Photoshoot with Bloodfiends.'"

Lights lit up that stage, and yet... not one Bloodfiend appeared.

Given the fighting here... likely dead or scared off.

"So much for that part." Xichun added. "At least we're finally-"

The speaker whined once more to life, her words stopped in their tracks. "Oh, what misfortune! Every clue that may have shed light on the secrets of this tragic kingdom's history have all been torched and pulverized by those guests who passed through just before you."

That quality was far crisper than the recorded lines, and moreso, the voice... it caused Don to nearly growl. "Sanson."

"And the dear Bloodfiend actors who have put so much effort into giving you a good surprise have all disappeared as well! A true tragedy."

"If this is some lead-in for another of those plays..." Xichun too was thoroughly irritated, and though Love was quiet, there was focus in her eyes.

"Oh, no no no, nothing like that. But to miss the secrets, the point of such a ride beyond the thrills... well, that leave the experience rather incomplete. So, perhaps in place of a photoshoot, we could slot in an explanation of those secrets. Simply a tale, no need for a stage. And what luck! There's even a wonderful little projector we can use here for a bit of... stimulation for it."

Over the stage, a projector flickered to life. The images a bit grainy, but still visible against the dark curtains. Sanson seemed to have a bit of excitement in their voice. But why... what secrets were here?

"Long, long ago, a lonesome king resided within the towering walls of this great castle, and enduring so many years in such a desolate place... wore him down." He began, and the projector flicked to an image of what seemed to be said castle amongst the trees, stylized like a storybook with highly angular lines. A man sat on a throne, head in his hands.

"Lonely mornings, silent nights. The king's heart forever a hollow void. So, this soul-crushing loneliness drove the king to yearn. To yearn for a family. Desperately, oh, so very desperately."

The slide shifted, and the image changed. Four figures had joined the first, and things fully clicked.

She was there... or Sancho was, in silhouette. Beside was that drill-like hair of Nicolina's, and two other figures... the other overseers? A tall figure and another one with a dress beside. They assume the Priest and...

She tried to focus, to remember, and a name one of those recordings mentioned before came to mind. Dulcinea. It was a fanciful name, and one that felt bitter on her tongue even mouthing it out. Lingering inklings of... dislike.

"So, the king began turning his wish into reality. Forging a family of his own, blood-bound, to spend the rest of their lives together until the end of days." he continued. "The king's love for his family was bottomless and generous; soon, the cold desolate castle became a cozy home brimming with warm laughter."

Was it, truly? Even with those at his side, the king in that image still looked miserable. They had not changed. It was hard to pry memories to the surface though to verify, but there wast that feeling that this... wasn't the whole story.

"Yet, perhaps... happiness simply isn't a thing that lasts. It was on one of those many happy days when a knight, hailing from a faraway kingdom arrived at the gates of this castle."

Don was focused on the screen, but out of the corner of her eyes, she could see how Xichun seemed to lean in a bit closer, paying more attention to the words as the slide flipped, the king stirred from their sad hunch as someone below knocked on the gate.

"The knight was a traveler and wanderer with hundreds of adventures and thousands of tales to tell, collected from hither and thither and yonder beyond the world outside of the castle. The king, who had spent his entire life never setting so much as a foot outside the castle requested that the knight recount tales of those adventures to him."

That... that wasn't...  A hand moved up to her forehead as something tried to stir. It didn't go like this, there were things missing. Important pieces. Was Sanson just relaying it as he viewed it? 

"The knight, at want of any reason to refuse this request, said as such: 'Oh honored king! Verily, I shall regale thee with tales of the worlds I've witnessed, the adventures I've undertaken."

The slide changed. The others vanished from the room above, leaving only the king and the knight.

"Soon, something new, something different, began to fill the castle—tales of thrilling adventures. Some days, they would talk of a long voyage at sea, of heroes braving the relentless waves. Some days, they would whisper a heartbreaking, tragic tale of lovers. Some days, they would sing of a hero's perilous encounter with an unyielding monster... and it kept going, and going, and going, as though 'the end' was an idea alien to them." There was something almost a touch bitter towards the latter half as Sanson kept going. An odd inflection Don noted.

"As the king spent days upon days without sleep or rest, lost in the tales of adventures, he soon came to a grave realization. That his family of blood... this confined happiness locked within the castle… cannot fill that void in his heart."

The slide shifted once more, a door in the back of the castle now open, the king ready for travel with backpack and cane, and... Sancho stood beside them.

So, the king began to fill that emptiness with tales of adventures the knight regaled him with. And his infinite love for his family started to grow in a different direction. Toward adventure. Toward the knight. And toward the world outside the periphery of his castle. The family thought it wouldn't last. It was all but a fleeting dream, after all—just a brief, silly whim in which he fancied himself as what he was not, donning himself a pair of ragged boots and wielding an iron lance."

The more they spoke, the more memories tried to bubble up. A few words here and there. A sentence in particular stuck out.

'Remember your last momentary passion project with... what was it? Knitting? Embroidery? That lasted a whole two days before you got tired of it.'

Their father seemed to jump between hobbies and topics like someone channel surfing on a television. Interested for moments only to move to something else. Perhaps... they were looking for something. Yearning for something other than blood.

Perhaps what the Knight showed them sparked something deeper. Something found they never realized they wanted until then. Truly wanted. A dream for them to follow.

But the story continued on. "The family waited. Waited for the king, their creator who not only gave them love… but bequeathed them the same void of the heart, to love them, and only them, again. Yet, for all their waiting, what came thereafter from the king's mouth was bitter to their ears. 

Sanson put on a wholly different voice for a moment as the slide changed once more. The king gesticulating wildly, a smile clear on their face as they looked to the others. "'Let us bring down the walls of this castle! Let us make friends with those outside!' declared the king. The family was afraid. To bring down the castle meant that their comfortable, familiar, and eternal home and nest was to be no more."

But... why? Why would they need to demolish the castle walls to do so? A she thought, something eventually clicked. They remembered something that Alessio said in the briefing.

'The raw material that makes up every structure in La Manchaland... is human blood. Human blood dating back over two-hundred years in the past.' Don had wondered how such a thing was possible the more they delved in, when it was clear they didn't want to hurt humans when it was constructed.

Unless, of course, that blood was from before. Did they... recycle the castle into the park? If they were so desperate for others to not cause more harm, it would make sense, but...

Honestly, they wondered why they didn't just make it normally. It effectively... trapped those within the park. For their original home was simply gone. That didn't sit very well with her.

The slide shifted once more. The castle demolished to rubble around them, the five with shovels in hand as other figures outside pointed to them. "But the family loved the lonely king and his will, enough to help him demolish his own castle. So the deed was done, spades in their hands. Yet... those who lived outside the castle were far too different from those who lived within.

Sanson's tone shifted. There was something more intense in his tone. A grimness, a resignation. "The family had to give up so many things. Happiness. Joy. Ecstasy. Pleasure. Hope. Anticipation... they had to give them all up, because otherwise... they could not become friends with those outside the castle. So the king outlawed happiness from his family. Because he believe that they could be happy merely by watching the happiness of others blossom. That happiness was something that could be shared. Believing that their happiness could be our own, in time."

A mild pause before he continued. "All our pursuits of happiness... were deigned a sin. So I ask: why must we repent for our happiness?"

"A moment... our?" Don noted, speaking up. Things were clicking into place. Sanson's views on things leaking through. Is this what blood was to him? Is this how he viewed these events? His perspective?

"Ah. A misspeak." Sanson added on. A lie, clear as glass. "But that is all I have to regale you for now. Please, consider it as one goes on."

And then the speaker crackled off once more.

"He's clearly talking about blood with that whole... happiness thing. Didn't miss Nicolina say something similar?" Love asked.

"Aye, 'tis true. But the way they put it, the more I go on, the more blood seems less like some... wonder liquid and more..." Don whirled a finger around, trying to get her gears wording for what exactly it was...

"It sounds like a drug addiction to me." Xichun commented.

"Precisely!" Don quickly responded. "Thank thee, t'was what I was trying to muster. Like something whose hooks drive in deep to a person's mind, that makes everything else feel dull. Those hooks pulling and tearing if one tries to get away."

"But they can't stop." Love's mouth turned downward. "Like those people who had problems with that Enkephalin stuff back at our old job... they could stop, they could be held back and get better, but... Bloodfiends need it to live, and those Hemobar things... clearly weren't working."

"And going cold turkey like what it sounds like they did can't have helped either." Xichun added on. But a thought rose up, bubbling in Don's mind.

"Yet... thinking of it, something else comes to mind. If blood is something necessary for a Bloodfiend, then... what of I?"

"Maybe it's Rocinante?" Love suggested.

"Tis' what I believed too, but the more I think, the more I believe it must be more than that. Because if the other Bloodfiends went mad, then why was Sancho and the original Don fine on that adventure? I felt it there, in that recollection when Sanson did his 'play'. Yet being back in Sancho's shoes, besides a mild nagging sensation in the throat, they were fine. And it's becoming clear to me that they... mine father... mayhaps it is why that tragedy occurred. Because he felt fine, and they assumed the others were faring as they did."

"Well, if that story has truth, then this... other Don had the shoes too then. But that doesn't explain you." Xichun pointed at Don's chest for a moment. "So we've got a hole in our information."

"Or maybe a hole in everybody's info?" Love postulated. "If everybody thinks that Bloodfiends absolutely need blood, and this implies that some might not... or at least, not as much..."

"Then there is something more about the nature of a Bloodfiend's relationship with blood than others believe." Don concluded. "Something different about us, not just mine steed. But what?"

"I mean, I guess the only way is..." Love started, but then stopped, before they sniffed the air. "Um... do any of you all smell something burning?"

Confusion radiated across the three until Don too smelled it. "That's... outside."

Don began moving towards the exit of the ride, the other two trailing behind until she stood stock still, staring outward to the area behind the attraction.

And before them was what was something like a small church, as that Bloodfiend described. And as they stared, the thing was steadily turning into a blazing pyre. Flame and smoke billowing out from shattered stained glass.

"The Overseer...!" Don didn't hesitate a moment longer before she ran full speed towards its doors.

"Wait, that's suicide, you'll die from-!" Xichun tried to call out, but Don was already long gone. Love was running from behind.

"It's not our first fire! Come on, I'll protect you!" Love exclaimed, following behind the best she could. Xichun hesitated, but relented with a sigh.

These two were going to be the end of them.

Smoke filled the stone room, numerous hooded statues cracked or burning on lines of red-hued pews. The sound of clashing metal could be heard within, and charred or bludgeoned bodies were scattered across the ground.

It was dangerous to breath, hesitation would end them quickly, Don having sucked a breath in before entering. It was enough for a chant, planting that staff to the ground.

"I call upon the Winds of the Eighth Wand, bless us this day and snuff these flames!" She chanted, and a large magical circle formed beneath. Air began to move, swirling more and more as Love ran beside, Don's eyes closing to focus.

"Arcana Burst~!" Love aimed her finger directly skyward, tearing a hole in the roof. Smaller fragments came down, but a momentary shield deflected the largest chunks, soon joining her staff with Don's, heightening the spell's strength.

The wind swirled into a near miniature cyclone, smoke rapidly being funneled out of the hole and revealing more of the room.

It was a massacre, clearly. Two dozen dead Bloodfiends lied about the room, and several Fixer corpses alongside. But two figures remained, fighting tooth and nail.

The Firefist Fixer, whose pack and gauntlets glowed with heat, sputtering wildly as his swings continued coming, and the other, a rather tall Bloodfiend wielding something like an oversized cane or pole. Hardblood had grown around it, forming something like a long whip that kept the Firefist at bay. Their mask was similar to the other Bloodfiends, but it was heavily damaged, revealing sallow, wrinkled skin, an eye almost sorrowful.

More flame erupted forth from the Firefist's gauntlet, but the cyclone continued, practically curling the fuel, whirling it into the the air.

"The hell-!?" The fixer yelled. "What are you doing?! This Priest is mine!"

The flames surrounding the room began to sputter out, dying as the oxygen was ripped from them.

"We need him alive!" Love called out. "Don't kill him!"

"Much as I hate to admit it-" Xichun had come in soon as the smoke had died down. "They're right."

"The fuck are you-?" The Firefist had to step back, that whip nearly slamming into his midsection.

"Alive...? Hah... how clear it is... those who wish to confess their sins." The Priest's whip retracted. "Will you not grant the opportunity?"

"Their sin is getting in the way." he retorted, growling halfway to a feral dog.

The cyclone began to spool down, and Don's eyes opened, hair still billowing in the wind. "Except thou will find that thou art just as much of a barrier to thyself as I."

Her staff raised, sliding back into a more natural grip. "Sir of the Firefist Office, I would wish to talk with thee as much as this Priest."

"I would too!" Love called beside.

Xichun didn't say much, just eyeing that fixer, stepping back to let the others handle it.

The Fixer's masked gaze felt like a glare, boring towards the two in front. The word they emitted was singular, dripping with cold anger. "Why?"

"Because this is not a good path!" Love took a step forward. "I've seen this before, that all-consuming rage... it won't lead anywhere good! You have to stop it!"

"Stop... stop it!?" That rage bubbled up in full, nearly roaring as they continued. "What else do I have!? What else is there!? If it was not rage you wanted, if it wasn't this, then why did you save me?"

A gauntlet-ed finger pointed towards Don. "Why?"

Don's eyes closed for a moment as she released a breath, yellow eyes meeting those smoky lenses. "Wouldst that have been what she wanted?"

That stalled the Fixer wholly."...What?"

"Thy sister. Would that be how she would want thee to end? To her own puppeted corpse?" Don reiterated.

That gave the Firefist pause. They stood there quietly before his hands shook, balled into fists. "...no. But... what does that change? What else is there? WHAT ELSE!?"

"Me sulking back to that shitty basement alone... wallowing...?" He gave something of a pitiful chuckle. "No... no, can't be that. Can't do that. Kill this overseer... get the Ahn... give her the funeral she deserves... give them what they deserve..."

"I deserve the end of such fury." The Priest spoke up finally. "So many of us do... and yet... I too know that the catharsis you seek... you will not find it, doing such a thing. Perhaps... for a fleeting moment. But after it comes will come a void. Of what comes next? Why is that fire still not quenched? Why does it burn still? And if it did become smothered... what lies after is as much a trial as anything else."

"Hah! That's funny... very, very funny." He turned, facing that Bloodfiend again. "What the hell do you know of it? I've killed plenty... but you still have family. You still have others. You still have a reason to hang on. Reason why you fought me. For them, isn't it?"

He made a mild glance to the Bloodfiend bodies. But he didn't even give that Priest room to answer before he lunged forth. The Priest realized the incoming attack, that whip coming down, and yet a gauntlet-ed hand met it, gripping it, metal warding off the exsanguinating spines along its length, raw strength snapping it, crystal shattering like glass before the other hand moved for a hook-

Only to be intercepted. A blur of pink, a hand meeting the fist.

"What-" He didn't have time to make another word before their head was smacked with a star-ended staff, sending him stumbling back.

"Fuck that... didn't... hurt?" He managed. Don's staff glowed a soft and gentle white.

"Tis' a mental aid." Don started. "To help thee think clearly for a moment. I... know more than a bit about losing many dear. My previous employment.... t'was not a peaceful place. It was filled with more death than one can truly comprehend, and I know only the tip of it. Many a friend died there in ways gruesome... ways horrible and worse than true physical death may be. Some... not dissimilar to how she went. And yet, I pressed on."

Her eyes closed, pain on her face. "Perhaps I have others, tis' true, but... it is a weight that still sits upon mine heart. Every name. Lewins. Godfrey. Tomas, Britanny, Holand.... and so many, many more." 

When her eyes opened, there was a certain sadness to them. "Yet, if what thou say is truth, then it adds only more reason to live. After all, who else will remember them? It's clear thou care much for them... then why do this to yourself? Thy gear... is is sparking. Overheating. Suit damaged, you're still bleeding... mayhaps thou wouldst be able to kill this Priest... but thy venture of revenge would not get much further."

He was silent for a while until Don broke the silence. "Sir...  what is thy name?"

More quiet met her ears, but eventually... "Nicolas."

"Sir Nicolas... thou hast done much. There is already a great bonus for pressing the area's button, alongside all those Bloodfiends you have slain. Pick yourself up. Leave. Claim the Ahn. Give her their last rites as they deserve. Engrave that memory within thyself... and move out of that basement you described."

Some of the words seemed to strike something within the man, freezing him solid for a moment.

"If you need help with either, if it is not enough..." Don pulled a card from their bag, flicking it over. The Firefist caught it. A business card for Starlight Office. "Call our office. I will handle it. If my sparing brought you pain... let it be amends, on me."

He stood there for a bit longer before they seemed to slowly and steadily... deflate. A long sigh was filtered by the mask. "Maybe... maybe there's... fuck... a point there."

There was still some irritation, clearly. A growl. "Dammit. Taking the fire out of me... making me feel the weight again. The wounds... you're a pink-laced shithead."

He breathed in. "But you make a point. Fine. I'll go.  Leave you to this disgrace of a church."

"Do you... want any healing?" Love offered.

"Fuck off." Nicolas spoke as he walked past. Clearly done with this.

The Priest behind sucked in a ragged breath as the other two of Don's group stepped forward a bit. "Ah... you've... you've grown much... Sancho..."

The heavy-set footsteps stopped, the Firefist turning. "What did you call them?"

Xichun, facing away from Nicolas and towards Don quietly slapped a hand to their face, mouthing a singular word. "Idiot..." Love beside felt tension rising.

He turned around fully. "Sancho? I know that name... heard that narrator yammering to them... and if this crusty old fuck knows them..."

His voice dropped, syllables like gravel. "You're one of them, aren't you?"

He took a step forward. "Part of this La Manchaland."

Don's lips pursed, but she too took a step forward, moving back into the man's full view. "Once... someone in this body took that name. But I am not them."

"So you were... ha... haha...hahahahahaha!" That voice shifted into a laugh, deep and long. "And... and to think you almost had me."

That you almost made me walk away... but you're just a fuckin' liar, aren't you?" That rage started to seep back into their voice, that energy returning.

"I said not-"

"SHUT UP." He roared. "You're with them then... I dunno what the hell is up with your getup... but you coming in, needing them alive... it all makes sense..."

"Do I look like i'm with them? They're fixers like you, dumbass." Xichun retorted.

"But you vouched for that Priest to stay alive too. That makes you just. As. Culpable." That gauntlet of theirs which had cooled down began to sputter back to life, crushing that card in their fist.

Love's face was pained. "They're telling the truth... but... nothing we say's going to change your mind, is it?"

"Nope. But I'll give you one chance. Get out of my way. Give me that Priest... and maybe I'll let you go."

"In your condition?" Xichun wasn't impressed. "You're just going to kill yourself."

Nicolas paused for one long moment. And then came the flame. A wide stream looking to engulf all three in one go. Love immediately responded, an array flaring to life, a barrier to halt its path. Xichun was already moving to the side. That flamethrower redirected but Xichun was already midair, a spinning kick right to the ribs, causing him to stumble hard, flame cutting off.

The sound of a bowstring releasing twanged through the air, and the Firefist was sent hurtling back as a great white arrow pierced through their chest. They coughed as they slammed into the doorframe, and yet... the arrow did no physical damage beyond the initial force.

Nicolas breathed heavily, forcing themselves to stand.

"Stand down, Sir Nicolas." Don moved forward, taking the front as the bow was dismissed. "Please."

"Hah... fuck...!" He grunted, steadying themselves. "Three on one... what a joke... outnumbered... overpowered. The world... throwing every goddamn adversity my way... what'd we do to deserve that..."

"Every one of you fuckers... you...." His words drifted off, but... he seemed to focus on something suddenly.

"Big... big sis...?" He was looking off into space. "What... how...?"

He paused, like he was hearing something. "Remember..."

"The hell is he...?" Xichun's eyes narrowed. "Alright, I think that's enough out of this guy."

Love stared before her eyes widened. "Wait, stop-!"

And Xichun acted like they near face-planted into a wall that didn't exist. "Wha'... the hell?"

She stuck a hand forward, only to be met with solid, invisible force. "There's an invisible wall...?"

Don too narrowed her eyes, before triggering her sight and...

There... was a wall there. A light golden shimmer in the air... one that seemed to be coming from Nicolas.

"Can't give up... I know that... but what am I supposed to...?" he kept talking. And though she couldn't hear the other half of the conversation...

"There's somebody there." Don uttered. She couldn't tell... what it was. Something of golden, shimmering light... a familiar light.

That light of Lobotomy Corp, in the vaguest impression of a person. The Arcana within Nicolas too began to shift, growing, sprouting.

"I remember... that's... hah... that's right."

Something about the Firefist began to change on the outside too. That faded suit, covered in muck and grim and the Firefist's own blood... it began to mend. Cleaned, the grime coming off as ash, burned away, revealing the original colors of that pinstripe... red, not brown. It was a sharp, bright thing, the lighter stripes almost seeming to flake off further to reveal gold.

"Engrave the idea... don't just settle..." The burnished iron of the gauntlet too seemed to begin to lose its burn marks, and in its place came filigree, the outline of flames that danced along its plates. But it kept going. Parts of the upper suit began to reinforce, more plates being added along the upper chest, leading to the other hand beginning to form a whole other gauntlet. This one was quite different though. That gold seemed to take center stage instead of merely filigree, bright and practically radiating light, black highlighting its edges.

"He's... transforming? What the hell is...?" Xichun could only watch, caution growing in her body language.

"E.G.O." Don supplied, causing the Jia to snap her head over. "Tis'... a manifestation of the self. A realization, a goal set... t'was how she described it to me, at least."

Xichun's eyes narrowed, voice small. "...who?"

"The Red Mist." And those three words turned Xichun's eyes to momentary saucers, but Don continued. "She could do similar. Form armor from themselves... a shell of the self, of desire. She knew not the truth of how she acquired it, why it manifested then, but... it was a powerful thing. Enough to nearly bring my old workplace low, when she was at her own lowest point."

Xichun stared for a while longer before looking back to Nicolas.They were still changing. That tank on their back shifted almost wholly... it was becoming less of a fuel tank and more of a pillar in ivory and ebony, marbled and fluted. The pillar-tops curved upwards, forming something like a crescent. And within it, something began to manifest. A spark, a light, growing and growing.

"If we can't... If I can't see it... I'll find a sliver. I'll widen it. I'll tear it open, burn away every obstruction...!" He kept going, voice raising into a yell.

"Sir Priest..." Don glanced behind to the Bloodfiend, who was only staring on in near stupefaction. "Is there another way out of this place?"

"There... is a way, in the back." he eventually managed.

"I suggest thou take it. With your state... thou art most likely to die. Lady Xichun..."

"If you're suggesting I run, i'm going to kick you." She growled, even though she still looked... unsure.

Don's lips snapped shut, teeth gritting just a touch. "Very well. But please, Priest..."

"I shall pray for you... and that fixer alike." He spoke, turning and beginning to move away. "I will be waiting... Sancho."

When Don turned back, that spark had brightened. It was like a blazing sun, hovering there between those prongs of marble. Fire and light slithered down from it like serpents, wrapping around those gauntlets of theirs.

"Burn it all down... wipe the slate clean... so that the path is clear...!" The Firefist roared, and he looked forward. Despite all the changes, that mask of theirs was the one thing that didn't. Still blackened, scratched and dinged. Like a reminder.

"Maybe there was a point you had, Sancho." Nicolas spoke, seemingly refocusing on the others. "But the way I see it now... I just needed a reminder. Of what i'm here for. Why we came here in the first place."

He flexed those new gauntlets, seemingly having realized their presence for the first time. "To get what we're owed. What we deserve. A nice home. A nice office. A place filled with light, a place we can move up to the heavens. But you're in the way of that... this entire park is."

"It lingers in my mind, it's a weight I despise. But... I'll fix that. I'll tear it all down to the foundation."

That light of the sun intensified. The air seemed to swelter with heat. "Cut every loose end. This park... this meat-grinder... it vanishes when the sun rises. Fades away... it'll be the case this time, too, but..."

The heat continued to grow, and the stagnant fuel still around the room began to spark back to life with flame, rising up. "This time, it'll be gone for good. I'll melt it all down, every bit, nothing but ash will be left! I'll take near every bit of that bounty, and then I'll ride it to the top... where we belonged, where I deserve."

That flame rose, but smoke didn't rise as much from it, and it began to shape. Vague impressions of people... of others, eyes dancing like blue flames amidst the orange. They looked... like the Firefist. The vague outline of a gauntlet, of a fuel-tank, of a suit and tie.

"I'm bringing every name with me. Engraving them in myself... and yours...?"

He chuckled, long and deep. One final change seemed to begin occurring, as some of that flame from the sun moved upward to the top of their bald head.

A mane of fire billowed behind him, and blue flame shined through those polarized lenses. "Nothing but ashes beneath our feet. So if you'd kindly..."

A gauntlet rose, aimed right towards the trio. The other fiery memories seemed to do the same. "Burn away and die, monster." 

And so night parted for the moment, daylight filling every crevice.

A daylight harsh and hateful, shining into even the smallest corners.

Whether it would be a long day was to be seen, but...

Don at least knew it would be one they would not forget.

Chapter Text

The office was often quiet in the mornings. Most of its members were heavy sleepers, Nicolas included, but sometimes they stirred way too early. It was annoying, but... they were used to it.

An occasional lack of sleep was the least of the fixer's problems, considering everything else.

Firefist Office was not their idea, really. Fixer work in general, but... where else could they turn when in the hole with little in terms of 'marketable skills'?

He questioned why her sister wanted to go with flamethrowers of all things, though.

"I know a guy." she said. When was she having the time to know these people? The two weren't apart that often, were they?

But they sighed and went with it. The rates were surprisingly cheap for such a potent blend, though fueling the whole office... did not help with their Ahn reserves.

But they were still afloat. Still here and all. That was enough.

At least for him... his sister though...

He stumbled into one the main office space, coffee practically glued to a hand, and the sight he saw made him squint.

"What... the hell are you doing, boss?"

"Me?" She chuckled casually. "I'm basking. What else do you think?"

She stood there, knees up on a chair, looking out a small, thin horizontal window. Honestly he always wondered why it was even there, it just looked out on an alley, and was so close to the top of the room that you had to be either as tall as he was, or sitting in a weird elevated position like her.

"It's... an alley-way?" 

"Nah, nah. Come on over." She gestured, scooting the chair a bit to the side. "It's about to start."

Nicolas moved over, raising an eyebrow. "Just an- ow, fuck!"

He stumbled back a moment as suddenly light came into view, nearly blinding them.

She laughed. "Just an alley-way, huh?"

"Oh, screw off..." He moved over again, to see... the sun.

The morning sun, shining through that narrow gap into the office. It lit up his sister's face in both senses, a smile coming onto her lips.

"Told ya'. Baskin'." those lips split just a bit, a hint of teeth.

"How the hell...?"

Found out about it a while ago. I know people hate being in this dusty-ass basement. Say they're all getting pale being down here. But... there is sun. In the right places."

"So... you're just... taking it in?"

"Yep." She popped that p like she were blowing bubblegum. "Lasts for like ten minutes. Gotta' get it while it's hot."

"Sis'... i'll be honest, this is the stupidest shit i've seen you do."

"Matter of perspective, lil' bro."

"I'm like twice your height."

"Tell that to the womb."

"By like 30 minutes...??"

She laughed again. "Still enough~... but seriously though, it's important."

She put her elbows on the rim of the window, looking out. Her voice turned a touch down, gaining a particular edge to it. "It's a reminder, Nicky boy. Think about it like this. If the sun can get all the way down here, in this place, for even a bit of time... then what's stopping us from clawing our way up?"

She tapped the glass, a finger trailing down. "If it can get down here..." That finger traced its way back up, hitting the top of the window-frame. "Then we can get up there. We can get out of this joint. We'll get ourselves a spot in a tower. And then we'll reach up for the stars beyond."

That finger moved over, jabbing Nicolas in the chest as she looked over to them. "That's what's important, lil' bro. Engrave that idea in yourself, 'cause it's more important than anything else."

She looked back, leaning her head so it tilted to one side. "We'll get out of here. Maybe... not all of us, but... Firefist'll make a name for itself. Mark my words. "We'll show 'em what we can do."

"We'll make that sunshine our own, and blaze a path that'll be remembered for centuries. We'll be stars."

"I won't accept anything less."

He'd forgotten it, though. Just another thing lost alongside everything else.

He should've pressed more on that job. Why they'd allow fodder like them... Grade 7s to take on an Urban Nightmare, even for a bit...

15 minutes. That's all they needed. That's all the time it took for it to all to go to hell. Fuel tanks ran dry. The Bloodbags just kept coming.

She smiled to him then, the last time he saw that toothy grin, tired.

"Get out of here. I'll catch up. Get that interview."

"Sis...?"

"Trust me. Please. I'll see you in a bit." she forced, her gauntlet clashing with another body that continued to crash in.

He always tried to listen to her... he shouldn't have, then.

But you're alive, aren't you?

Does it feel like it? Hah... no, it didn't. This wasn't living. It was existing. When that pink-suited girl jumped in... part of him wanted to shove her to the side, she was also so small, like her...

Like sis...

But she wouldn't want that.

She wouldn't, no. That point that 'Sancho' made... he hated how she was right.

You just need to remember.

Remember...

That glimmer of light, that ray of sunshine leaking through. 

It's there, you can't give up.

"I can't, I know that, but what am I supposed to do? I can't see it... they're so..."

The light is there, Nick... and if you can't see it, you just need to move to a new spot, find that crack.

I... I remember, that's right... just need to find that spot. But it's so dark...

Not every ray of sun needs to come from the outside. You engraved it, right? Don't you remember? That idea?

I... don't...

An idea... a ray of hope just as strong as any bit of sunshine... a ray anywhere you please, whenever you need it. You don't need to just settle.

Don't just settle... I don't want to settle... why did I ever even think about it?

If you can't see it, reach around for its warmth, find it, grasp it, tear it open, burn away anything between you and it!

Ride that current to the top, then higher still. Burn like the brightest star in the sky, because that's what we were meant to be!

Burn it all, clear this weight holding me down, throw it off, burn it, use it as fuel to push even further ahead.

That's right, lil' bro...

Burn it all, blaze your path and show the City what you're capable of.

All three were forced back, and Don felt the lick of flames at her heels. The entire front half of the confessional turned into a blazing pyre from that simultaneous firing, the air sweltering, warbling and warping.

It was enough heat that even the nature of the hardblood that surrounded them came into question, for Don could see drips. Hardblood melting back into its constituent form. This building was not going to last the fight.

"Please tell me you have a plan!" Xichun called out over the crackle of flame, the three settling next to each other for a moment. 

Those 'memories' were hard to track amongst the blaze, but they were beginning to approach.

Don forced on her magical sight, trying to peer through. Nicolas sat towards the back, letting those others approach, but what drew her gaze's attention most was that miniature sun. It was near blinding to look at, but she could see wispy lines tracing from it to each of the fiery facsimiles.

"Each of those apparitions, the 'memories'... none have physical form save for the fuel within them... to strike at them is pointless. Tis' the fixer himself who holds the key. That light, that sun... all of them are connected to it."

"So if we can take out the sun, we cut the strings." Love noted. "But how do we..."

"Split attention." Don immediately spoke. "Lady Xichun, thy evasion... dost thou think you can take the attention of his allies?"

"Taking the attention of living fire... sure, why not..." Xichun was already sweating, the temperature was growing untenable.

"Love, canst thou focus on controlling the flame's spread? We must not suffocate."

"Can do! I'll control the flow the best I can!" She nodded.

Which left her to deal with Nicolas himself. She breathed in that sweltering air, feeling that drip on her cheeks as she focused, the practical line of around 5 fiery 'memories' filling the way forward began to raise their arms.

"Then go!" the words sent all three into action. Xichun brandished her fans and surged forth. She moved in a whirl, fans turning them into a dervish that intercepted a solid chunk of the memories before flame spat forth, her whirling disrupting their forms.

Those on the other side began to fire, however, where Love came into her own. That same quiet prayer as Don chanted before, staff planting to the ground as much of the fuel was pulled into a whirling funnel of wind that directed it upwards and away from the group, which left a window enough for Don to rocket through, though given how those 'memories' Xichun disrupted were already reforming...

Don hoped the noble could keep a hold of their attention for long enough.

As she began to approach, Nicolas wordlessly rose those gauntlets forward. And before where there would be a stream of flaming fuel, it had turned into a torrent. A geyser that spilled enough that it threatened to coat the whole room in itself in moments.

Her staff swung twice as she moved to leap to the side to keep the flames further away from the others, Love's cyclone behind working to keep the majority away from Xichun as they danced amidst the others.

The swinging of the staff wasn't towards the fixer directly, rather, the ceiling. With the building's steadily compromising state...

Those pair of stars sailed forth and impacted like hammers, bringing down the roof atop Nicolas and cutting their flames short as he was forced to cover his head.

From their new angle, Don charged forth towards the recovering fixer, feet taking large leaps forward with every step as their staff extended out, a lance-tip forming to thrust directly towards his chest, arrays of Arcana bolstering its velocity even further. Force like this wasn't what she truly wanted, but if this continued, this would get far more out of control.

The blow connected, Don's velocity all transferring to the fixer before them. Yet the fixer was not impaled, instead skidding back violently across the room, the weight of his body trashing a line of pews as they were nearly sent to the side-wall of the Confessional.

It did far less damage than it should have, and Don could immediately see the reason. Flame. It curled and shifted and flared around that spot they hit, moving like a living thing. Don was reminded of the Kurokumo. Those ink tattoos that could shift like reactive armor, a pain to deal with. But this was a step above.

As long as that sun that shined on his back kept feeding him flame, hits to the body were a waste of energy in this sweltering heat.

Wrath shined through Nicolas's mask, those flickers of blue visible elevating to roaring flames. That sun burned brighter, energy from it trailing down as not wisps of flame, but light itself, curling down to that new gauntlet who seemed to gleam even brighter as it touched its golden surface.

The arm rose, and within that nozzle pooled light. Don had an idea of what was going to occur and dived, narrowly missing being incinerated as a beam carved the space above her, piercing through the wall with ease. The pews provided some cover to block line of sight, the starlight fixer rapidly crawling as it continued to carve downward as well, hewing the thing in twain.

Don angled her legs, tucking them in to prepare for a series of maneuvers. First came kicking off the ground, heat trailing as Nicolas's aim tried to follow her speed. Then came readjustment, using the corner to kick off the wall, moving over the laser's path. She only had a moment to act before his aim adjusted, but her empty hand stuck out, pointing a finger-gun as she dived.

"Arcana Beats!" she rapidly called out, and a rapid deluge of light poured forth from the array at the tip of her pointer, aimed straight for that sun.

Magic impacted Light, kinetic energy assailing the orb and the effect was immediate as that beam from Nicolas's gauntlet sputtered and cut off. That fiery blue gaze momentarily widened as Don Quixote flung herself at him like a missile, staff-lance aimed for that orb clear as day. Both gauntlets rose up, forearms guarding the sun, a resounding clang that sounded closer to a thunderclap than a clash of metal. The Firefist skidded backwards from the sheer impact, hitting the wall.

A grunt came out, and there was an opening. Surging forth, she held that lanced forward, crossing that distance.

The other fixer was recovering though, seeing that charge.

"ENOUGH!" A gauntlet rose before slamming downwards, flame spewing into the earth. Don leaped up, thrusting the lance forward to hit the exposed star even as flame billowed across the floor like a carpet. Her lance drove in deeper, enough to use as a pivot to keep off the floor, but then something happened.

That flame beneath grew brighter and brighter, something like a whine growing from below. Don realized something was happening, using Nicolas's exposed shoulders to try and leap away but then...

Flame detonated violently, and Don's world was consumed in a deluge of fire. They could only vaguely recognize the feeling of crashing through something, and soon after, the ground.

It was so hard to think... to see... pain consumed all. Breathing felt like there was an iron weight on her chest. The heat subsided, and the chill of the cold night air rushed to fill that space.

Something about this... being here, charred, yet so cold... it stirred something old within her mind, dredged up from some deep, deep reaches.

She'd... been here before. This... situation. She remembered the flames licking at her limbs. She remembered the pain.

She remembered acceptance, that the feeling of flames, that heat and warmth... was all she had. It sparked further memory. More recent, of back in the Wing. That girl formed of ash and soot. Something so similar. Left in the cold with nothing but matchsticks.

And yet... hers didn't end that way.

"Tell me. Why did you seek death?"

They survived. They were... found. This was...

When they became a Bloodfiend. When nobody else would bat an eye... he... Don Quixote... he... 

"Then... allow me to grant you the will to live. The family I shall grant you will forever be by your side. Come with me."

...offered life.

That very act. That compassion. It alone proved Bloodfiends could be more than monsters. That they could be more than whatever this park had become.

It gave her life. That much she remembered. And now...? She wasn't alone, still. She... had to keep going. Had to get up.

Even as pain rattled every inch of her body. As she could feel blood pouring out, she opened her eyes and focused the best she could. Her body was scorched. Hair still burning in places. The E.G.O suit had protected her somewhat. It alongside the augments likely being the reason she still lived, and yet... it was blackened. Even Rocinante wasn't wholly spared, and many part of exposed skin... pierced by shards of stained glass. Yet her heart still beat. There was time to turn this around.

She tried to move her left hand, and yet... all that lingered there was scorched meat and bone. Unresponsive. Her panic heightened a touch, and she tried the right... her pinky wasn't moving, but the others responded, even as a bit of bone was visible.

It had to be enough. But another sound drew her attention, and though her eyes were still bleary...

The Confessional stood no more. That detonation... half of the building had been wholly and utterly decimated by the blast. Flame rose, a violent pillar of fire and smoke that rose more than a dozen feet high.

Her eyes widened. Love... Xichun... were they...?

And yet, something else stirred. Moving over the husk of the building's walls, and with it, uncomfortable warmth.

Nicolas. Still standing. Near spotless. But that sun... its light was no longer a bright yellow. It was blue. And seemingly even larger than before. The hair-like flame that billowed atop his head was much the same.

He stared at them. "Still alive."

He growled, a rage-filled sound that crossed that distance, even more than two dozen feet away. And then he began to walk.

It snapped her back into focus. Right hand functional. She mildly turned, hissing as some glass was driven in further, reaching for that bag on her back.

All the while the Firefist continued to close. Their hands clenched and unclenched, each fist formed belching a bit of flame from both gauntlets, a similarly blue flame to the star, more spots lighting up closer and closer, closing in alongside that heat.

She dug into that pouch. Past the globules, past that dress, the licorice...

A green ampule wrapped in her fingertips, and as the Firefist crossed within a dozen feet, she jammed it into her exposed thigh.

She forcefully sucked in breath as the fluid within was injected into her system. It was unpleasant. Not further pain, but unpleasant nonetheless. Burnt flesh shed off her skin as new fresh flesh took its place from beneath, glass shards near ejected from the wounds. It pulsed through her whole body, everything feeling like it was being rearranged, leaving her gasping, coughing.

"It won't do you any good." The Firefist commented. He wasn't stopping. One gauntlet rose, blue light forming inside, and with her regenerated arm, her staff rose. A quiet chant. A flash of light.

And Nicolas's flame hit nothing but empty air as Don Quixote vanished.

"What...?" The other fixer was left to stare at the flame, devoid of the magical maiden.

While Don Quixote rested numerous meters away, tucked out of sight near the one side of the Confessional that still stood. 

Vaguely stood, it was practically just a wall now. She tried rising to her feet, limbs still tender from the regrowth of the Ampule. She ached still, head bleary, but... intact. Even if... her suit had seen better days. And her staff.

The thing was wholly blackened, the top-most point of the star wholly melted. The other points too had seen better days. Chipped and battered, the central part of the star with a hairline crack down the middle.

E.G.O weaponry was tough, durable, but... nothing was truly indestructible. She sighed as it floated to her back. Mostly unusable. 

She would have to make do. 

She glanced inside the wreck, that one door the Priest mentioned nearby.

Nothing but flame and debris. If they were in there...

No, no, nononono, don't jump to conclusions. They're probably out, recovering somewhere. They had to be.

What mattered more... she peeked around the corner, seeing Nicolas still there. Now that she could see more clearly, the full environment came into further focus. It was something quaint, almost like a park, of soft faux grass and withering husks of trees.

And among them, the Firefist roared.

"Teleportation... you cowardly FUCK!" his gauntlets breathed fires, spewing it, turning the park into another field of flame. "YOU'RE JUST DELAYING! Everything... all of it will be wiped clean. Then I'll find you. Your friends... that Priest... all of it..."

If they were talking like that, then... they must not have seen where the others went either. But more importantly...

They couldn't just leave them be. But charging in recklessly again... they needed to approach this more carefully. 

Treat them like an Abnormality to research. Figure out the rules, play by them. So, firstly... E.G.O.

Don was unsure if it worked like her suit. E.G.O equipment naturally gives the user proficiency with it. One picks it up or dons it and they understand its abilities. He seemed to have that. But could it push one's knowledge beyond what they already know in terms of proficiency like their suits could?

They were unsure, but... most of the techniques they'd done were still generally simple. He was raw power and force. But skill-wise... she doubted if they were still any better than where they were before in that regard. But the rest made up for it. But that was still a weakness. Think smarter, not harder.

Abilities... the flames. They could seemingly spew them endlessly. No care for fuel or overheating. Flames can rise into flaming revenants that too can spew flame. And focusing that flame into a beam of what was seemingly plasma. Or light. It was hard to tell, but what she did know was that all of these things connected to one source: The sun on their back. 

The goal hadn't shifted, but they needed different methods. Physical damage worked to some extent, but getting that close to the Firefist was a death sentence. So... ranged options, then.

The bow was the obvious choice. That large, blocky thing, unfolding in her hands, one of the most complex creations she had managed to create. Its design was something from her subconscious, and now she knew why. A copy of that Knight's weaponry... someone she must've trained with. She conjured it in her hands from an array, weight hefty. It was not called the 'Hundred-Pound Bow' for no reason. And yet firing it came so easily.

The arrows too. The Arwe. Long jet black spikes with length enough to be used as a spear, and that had more in common with Love's energy manipulating magic than Construct creation. Each thrummed with energy, attuned with each shot.

The four types of damage. Infusing each needed a different touch, and  each presented their own uses, and it left them to consider. Physical, or RED damage was an option, but... the way E.G.O was... other options seemed a better pick. WHITE almost wholly focused on the mental. To ail or clear away maladies of the mind. There was a chance it would have an effect, given this E.G.O was from the self, but...

BLACK was the more notable choice. It was certainly a more esoteric force. It was a caustic, nasty thing. Love herself often called it 'Dark' or 'Reversed' energy. It oft came in the form of thorn-like lightning in deepest purple, lashing and burning skin it touches and digging deeper, thorns piercing into the mind. That... might be what they're looking for.

There was, of course, the fourth, but... no. No.

Nobody deserved that, not unless it was absolutely necessary.

So, calling upon the Arcana, in her hands formed that Arwe, and edging the bow's position around the corner, she lined up the shot.

It wasn't difficult in terms of cover, but the brightness was another matter. To aim for it, dead center...

She breathed in. The bowstring tensed. Steady. In and out. Hold.

They waited patiently, the fixer still burning bright, and then when they turned around...

A plunk. A release of tension. Purple and black sped through the air extremely fast, and a moment later.

An explosion was caused as the BLACK met Light, caustic energies sent to a boiling point combined with the Light aspect...

Nicolas was nearly knocked off balance, but that flame still protected them from a good chunk of the explosive power.

"YOU!" They yelled, turning, gauntlets flashing with flame as they broke into a sprint. Don did not hesitate as another Arwe formed in her hands.

The second BLACK arrow loosed, but Nicolas was more aware, the rushing fixer putting up their gauntlets high, fire swirling to protect on top. But on impact, they were caught off-guard as the BLACK arrow similarly exploded like before, causing them to stumble. 

More than enough room for her to squeeze out a third, another lance impacting that sun and nearly toppling the Fixer once more.

A feral growl rose into the air as the fourth flew, and Nicolas managed to shoot off a jet of flame. It wasn't enough to reach Don, but it didn't need to, for on contact that BLACK arrow exploded mid-air.

Don pursed their lips. They figured it out. Further adaptation would be needed. But seeing it work with any of his flames did plant an idea in Don's head. Something to use for later.

The Firefist continued to close the distance, and seeing that speed, they pivoted, instead infusing the bow itself with that BLACK energy before hucking it, causing another larger detonation that stopped the Firefist dead in their tracks, smoke obscuring view.

It would be momentary, she knew. She prepared, arrays crackling to life between her fingertips before a jet of flame arced through the smoke.

The Knight's weaponry was not the only thing she had created. Improvisation too was something she had been working on. And in a moment and further flare of magic came a wall of steel, a greatshield that slammed to the earth, angled to divert the fire around them, standing proud.

Nicolas moved forward and continuously streamed more forth, but Don was not out of tricks. While one hand was dedicated to keeping that greatshield in place, the other too formed another tool, a bit more complex.

A crossbow, a bolt loaded with BLACK. An arm rose above the shield, blind-firing towards that ever-so bright sun.

Another explosion followed, the stream sputtering, and it was enough room for her to start to move, greatshield rising as in two large steps that sent its great weight into the fixer, Don doing one more infusion of BLACK into the slab of steel itself before leaping backwards and kicking it further into the Firefist, leaving Nicolas too to be sent tumbling back as the fire instinctively triggered and caused a further explosive reaction.

Gauntlets dug into dirt, carving a line into it as the other Fixer halted their tumble. They breathed heavily as Don landed near to the lingering flames. Those explosions clearly had an effect, looking at him. That red suit was once again becoming stained by soot. Small gashes from shrapnel that had gotten through the defense. Their gas-mask too had suffered damage. One lens cracking, the rest turned pitch black.

They were slowing. But so was Don. Infusing BLACK that much... it was a toll on her stamina and energy. She too simply breathed for a bit, gaze holding as the other rose back to their feet.

"What a load of shit." He muttered, staring back. "You are... somehow more annoying... than every other Bloodfiend combined."

"Some... wouldst take that... as a compliment."

"But..." He breathed deep. "You're running out of juice."

It was true. The Arcana... pulling on it this much strained her. Not simply physically, but mentally. It only grew in power the more it was used, but it too tried to drag her under. It wasn't the first time that it'd happened. She could feel that energy nearly writhing beneath the skin, the crackles of pink and purple-hued sparks that danced 'twixt her fingertips.

"I shall... give thee such. Tis' truth. Yet... thou seem just as drained, nay?"

The Firefist nearly snorted. " Me? Hah... maybe a lil'. Those explosions... tryin' to knock me out of the sunlight. But it's still here."

The Star on their back seemed to pulse, and gradually it wasn't tinting blue as much anymore. Steadily becoming something larger, distinctly red in hue.

"I'm not done yet. The slate... clear it all. Every bit." Nicolas's voice was breathy. "And while maybe... you've taken a bit out of me... i'm not alone."

It was a simple maneuver, those gauntlets flared with flame once again, rising swiftly and shooting gouts not towards Don, but beside them. Fire filled both sides, creating a lane. And from each, that rising flame shaped itself. More than a dozen images of those Fixers, gauntlets prepped, fuel full.

All ready to aim at her.

"Any last words, Bloodfiend?"

Don breathed in, closed her eye for a moment as that breath released. An idea emerged in her head, but she knew the end result was likely not what she truly wanted. But...

"Sir Nicolas... I wish to tell thou this, for it is an important thing." She began. "Thou speak of clearing the slate... Of wiping this place from existence... It is something for which I share thy opinion on."

"If you think you can save yourself-"

Don rose an arm, stopping them. "Nay, I understand you believe I an obstacle to such. I know that no matter what, tis' likely that neither of us will get what we fully want out of this. But... I want you to know that no matter how this ends, La Manchaland... this husk that it has become of a once noble dream... this will be the last time it manifests, whether by thy flames or my will."

He stared, head tilting just a bit."And you think you can get out of this?"

"Mayhaps. A theory of mine has begun to form." She began to reach behind herself.

"Unfortunately, I don't care." Nicolas growled, and she could hear that whir of motors, that roar of flame as a dozen gauntlets started up.

Three steps in rapid motion. One more infusion. Her hands wrapped around those globules of water, 5 in total. BLACK flowed into their structure, their glass-make, even the fluid they contained.

Flung into the air, she prepped a second spell. A warp. Fire flung out, but before it could reach her, she was gone, empty air in that space once again. And lastly, a final command, and those globules high above shattered spectacularly. Every ounce of water, every shard of glass writhing with BLACK, a rain upon Nicolas and the field of effective nitroglycerin they had made.

The result was a detonation that could be heard and felt for miles as a massive plume of smoke rose from the south-most part of the park.

And the sun went out with a bang.

Xichun did not think this night could get more insane, really. Between Bloodfiends, magic, a reality-warping Bloodfiend who did as he pleased, and the fact that her only two allies at the moment were a pair of magical girls, one of which being a Bloodfiend with a habit of talking in the most ridiculous parlance she had ever heard and some other girl who Xichun was sure wasn't human...

But somehow it got worse, given she was literally firing fiery apparitions formed from some nobody Fixer who seemingly went through a mental break before their eyes.

And that somehow made them conjure a literal sun on their back and get a power-up that seemed more fitting for a cartoon than real-life.

Utterly, ridiculously stupid. But this was her life for the moment, apparently. She focused on her fans, dancing between streams of flame to disrupt them, that 'Love' behind causing many after to get swirled up in that cyclone of wind they were generating.

They just needed to hold these things off, but more seemed to practically spawn from the fires that were steadily covering the room as Don and that other Fixer fought tooth and nail.

She could only see their battle in brief moments between her flowing movement between these things. She could see at a point they started firing lasers?! The light of the things practically outshining the flames surrounding them.

Don getting close. Hitting that sun, lodging her spear into it...

Only for the building to be filled with light and sound as whatever that Fixer did just caused a massive explosion.

Her eyes widened before she found herself being knocked off-course by something hitting her.

A scream that seemingly ripped from Love's vocal chords, and a rush of movement as she hit the ground, as the roof began to cave in and try to bury them. A light in pink as that other girl, face panicked reached for her.

And suddenly they were elsewhere. Both of them.

It was... wait, this room...

That room back at the end of the Haunted House. Stage dark, she could feel herself hit the cold ground beside it.

And it was only now, breathing rapidly, that they began to feel burning agony.

She looked to her side, only to find a great wooden piece of pew... sticking out their side.

"Fuck." she hissed, fear coursing itself through her. The more she looked, she could see other wounds too. Legs burned. Smaller bits of wood down there too.

And it was only then they registered the other presence with them still. That strange girl.

She looked halfway to the verge of a mental breakdown herself, eyes wild and tinged not yellow, but something closer to amber. They vibrated minutely, the girl seemingly trying to control her own breathing.

"Love... right?" Xichun caught her attention. "A little help...?"

That seemed to snap a bit of sense into them, blinking rapidly. "Right. Right! Sorry, sorry, that wasn't..."

"According to plan..." Xichun finished and Love was quiet as she kneeled down to Xichun. "Okay... hold on..."

She sputtered one of those magical arrays to life and formed something. Like a piece of cloth? They handed it over. "Might wanna' bite this."

Xichun's lips thinned, but they obliged. Her words after slurred, but still comprehensible. "Doo iht."

With a sharp yank, the shrapnel was taken out and Xichun bit down, cloth muffling a scream. She could feel them doing something right after. Muttering something to that staff of theirs as pink light glowed around her side.

Healing of some kind. It was strange. Like pins and needles.

Something changed partway though, as something like relief seemed to flush onto her features.

Xichun released her mouth's hold on the cloth. "What is it?"

"Don's okay... I just felt her." Love explained.

"Felt... her?"

"It's... hard to explain? It's, um... the suit."

Xichun rose an eyebrow. "That... what the magical girl getup allows you to feel them?"

"...yeah." She said, focusing on the wound for a bit. They could feel the flesh close like a flap. It was so strange compared to other kinds of healing they'd experienced in the past. Knitting and regrowing, a solid warmth, blood mopping itself up with odd crackles of energy.

"How?"

"It's, ah..." Love seemed a bit uncomfortable at the question. "Kind of... part of me?"

Xichun just stared. "What."

"It's hard to explain, I told you..." she continued. "But her vitals... were really low but they're back up... she must've used one of those Ampule things..."

"K Corp Ampules?" These fixers were more loaded than she thought, apparently.

"Yeah, those..." Worry was still clear, they weren't entirely focused, glancing to the door.

"Why aren't you helping her, then?"

"Because you matter too." Love replied. "Just as much. We... Magical Girls... we put our lives on the line for innocents. Villains can come in so many forms. That... Nicolas guy. He's destroying lives. He's got to be stopped, but you... keeping innocents safe, especially our charge... it's just as important. I..."

She paused, pained. "I want to go help her. But... someone with a noble heart such as yours deserves to be protected."

"Noble... heart?" That was... who would describe them as such besides perhaps Wei? Who would think that?

Xichun was always a bit different from the others of Danguanyuan. Others considered her a nuisance, tiny and insignificant. Not a real threat to the politics of Hongyuan. She was used to being nothing.

Her dreams and wants for such a place too were much different. Others coveted power. Wealth. Immortality. She couldn't care less for such things. She just...

Had a dream of H Corp being something more than a deathtrap.

Did this girl, this... strange being before them see that, in some way? Treating them better for it?

"Yeah... it's in your Arcana, you know? The core of yourself. I see it blemished, but... there's something bright and shining in there still." Love elaborated, her eyes preferring the ground as she continued to work, shifting downward towards the leg. "This City... in my time here, I've found it's full of all kinds of really sad people. Those who... give up. Dreams. Life. The goodness in their hearts... blackens. But... yours hasn't. Those dreams and desires... they're more important than anything, you know. Oh, and, um... bite?"

Xichun wordlessly moved the cloth back to their mouth, considering the words. It was...

So very strange to hear that from... anybody outside of Wei. From this weird 'magical girl'.

She bit down, grunting as smaller pieces were pulled in rapid succession before that healing began again. Yet the pain did not distract them much from those thoughts, even as the sound of something like fireworks came from outside.

Or actual explosions, given what happened before. The cloth loosened. "Is she still...?"

Love closed her eyes for a bit. "She's still fighting. The flow of Arcana is strengthening."

"Is that... good?" Xichun was still lost on how pretty much any of this worked. Being so entirely out of her element was frustrating.

"It means... they're using a lot of magic." Love answered. "Which can be worrying. It takes energy to do what we do, but more importantly... the Arcana growing stronger isn't always a good thing. At least for them."

"For them. I figured you were different, but how?"

"Well, I was chosen by Arcana herself. My body is made for handling it all, but Don just... did it." Love sounded equal parts proud and worried as she seemed to almost reminisce. Humans... well, before Don I didn't think any could use the Arcana like she can, but... she proved me wrong. But there's... issues, you know? Theirs isn't meant to handle that much energy going through them. They're different from a normal human, but that doesn't change that the more you pull on the Arcana, the more it pulls on you. And that... it can consume you."

Well, that confirmed her not being exactly human, but... the rest was more worrying. "Kill you?"

The dark look in the magical girl's eyes implied something more. "Not... not really, it's-"

And then what followed was a cavalcade of noise and sound so loud it felt like her ears burst. Love practically stumbled to the ground, Xichun forced to cover her face the best she could.  The entire door-frame of the haunted house's exit blew inward, flying past both, thankfully.

But that sound made everything a mess, and the air quality dropped as dust and debris was scattered about the room. It was... what could've caused something like that? It was like the previous explosion that fixer did but... somehow infinitely worse. How much power did they have?

They checked themselves over for wounds. Still a little bit of burn, but... everything else was closed. She did good work with that strange energy, she had to admit. 

Love too seemed fine, if rattled, using the side of the stage to stabilize themselves. Wide eyes that matched her own, adrenaline spiking again.

"Don..." She breathily muttered.

"Can you find them?"

"I... she's still alive, I can..." Love's eyes closed, focusing.

"Oh no, nononono..." The girl seemed to almost spiral, Xichun snapping fingers in front of her to keep some kind of focus, the other blinking as Xichun pulled herself up to full height.

"I can move, alright?" She put a hand on the girl's shoulder. "So if we need to find them, then let's go already and stop wasting time."

That notion seemed to stir her. A hand clenched tightly around that staff. "Right. Rightrightright, you're right."

And after that, she began to move away, breaking into a run. "We've got to get to them, we've got to-"

She paused after they reached the threshold of the doorway. Xichun jogged beside. "What are you..."

Her eyes widened. "Holy shit."

It was devastation that lied before them. Where once was a Confessional, once was a park was now a great series of craters. Lines like trenches that dug deep into the earth, wide bowls that stretched dozens upon dozens of feet in width. 

Metal above from a roller-coaster sagged down, metal warped and melting back into...

Blood. Right. It wasn't metal at all, but the entire structure above seemed on the precipice of collapse. This place had turned into a warzone.

Was this what that 'EGO' was capable of? Turning some no-name worthless Fixer into an engine capable of doing this kind of damage? This was the kind of thing they'd heard tall tales of Colors doing casually, and yet...

Here they were. It made her feel insignificant for a moment. More than a bit out of their depth. 

But they had something they needed to do, so they shook that girl's shoulder. "Lead the way."

The magical girl paused for a moment, blinking, before her face hardened again. "Right."

And the two were off, trekking into this no-man's land that perhaps at one point was a theme park.

Love always had a bit of worry when it came to Don Quixote. It wasn't negative, it was more... fearful. Fearful of something bad happening. Of a spell or job going wrong.

Of something taking her away. Despite the year that had passed, Don... Don was everything. A friend, a student in the ways of magic as much as a mentor in terms of learning about this 'City'. A partner in heroism and the protection of the innocent. Someone they trusted and cared for and loved in so many ways.

Yet that fear persisted. The time spent with her, developing the office, the nights spent snuggled into each other, the smiles they had, the smiles they spread...

Even amongst everything wrong with this City, that rot that festered and bubbled up everywhere she looked, being with her made everything okay. It made her feel like when everything was right, before. When Happiness still fought for others. When Courage outshone anger to lead others to a better tomorrow. When Justice was kept and not simply hollow.

When nothing could stop them. Before one by one, she was left alone.

She didn't want to be alone again. She couldn't handle the idea of it. It was dependency, a lifeline. Maybe it wasn't healthy. She... understood that, and yet she clung to it nonetheless, clung to that person who treated her as a person, who didn't care that she might've turned into some monster at some point, posturing there was always a way forward. She may not have been chosen, but Love could see no better example of what a Magical Girl should be. And those thoughts, the possibility that bubbled up festered as her heart raced through what might've happened out here.

That worry she felt grew and grew as she raced through the craters and smoke. They could feel her. And they could feel the Arcana twisting.

The Arcana was... a complicated thing. It encompassed so many things. People, magic, creatures, life itself, really. The Arcana was all encompassing, and yet it too was something that could not be messed with so freely.

Reversal. The end result. When the Arcana consumes you and drags you down, mind or body. Magical Girls were made to handle great quantities of Arcana, but even they had... limits. Don was a fair bit less in that regard. Not of their own lack of skill or expertise, but... simply their body. Less built for the purpose. Reversal happened in two ways: One was mental stress. Giving into those darker emotions. The second was more physical. The buildup of Arcana within the body straining it and the mind, often leading to the first and then...

Down one went. It wasn't the first time it had happened to Don. She still remembered that time with those... butchers, and another time more recently when they were pushed by a particularly notable Capo and their crew, but...

They learned limits. Experimented and pushed to see how much they could take. Even her. Those times were...

She didn't feel regret, but it was an uncomfortable thing. Something she was about to be reminded of as she turned another corner, a little alleyway between two buildings and...

There she was. On the ground, on her knees facing the floor. Pink energy crackled around her. Muttering echoed through the passageway.

"Ihadtodoit, I had...hadto, Ihadto..."

"Don!" Love called out.

Don's head snapped up and they practically pivoted, scrambling away. "No, nonononono! Stay away!"

Her eyes were shadowed things shining with amber light, looking at her like a stranger. "I'm not... not... no... how can I be a hero when I can't even..."

"Don..." Love spoke softly, quietly and slowly approaching. "It's me, Love. Do you remember?"

"Love... Love?" Don blinked. "No, you have to... see me like this, like I am, likeIam-"

"Shhhh..." Love spoke up, lowering herself down to the ground beside her. "Please don't worry, Don... I'm here."

It was always odd hearing Don talk like this, without that archaic inflection that gave so much character to them. It rang of something wrong, but it was still her. It had to be, even as she shook like a leaf.

"But i'm... haaah... I killed him. I didn't..."

"Have a choice...?" Love offered.

Don nodded weakly, and Love took hold of one of Don's hands, interlocking fingers. It was comforting but also useful in its own way. A link, a connection between their Arcana, enough for her own to quietly tug on theirs, taking on some of that burden.

"He wasn't... not a villain." Don added on.

"Why do you think that?"

"Because he... this place... my family, they took everything from them, this place is a mass grave. Monstrous. Horrific. To wipe the slate... they had all the right to. And I... I took it. Like them, the rest of the family... I... I..."

Love leaned in on Don's shoulder, silencing that doubt. "You're not like them."

"Am... am I not? I.... know not, I..."

"Shhh..." Love replied, nuzzling the side of Don's head. "You're better than them. You did it to protect everyone, right? You think that guy would've stopped? Maybe he... weaponized it. Focused it, but that anger, that wrath... it still flooded his heart. The way he chose... it would've bulldozed over everybody he came across."

She paused for a bit, closing her eyes. Those memories of Courage... Love never saw the events that led to what happened, only surmised them afterwards. That Hermit... insidious. And it wasn't even what he led in that truly destroyed everything in Courage's home.

It was the girl herself. Or the thing she became, hammers laced with acid, destroying everything they saw and even when it was all gone, didn't abate. They just found a new target.

That Nicolas made their path, their decision. A selfish, raging thing that promised to put everybody else beneath them on their path to the top. It was arguably even worse, because he seemingly knew what he was doing. Courage simply became a Wrathful beast, barely cognizant. Nicolas embraced it full-well knowing what they were doing.

"That... I... there is truth, and yet my heart aches... my mind doesn't abate, I..." Don blinked. "Oh, I... wait... there was... I promised them... the slate. I can... I can still clear it. I... oh. I... haaah... I reversed, have I not?"

"But I'm here." Love continued to comfort.

"Forsooth... thou art." That inflection Love had come to know as her came back, those shadows beginning to retreat. "Ack... I apologize, I shouldst..."

"It's alright... you're alright, that's what matters." To them, Love's head silently echoed in addition. She couldn't argue that much.

"I... verily, thy words hold weight." Don breathed in. Love could finally feel her pulse begin to calm. Though that fixer soon looked beyond Love, startled as they realized Xichun was also there, standing and leaning against one side of the alleyway. "Ah! Lady Xichun, thou art alright as..."

She stopped, realizing the damage to the dress. And the few bits of visible burns down the legs. "Ah, you still need healing! Prithee, mine apologies for-"

"Save it." Xichun interrupted. "You need to rest, clearly. Your girlfriend can help finish the healing, right?"

Love could feel the blood rushing to her face. "Ah, wait, i'm not..."

She trailed off, words failing to slip by her tongue once more. Ah, that was a series of thoughts that never failed to make her mind sputter and overload. But did... she deserve to be? Perhaps... that's why she could never force those words past, as much as she wanted to. Why her mouth only supplied disagreement.

But Don nonetheless let go of Love's hands. "Tis' a good idea, though mayhaps we should find somewhere to rest for a time. If... we still possess good time."

"There are still a bit under 4 hours until closing." came another voice, familiar. At the mouth of the alleyway stood another figure. That Priest fellow, it seemed. "And if you need somewhere to rest, I can offer such. It is the least I can do."

The three looked between each other. Don simply shrugged. "Tis' quite welcome. And very much appreciated. Lead the way, Sir Priest."

Xichun didn't look entirely convinced, but given everything... Love was inclined to trust them. This Bloodfiend was... a fair different from the others. All of them had that Arcana that seeped out, sucking up anything it could. His, though...

Rather than bright red, it was more a withered, almost cracked muddy color. It spoke of heartbreak. Of grief. But not so much subterfuge.

She would keep her eye on the fellow as they kept close to Don, helping keep the exhausted girl upright, Xichun reluctantly tailing.

Love sincerely hoped this Area wouldn't give more surprises, but...

The longer they walked, past that sea of craters left in that Firefist's wake... she doubted it.

She just hoped her head's rather intrusive thoughts were wrong this time and that they could have a quiet moment for once in this awful park.

Even as she noted Don's gaze lingered relentlessly upon those smoke-laden craters.

Chapter Text

The Priest led them on to what appeared to be an old restaurant, located at the periphery of the Area. It might've been quaint if it wasn't so disused. The signage itself collapsed, leaving not even a name.

Yet the inside was... pristine, if dusty. It seemed to have been some kind of bar and grill. The Bloodfiend led not towards the main area, but one off to the side, a set of stairs upward to what seemed to be a lounge.

"Take a seat at your leisure." he offered. A variety of comfortable chairs, a couch which Don promptly sunk into beside Love. Xichun positioned themselves next to them, if only so Love could begin to work her magic on the Jia's wounds.

"Where do we begin..." The Priest's hands clasped together.

"Mayhaps... introductions?" Don suggested as she began to fish something out from her bag. That licorice from before. While Sanson was assuredly not trustworthy, given the water hadn't killed them, that licorice too was probably safe, giving one over to Love as well, who stuck it in her mouth as she adjusted her staff to begin working on the remaining burns.

Finishing chewing, Don continued. "Mine own memory is nonexistent... in regards to the past, at least. I know not even thy name, but... I still feel familiarity."

"Oh." The Priest blinked. "That is... not what I expected. Very well then. I am Curiambro, or 'the Priest' as most have come to know me. Overseer of Area 2 and Third Kindred of the Manchegan Family."

"And though thou knew whomst I was, currently I go by Don Quixote, Operator of Starlight Office. Beside mineself is Love, faithful partner and magical maiden. And our most recent companion is Lady Xichun."

"Charmed, i'm sure." Xichun idly commented, seemingly sarcastically.

"Don Quixote... hah. You took his name?"

"Ah... moreso... stumbled into it. I knew not the context when I took that mantle. But tis' mine name nevertheless. But if thou wishest to call me Sancho, thou mayest, if it makes thee more comfortable." Even if it didn't provide much comfort to herself.

His red orbs broke away for a moment, gazing somewhere else. "It would, yes. But... to matters... you wished to speak to me."

"Aye, tis' true." Don nodded. "On matters past and present. I and Love's reason for coming to this park was to fill blanks. My memory of Sancho... it has only been coming back since I have arrived here. I wish... to know the truth of it. Of what happened here, of that past self."

Don leaned a bit forward. "Wouldst thou be able to tell me of her?"

Curiambro reclined back into the chair. "If... that is what you wish. We were... not exactly close. Though, to my knowledge, that applied to everybody. You were... apart, to put it succinctly. Aloof, some may call it. Our relationship was strictly professional, even when you came in for consultation."

"Consultation?" Love piped up, confused.

"It was mandatory, for all Bloodfiends. Weekly sessions, to gauge their wellness." The Priest answered.

Don's eyes narrowed a touch. "Who... handled thy own?"

A look came in Curiambro's visible eye. A subtle shift that broke his gaze. "Someone had to do it. To listen, to understand their woes. Even knowing such relief, such absolution may not come for them."

One who listened... but was never listened to. A touch of sorrow filled Don's eyes. "Then I suppose thou wert... the most informed when it came to the state of decay."

"I was." Were the simple words he uttered in response, eyes closing. "The countless cries. The desperation seeping in. We tried to keep faith. That it could work. That we could live. But..."

"It didn't." Xichun finished. "I'm honestly wondering why your leader didn't see the signs."

"It was belief. Faith, in his dream." The Bloodfiend responded. "That I know for sure. His was a genuine, true thing. It was inspiring. But faith... I have seen its limits. Bore its results. 'From endless forbearance comes coexistence', he once said."

Something began to spark in Don's head. Thoughts of that conversation before, when they were traveling to this area. "Tell me... didst thou'... believe in the dream thyself?"

"Did I...?" He thought for a couple of seconds. "I had faith it would work, like so many others."

"But... didst thou believe?" Don pressed. "Or was it moreso... hope?"

"Ah..." Those eyes stayed closed for a while before they opened, flickering upwards. The wrinkles on their face seemed to deepen further. "The difference from the outside is small, but... I see your meaning."

He bent down a bit, chin resting on his hands as he seemed to contemplate further. "My faith... was in our Father most of all.  The... 'dream'... it was what he wanted, and thus, what we should strive for."

"So it wasn't something you truly believed in. Just your leader." Xichun summarized, and it caused the Priest to cringe a bit.

"Putting it like so... hah... so harsh, and yet... there is truth within it." Curiambro seemed to sag even further. "I had faith in him. That we'd be fine, that there will be something happy at the end of this road, and yet..."

His hands clenched. "Day in, day out, bit by bit we slipped further and further. That thirst... only grew. And all I could do was sit idly by... say platitudes. Assurances. But assurances... were not enough. We... we needed to do something."

"Thus... the plan." Don added on softly, all the while mentally taking notes.

"...the plan." Pain grew on his features, like they were struck. "What a sickening thing it was. To consider. From Dulcinea, of all of us."

"Tis... the third Overseer?" Don asked, if only for confirmation.

He exhaled sharply through his nose. "The Princess of the Parade. My mother, in some sense."

Someone above the Priest in terms of rank, it seemed. The wording though... "Of all of us... t'was unexpected?"

"Outwardly, Dulcinea was one of those who assured everybody that everything was fine, even Father... it was her position, I feel. She has always cared for attention upon herself. For others to see her beauty. Hence why she was the Princess. The head of the Parade. She was content there, I feel."

"It's the wrinkles, isn't it?" Xichun spoke up, drawing the gazes of others as she sat there, legs and arms crossed, reclined back on that couch as the final burns seemed to evaporate away under pink sparks. "I know people like that back in Danguanyuan, people obsessed with appearances over everything else. I'm guessing she was someone who didn't care for the suffering. Just herself. It was only when she got pulled in that suddenly everything about the other Bloodfiends mattered. Given all of you Bloodfiends here look like raisins..."

A sad look gleamed in the Priest's eye. "It's... likely that was part of it, yes. When her cheeks began to sink. When her dresses needed to be resized again and again because of lost weight. But what matters more is that she posed it. That...  horrid thing. I held myself back from it. The idea of it was heresy. Taboo. But I... I... we had to do something. Words simply bounced off Father's ears, no matter who spoke them. She and Nicolina both hounded me for weeks, and day by day it became... something reasonable. Something I had to stomach... for the Family."

"The massacre..." Love seemed to deflate, shoulders sagging.

"Hah... that day." The Priest's hands shook. "The first of our grave sins. Defying our Father's wish, his dream. I... hated it. And yet, that ecstasy... the blood upon my mouth, it left me... left all of us... feeling nothing but joy again. It blinded me to everything else. In that moment, it was us and the blood we had been so denied. We could... breathe again. I can't... I can't find myself regretting it... perhaps that... Nicolas was right. On us all simply being monsters. Unchanging, blood-hungry beasts whose civility is only brought on by the suffering of others."

"Thou... must know it is more than that...?"

"Is it?" His gaze rose, piercing into Don. "Even now, even having recently fed, I find some... difficulty in restraining myself in the presence of your colleagues. I can feel their heartbeats. Hear the flowing blood..."

"Then what of I?" Don posed the question, gesturing to herself. "I have had nary had a drink of blood in that time except perhaps some meats, and yet... why am I not like thou? Why dost mine skin not sag? My steed, my shoes upon my feet seem to stop the thirst, but... the physical effects should still be present, nay?"

"The shoes... Father's creation?" Don nodded, and Priest's gaze lowered to the pair of shoes. "He poured much of his own blood into such a thing. But... even were it to somehow... feed you from that, it shouldn't provide nourishment... diseased blood such as ours is worse than even the most meager of animals."

"Then there's gotta' be a reason, right?" Love commented. "If Don was able to live and thrive... then maybe blood isn't the end all be all?"

"That... cannot be right. We tried this, it..." The Priest's voice rose for a moment before they stopped themselves.

"Mayhaps we should approach this from a different direction." Don began. "Why dost a Bloodfiend need blood? Thirst aside, of course."

"The Barber lady said it was like life, right?" Love brought up.

Curiambro's hands clasped together. "To condense it into one word... it is difficult. But life... perhaps it is the closest. Without it, we... wither. Our throats parch. Our minds cloud with hunger. Those highs of emotion die down, and all that is left is... misery. We become strained and desperate for even the mildest drop."

"Really is like a drug then, huh?" Xichun spoke. The Priest froze.

"Is it...? Hah... perhaps there is some truth in that. The highs and lows."

"Yet here I am, still standing." The Starlight fixer responded. "Though... perhaps I am not at the strongest of moments, I'm still pushing forward. So... why? Why didst others fall, but Sancho and mine Father didst not?"

At the mention of their Father, the Priest tensed. "With your point before... you mentioned belief... is this why you brought it up? That we faltered because... we did not believe as much as he did?"

"Tis' a possibility, one I have been considering." Don answered. "We had something to strive for, to push ourselves for, something that mattered more than simple blood. I know not... why, perhaps only an inkling thus far, but..."

"And... what will you do with this information?" The Priest's gaze intensified.

"Dost thou not see? The way, the path out of this? A way without bloodshed, a way to perhaps even move beyond-"

"Sancho." Curiambro interrupted, voice toning down, a mild quivering within. "You speak of paths... of belief and dreams... what do we have left of those?"

Sadness crossed every bit of his features, the wrinkles exaggerating them. "Perhaps if we had known this then... perhaps things might've been different, but Sancho... we are husks... There is little left of who I once was. Of who any of us were." The Priest's voice strained, low, an almost hissing thing. "Of any of us... what desires we had... all of it melted away for that one thing that could grant us any modicum of peace. Blood. It is... all-consuming. You suggest such a thing with such nonchalance... just like he. Like Father. But... you fail to consider that we are already lost."

"But thou art still here, still breathing and thinking-"

"Only-!" Curiambro's voice suddenly jumped up into a yell for a moment, the man mildly raising... only to stop themselves. Hands moved for the armrests of the chair, gripping them like a vice as he settled back down, getting himself under control. "Only because of the blood I have recently consumed. Those with that Firefist... and yet, it feels like barely enough. Before... in the times between... my mind... everything becomes a haze. Even then, when I first saw you all, I saw not fixers but... those coming in for their sessions. I feel as if I am lost in a never-ending nightmare. To go without blood again... I... I can't. I'm- I'm sorry, Sancho... this heart... it has broken down and it cannot last."

"But you realize living like this is a death sentence, right?" Xichun idly spoke, her own gaze boring back into the Priest's own. 

"Look at what that Firefist guy did. Practically blew up like a fourth of the area with how that fight ended. Could've torched everything. Hana's looking at you. P Corp's looking at you. Everybody's looking to carve up this park like a steak and rip it apart for all it's worth." The noble continued. "You think this is sustainable? How many Bloodfiends have you lost this night alone? And assuming you survived tonight, they're just going to come back again and again and again."

The Priest's gaze flickered, face sinking even further. "What else do we have? Where else could we go? The Prince tried such, but... I know not where he has ended up."

"The Prince?" Don's gaze narrowed. Someone did leave? But to where, and when?

"Cassetti, the Prince of the Parade... he managed to slip out, vanished into the Backstreets. I know they yet live, they were one of mine, and yet... what life could one live?"

"I mean, you could just become a Fixer?" Love offered, and the Priest froze.

"Hah... that notion..."

"Why's it so ridiculous?" Love pushed. "We have to get violent all the time. Having to put down villains and other sorts! There's plenty of places out there that specialize in big fights, and that means plenty of places to get blood from too, right?"

Of all the people to suggest that line of thinking, Don thought Love would be the last to, and yet... A glance to Xichun showed a mild look of surprise just the same.

The Priest seemed to consider it. "Yet that is something that cannot be stretched to all of us. And if the... Hana are involved here... seeing what we have wrought... you would believe they would accept those like us?"

"Do you even understand the amount of jobs out there that call for murder?" Xichun added on. "Everybody wants protection, bodyguards, companies that need muscle. Intimidation tactics, assassination, war. Like... put aside fixers for a second, this City just runs on blood. Most of what I've heard with other Bloodfiend families is something similar."

That caused Don to blink, but the Priest spoke her own thoughts first. "Other families? You know of..."

"When you live where I do, yeah, lots of stories and gossip gets passed around about this sort of thing." Xichun readjusted herself on the couch. "I'm not intimately familiar with any of them, but from what I've heard, a lot of those Bloodfiend families just exist in society. They don't need to do this sort of thing so brazenly, they just take what they need and the corpses are just cleaned up by Sweepers or swept under the rug in other ways. Only way you can tell at a glance if they're a Bloodfiend is the red eyes, but do you know how many people these days use red eye prosthetics? A lot more than you'd think."

"Hah... something that sounds so easy, but what place would care to hire such broken, sorry souls-"

"Okay, shut it." Xichun rose a little, boring her pink eyes into that red.

"Lady Xichun-"

"No, they need to hear this." Her eyes flickered over to Don, and there was a certain intensity to them that wasn't there before. Frustration and... something else. Did this strike close to home?

She looked back to the Priest, her standing position actually putting her over the sitting Priest in height.

"There's something we do over in the east called Kintsugi." Xichun started. "When a piece of pottery breaks, they fix it with lacquer laced with gold dust. It makes every crack highly visible, lined with gold. Those flaws and breaks... they're just part of the piece's history. And that lacquer often makes the fixed piece even stronger than the old."

They let that sink in for a moment, breathing in. "So here's your choice. Either you all can sit here, wasting away, getting those momentary bits of ecstasy from that blood before you die slowly but surely... or you stand up, gather who you can and leave. Maybe you think you're broken? Well then...piece yourselves back together, make a new home, find a place to work, hell, start a syndicate if the rest doesn't work out. You have plenty of options that don't involve sitting in this giant sign that says 'kill me now'. Like Don said. You're still breathing. Use those breaths for something. If not yourself, then those other Bloodfiends who you claim to care about so much."

Curiambro simply watched as that speech went on, staying quiet for some seconds after Xichun sat back down, huffing.

"Sir Priest..." Don wanted to pivot, shift to some other topic. This was perhaps a bit much for...

"They... Sancho..." He seemed to struggle a bit, seemingly grappling with the idea. "Tell me... when you find what you're looking for here... what will you do after?"

She stopped, taking a bite of that licorice as they formulated their words. Swallowing, her tone dropped a bit. "If I find what I search for... nay, even if I do not... La Manchaland cannot continue, sir Priest."

Her eyes met the other Bloodfiend's, hardening a touch. "Hast thou seen it? The Backstreets outside the park?"

A small shake of the head. "Then thou hast not seen what lines near every wall. What flutters in the wind and chokes the sky. Missing persons posters, everywhere. I know where they have gone. To here. To La Manchaland.  This place was once something meant to elicit smiles, and yet, now, there is naught but death. Tis' a mockery of what it was meant to be. I understand thy reasons more now, but that does not change the facts. La Manchaland is a parasite. A shambling corpse, and it must rest."

She paused, breathing in. "But that does not mean the same applies to its peoples. Were we in a better world, I wouldst not have to lay low a single Bloodfiend. But even still... there are those here who deserve a chance. It... has become apparent to mine senses that there art no human survivors, but I still see survivors of a different sort. I still see those who can be brought out of this. Tis' merely a question if thou wish to be amongst them."

"I... hah. It is funny. Here I am, having tried to save so many... only for one like you to try and offer a salvation yourself. You... truly are different, Sancho. Your gaze... it has lost that aloofness. And your words... elicit thought on this... matter."

"Wouldst thou consider it, then?" Don spoke softly. She could hear dissenting voices lamenting such hope in her mind. But she could not tell whether it was the finicky whims of the suit or... her own doubts trying to claw their way upward.

"But do you even... know of the full extent of our sins? The massacre, yes... it was a horrendous thing, but... it was but the first."

"What... did you do?" Love slowly forced out, and pain lanced across Curiambro's features.

"The most grievous of taboos. Something a Bloodfiend should never do. The mere thought of it... it still causes bile to rise in my mouth. It was-"

His mouth moved, but before a sound could come out, he was gone. A puff of smoke rising up only for someone else to take their place, in that all too distinctive sapphire.

"Something quite vile indeed. But we are not quite there yet." he casually spoke, staff in his lap, sitting oh so casually.

Don could barely even muster up anger, eyes sinking as she collapsed back into the couch with a groan. So, so close, and yet here he was again. They could hear similar noises from beside.

"We do not have time for this bullshit, birdboy, get the hell out!" Xichun yelled.

"Time? Oh, there's plenty of time left in this little story of ours. In fact, can't you tell we're at an intermission? The story must go on, but for now I do believe some more full rest is required. Moreso than that oh so stressful conversation with the Priest."

Don's eyes narrowed at his red orbs staring out beyond that mask. "Prithee, thy gauge of 'stress' is quite misplaced. T'was a most important conversation. Mayhaps the most we've had in this park so far."

"Mhm, it is quite the topic, indeed. The ticking clock beyond La Manchaland's own. But it can wait a little longer. In its place... a reprieve." Sanson idly snapped their fingers, and upon a table that separated the couch from his chair came food. More proper food than simple licorice. Wrapped, hot sandwiches. A side of fries. Filling foods.

Xichun certainly didn't look impressed. "Look, I thought them taking that food before was dumb, but this is stupid. Probably just poisoned."

"Poison?" His look towards the noble intensified. The words seemed to actually have an effect on them, actually taken aback. "You would think of me so low to stoop to such... anti-climax? My puppetry and vile tricks... these are one matter, but that? Jia Xichun... if I wished to kill you all, you would know. Anything less would be so, so very uninteresting."

Don could only blink. She had kind of figured that, but... "I still doth not understand thy aim. Thou seeketh to puppet and sweep us away one moment, and offer refreshment the next. Art thou to switch once more once we are done resting?"

"The show must go on, yes. There are tales that still need to be told."

"But why?"

"For you, of course. Was I not clear before?"

"But to what end?"

The way Sanson moved after those words... he almost seemed to sink a bit deeper into the chair. "Do you really not remember? When we first met?"

She had to think back to that conversation that felt like so long ago. "Thy reading?"

"Of course. What were your words... ah... 'Mayhaps that dark night arrives, but an adventure is meant to test one's strength!'" Sanson's voice dramatically changed, assuming Don Quixote's own voice for a moment. "Does that still hold true, now that the dark has settled around you?"

The 'flow'... "Thou cannot say thou art simply doing this for-"

"You?" Sanson finished. "You and her alike. Only for the both of you."

He was... trying to have them go down that path? Realize it? "That... after what I have seen of thee tonight, I find it difficult to believe. Tossing others to the side like puppets, stealing away those whomst are important to my purpose here, harming my friends."

"A magician does not reveal secrets readily for a reason, you know." Sanson replied. "Surely you both understand such?"

Both magical girls simply stared, incredulous.

"No then... I take it." Sanson seemed almost disappointed. "Explaining a trick can often reduce its effect. And the effect is most important. I simply ask for a bit of trust in the audience and participants alike."

Trust. In him. This Bloodfiend not even of the Manchegan. This Bloodfiend who has been stringing them along forcefully, leading ever deeper into this place. This Bloodfiend who somehow knows more about her than herself, despite them not being a part of the family or even having been part of the events.

That questioning must've been present on her face as Sanson shifted. "I know. I have perhaps been... forceful."

An understatement, for sure. "I also understand you want to disrupt my plays."

Of course he knew... "But I wish to assure you that this is not merely to 'string you along'. And that there is a reason to it."

"But not a choice." Xichun's own gaze similarly narrowed. "And not that said reason is something we actually want."

"Do you?" Sanson's gaze slipped back to Don. "You never answered. Does it still hold true? Is this flow what you desire?"

What they desire... "I wish for answers."

"And you will find them. From both I and this park alike."

"It it all anticipated then? Even Sir Nicolas?"

"That fixer... ah..." Sanson breathed in. "You must understand, to read a flow is not a perfect route of information. Simply what must be done. Factors such as him... to see such a person effloresce even in the throes of that rage... no, I did not. It was just an unexpected to I as much as you. But I know the flow still stands."

He reached out a hand towards her, as if offering something. "If, that is, you still intend to push on."

Don was quiet for a bit, looking to the food on the table rather than meet Sanson's eyes. Her stomach did growl a bit. Eventually, they reached over to take one of those wrapped sandwiches.

HamHamPangPang? Did Sanson just... steal fast food? Honestly, the idea of this Bloodfiend using their absurd powers to yoink food from a restaurant almost caused a laugh to bubble up their throat.

Almost. The others were looking to Don as well. Love with concern, Xichun more... questioning. A pressed gaze that was judging, perhaps wondering what they'd do.

What she would do... to go back now... no, that couldn't be done. And Sanson already had an idea of their trick...

And she still wanted the truth, in full. And she could not admit that Sanson, in his ways, was contributing to it...

If forcing it in strange directions she still was wondering the point of.

Eventually she breathed in, releasing a sigh soon after. "Sir Sanson. I will pursue this path still, knowing that thou art still keen to intervene."

"I am, yes."

"Then if thou wishest to garner any manner of trust, thou wilt heed my words. Stipulations... if thou wishest the 'play' to continue proper."

The mildest tilt of the bird mask. "Stipulations... speak."

"Two rules. One. Thou shalt not forcibly drag in others to thy stage. And secondly, thou shalt not harm mine allies."

"That is all?"

"Tis' all."

"Hmm..." He seemed to ponder a moment, that long staff on his lap rising and lowering like a metronome. "How you limit me so... but that can be arranged. After all, the best work oft comes from restriction. As for now..."

He inclined his head, tilting that top hat down. "Enjoy. Rest. When you are ready, we shall commence proper."

And then, once more, he was gone in a puff.

"You... you're really doing this?" Xichun was the one to first fill that silence. Skepticism and questioning in that tone that the fixer didn't even need to look over to know how much they disliked that answer.

Don's eyes closed for a moment, a huff. "T'was not much of a choice."

Golden eyes eventually opened again, flickering over to those pink orbs beyond Love. "Verily, mine path... this 'flow'... I know it likely leads to the answers I seek. That truth, at its heart."

"Even with how this place has pushed you already?"

"...yes." Don softly answered. Xichun's lips pursed before the girl laid back into the chair. "Most stubborn person I've ever met."

"Mine own word to describe it wouldst be 'determined'."

"Same. Difference." Xichun sighed and Don Quixote unwrapped the hot sandwich.

A simple meal, but these ingredients... something they preferred. Heavy spices alongside chicken and cheese. Strong flavors that stuck in the mouth for a long time.

Of course they would know that kind of preference too. Sanson seemed nigh omnipotent in that regard.

The 'how' was the question. But that was for later. Now...

They noticed Love being quiet. Concern on her face, hands twiddling antsily, legs never getting quite comfortable as they kept shifting, foot tapping up and down. Worry and nerves were widely present.

Don leaned herself towards the girl, fiddling slowing.

"You needn't worry so much, mine Love."

"But I do... I can't help it." She answered, voice small. "Working with someone like that... so..."

"Villainous." Don filled in, Love nodding.

"I can't help but... I feel a little... scared."

"To be most truthful... I share those fears." The fixer replied. "This web... this park, drawing us in like a hungry beast... and yet, to leave this open... to let it continue to feast, even knowing the Hana will eventually quell it with or without ourselves involved... the latter would result in even more coming here. Prolonging this death spiral, more innocents lost..."

"But to work with... him?" Don hadn't heard the kind of spite that came out with that word from Love's mouth in a long while. "The way he puppets everything... bends it to what he wants... it reminds me of a villain from home."

Don had an idea of who they were likely referring to. That 'Hermit', probably. The manipulator. The puppeteer.

It made the sandwich taste a little worse, that bad taste trying to wash over the warm chicken and cheese. She swallowed regardless. "I don't plan on doing it forever. He's not a friend, but... it is our only option if we wish to pursue this deeper."

Whether it ended in that 'flow' or not didn't matter as much as getting the answers she wanted.

Of ending this nightmare one way or another.

"I'm... also fearful of that other thing... the flow."

"What the hell even is a 'flow'?" Xichun butted in, finger-quoting the word.

"Something Sanson described, when first we met." Don filled in. "A path of possibility. Not exactly 'destiny', but something adjacent."

Xichun's face scrunched in confusion, but Love filled in the quiet. "Is this the same flow that leads to the other he showed? The one with... Death?"

Ah, right. That was... worrying. Very, very worrying. It had slipped their mind, just like much of the reading as a whole until more recently.

Death... she could remember some of Sanson's words on the subject. The idea of change, but... what could Love become?

Surely not... reversal? It was a horrifying thought, especially not knowing fully how they could resolve such a thing herself.

It put into perspective how Love might feel about her, and the times she too had flipped.

"We dost not know that. We may connect and cross, but wouldst such a thing 'consolidate' thus? Nay, I believe not. But regardless!"

Don left that sandwich in her lap for a moment, hands reaching out to clasp Love's own. "We art together... I know not in what shade such a thing may come, but it shall be nothing before our bond!"

She swore out of the corner of her eyes, she could see Xichun cringing. Clearly some did not have the stomach for such heartfelt proclamations. "So let us dine and prepare ourselves for what lies ahead. These trials and tribulations test us... but we shalt not fall before them."

Not yet, at least. She didn't know how much worse it would get, but...

There was a feeling, trying to sink in. That they were teetering on a precipice. But seeing Love's smile in response made that feeling retreat.

If they fell, they had someone to catch them. If she fell, it was all the same. And it was that reassurance that made Don herself smile as the three did partake in that food, taking a moment to simply be quiet and rest both body and mind.

15 minutes later, and the three were ready to continue. Xichun did not really eat much, she seemingly still thought there was poison or something similar, at least until she realized something as they examined it, and decided to take at least some fries. If it was poison, it was at least a tasty variety.

Stepping down though... things had changed. Shifted. The bar was gone. Everything seemed gone. Simply darkness and wood flooring lied here, causing them to slow down.

A light flickered on, and there he was once more. Sanson.

"Ladies. A pleasure." He bowed for a moment before those eyes locked onto Don once more. "I hope the meal was a pleasant one."

"It was." Love nodded.

"You stole it from Hamhampangpang." Xichun stated bluntly.

"I stole nothing." Sanson's gaze narrowed. "Such rudeness to one's host, truly... you only see the worst. Regardless-"

Another spotlight flickered on, now above Don.

"It is time, Don Quixote. Would you regale us with another tale of yours?"

Though debatable if it was her tale, given how they had gone previously. "Of what tale wouldst thou request of me?"

"Tell us, please, of the day of that fateful duel. The one against the Knight of the White Moon."

That day... memories came in bits and pieces. But everything was in the wrong places, the more she thought of it.

"T'was... ah. Can I even truly tell it so accurately...?"

"Hm." Sanson tilted his head. "Perhaps a refresher is needed. Allow me to offer you some assistance."

His staff tapped the floor and a voice echoed through the room. But...

"Halt!... Halt, Rocinante!" It was... her voice.

"I don't want to leave, I don't! Why do you refuse to obey me...?" There was panic, desperation, fear clawing up. It was primal, but not as much as-

"STOP!!!"

The scream left all three looking to the Kindred with wide eyes.

"That... wh-what...?" Don could not help the stutter, processing what they had heard. That pain... and with Rocinante? A control forced upon it? When was... when could that have...?

"Ah. Hm. Apologies. I must've slipped. It has been a while since I have had to use that trick."

"Wha- what kind of slip does that?" Love called out.

"It's rather simple. Sometimes the order of things go out of whack when the play approaches a crescendo. The swelling emotions sweep you off your feet, the finer details... lost. One simply wishes to reach that climax. But... I offer my sincere apologies. Let us begin anew."

Steadily, the lights around the room rose, and it was truly not a bar anymore. Surrounded by pillars, a central light illuminated the room from the back. Brazier-like decorations flanked a blood red carpet, each topped with red crystalline hardblood.

All of it led forward, to the source of that light, a large window letting in false sunlight, a throne beneath it.

This was...

"The castle..."

"A most distinctive place. The original home of the Manchegan. Tell me, does it stir the memory of that day?"

"T'was... a peaceful day, at first." Don's lips moved, but she was unsure if it was her own will of Sanson's, especially as she could feel her clothes changing again. That attire, white and gold and brown.

"Little warning came until she practically burst into Father's throne room."

The sound of a door clattering came from behind, Don rotating.

Love was now there, back in the Knight's attire. That blue jacket, the array of weapons. It was strange, seeing it more closely now. Less that Love honestly... looked quite nice in it, and moreso...

This was two centuries hence, and yet Bari wore attire in a style that more resembled modern-day fixer attire than anything. Did fashion truly not change in that long? Or was it something else?

"A human. At my mansion." a voice from behind, unfamiliar. Don glanced back to see Sanson was now wearing a copy of that attire that once belonged to the original Don Quixote. A baggy overcoat that honestly should've hindered most hand movements, yet from her scattershot of memory, it never did. Where that bird-like mask would be was a different mask. It was a plain, white thing with a silhouette of a human face, save for Sanson's red eyes burning through. A wig of platinum blonde hair covering the surrounding of it.

"Ah...pologies, your worship." Xichun was also there, in a bit less 'noble' attire now, beside Love and still looking more than a little miffed on having to do this song and dance. "We should never have let her through, but she... she wields all kinds of fantastical weapons. She demanded to be granted audience with you, Father."

They were forced to make near prostrations on the floor as Love moved forward.

"A Bloodfiend Hunter, are you? And you've managed to break through my Children's vigilance?... I commend your skill, human. It cannot have been easy." 

Love in that role simply looked to Sanson impassively, and she could feel that pull again, like the last play. She could resist, but...

This felt... important to see. So she followed this feeling and...

She was back there, hands behind her back, at her Father's side as he rested on his throne. This interloper was a strange one, certainly. That attire, the way she carried herself...

The fact that she was able to break in fast enough that alarms hadn't been raised before she got here. If Sancho had known, she would have intercepted immediately, and yet...

She was here. A threat. Her eyes didn't leave them at all.

"So, what is it that you seek from this audience? Is your wish... to be obliterated without a trace? Or is it to join my Family?"

"...Neither." It was the first time she had spoken, cool and collected despite being here. Like she was in complete control.

"I am here to challenge you to a duel."

What? She couldn't hide the narrowing of her eyes at such a statement, and Father's immediate words matched her own thoughts.

"...a duel."

This human just comes sauntering in, breaking through the defenses just like that, and demands a duel out of Father? Him?

It was rare Father ever had to use the fullest extent of his strength. Oftentimes it was more for quibbles or little hobbies and side projects, but in combat...?

Did a human really believe they could last more than a few seconds against someone like him?

Her Father didn't outwardly react too much. "I am not like the other Bloodfiends; I have no interest in killing humans for sport."

Then, he rose, taking the interloper's measure. "However, I am also not so generous a Bloodfiend as to let a human who dared to walk into her own doom simply saunter away without consequences."

The other was unmoved. It was almost arrogant, the nonchalance. "Humans and Bloodfiends are at war out there. Did you know that?

Of course they did. How couldn't they? The rabble loudly proclaiming allegiances outside the wall, some trying to barge in uninvited... like her.

"Just a pit fight between unquenchable Bloodfiends and humans who learned to transmute their hatred into delight. I care not for such degeneracy."

Barbarism, moreso. A pointless struggle on both sides, and one that drew pointless amounts of attention towards themselves. They'd already had to deal with those from both sides trying to barge in for one reason or another.

Knowing she was another was not a point in her favor.

"Why do you refuse to take a side?" She asked. "Should a family of your might take a side... it would mean the decisive end of the war."

"Haven't I already told you?" Irritation was beginning to form in Father's voice and complexion. "Or does your fleeting human life require a simpler explanation? I would prefer not to dirty my clothes in a pit fight. I refuse to bring myself down to that level."

She seemed almost disappointed. "Is that so?"

She adjusted her stance, a hand moving downwards to that large blade of hers. "I... am here to do one of two things. One, convince you. Or two, should my first option prove unfeasible, slay you. Because you are more dangerous than both of them when you're sitting here and doing nothing."

What a strange notion. It caused Sancho to squint just a tiny bit. She's that desperate for them to do... something? The oddness of it was it wasn't even some request to help the humans, just take a side at all.

Even if siding with the Bloodfiends would mean terrible things for her kind. Who was this person, truly?

"So, duel me. You won't get a chance like this again, because I know exactly what you seek."

Sancho could tell even from a glance at Father's reaction that those words sparked curiosity, even if their face still tried to remain impassive. "Aha... not even I am privy to that knowledge... yet a human, who knows me not, who has only met me for the first time today... claims to know that?"

It was a perfectly valid question. What drivel were they on about?

"I know you Bloodfiends. Those blessed with longer lives than humans, yet cursed to live in greater miseries for every second of that longer life."

That... Sancho could feel her blood temperature rise. A hand curling into a fist. How dare they... to compare this life to then?

Before him, before she was Kindred... those times of cold... isolation... that misery... compared to now, the thirst was something far easier to handle. She wasn't alone, she had others... she had Father... who was she to judge the life of a Bloodfiend so?

Her Father was silent for a long while. "... I just changed the carpets of this hall. I do not wish to dirty it with lowly human blood. Leave, and my Children outside this mansion will deal with you."

"Should you employ your children to kill me... you will never learn the source of your suffering. You will remain unchanging, stagnant, steeped in your misery... until one day, the memory of this moment returns to you as regret."

She couldn't take it anymore, speaking up. "Father."

She caught his attention for a moment. "If you would allow me, I will quietly take care of this interloper."

The interloper in question did not care a mote for the words she uttered though, her own voice loud and steady. "Grab your weapon. Answer my duel. And I promise you upon my honor as a Fixer, that I will grant you what you truly seek."

"I can... give you a tomorrow."

A... tomorrow? Even Sancho has to refocus on that. What did...

"You speak in riddles, human."

"Should I consider that a 'yes'?" She replied with... snark? She was that bold?

"Of course not. Tomorrow is a promise that does not hinge on your blessing."

"No, no. That's not the tomorrow I'm talking about. I'm talking about the 'tomorrow' you seek." She began. "You've been living out your days mired in meaninglessness, quietly wasting away inside. Drinking human blood, compelled not by your own will but by your sickness. In your countless years of existence... you've never had any reason to exist, have you?"

Sancho could feel her face scrunch just a touch... that insult. Meaninglessness? Is that what she believed? Sure, her Father was... scattershot in terms of interests, bouncing between each like some kind of leapfrog, but... meaningless was just... too much. Those hobbies, occasionally irritating as they may be still brought interest to the Bloodfiends here. To herself and others. Even if the requests were not always easy...

It was something to fill the space with. And that alone gave meaning, and yet, this interloper went on, even as Sancho could see her Father's face tighten.

"But your illness... and this applies to all of your kind... is loneliness." She proclaimed. "It's the kind of suffering you can't weather through by huddling together with your Family in the dark. So I offer you this."

She stood a little taller, somehow. "Anticipation for what tomorrow holds. In other words... a dream. I can make you dream."

A dream. What in the world were they on about? Imagination? Aspiration? Glory? Something like those fights outside the walls? What 'dream' did this uppity, absurd individual even wish to impart?

And yet, she could see that look on Father's face. Consideration. Oh no...

"No human, let alone a Bloodfiend, has ever match me evenly in strength."

Sancho swore she could see something like the ghost of a smirk cross the woman's face. "Then I suppose I shall have the honor of being the first human to do so."

Her Father shifted, intrigue rising.

Sancho couldn't help but sharply exhale. She leaned in towards him, voice low.

"Father, you cannot be possibly considering this, can you?"

He looked over, she could more clearly see the gleam in his eyes. She knew that gleam. That which always followed his hobbies and interests, fleeting as they may be.

What often led him into trouble, more often than not.

"I should not, and yet... you can at least admit some curiosity towards her words?"

"Father..."

"Shout your name out loud.." The interloper butted in from the side. "...if you would accept my proposition. Let us give it our all, and may the best warrior claim victory in this singular bout."

Speaking as if the result was already confirmed. And with how Father looked... she was right.

"My name... is Don Quixote." He responded to the intruder, readying that lance of Sancho's own craft.

"My name is Bari!" the other responded, pulling an absurdly large sword from its sheath.

And as steel met hardblood, Don's own mind was pulled back to the present.

Sanson and Love, each taking their roles, and 'fighting' with weaponry Don was fairly sure wasn't real, especially with how their hits seemed more directed towards each others weaponry than the wielders themselves.

Love was never much of a melee fighter, so it was surreal seeing their body do this. Mimicking her style. The style of the Knight, flowing, fast, each weapon like an extension of their own body. Sanson similarly mimicked Father's style. Aggressive, using that lance as much as a slashing weapon as a piercing one, coming in from strange angles as it felt like gravity almost failed to work correctly.

And her mouth began to move, half forced but... her thoughts spilled out unabated.

"What should have been seconds stretched out to minutes... then to hours. Then... the sun set and rose and set and rose. She made her boast, and her skill matched. A whirling, flowing knight of steel and arrow. Many of the Family came and went in witness. Rumors spread of Father mayhaps losing their edge, but... I watched it all from the side... unceasing. Perhaps I had become a referee at some point, but from that position I knew... Lady Bari was something else. Perhaps if it were a day more modern, she wouldst be bestowed a Color. She certainly possessed the skill of one." Don regaled. 

"T'was the third in which I finally intervened." Don cleared her throat, and she found herself speaking in a different tone.

"...why not take a brief respite?"

The mock battle stopped in its tracks. "It has been three days."

"...Three days?" Sanson's voice feigned shock quite well.

"Yes, there's been three sunrises and sunsets. I'm quite certain that makes it three days."

"But... we are yet to decide a victor."

"...too bad." It was strange hearing Bari's words from Love's mouth, especially with their bluntness. "At times like these, we must each take enough rest to recover... and duel again at a later date. I will return."

"You... you would stop the battle before it ends, allow your enemy to rest... and even promise to reconvene at a later date?" Sanson played up the incredulousness... perhaps a bit more than the original. "Who decided that these odd rules would become laws?"

"Fixers." was the ever short response. "It's a law of the Fixers."

"And so... she left."

"Truly?" Sanson's false voice fell away. "And he allowed such?"

"Father did... would not allow us to intervene... mayhaps those were the words... the moment in which he became truly captivated by her. T'was... the start of a friendship."

"A friendship forged in a clash of blades... so cliche, for how rare it is in reality." he went on, and that mask of his seemed to momentarily melt away, those eyes boring deeply into Don.

"But did their boast prove true?" He asked. "Did she provide the succor which she claimed? Did she give upon him a dream?"

The memories grew foggy the further she tried to think along, but that wasn't needed to answer.

She couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. "Verily, thou knowest this is true. And thou knowest that I too know, regardless of thy story. Whyever dost thou press me for such?"

"It is an important thing to elucidate such truths to all, be it actors or audience alike." he cryptically continued, mask and attire changing in a moment back to their usual. "But... that is merely one tale of many... there is another tale that should be shared upon this stage. Your head must be strained from such a recalling though, I understand."

There was indeed a headache forming, Rocinante too feeling... tight upon her feet. But she stood firm, even as that attire of her own melted away too for the still burned attire she wore beneath.

"But you needn't worry. For it is not your tale to tell." With a wave of his staff and a point to the side, the spotlight above her moved for...

Love, the last of those blue clothes falling from herself.

"It is yours, Lady Love."

"Ah... a tale from.... me?" She blinked. "I too have a lot of stories, but I don't know..."

"I understand the shyness, but one such as yourself needn't feel such, a proud hero, a savior of many peoples... but a tale should start at the beginning, should it not?"

He turned more fully. "Tell us, dear Love, of the Choosing."

How did they know? How...?

Love had figured by this point that the knowledge Sanson possessed was beyond reasonable, even just by seeing... Sancho's memories like this. These peeks into the past through the stage, actions not entirely her own, simply playing to the 'script'.

But Don was... a Bloodfiend. She figured that maybe, it was something about that that allowed the showman to do these things, but...

"H-how do you... know about that?" She couldn't help the shock seeping into her own voice. The Choosing... it was something she'd only ever talked about with Don, and not... in specific.

"Why would I not? Such a prestigious, high honor, is it not?" Sanson continued. "Something to be spread far and wide."

"But..."

"Is it not?"

"Love swallowed. "Well... it is. The great Choosing by Arcana herself. For those who would rise above... to defend against evil..."

"But how, precisely, is one chosen?"

"Ah..." she stopped... this question again. She remembered when Don first asked her about it, stars in her eyes as she too wished to be a magical girl.

"I don't... really know. But if you want to know about the Choosing, I... suppose I could tell you about mine."

The 'stage' began to come to life once more, as if reading her own mind. A hall, long and wide, lined with windows in stained glass. Unlike that castle though, it was of a far different display.

Each window shining down light in a different color. Pink. Green. Blue. Yellow. Repeating again and again. Each adorned with one of the 'suits'.

A Heart. A Club. A Spade. A Diamond. Each a different facet of the magical girls of the past.

Before them was an altar in hallowed stone, and above it, a cutout of a twinkling light like a star.

Of course they couldn't match that. How could one match her, even that small aspect?

"To be chosen and brought forth before her is a great honor..." She could see her clothes changing again. She wasn't in her magical girl outfit, rather... something far more plain.

"To you, who has been chosen. Come before me." came a voice... Xichun's? The more she looked, the more she realized Sanson had put her hidden behind that altar to give off that voice.

That voice... Xichun's was fine, but of course, like the appearance, nothing could truly capture her.

The immensity. The wisdom. The strength. Something so far beyond all. To be in her presence captured every aspect of one's attention. The sight of her magnificence. The sound of her voice, like a gentle stream. The feel of her aura... like gentle sunlight on one's skin. The smell, that scent that seems to perfectly capture the mood. The taste, even, the energy in the air crackling upon the tongue as one breathes in and out.

It was only a portion of her. For her in her entirety was something few could handle.

She stepped up, taking upon her own role on that day, kneeling.

"You, who have lacked purpose. You, who have despaired, you, who are worthy. I give upon you a duty. A sacred purpose, for you have been chosen by the Arcana."

She could feel like she was back there for a moment. Eyes shut tight as the Arcana's presence washed over her.

When she was nothing. Less than nothing. A mote of dust standing before a hurricane.

"You are to be a Magical Girl. She, who would witness the evils of the world. She, who would deliver justice upon them. She, who would fell those villains who bring chaos to the world." 

The power immense, but could not be squandered. Could not be misused.

"Would you accept this charge? This destiny? And all that comes with it?"

"I would."

"Then be remade... embody the aspect of Love, and let it shine forth anew." And the clothes fell away for her own... the attire she had known her entire life.

"Such a noble aim." Sanson commentated from the side. "Risen from nothing, for a goal to save the world. To keep it safe."

"It's my purpose." Love answered.

"That it is. But to protect it from what?"

"The Arcana..." Love slowly replied.

"The same as which you were chosen by?"

"Yes... and no." she answered. This was something she knew well. "The Arcana is... a lot of things. It's a force, it's a presence, it's the very thing which gives us life! That power within... given to all things. Lady Arcana... she is the will above all. From her came life, came Arcana... but such power... it's an alluring thing, you know?"

She rose, turning to look at him. "There are those who would abuse the gift they're given. To commit evil, doing heinous things that mark them as villains. It is they, consumed by the Arcana that they were given... who we are to fight. Those minor Spreads who sow chaos... those Major Arcana who solidify their place and bring about calamities..."

"And it is your task to bring them to heel?" Sanson started, pacing. "Or is it the struggle that she wishes for...?"

Love's eyes narrowed. "Now what is that supposed to-"

"I wish to ask but a simple question of you." he interrupted. "Just a single thing."

Love's lips pursed. How rude.... did all villains like this guy have to be this way? "What?"

"What happens if you succeed?"

"If... we succeed?" But... there were always villains? Even here, maybe there were some... peaceful places, but evil still lingered! It was something ever-present in this City.

"Quite so. What if peace is brought to the land? What will you do then? Once that purpose reaches its end?"

"But there's always evil..."

"Is there? Hm..." Sanson tapped his staff. "Such a debatable question... but I believe this is a question for a later time. After all, can't you hear it?"

The stage fell away once more, Xichun idly smacked by a falling cardboard altar. "Hey, watch it you shit-!"

A motion, and she too fell quiet. Then... it could be heard. A song, distant. "Even today, the Parade continues. You don't want to miss it, do you?"

He gazed into Love. "In the meantime, think on it. It's important."

And then, like that, he was gone like a lightswitch. Think on it... why? Why was that important? That one thing she didn't like thinking on most...

The peaceful times. When boredom seeped in. All the while she was so antsy. Why? Why why why?

"Love?" Don carefully moved over, shaking her from those thoughts. "They art just trying to get to thee."

"Are they...?" Love responded, looking to Don. "But that's... not what they're doing with you."

With Don, it was clear what they were trying to pick and prod at. Those memories of before. When she was Sancho. But... she didn't have that.

Did she?

The merest implication rose doubt in her head, and that doubt felt like it began to spiral out and out and out-

An ensconcing feeling wrapped around her, thoughts stopping for a moment as Don held them close. "Thou shouldst not worry thy mind so."

She shouldn't... she shouldn't. "I keep doing this still, don't I?"

A mild nod. "Whatever he seeks to draw out... we shall face such together."

But did she even want to face such? Whatever it was? There was a vague impression of what it might be roiling in the back of her head, but... she pushed it down. No, bad mind... she didn't want to linger on it.

"Are you two done?" Xichun moved over herself, rubbing a spot on their forehead.

That hold released, and Love sincerely wished it didn't... they did reach for Don's hand, though.

Don slowed her turn at that, but gave a smile. "We are most alright, yes."

"Even after all of that?"

"Ah... well. I would care for something to tend to a headache, but... I am fine as I can be."

"So this Bari... they just strolled in and dueled your Father for three days... because he wouldn't participate in that... war." Xichun tried to summarize. "She was truly that powerful?"

Don looked to the side. "I... only remember the duel itself in flashes, but... she was a force. I didst not lie when I spoke of them being alongside the Colors."

"But why would she...?" Xichun trailed off.

"Lady Xichun?"

"...nothing. It's nothing." The noble looked away. "We should start moving. We've wasted enough time here, and that song..."

She looked towards the direction of the noise, out the door. Love's eyes trailed too, and there was a sinking feeling. "Do you think something went wrong with those who went there? Those... Hunters?"

She could feel Don's grip tighten just a bit for a moment, and Love gave a reassuring squeeze back.

"Yeah..." Xichun nodded. "I have a feeling it's going to get bad. Dunno if it'll be as bad as what happened here, but..."

"We art reaching the climax." Don added on. "Tis' clear to me. And we are to be in the middle of it."

"Yeah. I get the feeling this is probably the last 'break' we're going to have for a while, so..." she seemed hesitant, stopping before sighing. "Let's just... go."

Love could only look puzzled.

"Is something bothering thee?"

Xichun started for the door then stopped. She seemed to debate something in her head, before eventually turning to look at Don.

"Look, it's just... about that question earlier. Back in that haunted house..." Xichun started, though it was clear they were uncomfortable. Eyes drifting away, arms crossed. 

"Thou hast considered it?"

"Yes, I have. It's...  you're..." She struggled, but Don simply watched with patient eyes. She always was so patient with others... another trait Love admired.

"...Shameless. You're both just so shameless."

"Why... would we feel shame?" Love's eyes narrowed a touch.

"I mean, just... look at both of you!" Xichun outstretched her arms, hands splayed, trying to encapsulate both from a distance. "With this whole thing about magical girls, the whole honor thing...  It's all just so... ridiculous."

She paused for a moment, hands retreating back to themselves. "But you both are just so... earnest about it. And there's... something about that which tells me that even if I did just spill everything... neither of you would tell others. Wei probably felt something similar when they made that suggestion to split off."

"Lady Xichun... there is nothing for me to be shameful about." Don started. "Mine oaths as a magical girl are to protect others, to strike down evil, the same as any should. And my honor as a fixer atop that reinforces such things. To be a Fixer is to solve problems. To fix things. There art many whom have forgotten that this needn't simply be for capital, but to make things better. Know that even if you weren't a charge of mine for this moment at thy servant's behest, thy secrets and thy body would be kept as safe as we can possibly manage. For it is the right thing to do." 

Xichun could only stare. "Yep... exactly this kind of thing. Ridiculous."

"Mayhaps... but is that truly a bad thing?" Don replied. "In this world where so many focus on themselves and nothing else... where so many fall to despair, to fear... to anger..."

The tension in Don's voice caused it to quiver just a bit, closing her eyes and breathing in. "Mayhaps if we all were a bit more caring... ridiculous, as thou call it... we'd be in a better place. So-!"

Don's grip on her hand release for a bit as the girl struck a pose. "I shall carry that ridiculousness within mine bosom, and nurture it! Mayhaps, in seeing myself, what I have done and am capable of with such things, others too may be inspired to take their own ridiculous ideas and bring them too to fruition!"

"You know it takes more than that to fix things, right?" Xichun's eyes narrowed.

"There is truth in that." Don nodded. "And yet, tis' but a step. A stepping stone. If one can see the world in a better way... to bring such ideas to life... that is an important step. If the people can change and better themselves, so can we all. Dost thou not see the truth in that?"

Xichun seemed to think it over before another sigh emitted from them. "Maybe... look, we can discuss how to better society later. This music is hurting my head."

Love blinked. "But it's so distant?"

"Didst not the briefing mention something about La Manchaland's music luring others in? A hypnotic effect of sorts?" Don mentioned.

Right... it did. Love's eyes glowed as she activated her Sight, and...

The loose strings of magic in the air... a discordant melody that tried to worm its way in. "I see it... if that's playing, then..."

"Area 3's going to try luring in whoever's left." Xichun stated.

"And consume them whole..." Don finished, looking towards the door. "Come then... our break ends."

But wait... "What about your suit...?"

Don's suit was still in rough shape. Intact, but that charring was deep. Flecks of pink lingered, but overall they looked closer to a piece of coal than a magical girl. And the weapon, too...

Honestly, seeing it in such a sad state, half-melted and broken... it gave sensation of hurt.

"Tis' still in one piece... I knowest it looks bad, but... we have not the time to try and repair it. As for mine weapon... thou knowest I have backups."

She knew, but it didn't stop her from worrying... especially given earlier.

They didn't know if they could handle seeing Don reverse a second time tonight, but Don gave that smile, moving up and cupping their cheek.

"We can do this." Don reassured so simply, and she could feel a smile form on her own face.

They handled two Areas... they could do a third. They had to. The end had to be close...

And yet, that niggling thought lingered in the back of her head.

Was it, truly? What lied beyond that third area?

What would lie at the heart of this place, waiting for Don and Love both?

She didn't know... but staff floating behind, Don's hand intertwining with her own again as they moved out towards the source of that music, Don's words came back to bite down those thoughts.

They were together, and together, they could handle anything.

Chapter Text

Even as they were moving away from the Priest's area, Don's thoughts still lingered there. On that memory.

There was confirmation in that of her own thoughts. On the sickness that plagued them. Somehow, something like a dream could... forestall its effects. But why? How did that work?

A physical malady that could be handled by tackling it mentally. Though to reduce it to such a thing was vast oversimplification, but...

This illness was perhaps one of the strangest things she had ever seen. Love before equated it to a 'curse', and yet that did not truly stretch to cover it in its whole. It was... more. There were benefits as much as the downsides, something that just fundamentally changed a person.

Really, the more she thought about it, it did remind her a lot of Abnormalities. There were several with infectious qualities.

The Parasite Tree, turning those it blessed into tree-like vectors for an insidious gas which further spread its influence.

Melting Love, whose gooey affection sloughed flesh into gelatinous slime, becoming the creature's children.

The Queen Bee laying its eggs within Agents, the Prince who transformed agents into fungal sycophants, the Blue Star and Singing Machine, warping the minds of others to convince them to throw themselves into each and their waiting maws.

WhiteNight, its 12 apostles rampaging through the facility under the command of their god...

All chained to the wills of the Abnormality in their own ways. Forcefully through parasitism, through twisting the persons into husks of themselves simply wanting to spread the Abnormality's wants...

The latter in particular came to mind. If Bloodfiends did not need more than bit of blood...then that thirst... must be the will of whatever... created Bloodfiends.

Don did not know what could have created such a thing. It was something that she doubted even Sancho ever asked their Father of.

Did he even know? Was there something even higher up the chain than a First Kindred? A progenitor of some kind? Or even progenitors, for that matter...

"You alright, Don?" Love's voice cut through her thoughts, the yellow-haired girl blinking.

"Oh, ah... I am well. Tis' merely lost in thought. That memory of mine was... thought-provoking."

"There was a lot there, yeah..." Love trailed off. She could tell there was some thought from the other girl that distracted her. That other tale...

Don wondered what Sanson was trying to achieve with that. That small glimpse, brief as it was. The altar, that presence. Arcana, the greater will of it, even if it was but in cardboard.

There was an almost religious angle to it all. A meeting with what was effectively a god, remaking them...

Don wondered how well it lined up with real-life. She had some vague idea on the origin of Abnormalities... they remember Yi Sang's talks of a river and a well. One perhaps just like that one Bari led them to.

Something mystical that ran beneath the world, like veins. She could only figure a 'well' was something to pull things up from it. Them, directly?

They wondered how big the bucket would have to be to fit some of the things they saw back in the facility. Unless it was something about its waters...

"Look alive, you two." Xichun clapped, snapping both to attention once more. "We're almost there."

They were in fact close. If Area 1 was bathed in harsh, vulgar pinks, then Area 3 was almost all purple. Regal and royal, the Bloodfiends marched and danced and sung among the streets ahead. Banners flew high, strings of flags, bright spotlights supplying the few other colors that penetrated into that all-consuming violet hue.

And among it, one could finally hear what they were singing.

"♬Let us march together, O happy hour♬
♬To the beat of upbeat drums♬ 
♬Without worries or concerns♬ 
♬Here at the grand Carnival of La Mancha (La Mancha!)♬"

But among those singers were... sobs. Wails that bled into the background music. There were...

"Humans..." Amongst the Bloodfiends and Bloodbags in formal attire, masks resembling butterflies were captives...

Chained to move ever-forward, some in the process of transformation into Bloodbags, spikes jutting violently from flesh as they forcefully were dragged onward. Some Bloodfiends bore large pikes, and atop them...

Bodies... mangled but... they were still moving, groaning, crying and wailing.

The three took cover off the main road, sitting in-between two buildings as they were watching this go on, but Don... her hands shook. That... villainy. Torture and violence against innocents. Nobody deserved to be chained in such a place.

"Oh no, I see that look..." Xichun lamented. "Please don't tell me you're going to charge in there... There's three of us and... that looks like a good majority of the Bloodfiends in the park.

"Hundreds..." Love added on. The parade stretched for at least a mile.

"Tis'... much, that is true." Don admitted. "But to just leave them there... we will have to intercede if we wish to get to the Overseer... if she dost not lead this parade of the damned, I know not where else she would be."

"And she'd know where the button is..." Xichun rubbed her forehead.

"Or has it." Love added on. "But... that many..."

"We have the tools to handle it." Don steeled herself. "Love, art thou in good shape to perform an Arcana Slave?"

"Would that even be enough...?" Love was unsure.

"And didn't you say you wanted to avoid killing Bloodfiends?" Xichun interrupted.

"I do." Don quickly answered. "But... we do not need to kill an entire parade, nor do I intend to. We simply need to spark panic. We've seen their morale can be broken... they still value their lives... mayhaps not the Bloodbags, but... if their masters flee, I doubt the thralls would stay."

"And I can make my beam non-lethal! WHITE usually works well for that, knocks them out cold!" Love assured.

"Beam...?" Xichun's eyes narrowed, but she sighed , shaking her head. "Nevermind, of course you can do that... but look, if you want to do this, then we need to find somewhere with a long enough straight stretch for that... tactic to work."

"Love?" Don looked over. "Doth thou still have that map?"

"Map...?" Love blinked before realization caught up. "Oh, uh, hold on..."

Love did have a little storage of her own they attached to the dress at some point at Don's suggestion, though it wasn't used too often... but...

"Ah! Here..." She unfolded the thing.

It was basic, certainly, lacking a lot of details, but it had roads.

"We're here..." Xichun pointed to part of the main road in Area 3. It ran down, curving like a squiggly line. But...

"After this curve here, it loops all the way around and back up, long straight-aways... If we strike here... that's a lot of road."

"We just have to get there..." Love commented, glancing up.

Right through the parade before them.

That was a minor issue. How to get through without alerting them all to their presence? Though to Don, looking around, the answer is immediately obvious.

"Lady Xichun...?"

"Yes?"

"Dost thou possess augmentation for movement?"

It was the last few words spoken that led them to now, the three leaping across the rooftops of the Area above the Parade to attempt to cut them off.

Nobody ever really looked up. It was something she had learned long ago from countless tales. The mistakes of those failing to consider the third dimension. Approaching that stretch, it was clear they'd barely get there in time at this pace.

Meaning there would have to be a fight. 

But as they traversed, that song continued on and...

♬I'm going insane♬ ♬From this burning thirst♬
♬In the streets♬ 
Saunter SO MANY TASTY MORSELS FOR US!! 
♬As it tears♬ (My nails are falling off…!) 
♬As it cracks♬ (My hands… my face…!!!) 
♬Keep smilin'♬ ♬With those lips♬ 

It painted an all too clear picture in Don's mind. But she needed to remain focused.

"Love? Art thou ready?"

"Ah... ready as I can be once i'm there!"

"Xichun, guard the fore with me, give her the time she needs and this procession shall halt!" Don instructed as they crossed the last rooftop. In her hands, those ever reliable blades formed in each hand as she descended in front of the crowd.

"A new guest?!" A Bloodfiend called out. "Hah! Splendid, splendid!"

Their well-dressed figure pulled a parasol, and several more did beside. "Welcome to the Festival of Wonders! Dance with us, smile!"

Don glared back as the first stepped forward. "It's the right thing to do, you know!"

The fixer wasted no words as Xichun and Love fell down behind, rushing forward as Love began her chant.

"Heed me, thou that are more azure than justice and more crimson than love..."

An array formed before the magical girl, and the Bloodfiend leading the very front pointed a parasol forward, and flooding towards the three were a swarm of Bloodbags. A shambling mass of crystal and fang, any kind of attempt at dancing vacated the moment the order was given.

Yellow and black met that red mass with trails of pink. A Bloodbag in front lunged forward, arms extending. From below, those arms were met with Spring and Autumn alike, cleaving upward through both in a V motion.

The Bloodbag made a pained expression, and she ended it, one blade from the upper right now swinging down and cleaving its head straight off.

The body tumbled forward, Don kicking it back into the next oncoming with significant force, making space as she readjusted her swords.

Another lunged in from the side, only to be met by Xichun, fans flashing in a whirl of petals as its midsection was torn open, exposing it completely for Don to cleave through the other side, bisecting the Bloodbag entirely.

"In the name of those buried in destiny... I shall make this oath to the light."

And they kept coming, filling in gap after gap. One tried to catch Xichun from her own side, answered by Don throwing the blade, embedding itself in the Bloodbag's skull. Another rushed in soon after through the fore and that now empty hand turned into a pointing finger-gun, energy flaring around Don, silhouette of wings sprouting from her back.

"Arcana Beats!" A sporadic stream of energy streamed out from an array, cutting through its chest, piercing through multiple in a line. If it didn't kill, it made them easy pickings for the Jia. She whirled to and fro like a hurricane, spinning and spinning like a dervish of death, every rotation resulting in a Bloodbag falling, her palms just as deadly as they crushed windpipes and shattered rib-cages.

"Mark the hateful beings who stand before us..."

It was at this point the Bloodfiends themselves began to get involved. The original speaker, a petite tuxedo-wearing Bloodfiend practically sauntered forward through the Bloodbags, beginning to gather blood from the growing carnage. The parasol in one hand jabbed forward like a rapier towards Don.

But it felt so slow. Compared to Camille's blistering speed, theirs was practically a snail's pace. Her singular blade aimed to glide past it for the Bloodfiend's arm, but...

Her eyes widened as she realized what they were doing. The blade redirected as the parasol opened, forming a shield as the blood coagulated into crystalline spikes that lines the edges of its width. Her own quick reactions barely stopped herself from being skewered by them thrusting the thing forward even more, Bloodbags pouring in to try to capitalize on their momentary back-step.

"Let your strength merge with mine, so that we may deliver the power of love to all..."

Her other blade was thrown into the crowd, causing one to stumble but more notably freeing Don's hands. It was the quickest chant under her breath and in one smooth motion she drew the...

"-Moon Sword." A singular sweep from the great blade cleaved through four Bloodbags in one go right down the middle, pink trails combining with the sanguine spray of guts and gore as she blitzed through. The wall of the parasol was still risen, thrusting forward, but she anticipated it. She engaged her gliders, legs sheathed in energy as they shifted into a slide, legs catching the Bloodfiend's own and causing them to tumble, body exposing itself as she positioned the blade past the guard, hooking it upward and taking off the Bloodfiend's arm and shoulder alike as Xichun beside crushed its skull with a flying kick as she went overhead.

Don's slide kept going, more Bloodfiends ahead starting to intercede as-

"ARCANA SLAVE!"

The array behind had grown massive, wings flaring as the air ionized and everything was bathed in pink. Being inside the beam was a strange experience for those unused to it. Camille before had questioned why they weren't incinerated, but that oversimplified it. It assumed so much. But in actuality, it was... pleasant. If bright.

It felt like a warm hug. It felt like everything would be okay. It felt like the magical girl's love could coat everything and it still wasn't enough to contain it all.

She doubted their foes felt the same as screams and yells rose, that song of theirs replaced by a different kind of chorus.

The massive beam cut through the parade, those warped lights in purplish hues being overwhelmed by a truer, brighter pink. For a moment, it seemed like La Manchaland was illuminated in full daylight.

It sustained for several seconds before stopping, Love collapsing to her knees, breathing heavily. Countless bodies lied in their wake, but...

None of them dead. Simply knocked unconscious, though it was hard to tell to an onlooker.

Don and Xichun both breathed out, relaxing for a moment, taking their own moments to recuperate, Don getting back to her feet. The sound of music had died down, and numerous remaining Bloodfiends seemed to scatter like roaches exposed to the light, leaving the three and a heap of bodies filling the street.

And yet, towards the back, a float moved on. It cared little for the bodies in its wake, wheels spinning over them. The sounds of bones snapping and crushing filled the air, occasional screams as some of the unconscious were forced back awake only to be crushed underfoot.

The thing resembled something like an elephant. Or a very abstract one, at least. But it had the big ears, partly torn, the eyes staring in differing directions, bulging out like some kind of insect, with smaller eyes above confirming that idea. A trunk that seemed to be formed of the bodies of the damned, countless skulls poking out, flanked by ribs. And atop this macabre monument were a couple of Bloodfiends, surrounded by poles who waved purple flags.

It crept forward continuously, not stopping in the slightest. Don moved back some steps, an arm helping Love to her feet. But eventually, before the three, the float slowed to a stop.

It loomed high, and the tallest Bloodfiend atop it loomed even higher. Clad in an elegant purple dress, another parasol held overhead. Near platinum blonde hair drooped down, longer than either of the hairs of the magical girls. But most notable was the mask upon their face. A more developed butterfly shaped thing, a singular red eye glaring down below from within.

"You have stopped the parade." Her voice was flowing, but... distant. Disinterested. "Why? Why must you make us stop?"

"Mine answer is twofold." Don took the front, looking up to the overseer before them. "We come to seek passage to the center of this park, and seek audience with thee, Lady Dulcinea."

Her head tilted just a touch, gaze looking up and down at Don, eyes lingering on the outfit in particular for some time. "I see. Your 'audience' is here then. But the way you speak... you're still playing that childish make-believe, aren't you?"

"Tis' no act or play." she replied. "Tis' merely a part of mine nature. I knowest thou know of mine former identity. But thou shalt find I am quite different than she, and I possesseth little memory of thou. Tis' why I am here. Why I seek audience with thee and that whomst I know lies at the center of this place. I wish to know the truth of it. Of what occurred here. Of the full picture."

Dulcinea watched closely, face unmoving, but eventually she spoke. "Then who stands before me if not Sancho Panza?"

"My name is Don Quixote, operator of Starlight Office, Grade 4 Fixer and Magical Maiden of Love and Justice!"

Don  could feel that gaze intensify. "That name... claiming it for your own. Do you even know its weight?"

"I know whomst its original owner is. I know of their actions. I know they art mine Father." Don's voice became more somber. "And yet, tis' a name I shall hold nonetheless. It only holds whatever meaning one puts into it. For thou, mayhaps it is a weight that holds everything. For I, t'was simply a name written on mine shoes."

"And yet, claiming that name, you claim everything we have ever wanted." Dulcinea began. "But your eyes... they are not Sancho's eyes, are they? They carried arrogance. Disinterest in everything they looked at. A level of detachment that divorced them from the world. But yours... I wondered what they would look like, when you returned."

She adjusted her parasol, twirling it idly as she continued. "And they are different, aren't they? They still hold a twinkle, but I see not hate... but pity. Is that what you feel for us?"

"In part, I will admit such. Yet alongside it is a wonder if thou can see past the blood that stains us."

"Ah... so you have that vision. Like him. Like Father."

"It is what thou jump to, and there is some truth in a want to see the kinds of ours live alongside one another."

"Even now, seeing all this...?" She spread an arm over the length of the parade.

"And yet, was all of this formed of his dreams?" Don retorted, eyes narrowing a touch. "Or wert thou simply dragged along in the wake of his influence, and forced to work with the hand that was given?"

Dulcinea paused for a moment, scrutinizing her. "I see some understanding has finally reached you. Were any of us truly wanting to do this? Perhaps we humored them, as we did. But it was not a whim that caught him this time. It was a dead end."

"And yet, thou wert content for a time. Thy words arguing that all was fine even when everything began to crumble underfoot." Don countered.

"Perhaps, for but a moment, I was." The Princess admitted. "Their gazes, looking to me... basking in it... it is all I ever wanted. And yet... this beauty... this eternal beauty I was promised... faded. I realized... I... all of us... caught in an illusion. Charmed by it, that idea..."

"The dream...?"

"Mhm... perhaps part of it... but it wasn't enough. Never enough. But... even as we deteriorated... we kept going. The parade musn't stop. It cannot stop."

"Why?" Love asked. "You're the one leading this parade... there's nobody holding you here now but you."

"You make a mistake. That most common mistake. "They believe I am this parade's mistress, for I stand as its crowning jewel.... because I am Dulcinea, the most beautiful... the most noble... I was given the role of this Carnival's Lady. I do not lead it; I am but another attraction of the Parade."

"A parade with no audience." Don pointed out. "A parade who takes all who enter it. Love's point still stands. None hold thee here but thyself. This circular path that leads to naught but more misery for thyself, for thy kindred, for all who step within..."

Her sword lowered, and she outstretched a hand distantly towards Dulcinea. "I wouldst offer thee a way out. A way forward. All thou wouldst have to do is take a chance."

Dulcinea simply stared quietly. "You're serious... how droll. You truly do take after him, in more than merely name. You're just as foolish."

She spun that parasol a bit, standing a bit higher as her shadow loomed over. "We have already followed one Don Quixote into the abyss. Now you would have us do so again? You truly do have everything we desire... to exist in ignorance of that truth that we were always going in circles. We'll never find what lies ahead, even if we think we do. All you would do is to exchange one spoke of the wheel for another."

"And yet, that is thy view! Thy oh so narrow view, obscured and clouded by blood!"

"Says the one coated in blood herself." the Kindred countered.

"But it blinds me not!" Don's voice continued to rise as her hand lowered. "Thou speaketh of spokes, and yet a wheel's purpose, spinning as it may, is oft to move forward! I cannot guarantee everything will be alright... that it could not end poorly, but to stay here is a guarantee... one that will spell the demise of thou and all that you hold dear. If not I, then another."

"And yet, you fall into another mistake." Dulcinea seemed unmoved. "That oblivion isn't what we desire, in one form or another. That all this... is but a prelude to such. To relive our memories before that end."

"And you'd doom all who follow you to that fate, too?" Love spoke up, eyes narrow.

"What other choice is there? What true choice?" Dulcinea replied.

"Then... you are a villain most foul... if not for your actions now, then your actions before, too!" Love's tone sharpened, brandishing that staff.

"Call me as you will. It changes little." The music began to rise once more. "But this parade has been stopped for long enough... though Cassetti played the Prince of the Parade, he has left us to build his own kingdom... a lone Princess should be enough to rouse our guests. Though, of course, there are others eager to join us."

Dulcinea practically kicked forward, and tumbling down the trunk from the action was...

One of those Bloodfiend Hunters. Don remembered that face, even with that mask now sewn onto it. Their leader, that cocksure pale face with silver hair, blue eyes turned sanguine. He sputtered and coughed, rising to their feet.

He'd been Bloodbagged, and yet, he still was able to wield that heavy axe... no, perhaps more of a tenderizer, with how its blunt end was lined in large, rounded spikes. Something to leave messy, brutal injuries.

"So much for that boasting those Hunters did." Xichun groaned.

"Haahaha..." The Bloodbag actually spoke. "Wasn't even us... was our plus one. Snuck into our group... backstabbed us... doomed us all. But it is pathetic... right? All that posturing... just to die here... from some knife in my back."

"Die? No, not yet." Dulcinea began to step down from the float, step by step in graceful fashion on that trunk of the dead. Endlessly graceful compared to the Fanghunt fixer.

"Yours was a hideous, pathetic life, lacking direction but to slaughter as many of us as possible. But now... you may smile. You may dance. Help our guests learn how, if you would." She stood by their side, gesturing forward.

It was clear there was pain in the Hunter's face, some modicum of resistance.

"Sorry... kill me fast. If you can." Romero began to run forward. The Bloodfiend's will overriding their own.

So this is how it would be. Don did not hesitate, taking the front and the Hunter's attention as he smashed down towards her, pavement beneath cracking from the sheer force. Her blade was quick, but the Hunter still retained their skill, darting away before her blade could chop off his head.

She did not particularly want to fight the Overseer. She barely knew them, but...

This was her sister. That she failed to see reason, trapped in such a mire was... saddening. But...

She was a threat to all, the source of so much pain, and unwilling to be swayed. And even if it hurt...

It needed to be done. She pressed the Fanghunt Fixer, blade flashing in further streams of pink. The initial hits blocked but her speed was enough to score real damage. A thin slice to the stomach, held back from a more lethal blow by both crystal and the fixer's coat. Another to the sleeve, a more substantial hit, nearly disarming them.

But he simply adjusted his grip and swung wildly, one handed. While some technique was present, it was clear how these Hunters must have operated. Pure power and strength. Shock and awe.

It was not enough. One swing overextending and her blade found its mark deep in the Bloodbag's stomach.

Blood poured from their mouth, tongue sputtering. "Give... her hell. For all of... them. Us."

While they didn't agree with that mindless hate such people have... she nodded silently before ending his life with a ripping of the blade out from its embedded position, nearly tearing him in half.

She would. The fixer then looking to the Second Kindred herself as her blade settled.

"Well. You've certainly taken on her style, haven't you?" she spoke, voice slathered in discontent. "Truly, you've become exactly what he desired."

From the flanks came more shambling Bloodbags, more of the Fanghunt Office, and those Bloodfiends too atop the float began to descend just the same.

"But is it enough to stand before a Princess?"

Don breathed in. This was to be a difficult battle. Nicolas was already a force, but a Bloodfiend such as this... even beyond that hurt that formed in her heart from having to do such, they were a force, even withered as they were, especially with others coming in.

And they knew, the longer this took... that fear they spread before could start to fade. They might get bold again...

And against a whole Parade... the odds weren't good. So they just had to do this fast, even with the company. Don looked to their teammates beside.

"Focus the others... I shalt take the Princess's attention."

A pair of nods, Love beginning to pool energy in her staff, Xichun already flying forward to the right side.

And as the Kindred's entourage rushed forward, Don focused. She led off simply, pointing forward with her off-hand.

"Beat!" A thin lance of light surged forward, Dulcinea not even seeming to care. The reason was rather obvious as something like glass shimmered into life. Don's gaze scrunched. Arcana...? Her eyes flickered as she looked through magical sight. Dulcinea's own arcana was... *overwhelming* to look at. Insidiously reaching out like vein-like tendrils, connecting to the Bloodbags and Bloodfiends alike, pulsing fiercely in a red-wreathed ebony.

She thought it was like Nicolas for a moment, a link between creator and created, but no, the closer she looked, it was more like the others were feeding back to her.

She wasn't supplying them, they were supplying the barrier to her. Some kind of advanced blood technique? The lines between Arcana and Hardblood seemed to fade the more she saw, but it heightened her resolve, for it presented a solution.

"Her allies are feeding her that barrier!" She called to the others. "Redouble the assault upon them!"

"Already sussed out that trick?" The Second Kindred's voice bristled for but a moment before she stepped forward. "All the more reason to end this quickly. Go now, with grace."

She gestured to one of the Bloodfiends beside herself, and in a flurry of petals, they seemed invigorated somehow. The male Bloodfiend stepped forward to contest with her and compared to the previous one they slayed, this was a far tougher match. Was her actions strengthening them somehow? They thrust forward and responded to her own blade with ease, wielding it in a manner that was beginning to resemble Camille. Quick, precise jabs trying to pierce her defense.

But she had range, able to match blow for blow, still scoring light hits before that parasol opened defensively again.

A sliding maneuver wasn't guaranteed to work as it did before, and that was planned with the beam timing in mind...

Until a star slammed into the Bloodfiend from the side, knocking them off-balance. Don didn't need to look over to know it was Love contributing, even while they were being tied up with their own pair of Bloodbags, her agile feet keeping them out of harm's way.

The contribution was more than enough. Defense faltered, she lunged in with an underhand sweep upwards, resulting in a bisection that sprayed the surrounding area with gore... but she could not stop, continuing on.

Two more Bloodfiends beside Dulcinea stepped forward.

"With beauty." Another flourish of petals as she directed them forward. A practical shield-wall of parasols forming as they moved in graceful lockstep, covering each other far more than one could alone.

Time was of the essence still, this delaying tactic has to be intentional on Dulcinea's part. But a plan formed in her head. Pulling from the bag, they took out one of the water orbs. They only had a small amount of these left after that trick before, but...

One was more than enough. Throwing it out above the pair, she shattered it remotely, hand forming a fist. And that lockstep defense fell into screams and panic as both scrambled for the parasols, trying to catch it but failing, flailing as it soaked them.

Don embedded her blade into the ground, using its guard as a point to leap from, rising into the air as she conjured her bow. Arwe conjured in rapid fashion, each a lance of red screaming through the air as a volley of four skewered the Bloodfiends to the earth in but a moment before she even reached the full height of the leap.

It was there that she could see that shimmering barrier of Dulcinea, cracking as each Bloodfiend and Bloodbag was taken out by her and the others. A plan formed in her head, and her feet angled backwards.

While pointing with a finger aided the process of spellcasting, Don had learned other ways to focus it as they and Love both experimented and trained. The legs too were a quite good place to use, at least given a circumstance like this.

Angling right, the bow was tossed to the ether, twin blades forming in her hands as two words were mouthed.

"...Burst."

Then, like a rocket, Don was sent flying downwards towards Dulcinea, the impulse of energy angled behind perfect for propulsion. She channeled another spell as she descended, each blade steadily becoming wreathed in a blood-red outline.

Dulcinea below gently rose that parasol and opened it so gently and casually, another barrier between the two. Don was getting tired of barriers. 

It was time for them to go.

"Arcana-" She rose the blades as the words began to rise from her throat. "-REND!"

As the blades collided, descending down in an X shape, RED lashed out in tandem, wind rushing and flowing with the sheer force that radiated from it.

For that is what RED truly was. The essence and embodiment of physical force, violence rent down to its fundamental aspect.

And with it, that barrier shattered, pink filling the air as shards flew in every direction, turning to blood as whatever technique Dulcinea had over it was lost.

The Second Kindred herself was sent skidding back, nearly into the float itself, forced to dig her heels into the earth lest they crash into it.

The parasol's hardblood coating too was shattered, and a light gashes left beyond that. Don could swear she saw the Princess's eyes widen in response, especially as the fixer hit the ground running to close the distance.

Dulcinea's eyes narrowed, and focus rose. Keeping that parasol held forward, they thrust it out, and from its extended top came a whirl of petals and confetti. But that was merely dressing, in truth, it was all hardblood, sharp and coagulated, wind spinning up into a vortex threatening to eviscerate and cleave through clothing and flesh alike.

She pivoted direction-wise, activating those gliders once more as they curved around her.

Only to be nearly blindsided as a mallet came in from nearly behind them, near about to slam into Don's side. She tried to react, but with the momentum, that couldn't be stopped.

It was clear however that Xichun wasn't to be stopped either. Another far more welcome whirl knocked it and the Bloodbag that sent it off course, fan slicing through the arm and leaving them easy pickings as Don herself turned, using her lingering momentum to simply drag the blade across the former Hunter's throat before leaving it to Xichun to finish off with a final palm strike to the chest.

That action was enough to slow her velocity by a fair amount, Don skidding to a stop.

"The parade must continue." Dulcinea's voice rose, and it was clear her actions with the whirl were more than simply offensive.

Wind gathered, and so too did blood, the dead Bloodbags and Fiends alike fertile harvesting grounds to repair and bolster themselves and their parasol. Blood pooled and coagulated, massive spikes forming on it's canopy nearly the size of Dulcinea herself.

"It will." She rose into the air. It wasn't as much a jump as it was a lift, unnaturally moving upwards as if gravity warped, and that parasol angled downwards. "Until there is nothing left..."

Wind whirled as she drove downwards in a similar manner to Don's own previous maneuver, the wind and parasol whirling alike to create a massive drill.

"Behind me!" Don called to Xichun, who obliged as the fixer's blades crackled, used as foci as she assumed a defensive posture, erecting a shimmering circular array before herself, angled up.

The Princess crashed into it, still whirling. The force could be felt even through the wall, the wind rushing by as countless pieces of confetti were wrenched from the ground around them, the sound of the barrier crackling, screeching, cracking.

It was so strong, Don tried to hold on, but as it drilled deeper and deeper it bit further into the construct, and soon-

"Don!" Love's voice was so welcome in this maelstrom, Don could not tear their gaze from the focus, but they could hear her feet, see her staff rise to the barrier, filled with energy from the battle.

It touched the barrier, and it glowed to a near blinding degree as energy was pumped in, and then forced out.

Pink arcs of lightning crackled up into Dulcinea's parasol. Hardblood raged against Arcana, a whirling cyclone of wind and lightning that resembled a thunderstorm in miniature, until soon, it curled up and over. Electricity flowed into Dulcinea's body, and the whirling sputtered and slowed as her body was paralyzed, twitching, teeth clenching uncontrollably.

"Xichun!" Don called out.

"Got it!" Don hoped she understood, and as the Jia leapt up, they knew she did. It was a quick motion, wind meeting wind as the paralyzed Kindred was subject to a crushing dive-kick, tumbling the parasol from her hands and sending the Princess hurtling to the earth.

The barrier fell, and the confetti around them fell from the sky like rain alongside Xichun.

The few remaining Bloodfiends, watching their Princess fall, body twitching erratically... scattered.

The music steadily died, and so with it, the Parade.

Don breathed out, releasing the breath they didn't even realize they'd been holding. She moved forward, looking down to Dulcinea as the shocks began to wear off. The lone parasol kicked back to the other two behind.

"Then... it ends."

"It ends..." Don's blades were ready, but... she lowered them. "But the question is, do you?"

Dulcinea simply stared, mouth thinning, gaze just a touch narrower. "That gaze... that pitying gaze... I find I hate it almost as much as your old."

"Thou avoideth the inquiry."

"Whether I wish to live?" A scoff. Her neutral face was on the cusp of crumbling. "I've told you what I desire. What we all desire."

"Yet I find trouble in believing that is entirely true. Wert thou truly wishing for death, thou wouldst not have fought the Hunters. Fought I, or any other who hath come to thy parade. Thou wouldst not desire for that parade to be 'eternal'. Nay. I believe that is simply what thou tell thyself. To justify this."

"But is oblivion merely death?" Another, painfully familiar voice appeared, slipping from behind the float, hat and mask in tow, Sanson casually walking towards the pair. Don could hear a sigh of exhaustion from behind, almost assuredly Xichun.

"No, to call it such is but the same as that card of the Arcana. An oversimplification.  Oblivion can too be freedom. The gift of oblivion, to cast all into the abyss. To flee from desire, from shame, from memory. To be born again within its embrace." he regaled.

"Come to take away another?" Don looked up, eyes narrow.

"No, no. I think, perhaps, they can be witness to this. It is a most important thing, this tale."

Don's eyes darted between Dulcinea and Sanson, the former more focused on the latter. "And, pray tell, what tale wouldst that be?"

"Tell us, oh Don Quixote, how that grand adventure, for which you abandoned us all, ended."

Don's gaze turned to confusion. "Us?"

"You still do not see it, do you?" Sanson's head ever so slightly tilted. "The meaning in those two letters? Perhaps I stretched the truth before, when I said it was a misspeaking. For even I, not apart of this family, are still a part of us."

What did that mean? What was he...?

"Perhaps I should lead a little. Set the stage." The parade began to shift, space moving erratically as that purple light faded for blue, as the confetti and float seemed to dissipate, as all stretched to encompass the image for which Sanson desired.

They were here, once more. Like that first tale for which they were compelled. That riverside, sparse with foliage and lined with rocks.

"Galloping on, and on... as always, Rocinante was merrily and energetically galloping with you upon its saddle, while leaving us to slowly expire in a most painful death."

Leaving them? Confusion only further rose. This was something... she did not know at all. Not an iota, even as she tried to rack her brain thus. "Thus you, Rocinante, and the Knight of the White Moon embark on your final adventure. Or, perhaps, it would be more accurate to say that... you fled."

"Fled from...?" Don's words died soon after, and that hold began to come over her.

"We saw so many rivers on our way here, didn't we?" Love's voice chirped up, stepping up once more in the Knight's attire, that tone of voice so measured and leveled still so odd.

"All these rivers... were beneath the City all along?" Her own outfit too had changed once more... honestly was probably more protective than the burned remains of what she wore, even for its odd false nature.

Love, assuming their role, looked out to that assembled image of a river. Contemplation crossing her features. Or... reminiscence? "It is said that when an efflorescent tree comes to blossom, steeped and nurtured in the waters of many rivers since its saplinghood, it becomes imbued with a special power. I can't even begin to imagine what powers a tree born from that particular river may hold."

A tree? Blossoming out? It sparked memory in her, but not of that distant past... no, it brought thoughts of Nicolas once more. That Arcana... the way it grew and flourished... did not Sanson use a similar term to describe him?

Effloresced... such a strange word that captured much. Was there... a connection between them and this, somehow?

"Pray tell, what river is it we seek?"

"Well, none of the rivers we've walked by is the one we're looking for."

"Not this one either, then...?"

"Regrettably, no. Perhaps we should seek a river that flows even deeper into the abyss. The depths of the Ruins are certainly dangerous, even for someone who's ventured down here in the past. It's even giving you a run for your money, isn't it?"

Despite the many words, Don felt... focused more on the river before them. Thoughts falling away. There was something of sadness that tried to rise up to consume them, but they couldn't pinpoint why. "...what river is this...?"

"Whoever drinks the waters of this river shall be granted a vision of… a certain future. It brings the drinker visions of what is to come, yet blinds them to all things save for those of the future, driving them to insanity. And to the drinker, only a singular future remains: a vision of their own madness." the 'Knight' explained. "I call this the 'Mirae-Mirae River'... or the River of Future-Future. It must've had a name once, but this is the name I gave it."

The Knight's knowledge was almost encyclopedic when it came to these rivers... much like her with Fixers, she supposed. But knowledge like this seemed far more archaic... where could they have learned it if they did not drink the waters themselves? Did others come down here?

So many questions, and yet her words in response were so simple. "Quite the irony, then."

"Though it won't show you the exact moment you wish to see, you may look into the river to catch a glimpse of a certain moment in the future. It may be quite disorienting, but... would you like to try anyway?"

She could feel hesitation instill itself in her being, hands twiddling. "I ill wish to be so close to the waters, but... I shall."

She looked down to the false River, and yet... she could feel that string of memory pulling, making that painted wood and cardboard seem to flow.

"What do you see?"

It came in moments, pieces of a mirage that drifted to and fro amongst the flowing waters.

"I see... metal walls... some kind of... golden shimmer..." Don could feel her eyes narrow. "Something else, a... timepiece, aflame? And a... promise..."

Her head forcefully craned over to Love. "It is as you have said. Visions I have seen, yet I fail to see the sense in each of them.

"Right. You won't ever get a clear picture unless you drink the waters yourself. Still... if you've seen that clock... and the visions of promise...? Hm. Perhaps this has something to do with that promise you made with him."

"The promised timepiece, is it...?"

Sanson moved in, words flowing and carrying them along. "After suffering through brutal trials upon trials, you arrive at the place you have been searching so hard for. And here..."

"We come back to the very first chapter of this tale." The scenery began to change, but... this was different. Very different than the others. Walls assembling around them all, put together not of clearly fake wood and cardboard. It was real rock. Or looked like it, at least. It slid into place, and suddenly it didn't feel as much like a stage.

It was like them being pulled into a memory, but they were still here, in the present, still Love beside, in different attire as she would, others beside like Dulcinea and Xichun feeling like they were vanishing from sight, even if they could still feel their presence, like they were turning invisible.

Before the two was a cave, deep, deep underground. Don swore they could feel the pressure and weight of the caverns above. The only light before them...

Was a river. Its waters glowed with a deep sapphire light that reflected off the walls of the cavern, within seeming to lie a galaxy, floating away down the stream.

"This... this is...?"

Sanson, the only one out of place spoke, and though he now stood on the far shore, it felt like they were right beside. "The River of Oblivion."

"This..." Xichun's voice could be heard, even if Don could not see her. "This is Lethe...?"

Lethe... a name that felt like it held a weight in her gut that would not abate.

Love looked curiously at the river herself, but it was clear from how her face twitched that Sanson's strings were on her soon after, settling back 'into character'. "Are you certain? Drink from this well, and the life you have lived thus far will be no more. All of it, gone in a sip."

"You reflexively gulp." Sanson's commentary crossed the waters. Her mouth moved, hesitantly. "I have... decided."

So this was... this was why she couldn't remember. This river, these waters, and Sancho just... decided that?

That's what they must've truly meant, by 'fleeing'.

"Will you answer me, were I to ask you why?"

Don forcefully breathed in, eyes closing. "I see it still, past the darkness of my eyelids. I see a vision of that day. The screaming and shouting, the stench of blood, the... the more I recall, the more I find myself cracking and crumbling like a castle of sand."

The eyes opened, looking to Love, who couldn't fully hide the worry on her own features, seeing this. "Thus I wish to forget everything that's happened and crawl into a deep slumber... because while I sleep, there will be no fear, no hope, no suffering, and no glory."

"But there is an unsavory part to sleep, isn't there? It's..."

Don found herself nodding. "Yes. It is much like death. Yet it distinguishes itself in ways that matter."

"You... want to dream." It was realization that dawned on Love's face. An understanding of the circumstances.

"For those mere words which made us leave everything behind, only to shackle us in the end... I long to continue the dream I have been but a mere witness to."

"Then..." Love paused, something helpless glimmering onto her face that made Don's heart hurt. "I have no other way to help you, do I?"

Something determined came on to replace that helplessness, and she could not tell whether it was Love's or the Knight's. "Then... before oblivion takes my name away from you, allow me to introduce myself one last time. I... am the flower-seeker, a wanderer, a traveler across the City and the Ruins. I am the one who marked the final period to this unforgotten adventure of a lifetime with you. My name is Bari, the Knight of the White Moon. I will now leave, and return to my search for the river and the flower born from its waters... as I always have."

"Even should I drink the waters of this river..." Don's voice came out... lost, worried. "...will you tell me the tales of Fixers still?"

The Knight hesitated, but eventually... "...I may pass by this area quite often through my journey. Every chance I get, i'll leave a book or an item behind. Things that may be of help to you."

Wait... did that mean...

Was Bari the source of... the replies? She remembered sending many a letter out from the lighthouse, slipped out the door, to be mailed.

All listed incorrectly, she knew now, and yet... she still recieved replies. She recieved books and magazines and other knick-knacks alongside. Gifts for an aspiring fixer.

Bari had been watching over them, all that time, in her own way. There was... it elicited strange feelings she couldn't pin down.

Gratitude? Confusion... embers of anger, even. A mixed set of thoughts, all coming from different parts of her mind.

But then, Love was made to walk off-stage, even though she could see them looking back...

She felt alone. Her and the cerulean waters. She kneeled down to meet them.

"Thus, you lean over the river to drink its waters." Sanson narrated. "However valiant, however strong Sancho was, she could not help but shudder from an overwhelming sense of terror and omen.

The more she looked, the more the water felt like danger. Fear creeping down her spine. It was just a fluid, and yet it felt like she was staring at the maws of something great and terrible.

Those black, gnashing maws of the Mountain. Nothing There's lipless face, teeth irregular and slobbering. The great hole and the roar of the Apocalypse...

Like she was before another ALEPH, something deep and instinctual telling them to run, to flee. Is this... what Bloodfiends felt, when she splashed water? Like those of the parade mere minutes ago?

"Our common, primeval fear of the flowing water." Sanson continued. "Your body shudders, horripilation of the skin spreading through every inch of your being as your psyche, your consciousness itself, furiously refuses to approach its undulating surface. Our blood, thicker than water, cycles through your system with inhuman rapidity as your heart beings to race like that of a rabid animal."

Not like... it truly was, wasn't it? She could feel it the more he spoke, the sweat dripping down her brow. It was like when she first took off Rocinante back then, when everything in her body tried to stop her.

"Yet, you must conquer that fear. You had to."

They did... truly they did. Back then, and now, too. She steeled herself, and reached into that pool, lapping its star-speckled water into her hands, glowing even now.

"Moments before you take a sip of that river's water, a thought flickers through your mind. That to continue this adventure was meaningless."

That caused Don to stop, looking up to the tall Bloodfiend, even more blue than usual as he loomed on the other side of the river, only highlighting that red in his eyes even more.

"That is how you dismount Rocinante. Rocinante, only borrowed from its original master."

Her gaze flickered down to the shoes, and then back to Sanson. "Is... that what thou believes?"

"It is what I know."

"Then thou lack information. For I have dismounted once already, and mine adventure has not ended. Neither does it now."

"Is that what you believe?"

"Verily, I do."

"Then... show us." The magician asked, so simply.

It fell quiet, and the true purpose of all this finally showed itself. Sancho. He wanted to see Sancho. She, who had cast herself away. She, who had been broken by the fall of La Manchaland.

She, whose flesh Don resided within. Don breathed in, letting that water dribble out through their fingertips. She patted herself off, adjusting to a proper sitting position.

"Rocinante..." She began, a low, gentle whisper. "Hear mine words, for I know thou can understand them. Thou, who hath bore witness to all this. Thou, who hast been by my side all this time. I wish for thou to heed me."

It was the gentlest sensation, the very slightest sensation in her feet that answered her. She continued. "I need for thou to set me down. To let me breathe this fetid air alone."

The shoes felt like they subtly tightened, and her eyes slightly narrowed. "Oh, Rocinante... I mean not to abandon thee. My dearest companion... but to see this adventure to its conclusion, tis' necessary, dost thou see? For I, for they, for all of us, prithee, I beg of thou... loosen thy grip. I dost not wish to fight you once more, my steed."

"Let me free." She finished. Silence filled the air of that illusory cave, but for the dripping of water. But slowly, surely... she felt one last pulse of grip, and then... a loosening.

The laces untie, and steadily, Don Quixote pulls each off quietly, one by one, as the cave itself shuddered with each.

Her bare feet touched the earth, and she was no longer in the cave. She was back in the remnants of the parade once more.

It was cold. She felt cold... but there was no detonation this time. No explosive gush of blood as Love described.

Only a metaphorical crack. It wasn't like before, where she felt herself falling unconscious. There were... memories.

"Flee... for you must live. For you must live and continue my tale."
"Please, please! I don't want an adventure, stop! Please!"
"Everyone is happy at amusement parks, merely by being there. It's enough to make everyone dance, sing, and laugh."

They kept coming, like a flowing stream flowing into her brain, bits and pieces assembling themselves in succession. Everything felt like it was in slow motion.

"Why does it matter if someone wins or loses?"
"A Fixer must maintain a head clear of corruption, speech free of deceit, and conduct guided by clemency.
"Sancho, I have conceived an idea most ingenious."

Her feet walked onward, everything else seeming to fall away from focus. Just her, and the steps, moving as if rehearsed, even if she could not feel Sanson's grasp upon her. She could vaguely see Dulcinea as she passed, something almost confused writing itself on her face. "The color is right... but those eyes..."

"I am telling you now, this new goal of yours is going to crash and burn in less than three days."
"Sancho... when did you sidle up so close to our conversation?"
"In that land, Sancho... there won't be any wearisome battles to fight. No constant fear of getting devoured..."

Where was she going? Why did her head feel like it sloshed with its movements? Why did her throat parch so poignantly?

Who was she, truly?

"There shall only be laughter."

There was a gate, here. A wooden gate, barred with chains. She grasped at them for reasons she could not understand, her head a swirling maelstrom, possessed by something she did not yet fully comprehend.

Chains shattered beneath her grip, torn aside like toys. The handle, pushed. And then...

A presence. It felt like... back then... the White Nights. The smell too was overpowering, metal assaulting her nostrils enough to feel like it was weighed down.

Yet as her eyes processed, they narrowed to pinpricks, practically bulging as she understood what was before her.

"You have returned to me, my Sancho."

A voice she knew. A voice she knew, so very, very well. The sight before her filled with red and gold.

It was him. Don Quixote. The true, the original. Embedded into a pillar wholly made of hardblood, near fused with it, hedges lined with blood-red roses curled around him. A golden mask, dinged and battered covered his eyes, pale, shriveled lips curling upward.

His attire was battered and ripped and beaten, a hundred old wounds piercing its front, old fetid blood coating his chest. At its center lied... something gold. A bright, familiar gold she knew as Light, shaped into a tree branch, staked in deep.

"Fa..." She tried to speak, but her vocal chords would not cooperate.

"Now, tell me all about it." His head faintly craned up to look at her. "That dream of mine... you have dreamed in my stead."

The river in the fixer's head turned to a gushing, sanguine rapid.

And the line between Don Quixote and Sancho evaporated entirely.