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say-hwaet · 7 months ago

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That's The Way it Is

Chapter Two: In Retrospect Author's note: Here is the second chapter to my biggest fanfic! If you're keen on reading ahead, the entire story is posted on AO3! I am merely sharing it on here for funsies, as this blog is all about writing and Red Dead in general. :D

After resting overnight just outside of Valentine, you are back on the road again. Jeremy has been giving you enough courtesy to remain silent the first few miles towards Strawberry. While you are eager to get back, there is one more quick stop to pick up some lumber from the Appleseed Timber Company. Not a large order, Jeremy reassured you, but Mr. Lewis offered to pick it up since it is only but a small detour back to Blackwater.

You don’t care. The farther you are from Valentine. From him, the less pain you are in.

You can tell by the tall trees, that you are nearing the timber company. You can also see the trees thinning out, and you cannot help but feel sad about it. Something about loss, the lack of something missing as more stumps come into view.

The scent of fresh pine fills the air, a sharp contrast to the dusty, dry landscape you've become accustomed to in and around Blackwater. The timber yard is bustling with activity, men shouting over the whir of saw blades and the thud of falling trees. Despite the chaos, there's a rhythmic allure to it, a working machine of flesh and bone, not shy of risk and danger.

Jeremy pulls off the road and sets the wagon brake. Several men taking a break nearby turn and see you, their attention taken as you stare back at them. You begin to feel uneasy and you adjust yourself in your seat.

“Wait here,” Jeremy tells you, and he gets off the wagon and heads for the main building that looks a little more than a shack.

You try to avert the men’s gaze, who knows how long they’ve been working out here without seeing much of civilization.

The scent of pine grows stronger, and you distract yourself by focusing on the trees that remain standing, strong and defiant against the human intrusion. You wonder about their stories, their silent witness to the changing world around them—something you feel a kinship with in your fragmented state.

As you sit there, lost in thought, a sudden flash of memory appears in your mind. A bunch of trees. Several small, box-like wagons are arranged in a circle. A large fire. Music. Music you haven’t heard being played in the hotel or saloon. It’s sharp, foreign, bordering exotic.

You feel a set of hands taking yours, as you begin to be pulled in a circle around the fire, women in embroidered scarves tied around their heads. Their skirts with red flowers and leaves at the hems.

“Držte krok, Kitka!” The woman beside you encourages. “Tančit znamená být lehký na nohy!”

You seem to know what she is saying to you, but you can’t fashion a reply. You only keep up with your feet as you dance to the rhythm of the music.

And as quickly as the memory floods you, it begins to disappear like an underdeveloped photograph, the developer reversing the forming image that had already begun to appear. You try to reach for it, but at the thrumming threat of a headache, you let it go.

You hear footfalls on wood and opening your eyes, you turn to see Jeremy walking with a thick-bearded man, chatting idly.

You feel the wagon shake and quickly turning around, you see an assembly of men loading up the wagon with short-cut timber.

As you sit there, they continue to load the wagon and it isn’t long before their work is done. Jeremy finishes chatting with the man, shakes his hand, and returns to the wagon. He glances up at you, smiling. “You ready to head back to Blackwater?”

You nod. “Please.”

He hoists himself up, and you are soon on your way again.

The way back to Blackwater via Strawberry is a pleasant drive. However, with the winding road and the sharper turns, he has to drive slower. You are eager to get back home. You’ve had enough for one day.

“Still got your headache?” Jeremy asks.

You shake your head tenderly, as there is still a soreness. “It’s nearly gone.” You reach for your temple again. “They seem to get worse and worse.”

Jeremy's expression softens, a hint of concern flickering in his eyes as he maneuvers the wagon carefully down the path. "You ought to see Doc when we get back. He might have something for that."

You nod, considering the option. You aren’t about to argue your way out of it this time, it isn’t worth the energy. “As long as he doesn’t ask me more questions.”

Jeremy gently nudges you. “If you let me go with you, I’ll make sure he doesn’t.”

You smile at that, feeling a little heat in your cheek. “Why have you been so nice to me?” you dare ask. “It isn’t because I might be wealthy, is it?”

He shakes his head. “No.”

You look at your hand, the ring still on your finger. You haven’t brought yourself to remove it, regardless of what it might mean. “What if I am married? Or engaged?”

Surprisingly, he offers a quick answer. “If you are, I don’t understand why they haven’t looked for you, yet.” And he pauses. “You could also be a widow.”

You blink. “A widow at 29?” you chortle, unable to fathom such a tragic fate at such a young age. “I hardly think so.”

Jeremy’s eyes widen. “You just said how old you are.”

He’s right. You didn’t know that before. You blink, still shocked at the revelation. How did you come to do that? “How…?” Your mind reels, trying to process how this information slipped from your lips without your conscious knowledge. A surge of panic courses through you as you grasp at the small shred of individuality this revelation has given you.

Jeremy's words only fuel your unease as he stammers in an attempt to rationalize the unimaginable. “Maybe those headaches are a good thing…”

You shake your head vehemently, denying the possibility that such agony could hold any positive outcome. "I refuse to believe that!" you declare, but a seed of doubt has been planted, casting a dark shadow over everything you thought you knew about yourself.

His expression softens, quickly looking ahead to redirect the horse. “Look, Jane. I know this sounds bad. I mean, nobody wants to go through pain…” Putting both reins in one hand, he takes your hand in his other. “But you don’t have to go through it alone.”

You look up at him, and as you see the softness in his eyes, for a split second, you don’t see Jeremy’s face.

You see his. You see Arthur’s.

You know it is him, but he’s not the same. Younger, not sun-beaten and mud-covered, but his eyes. His eyes are the same.

“You’re not alone, Kit,” he says. “We got’chu.”

You lean away from Jeremy, nearly losing your balance and tumbling off the wagon seat. “Jane!” His strong arms reach out and pull you back, steadying you with care. Once you are sitting back up again, he pulls on the reins and the wagon comes to a stop. Your heart races as you try to steady your breathing and take in your surroundings. “You alright?”

It's happening again, those sudden flashes of memories and thoughts that seem familiar, yet foreign at the same time. You grip onto Jeremy tightly, seeking comfort and grounding in his presence. As your eyes take in the towering walls of rock ahead, a sense of unease settles over you. The rough texture and imposing faces of the stones seem to be reaching out towards you, almost menacingly. A shiver runs down your spine.

“We gotta get you back,” Jeremy says quietly. “Hang on.” He flicks the reins again, and the wagon lurches forward, the horse taking a steady pace as they enter the road between the rocks. “The river isn’t too far from here. Once we reach it, we will be on our way to Blackwater.”

That settles you for a moment, and you continue to clutch onto Jeremy’s arm as the wagon jostles a little.

You begin to pass by what looks like an old settlement on your left, a fence made with large planks stuck into the ground in jagged patterns, its ruins leaving an ominous mark. You think to ask Jeremy what the place is called, but you find no interest in speaking. There have been enough words.

But you haven’t noticed how ominously quiet it has become.

“Woo,” Jeremy says softly, pulling the reins back. The horse comes to a stop and Jeremy sits upright, listening quietly.

“What is it?” you ask.

“Something just doesn’t feel right.”

That’s when you hear a pik pik . Looking on the sloping rock face, you see small pebbles falling. You follow where they had fallen from, only to have a split second to see a man standing on the ledge, guns pointed at you, before a shot is fired.

BANG!!

You hear a sound, one that sounds striking and heart-stopping. You soon realize that it is the ripping of flesh, as the bullet goes right through Jeremy’s shoulder.

“Jeremy…!!” you scream and his body instantly topples over the wagon seat and falls to the ground.

“Aye, we got ‘em, boys…!” The man shouts. “Let’s get the girl and then take what’s ours…!”

There are other shouts and whoops as there is no more need to hide themselves. You find several men up top and you hear footfalls behind you as men come down the slope with guns raised.

You need to act quickly, lest you find a similar fate to your companion.

Oh, Jeremy…!

You reach into the back, picking up the rifle and with great finesse, you roll out of your seat, flipping backward and supporting your weight upside down as you reach the ground. Shots start firing, and you hear the bullets make contact with the wood of the wagon, bits and slivers flying.

You return right side up and sequester yourself against the wagon, between its wheels. If you had strength, you could flip it over, and use it as a shield, but you don’t have such creativity.

Creativity…create…

Why does this excite you?

You instantly remember that Jeremy has always carried with him a tiny flask of moonshine. Not to drink on the job but at the end of each day. He would always make a trip to the saloon to see his cousin, who owned the bar and they’d share a swig or two.

Did he have it with him now?

You look under the wagon and see Jeremy on the ground, still and unmoving. “Jeremy…!” you cry. Getting down on your stomach, you crawl underneath the wagon as fast as you can. Once you reach him, you try to search for signs of life.

Oh, he’s breathing. “Jeremy…!”

You grab him by the ankles and with all the strength you can muster, you drag him back to the safest side of the wagon. He moans, tossing his head from side to side.

“Jeremy,” you speak. “I need your moonshine.”

He tries to open his eyes and he grimaces. “Jane…?”

You see the blood oozing out of his shoulder, bleeding into his jacket. Not getting a response from him, you search his pockets until you feel the metal container. You clutch it tightly and remain where you are, setting down your ingredients before you. You go to the rifle, unloading it of all the bullets it has. Then, you reach down to your skirt. Taking hold of it, you rip it, trying to allot as many pieces as you can.

You hear Jeremy groan. “Am I dead?”

“Not yet.” And you look up at him. “Can you shoot any?”

His eyes open more, but he’s visibly weak, he draws his revolver. “I’ll do my best.”

You then hear more calls from the bandits. “They’re hidin’ under there!”

“We can’t just keep shootin’!”

“Let’s just scorch ‘em out!”

That isn’t good. You need to work faster!

You have seven good pieces of fabric. Taking the bottle of moonshine, you twist the cap open and begin to douse the pieces of cloth.

“What…?” Jeremy pants. “…are you doing?”

With trembling fingers, you work to disassemble the bullets, emptying a good amount of powder into the center of each of the torn skirt pieces. “I don’t know…”

When there is a pile, you begin to bring the corners of the fabric together, tying them in a knot or using a thinner piece of fabric. Jeremy, weakly, shoots a couple of shots with his revolver. If he can’t hit anything, it might serve as a distraction of some kind.

That is the best way to find your escape, Kitka. Turn their attention away from your hands…

You shake the voice out of your head and keep working. Finally, you have what you need.

You don’t know what they are, but you made them, like breathing it came easy.

You also remember Jeremy smokes a pipe. Turning back to him, you search his pockets again, finding a small box of matches. His eyes weakly follow you as he pulls the hammer back on his revolver to shoot again.

You waste no time in striking a match, lighting the first bundle, and exposing yourself for a brief moment, throwing it to the group of men on the ledge.

You must have a good arm, for just as it reaches them, it explodes.

The chaos that ensues is immediate. Shouts of alarm and confusion blend with the sharp crack of gunfire. You don't wait to see the results; grabbing another bundle and lighting it up. You throw it up there again, moving on instinct now, your body somehow remembering its given swiftness and agility.

The flames engulf them in an instant, their screams echoing off the rock walls as they try to escape the inferno, their curses slicing through the smoke and tumult that you have created. They didn't expect this—no one expects a store clerk from Blackwater to wield makeshift bombs with the expertise of a seasoned demolitionist. The edge of the embankment reacts under the force of your third creation, chunks of rock flying and sending two men tumbling down the slope.

But it isn’t over.

“Jane…!” Jeremy shouts weakly. “Look out…!”

Turning around, you are suddenly attacked by one of the bandits, eyes wild and fiery as he clutches onto your throat. “You think your little magic tricks will be enough?” He squeezes hard, his nails digging into your larynx and he forces you to the ground.

“Jane…!” Jeremy cries and just as he gets to his feet, he is soon attacked by yet another, and the gun falls out of his hand. They wrestle into the ground, and with his injury, Jeremy struggles to gain the upper hand.

Gasping for air, your vision tunnels, the edges tinged with blackness. In this desperate moment, you reach out, fingers clawing at anything they can find. Your hand brushes against the cold metal of Jeremy's discarded revolver. With a jolt of adrenaline, you grasp it, jamming the barrel against the bandit’s stomach, and pulling the trigger.

The gunshot echoes through the air, a sharp, definitive sound that momentarily slices through the cacophony of the ongoing battle. The bandit’s grip loosens as he leans back, eyes wide in shock and pain. He falls backward into the dusty ground, clutching at the wound that now mars his abdomen.

You gasp at the sight, unsure if it is because of the violence or a flash of memory.

A woman, being shot in the head. And a man with dark hair and dark eyes letting her body fall to the floor…

The man now dead, you whip around with the gun in your hand. You can do this, you can save Jeremy. The man is on top of him, landing blow after blow into his head with a rock.

You cock back the hammer and fire.

Jeremy’s attacker recoils as the bullet rips through his chest and he falls backward into the dirt.

You breathe for just a moment, looking around sharply to see if there are any more. There aren’t. They’re all gone.

Relieved, you look back to Jeremy, and he’s not moving. You study his body, and you cannot see the rise and fall of his chest, for there isn’t none.

An icy grip squeezes your heart. “Jeremy!” Your feet move on their own accord, propelling you towards him until you are kneeling at his side. His once smooth and handsome face is now a twisted mess of blood and bruises, an image that will haunt you forever. The metallic scent of blood fills your nostrils and bile rises in your throat as you try to hold back tears. You can feel the weight of the world crushing down on you as you see him in this state, and all you can do is pray for some miracle to save him from the brink of death.

But your prayers would be in vain.

You know he’s dead.

He’s dead.

You feel sick. An image of a boy lying in your arms. Pale and lifeless, your voice hoarse from screaming, begging on the streets.

“Jeremy…!” you scream at the top of your lungs, your throat burning from the pain until you hear nothing left escape your lips.

You feel dizzy. Your head pounds with an ache that begins to weigh you down. The world spins around you. A whirlwind of days and hours gone in a matter of seconds. Jeremy, his life, gone, without as much a fighting chance. How many times has he gone on this journey before? What could he have done to deserve this?

And then it appears again. The boy in your lap, your hands, young and cold, reaching out to touch his face…

“Antek…” you say…your voice but a whimpering cry.

And as it leaves your mouth, you feel the weight of it all and the world fades to black.

***

You feel something soft underneath your face. You feel the weight in your body as you lie on your side. Warmth, something deeply warm heats your skin. You smell charred wood and hear pops and crackles. Fire.

Explosions.

Those men.

You open your eyes and quickly push yourself up to a sitting position. You feel the softness under your hands. You look down. An animal pelt, all white beautiful under the glow of the firelight.

How did you get here?

“Jeremy…?” you whimper, though you are unsure why. He’s dead.

“I couldn’t help him.” a deep voice speaks softly.

Your breath hitches and you feel the blood draining from your face. You’ve encountered it enough to start recognizing it. Turning slowly, you look past the fire near you, into the eyes of Arthur.

You feel something building in your chest, something that burns more than the fire ever could. You flare your nostrils. “You…!”

He holds up his palms, unmoving from where he sits. “Look, I was—”

“You followed me?!”

He shakes his head. “I was nearby. I…I was trackin' you, but I came runnin' when I heard the gunshots.” He pauses and seeing that you aren’t going to interrupt him this time, he continues. “By the time I got there, most had run or were dead…” And his eyes soften. “And you were just layin’ there.”

“And Jeremy…?!”

“He was already gone. I…buried him.”

Your eyes narrow. You only hope that he got a decent burial. “Where?” you hiss.

He looks pained at your words and something else you can’t pin down. “In Great Plains. Just after crossin’ the river.” He looks at you, almost wantonly. “I…risked a lot doin’ that for him.”

You scowl. “Giving someone a burial is risky?”

“When you’re a wanted man, it is.”

Your eyes widen. “Who are you?” And you dare ask a more important question. “And how do you know me?”

You see it in his expression, an aching familiarity, a recognition as he regards you sitting there. His mouth opens and closes, words wanting to escape but don’t. “You…you was with us, in a gang.” He reaches behind his head to scratch his neck. “We…kinda grew up together.”

The flash of memory you had when Jeremy took your hand. Arthur’s young face. That would make sense if you grew up with this man. “We’re siblings?”

He almost laughs at that and shakes his head quickly. “No.”

Then you remember the music, groups of people dancing. But those people were different. You felt shorter, smaller, and he wasn’t there. It’s strange. When you think about things that had hurt your head before, they don’t hurt now when you bring up those exact thoughts again. Perhaps, it is only new ones?

You remember what Jeremy said, about them being a blessing in disguise.

Oh, Jeremy…!

You feel the tears swell up in your eyes and you find no willingness to conceal them as you begin to sob. “He’s dead…!” you cry. “He’s dead and I couldn’t save him…!”

Your chest tightens and you feel like you can’t move, can’t breathe. The tears fall heavy down your soiled cheeks and you hold yourself for comfort.

That’s when Arthur moves toward you. You feel a sudden uneasiness when he reaches for you.

You quickly move back and rise to your feet. “Get away from me…!” you hiss and he moves backward, raising his palms.

“M’sorry,” he says softly. His voice holds a trace of genuine regret, a sound that stirs something within the depths of your fragmented memories. The campfire casts shadows across his face, making him appear both menacing and mournful at once.

You wipe your cheeks roughly with the back of your hand, trying to regain some form of composure. You need to mourn, but you also have questions. You have an obligation to Blackwater, you need to return to Mr. Lewis. But what will you tell him?

But if what Arthur says is true, if you were with a gang, could that mean you’re wanted, too? Not an aristocrat?

Would it be worth going back at all?

You sit back down on the pelt, and Arthur carefully returns to his spot beyond the fire. You appreciate the space he’s given you, despite his recent effort to embrace you again.

“It weren’t your fault what happened,” he speaks softly. “A lotta wagons get raided ‘round there.”

“You would know, wouldn’t you?”

Arthur doesn’t react in anger, but his eyes look saddened. “I am a bad man,” he says. “But I ain’t like them.”

“Does that make me bad, too?” you snap.

He is quiet for a moment. “You ain’t never done the things I have.”

You’re still skeptical, but your own curiosity is betraying your bitterness. “What did I do? What role did I play?”

“Are you makin’ fun of me?”

You snort. “I just don’t know if I believe you.”

He readjusts his sitting position on the ground and cocks his head, you can see more of his face under the brim of his hat as the glow of the fire is on his skin. Those eyes of his, even in the dark, make you think of paintings of the sea.

Where have you seen those?

“What if I tell you some things about you? Things that only you and a few others would know?”

You raise an eyebrow, a small gesture of disbelief and confusion. "I don't even know who I am," you say with a hint of despair creeping into your voice.

His shoulders slump in response, a mixture of disappointment and understanding in his expression. "You don't remember anythin’?" he asks, his tone gentle yet searching for any flickers of recognition in your face.

A feeling of emptiness washes over you at the thought of having no memories to hold onto. "No," you reply, shaking your head slightly. "I just remembered how old I am."

A soft smile forms on Arthur's lips, his eyes filled with compassion. "29," he says, the number rolling off his tongue like a familiar melody.

Your eyes widen in surprise. He could have thrown out any number to try to convince you, but he chose the precise and accurate one.

“Let me tell you some things.” The man's voice lingers in the air, hesitant yet eager. You feel a flutter of curiosity, your reservations slowly fading away. Memories flood your mind, images and whispers that have haunted you for weeks.

With a deep breath, you meet his gaze once more. “Who is Kitka?” The question tumbles out of your lips before you can stop it, the name feeling both foreign and familiar at the same time.

His smile widens, his piercing blue eyes that hold a wealth of secrets. “That’s you. Your name.”

You can't help but feel a rush of confusion and excitement at the revelation, wondering what other mysteries this enigmatic man holds. You repeat it, and it doesn’t feel uncomfortable settling there. “But when you grabbed me…in Valentine…” You see his frown fall, it must not be a pleasant memory for him, either. “You called me Kit.”

He offers you an explanation. “That’s what most call you. Guess some have trouble sayin’ your real name.”

“Do I have a last name?”

He grimaces. “I might be sayin’ it wrong, but it’s Petrova.”

You roll the name around in your mind—Kitka Petrova. There's a distant echo of familiarity, like a whisper from far away. "Petrova," you repeat, tasting each syllable. It feels foreign yet oddly comforting.

Arthur watches you closely, his gaze intense but not imposing. "There's more to you than that, though.”

You tuck your chin. Minute by minute, you are coming to believe him. This was more than what any doctor could help you with and it doesn’t hurt or give you a headache. You heard a woman speak that name, you felt her take your hand and dance. “There was a woman…” you begin, feeling your hands tremble at the thought. “She knew my name…” You look back to meet his eyes. “Do I have a mother?”

Arthur looks at you, his eyes softening as he speaks. “She died before I met you.” But lifting his forefinger, he points to the ring on your hand. “But that…that was hers.”

You look down at your hand, the gold band shining in the orange light. “So…I’m not married? Or engaged?” You feel a pit in your stomach. “No one was looking for me.”

You hear a rustling and look back up to see Arthur moving to you again, but he stops suddenly, remembering the proximity that you prefer. But he speaks to you earnestly. “We thought you was dead. I…”

But you clearly aren’t. “Folk in town say I was found in an alley. By the docks.”

His eyes widen. “That ain’t what Dutch told me.”

Dutch. Why does that name sound familiar…?

Suddenly, your head begins to pound.

Oh no, a new memory.

You want to fight it, so badly, but after knowing what happens afterward, you are tempted to let it run its course. You press your palms against your temples and feel yourself bending over into your knees without straining yourself.

“Kit…?!” Arthur says, his voice raised and concerned.

You don’t want him to touch you, you don’t want anything to interrupt. “Let me be…!” you snap.

You close your eyes shut and try to give in to what your mind wants to tell you.

You see something white. Grey. Paper. Words and lines. A Newspaper. A Headline.

BLACKWATER MASSACRE

DUTCH VAN DER LINDE GANG RESPONSIBLE

Your head pounds heavily and you feel it intensify. It’s becoming too much, you have to stop.

You try to open your eyes and come out of it, and stumble as you try to move. “I…have to…” You rise to your feet, your vision blurry as you try to get some air. It is dark, with nothing but light from the moon creeping through the trees, you hold out your hands to protect yourself as you keep walking.

“Kit?” You hear Arthur stand up and follow you.

You raise a hand to keep him at a distance, needing space to breathe and think. The name Dutch Van Der Linde spins in your mind like a relentless cyclone, pulling at the edges of your fragmented memories. “I need to walk,” you manage to say, your voice tremulous but determined.

Arthur hesitates, but he nods. “Just, let me go wit’chu.” He raises his hands. “I’ll keep back, I just want you safe.”

You nod, albeit reluctantly, and begin walking away from the campfire's comforting glow. Your feet crunch the dry leaves underfoot as you navigate through the dark forest. The air feels crisp against your skin, and each breath you take seems to clear your head just a little more. Arthur follows a few paces behind, his footfalls heavy and sure. They don’t frighten you or worry you, but they almost seem comforting.

You know this man. You don’t remember him fully, but somehow you know him. That much is clear.

You keep walking until the headache subsides again, and by now you have gone deep into the forest you aren’t sure you can navigate your way back. You stop and you hear Arthur stop as well.

“If we aren’t siblings…” you finally say. “But we grew up together…” You turn around to look at him. Shadows are cast from the moonlight, but you see his figure standing there. “How did I come to be in a gang of outlaws?”

“Kit…” he begins, his voice almost hesitant. “It might be too much to tell you…After what you just—”

“I want to know,” you insist, your strength returning. “Tell me.”

He sighs. There is a pregnant pause before he speaks again. “Hosea found you…in California. He heard you beggin’ for help.”

“I was hurt?”

“No.” His pause makes your heart pound in your chest. “But your brother…”

Brother? You try to search through your mind, struggling to find a face, a name—anything. “A brother?”

“Yes,” he answers. “You told me his name was Antek.”

The name hits you like a crashing wave. You remember the feeling of it in your mouth, then you remember. You said it before you passed out. You do know.

He was the boy in your arms. The boy pale and brow misted over in fever.

Arthur steps closer, his voice gentle. “He was very ill. You were cradlin’ him; alone and desperate. That’s when Hosea brought you to us. No doctor would help you ‘cause…well…”

“I was different,” you say, remembering the slurs that have been echoing in your mind for the past month.

Gypsie. Circus trash. Slavic scum.

You never understood why they were addressed to you, but you realize it now. You weren’t born into a wealthy family. You were born into a family of immigrants.

Your head begins to hurt again, but it isn’t as painful, for parts of this new information were already remembered. “But what about the music? The dancing?”

In the dark, Arthur’s voice is the only indicator of his presence. “Dancin’?”

You can barely see your hands in front of you. “There were wagons, men and women dancing.”

“That might be somethin’ before our time,” Arthur reasons.

You shake your head, frustrated. “It’s all jumbled. Why can’t it just be in one order? I…I remember your face, but not my family…?”

It is then that you feel a hand take you gently by the arm. Your breath hitches but you don’t try to pull away this time. “Come back with me,” he offers, his voice tentative. “Let’s get you back and rest. Then we can go to our camp on Horseshoe Overlook. Maybe the memories will come easier in time."

Go with him? To the gang? You don’t know where Horseshoe Overlook is, but you have a feeling that it is far from Blackwater.

Blackwater. Mr. Lewis.

But you know now that this gang that you supposedly were with, was the same gang that was responsible for the massacre. You don’t know how you were directly involved, but you aren’t the person you thought you were.

You aren’t a good woman. You are a wanted criminal, and it is a miracle that you’ve made it this long without being discovered.

You can’t go back now.

You nod, feeling the exhaustion tug at your limbs with an insistence that can't be ignored any longer. “Okay.”

“Let’s find our way back.” You hear him swallow hard. “Take my hand.”

Using your arm as a guide, you find his hand that has a gentle grip and take it softly, your hand is so small in his, his calloused hands showing signs of years of hard labor. You tried to remember the last time you held his hand, but the memories are like water slipping through your fingers — impossible to hold. As you walk alongside Arthur, the moonlight casts shadows that play tricks on your eyes. Every rustle of the leaves, every whisper of the wind sounds like a fragment of a forgotten melody, the echoes of your past life calling out to you from the depths of the night. You feel your heart beating faster, not just from fear or confusion, but also from a budding sense of anticipation. What if the key to unlocking all your lost memories lay just beyond the horizon, at this camp that Arthur mentioned?

Or will it reveal more things about yourself that you don’t want to know? You once thought that you were a wealthy woman engaged or married, but now you are a poor orphaned immigrant.

The journey is silent, save for the occasional crunch of dry leaves underfoot and the distant howl of a coyote. With each step, you feel a tug on your mind, fragments of forgotten dreams or perhaps buried realities trying to claw their way to the surface. You glance sideways at Arthur, studying his profile against the moon as the light finally bleeds through the trees again.

He’s rugged. His thick beard is clean now, and his face isn’t covered in mud. His nose has a scar over the bridge, indicating he’s been in more fights than the one you’ve seen. Do you know where he got that scar? How long have you known this man? You also see the mark you left on his face when you struck him in Valentine. “I’m…sorry for hurting you.”

Arthur senses your regret, his grip tightening ever so slightly. "It's alright, Kit," he murmurs, the sound of your name in his voice stirring something deep within you. The familiarity of it sends shivers down your spine, a mix of fear and longing intertwining within your chest. You find that your hand feels comfortable in his. You don’t want to let him go and you can’t figure out why. Your breath comes out of your nostrils loudly, frustrated at your own mind not helping you.

You continue walking, and it isn’t long before you reach where he had set up his small camp. You finally take the time to see his layout, a small tent, his untied horse, a mahogany bay Tennessee Walker, who grazes on a small brush nearby, and the fire, whose coals are still glowing. “How far are we from them?”

“Not far,” he answers softly, and you feel him let go of your hand. He approaches the fire, and takes a stick on the ground before stirring the coals. “You hungry?”

You fold your arms. “No.”

“Okay.” He doesn’t look at you, his eyes still gazing at the fire pit. “You can take my tent. I’ll…sleep out here.”

You aren’t sure why, but you don’t like that suggestion. You haven’t been the most kind to him, and you’d hate to take his only shelter. “That doesn’t feel right, Arthur…”

He looks up at you at the sudden mention of his name. That is the first time you ever said it out loud, at least to your knowledge. You see it in his eyes, there is something there, a hunger, a loneliness that seems to mirror your own. It’s as if in that single moment, the distance between you both isn't just physical but emotional, stretching back years, across untold secrets and shared memories. Things he clearly knows but hasn’t told you.

Arthur breaks the gaze first, chuckling softly. "Kit, I insist. You need rest more than I do." He stands erect after throwing some more wood in the fire and he begins to remove his buckskin jacket. Walking around the fire, at a distance from the tent, he rolls up his jacket like a pillow and goes to his knees. “We will head back in the mornin’.”

Your aching body and weariness remind you of your need for sleep, you yawn deeply. “Alright.” You head for his tent and crouch your way in without saying another word.

Inside, the tent smells faintly of leather, tobacco, and pine, a scent that is oddly comforting and familiar, like a distant echo from a past life. You settle into the sleeping roll that was already laid out, pulling its cover up to your shoulders. The fabric is coarse wool but warm, and as you snuggle into it, you finally give into sleep.

***

The sounds of birds chirping wake you up and you discover to be out of the sleeping roll and hugging it. The wool is pressed against your face, your nose buried in its scent. For the past month, you’ve never woken up to being in a position like this before, but then again, you haven’t been sleeping in a tent outside, but in your own room in the hotel in Blackwater.

And as your mind wakes up, so do your other senses.

You hear a metallic sound coming from beyond the tent and rising to a sitting position, you rub your eyes. “Arthur…?” you call softly, hoping that is the source of the noise.

“Mornin’,” he replies. “Got some coffee if you want some.”

You smack your lips. Do you like coffee? You don’t remember drinking it at the restaurant or the hotel. Can’t hurt to try it.

Straightening your shirt, you see your torn-up skirt. You can’t go back to Blackwater for your money and clothes. You’ll have to make do for now.

You crawl out of the tent. Opening the flap, you see Arthur by the fire, pouring a pot of coffee into a small, tin cup.

He’s wearing a different shirt, a dark green, but the hat is the same. He must travel around a lot, to pack another set of clothes with him. “It ain’t the best,” he excuses. “But it warms up the bones pretty good.”

You rise to your feet and so does he, holding out the cup to you.

You take the cup from his hands, feeling the warmth seep into your chilled fingers. The steam rises in gentle swirls, carrying with it a rich, earthy aroma that sparks a faint memory, like a whisper in the back of your mind. You wrap both hands around the cup, enjoying the heat before bringing it to your lips.

He lied to you. This coffee is the best you have ever had, or remember. Of course, that isn’t the best compliment you can think of, but you can think of worse things to conjure up.

He must see the approval in your eyes, for he looks down, almost bashfully. “You seem to be doin’ okay…after last night.”

You swallow before speaking. “I suppose it could be worse.”

He nods, smiling. “That it can.”

He pours himself a cup and drinks it slowly, you both taking in the morning view. He had set up camp in a small clearing, with an opening of the trees leading the eyes to look into a canyon and waterfall below. You aren’t sure where you are, but by the gradient of green to golden, you suppose Blackwater isn’t far.

“Why Blackwater?” you ask. “I remember the gang did it.”

Arthur offers a solemn answer. “I wasn’t there on the boat. Nobody really will tell me what happened.” He sets his cup down on the ground by the firepit. “I came in time to help them escape, when Pinkertons showed up, and things went bad.”

“You didn’t see me get shot,” you infer.”

His eyes meet yours and you see the regret in his eyes. “I was…We…” his voice trails off and he looks away. “I weren’t there.”

You look into the little bit of coffee that remains in your cup. “I was shot in the back, the doctor said it’s a miracle I’m still alive.”

“Shoah is.”

There is a moment of silence and you can’t help but wish he had more to say about the massacre. If he wasn’t there until the end, then he couldn’t possibly know about Heidi, or what happened to you. Dutch said you were dead. Could he have seen you?

Arthur begins to kick dirt into the fire. “We should get goin’. We want to make it back before it gets dark.” He walks over to his tent and begins to take it down as he speaks to you over his shoulder. “Can you go into my saddle bag and give Montana an apple?”

Your brow furrows. “Montana?”

“The stud over there.” He gestures to the Tennessee Walker with a tilt of his head. “Got him up near Colter.”

Not sure what Colter is, you walk over to the horse as he looks on at you, his brown eyes soft and alert. You see the flare of his nostrils as he takes in your sent. He doesn’t move once you approach his side, and you get on your tiptoes to reach into the saddlebag. Feeling the inside of it, you find something smooth and round. Pulling it out, you reveal a red apple.

Montana nickers excitedly, spotting the fruit in your hand.

You can’t help but smile, feeling a soft spot for him already. You extend the apple towards Montana, watching as he gently takes it from your palm, his lips tickling your skin slightly. It's a brief interaction, but one that fills you with a sense of comfort—something that’s been rare since the ordeal.

As Montana munches on the apple, you glance back at Arthur, who has finished with the tent and is now watching you. You feel something in your stomach, and you wish your body and mind would work together for once.

“He likes you,” Arthur says. “You’ve always gotten well with my horses.”

“Have I met this one before?” you ask with interest. You like the idea of having a way with animals. Maybe that’s what you did in the gang. It seems less violent and dangerous.

He shakes his head. “No, he’s new. The last one, Boadicea, you knew her. Wouldn’t let anyone else ride her except you 'n me.” His smile falls. “She was shot durin’ our escape. I had to leave her.”

The revelation hits you like a sudden gust of wind, disorienting and cold. To learn that such loyalty had been cultivated and then lost under such brutal circumstances stirs a deep sorrow within you, one that resonates with your own fragmented memories of loss and abandonment. “I’m sorry.”

Arthur watches you carefully, perhaps gauging how much of the past you remember, or maybe how much you could handle knowing. "Thank you," he replies softly, turning away momentarily as if to hide a flicker of pain that crosses his rugged face.

A silence hangs between you, thick and heavy, as the remnants of sunrise paint the sky with streaks of purple and orange.

You offer a soft smile. “Maybe we should get going.”

He nods. “Perhaps you’re right.” He walks up beside Montana, packing his tent and bedroll on the saddle. Without another moment, he hoists himself up on Montana’s back and offers you his hand. “You okay with riding behind me? Your horse is back at camp.”

You feel a sudden excitement and take Arthur’s hand. He pulls you up as though you were but a flower on the ground and you swing your leg comfortably over. You settle behind him and try to figure out where to hold on. Bashfully, you place your hands on his waist, clutching onto his jacket.

With a soft clicking sound from his mouth, Montana trots on through the trees.

“I have a horse?” you finally ask. “And you’ve kept them this whole time?”

“‘Course, she was all I had to remember you b—” and he stops himself, quickly changing the subject. “You named her Odliv.”

It comes to you naturally and you smile. “Low Tide.”

You see Arthur nod in front of you. “Right. You always said you played in tide pools when you were little.”

“In California,” you deduce.

“Yes.”

You resist the urge to lean into his body and inhale the scent of pine and tobacco you can’t seem to get enough of. “How old was I, when we met?”

He answers quickly. “16.”

You frown, realizing that was how old you were when your brother died. “I was just a child.”

“Yes.”

After a moment, you think of another question. “And how old are you?”

Arthur laughs, and you feel the vibration in his body. “How old do you think I am?” You don’t like the teasing, after asking a rational question. Your intrusive thought wins, and you slap him hard on the arm. “Ow…!”

“Remember what I did to you yesterday?” you threaten, but clearly with a hint of jest. “I wasn’t trying to joke.”

He exhales, shaking his head. “I’m too old.”

You furrow your brow. That isn’t what you would’ve guessed. By his agility in the fight, and how he lifted you in the saddle, you’d think the man would have more confidence. “You may be sun-beaten and gruff, but that doesn’t make you old.”

He laughs. “I’m 36.”

And somehow, that doesn’t bother you. “You’re only as old as you feel, Arthur.”

You can feel his body tense for a second. “You told me that once.”

Your heart skips as memories flicker like distant stars in the vast night sky, obscured yet persistent, leaving a tenderness in your head. You wonder how many of those words from your past linger in his thoughts, how many times he's replayed them during your absence.

The silence stretches between you, comfortable yet filled with unspoken questions. Montana’s steady pace picks up and you ride alongside some train tracks as they line the ground westward.

After a few more miles, you decide to ask another question. “How many are there? At camp?” You look at the landscape as you pass it by. “I imagine most will expect me to remember them.”

“They might also regret callin’ me a liar.”

“What?”

“I told them what happened, in Valentine. That I saw you. They thought I was goin’ crazy, took one too many hits from that fool. Even Dutch, he—” His body tenses again and he shakes his head. “They’re gonna believe me now.”

You can sense the growl in his voice, his determination to prove them right. But you have other concerns. These are people you supposedly know. People you’ve talked to, and shared memories with, and you don’t remember a single one. You managed to remember Arthur, so you hope that you will these people, in time. “Tell me about them, Arthur,” and you pat his abdomen, hearing his breath catch. “Tell me their names.”

And so, after relaxing, he begins as you brace yourself for the headaches that may come. “There’s John Marston, he came into the gang when he was just a kid. He picked on you a lot, especially when I weren’t around…”

Thank you for reading!

Tag Requests:

@photo1030

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead fandom #fanfiction #arthur morgan #ao3 writer #rdr2 #Arthurxreader #Arthurxfemale reader #amnesia #unrequited love #angst #pining #mc is bilingual #czech #Romani

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danieleansworth · 5 months ago

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( Closed starter for @ryderastrea )

The back and forth between Earth and Dolnoh was a little disconcerting to Daniel - he was enjoying both places well enough, but it did take some adjusting to be so regularly alternating between a setting where he could show his true appearance and talk about a fair number of things openly when he wasn't on the Prosperity, and one where he had to make sure he was sformed and didn't talk about anything alien anyplace he might be overheard. Still, he was taking it well enough in stride - leagues better than he'd been the last time he'd been on Earth in any case. In retrospect, it sort of felt like he'd hardly said a thing off the ship back then, for fear of letting slip something he shouldn't. He was much more comfortable now, but there were still some things that were better discussed on the ship, or otherwise saved for the next stop on Dolnoh... which was how he'd found himself anxiously awaiting the crew's next stop on the outpost planet for the last few days.

The time had come at last, and he'd been quick to ask Ryder on a date. Options were somewhat limited on Dolnoh as compared to planets like Kraysha or Kor'Sel'Koo, but there was still plenty to do - he'd ultimately asked his boyfriend on a date to the planetarium, deciding it to be the best balance of trying something novel that still invited conversation - and with minimal risk of slipping and falling in the process. Even without the risk of falling, he was still a little nervous, but he did his best to shake that as he waited for Ryder. Unsurprisingly, he ended up fidgeting anyway, fiddling with the sleeve of his shirt - had he dressed up too much for a planetarium date? Not enough? The answer to both of those questions was probably 'no', but he couldn't help but worry anyway. Still, it was progress that he was able to divert his attention to being a little nervous about that, instead of very nervous about what was soon to come... or maybe he was still rather nervous about that, as well.

"Oh - hello!" He stopped fiddling with the sleeve of his shirt at once as Ryder appeared in his field of vision, nerves somehow seeming to both dissipate and amplify at once. He stepped forward to kiss his boyfriend hello. Likely a better greeting than the hello he'd given before, which had somehow come out sounding a little surprised despite this being the location and time the two of them had decided to meet. He felt himself relaxing at that, which was good - it wouldn't be fair to Ryder to be nervous all through their date. "You look beautiful," he said after he pulled away, smile crossing his lips as he held out a hand for Ryder to take. "Are you ready to go?" It felt like a dumb question, but better to check now than to start leaving the ship if there was still anything Ryder needed here before heading off to the Stronghold's planetarium.

#ryderastrea #ryder009

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zelphin124 · 10 months ago

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LCB-3 -> Canto 1: Chapter 1

A written account of the LCB-3 adventures from the perspective of LCB sinner Dr. Jekyll. My GOSH this is SO long. SO much happened the first day, but! I wanted to take you all on Jekyll's journey, so here is the first of the many written accounts of the adventures from the LCB.

Masterpost N/A -> Chapter 2

Lmk if you all enjoy stories like this!

~o0o~

One would often think the evening skies are as beautiful as midday on a summer afternoon. However, such a train of thought never occurred to those in the City, where the smoke and clouds covered the upper atmosphere for all the days of their life. To have the skies clear would be a sign of a catastrophe, and the gloomier it was, the happier the people were. In retrospect, happiness was a rare phenomenon of its own.

The city at night was always empty, for people lived in fear in the crook of their homes to avoid the Sweepers cleaning the streets every night. Commonfolk stood no combative chance against the cult purging the roads like wildfire.

Though some – either from stupidity, bravery, or sheer dominance – ventured at night. Each is for their different reasons, each risking their death. Yet to find a person in the streets at night was never a good sign. It was told to stay far away from anyone after the sun hit its face.

That was the first thought that crossed the woman’s mind as she approached the bus. She approached another woman, with short white hair and a circular face, one with a look of absolute omniscience and a uniform kin to the vehicle behind her. She held a long sword by her side, and it was clear she had already spotted her.

The woman approaching the bus was an average-height doctor. Her black hair was slicked back into a tight bun, woven around a headpiece that supported a red monocle on her left eye. Her uniform was of no importance or visible interest; the only conclusion one could draw from it was the association of its similarities with M Corp. However, the interest was in the weapon she carried. At first glance, it looked like a spear, but investigating it further would lead to the conclusion that it was a paintbrush. It was taller than the woman wielding it, yet it seemed as if it served well in combat, despite the tendency to believe otherwise.

It appeared that the woman approaching had recently cleaned and tidied herself up as if to make a first impression. A few moments of caution passed before she approached the white-haired woman next to the bus.

“You must be Ms. Jekyll,” the woman next to the bus stared her down.

“Dr. Jekyll, yes, uh-” Jekyll observed the bus with her keen eye, before looking back toward her. “Is this…” she paused, before pulling out a mediocre invitation from her jacket. She unfolded the papers carefully and read them with quick precision. “Limbus Company?”

“That it is.” The woman gently bowed her head.

Jekyll adjusted the brush to rest on her back before extending her hand awkwardly to the woman. “Pleasure to meet you… Ms…”

“Faust.”

“Faust. Are you my assigned manager?” The doctor asked, her eyes raised in a hopeful expression. She handed the paper that she signed to join the company to Faust.

Faust shook her head, “That you are mistaken. The manager you seek is inside the bus, to which you will enter shortly, and give that paper to.”

Jekyll’s face drooped disappointingly, retracting her hand and folding the paper back into the envelope. “I see. I shall follow you in, then…?”

“Faust will not be entering Metastolphilies.” She explained in a matter-of-fact tone. “Faust will stand by to wait for the last member joining the party. You may keep Faust company if you wish, your presence would be delightful.”

“Very well,” Jekyll gave a soft smile, strolling to Faust’s side and holding her hands into a folded position in front of her. She rocked back and forth, looking at the sky before back to the ground repeatedly.

The ever-growing silence bothered the doctor, it was only disturbed by the night sounds of the city. It had been a bit since Jekyll attempted small talk with someone new, but if she wanted to succeed in this place, and get away from where she came from, she saw it worth a try.

“Have you ever seen the stars?” Jekyll asked, tilting her head towards her.

“Faust has seen the stars many, many times.”

Jekyll gave a soft smile. “I hope to see them one day. I hope they are as great as people make them out to be.”

Faust did not reply, she only turned her head toward the front of the bus, before walking towards the man that stood in front of it.

Jekyll followed suit to gaze upon the approaching man. She first noticed his shaggy blonde hair combed in strands His face was littered with scars across his eyes and cheeks, but they weren’t as attention-demanding as the disgusted scowl plastered across his lips and hazel eyes. His clothes almost complimented his attitude; his button-up shirt and shaggy shorts came off as uptight, and tough-looking. He carried a blunt weapon that Jekyll could not identify, and she was not curious enough to find out.

“Mark, is it not?” Faust began to extend a greeting in his direction.

“It would be a very unfortunate disgrace if this is Limbus Company. What kind of pathetic trash is this?”

Despite Jekyll having experience with sour mouths, she never failed to zone out the moment more than a few curse words flew through the air. She took into account how the man – presumably Mark – complained about the poor travel experience via W Corp train transportation and how he was unimpressed with the company’s procedure of doing things.

From Jekyll’s perspective, he yapped about stupid things, complaining despite the luxurious treatment the company had offered him. As far as she was concerned, she was not offered a first-class ticket to a W Corp train, she walked here, taking days in advance to map out her journey. She tuned in and out to the conversation, staying relatively behind Faust in hopes of not being noticed. Jekyll wondered if Mark knew any other words in the common language besides curses.

After a long and painful conversation, Mark had agreed to head inside the bus, that Faust had named previously but Jekyll could not recall. However, when Jekyll looked towards the door of the bus, Mark met an obstacle blocking his way.

The obstacle was another man, with blonde hair in a braid and a goatee, which was more well-kept than Mark’s hair. His eyes were a faint blue as if a war glazed over the beauty he could see. He wore a cocky grin of delight as if causing trouble was amusing to him. The rhino horn on his head and the bug wings on his back were a signature symbol that this man was from the former G Corp. He wore a commander’s bennet and stood a few inches above Mark.

Mark threw curses towards the man, with a few fancy words such as ‘pansy.’ The man through insults back, but as if he was eager to see Mark’s temper explode. Jekyll was convinced that she never heard so many curses within ten minutes.

Mark tried to push the man with incredible force, but the commander pushed back, smirking slyly. Mark raised a threat Jekyll did not catch, but her eyes widened as she watched the tensions grow.

However, uncharacteristically, the man stepped back the moment Mark swung a punch. As if some other force compelled him to oblige for his life.

Mark stumbled onto the bus and immediately took a seat within view, the anger increasing on his face.

Jekyll swallowed hard, rubbing her hands together. “How long are these contracts supposed to last?”

“Depends on how efficient you are at your job,” Faust explained, glancing back towards her.

Jekyll forced a smile, rubbing her face. “Do I have to go in… right now? Like, are there any other members?”

Faust gave a slight smile and shook her head.

Jekyll sighed in defeat, feeling her hopes leave her body. She knew she signed up for difficult work on the move, but she was given zero information about the people she would be working with. She debated whether or not it was worth the gamble, and cashed all her luck in.

And like gambling, she came out empty-handed.

“Ngh, well, it was a pleasure meeting you, Faust,” Jekyll took a few steps towards the bus before looking back. “Will I see you again?”

“Faust believes our paths will cross again in due time.” She nodded softly. “Until then.”

Jekyll felt a tinge of pain as Faust turned and vanished from sight, so she turned and stepped onto the bus as well, minimizing the thought to process later.

It took longer than she would have wished for her eyes to adjust to the environment. The bus itself seemed small, with maybe twenty seats, most of them already taken. The bus itself was gray and dull, with little to no room like a soldier's quarters. The windows were tinted, and the only interesting thing was the door at the back of the mini hallway. Jekyll decided to glance and get a general idea of who she’d be working with.

In the bus driver’s seat was a young woman with symbolic gray clothing and a large hat. Her expression was dull and she paid no mind to the people behind her. Her silver hair fell to her shoes as her feet swung back and forth, listening to the person standing over her.

Jekyll observed the woman pointing at the map in the bus driver’s hands. Her brunette hair fell to her shoulders in a messy cut perfectly around her face. Her eyes were a gentle turquoise, and her clothes had the appearance of sown scraps with many strings hanging from various places. The colors frequently switched from green, lime, and navy blue from her scarf to her shoes. Her skin glowed a golden color, and she talked in such a joyful and excited tone. Jekyll didn’t realize that kind of happiness still existed. Jekyll was only curious about the small blue necklace she wore around her neck, it seemed out of place for the style she presented.

Jekyll took a seat in the front, the seat closest to the bus door. In front of her stood a tall, prominent man with gray hair and a red gaze that could pierce through anyone’s soul. His clothes were gray, similar to the bus driver’s. He had a looming presence about him, something that was told in the stories known across the city.

Jekyll searched her mind for the exact tale he reminded her of. The closest she could match the man with was the tale of the Red Gaze, a legendary freelance color fixer. His name was told to be Vergilius, and he hadn’t been seen around the City much despite his fame.

If he was the Red Gaze, why would he be here? Jekyll thought.

Probably the same reason we are here, idiot. To run away.

Jekyll shook as the other voice in her head spoke, it was more prominent than the previous days. She clenched her hands, fighting for control of her mind once more.

She successfully repressed the voice again. She sighed in relief. That was close… too close…

A figure stood up from one of the seats 8 o’clock from her. She wore a cruel and bland expression on her face as she made her way around to each of the sinners. Jekyll observed her long, black ponytail of hair flow gracefully behind her. Her clothes were black with a shard of yellow through them. She was tall and proud, and her emotions were the same level of pissed-off as the supposedly Red Gaze.

She walked over to where Mark had sat, his feat spread out and his scowl all the same. Jekyll half-guessed the woman was going to slap him across the back of the head for his attention, but what caught her attention, even more, was the man that he quarreled with earlier was sitting right next to him.

“Name.” The woman demanded.

Mark turned around and cursed at her before giving her his name, and she replied curtly before turning toward the man next to Mark. “Name.”

“Othello, darling.” The man’s voice was high, soothing, almost alluring in a shuddering way. He stood up and bowed, taking up the entire space as he did so. Othello still held that same smirk as he did with Mark. “Yours?”

“Mallo.” She gave him a disgusted look before turning around to the person behind her. “Name.”

The person she addressed was a tall man with long white hair to his chin. His eyes glowed like a light in the deep ocean, and he had a courageous aura about him. He stood proud with his spear close to his side, and his gaze was more determined than the others she had seen. “Pen,” he answered quickly with a light nod.

“Mallo.” The tall woman strode away from him as soon as she said it.

Jekyll’s gaze would’ve followed Mallo if it hadn’t been for Pen immediately walking over to her. “I like your spear,” he shyly mentioned, his eyes smiling at her. “Are you a hunter too?”

Jekyll was taken aback by his approach, questions, and comments. He seemed sweet, and she didn’t wish to burn a connection that might or might not be there, so she answered carefully, her stutter getting in the way. “O-Oh, yeah, you know I guess this is a spear o-of some s-sorts, haha!” She adjusted the paintbrush to sit behind her. “I-I-I like your spear, too.”

“Thank you,” he held his spear high and looked up toward it, smiling softly. “So are you-”

“Name.” Mallo came forward, her expression bland as she stared at Jekyll.

“Uh- Uh I’m-”

Say the right name. You know the right name.

“H- Jekyll.” Jekyll shook her head, sighing in relief. “What about yours?”

Jekyll knew Mallo would respond with her name and leave, and Jekyll winced as she did exactly that, knowing she already knew Mallo’s name.

Pen also nodded and took his leave, sitting in a seat out of Jekyll’s initial sight.

As Mallo went up to the front of the bus, Jekyll turned around to spot one more person she had not met. His hair was black and slicked back on his head in chunks like Mark’s hair, he had a scruffy short beard that could barely be seen on his tan skin. He already wore a uniform dedicated to Limbus Company, and he had a neutral expression any man in his late thirties would have.

“Hello, I don’t think I’ve met you yet,” Jekyll turned around and waved her hand awkwardly. “I’m Jekyll, what’s your name?”

“Ah, a pleasure to meet you Jekyll.” The man looked up and gave a short bow from his seat in response. “I’m Jatayu.”

Jekyll nodded and smiled upon receiving his name. “Jatayu, that’s a nice name, it’ll be a pleasure to work with you, hopefully,” she chuckles, shooting a glance at Othello and Mark.

“Likewise,” Jatayu sighed, sitting back in his chair and looking straight ahead.

Jekyll followed his gaze, resting on Mallo collecting the names of the people up front. Jekyll barely caught anything before the brown-haired woman started moving her hands excitedly, looking at the Red Gaze.

“Oh my gosh! New people! Can I talk to them now, please?!” Her smile beamed with energy, and she could barely keep her feet off the floor as if she was fighting the urge to jump up and down.

The older man looked at her with a tired look. “Not just yet, Kuvira.” He name-dropped her as Mallo’s attention turned toward the man. She wore an expression of annoyance as if she was upset the Red Gaze didn’t let the woman speak.

Jekyll’s attention turned toward the silent quarrel between Othello and Mark. She thought it was odd they both would deliberately sit next to someone they disagreed with. She shivered at the thought of having to do that herself.

She could never.

“Alright everyone, take a seat.” The older man raised his voice, holding a book in one hand and flipping to a certain page. “I will begin the welcoming speech shortly.”

No one seemed to object as everyone turned their attention towards the legend. He sighed as if this was something he did not wish to do again. Jekyll pitied the man, perhaps no one had seen the Red Gaze for so long because he was here.

He began to speak in a dull tone. “Greetings. Welcome to the LCB-3, otherwise known as the Limbus Company Bus 3. You have all been selected by our brightest minds to embark on a journey to obtain… heh..”

He paused for a moment, with an uncharacteristic smile on his face. “…You know... I’ve already done this... Twice now. I wish to not have a third time.” He turned towards the girl he called Kuvira. “Kuvira. Do you wish to be my assistant? Let us see how well your reading comprehension has gotten. Consider this a test to your… ‘extravagant work and effort’…”

Kuvira’s eyes lit up with glee. “Oh my gosh! Really?! I mean, yes, yes sir, I-”

Vergilius tore a paper cleanly from his notebook and handed it to her. “Show me how you’ve grown. The Sinners are not the only ones who have to grow here.” He didn’t wait for a response before moving to the front, leaning on the dashboard next to the bus driver. She pouted, he moved, and her frown faded.

Kuvira collected herself and stepped forward, clearing her throat. “Well! Welcome everyone! Before I begin, I wanted to introduce myself. My name is Kuvira Stone, some call me Kuv; I really don’t care what you call me. I am Vergilius’ assistant! I make sure a lot of the work gets done and eases everyone’s load. If you ever need anything, your gal’s got you, alright?”

Jekyll leaned back in her chair, sighing. Everyone else seemed to get comfortable as well; everyone could tell it was going to be a long introduction.

“To begin with a…” Kuvira skimmed the paper in her hands. “Gee, do I need to read all of this? This is long.”

“If you wish to prove yourself via your reading comprehension, yes,” Vergilius answered.

Kuvira forced a frown. “Okay okay,” she turned back towards the party. “Let’s start with… Oh! A bit of history and background knowledge. Alright… Limbus Company began in the year 984. 10 years have passed since its origins, and has gone through various developments. For the concerns of you all today, your only concern is the LCB team, or the Limbus Company Bus Team. Before you, 2 previous teams have been formed. The LCB-1, and the LCB-2. You all will form the LCB-3.”

How odd, there had been two teams before them and they have more work to do? Jekyll shuddered, wondering if this was a job that was going to be worth leaving everything else behind for.

“As you have been made aware of before joining the company, you have all been entered into person-specific contracts,” Kuvira continued with a voice that fluttered like butterflies. However, there was a tinge of sass behind her words. “Each person’s contracts may have different clauses, but you will all receive the same reward for your efforts: your heart’s desire.”

There was a pleasant shift in the atmosphere on the bus. Everyone was reminded of the reason they were here.

“However, in order to obtain your Heart’s Desire, and earn your greatest wish in this world, you must accomplish various tasks in service to Limbus Company.” Kuvira looked up from the paper, the glow from her skin dimming. “And you must do a good job, don’t think this job is one where you can do whatever you want. There’s a reason you are the third team, and we will expect you to follow the contracts. Hopefully, that is understood.”

The doctor realized she would have to reread her contract to remind herself of the terms she agreed to. It had been a bit since she looked at it, and she signed the paper in haste.

Kuvira’s sigh snapped Jekyll back into reality. “Okay, this is like… really long bare with me guys. Here are the tasks you will need to complete! Number 1, You must Obtain Golden Boughs. As the name suggests, these are mysterious Golden tree branches or boughs.” Kuvira paused and turned towards Vergilius. “Oh! They’re tree branches? You’ve been collecting the…” she pauses, thinking for a moment. “I will ask that later. That’s just really good to know, huh.”

Vergilius’ face was full of impatience.

Kuvira cleared her throat and continued. “This is your Primary Objective. Failure to obtain Golden Boughs can result in fewer resources funded to the LCB-3’s budget. Which means,” she looked up from the script again. “If you want good food, do your job well.” She smiled and adjusted the paper to read further. “If you have Questions regarding this task, you may ask your Manager Dante, or his Assistant, Jatayu.”

Kuvira gestured to the man in the back. Jatayu took the opportunity to stand up, wave to the rest of the party with a slight bow, and sit back down. Jekyll couldn’t tell if everyone looked his way to acknowledge the veteran.

“Secondly!” Kuvira exclaimed. “You will need to protect Dante with your very lives. Dante is your Manager and has the ability to enter Contracts with certain people. You, after being reviewed by our brightest minds, have been picked out as these special people. Whilst you are under a contract with Dante, you will be referred to with the job title of Sinner(s). This is your secondary objective. If you have any questions as to why regarding this task, you may ask your Manager Dante, or his Assistant, Jatayu.” Kuvira blinked a few times. “I suppose any questions will go to Jatayu or Dante… who doesn’t seem to be here at the moment.”

Jekyll took that as a red flag. Managers should be at a meeting like this, yet the main one they were supposed to protect was not. Were they supposed to already be protecting him?

Would she be able to protect the manager from herself?

“Uhhh thirdly! You will need to Defeat Abnormalities and Collect EGO. EGO is special, reality-defying equipment that will assist you on your adventure. Abnormalities are a special type of monster that can only be fought by Sinners or those with EGO.” Kuvira flattened her face in a silly way. “Don’t get too cocky when fighting these guys. If you don’t have EGO, you will be powerless. I don’t care how dominant you were in your background, these monsters will destroy you without EGO…” She looked back at the paper. “Any other method is ineffective- oh hey it’s like this paper is reading my mind, haha!”

The silence was loud as she flipped the paper over. “There are a lot of intricacies and lore surrounding both, however, this is not the time to explain them. This is your tertiary objective. If you have any questions as to why regarding this task, you may ask-” her face flattened again. “I think you know who can take your questions at this point, so I shall skim over that.”

Jekyll glanced around the room. In her eyes, the only person truly paying attention was Pen, and even he seemed to be slightly more focused on the woman’s radiant skin than what she was saying. Do they not see this as important information? She glared at Mark and Othello.

Kuvira sighed. “Okay just a little more guys, I think… Uh fourth, you will need to suppress distortions. Distortions are a phenomenon that occurs when a person reaches a mental breaking point and has been occurring throughout the City. Distortions can be saved or killed. This is your quandary objective. If you have- yeah. Basically, you can distort too, it has happened in the company before… If you’re struggling mentally, please come talk to me. The party and the managers would rather not have you distort and disrupt the mission.” Kuvira sighed, “Speaking of, these are all your objectives. However, there is more to discuss. Should you cause too much trouble for the Company to benefit from, your contract with the company and Dante will be terminated.”

Kuvira let out a sigh of pain in such a way that seemed off from a person like her. “This has happened,” she began. “I watched this with my own eyes, so please, be on your best behavior. It would be ideal that you see to your contract end. Your work will go to waste if you don’t.”

Jekyll glanced around again, watching Jatayu shifting uncomfortably. She wondered if he was part of the first team, and had to watch both teams get fired… if they were fired, Jekyll needed to find out more information. It seemed important to know, but not information the company would immediately put out there for the newcomers to acknowledge.

“Oh hey look, we are almost done, guys. There are just some important locations to know about.” Kuvira cleared her throat once more, holding the end of the paper with both hands. “There are various facilities on the bus that you should be aware of. The Hall is where you will be sleeping. You will have personalized rooms. The technology on the bus will cause the rooms to match your mental States, for better or worse.”

Jekyll froze in terror. Their rooms would match their mental state? Her heart rate started to quicken, and she noticed how she violently held her breath. Surely, they were exaggerating… surely it wouldn’t match what she had to fight every day.

How would the room betray that, if they were telling the truth?

“Uhh The Ordeal Gauntlet is where the LCB-3 can face ordeals, which are sub-species of abnormalities. Doing so can not only strengthen and train your body but can yield rewards. To practice yourselves, this seminar will end with a tour of the Ordeal Gauntlet for combat training. The third place is the Mirror Dungeons, this is where certain abnormalities that the LCB-3 and previous teams have failed to properly defeat and suppress the first time around. Using special technology, these abnormalities are located here, waiting for the LCB-3 to dispose of them. The fourth palace is the Refraction Railway, which is relatively new. It is a challenging gauntlet of fights not fully encountered in your adventure and yields treasures that otherwise you wouldn’t receive. There is no guarantee you will succeed and win. But doing the challenge proves yourself enough- this is odd wording. Basically, there are three areas to fight some monsters for rewards, or to let off some steam, if I remember correctly.”

Jekyll noticed the slight smirk Vergilius temporarily wore on his face.

“The Lunacy Storage is where Dante goes to extract various identities for the sinners. This will be covered by Jatayu during the combat training seminar.” Kuvira gestured to him in the back again, giving a soft smile. “Lastly, the Corridor. At various times during your time here, the Corridor will expand, with new features to enjoy. However, venturing into the corridor is highly dangerous, and has led to near-catastrophic consequences. Under no circumstances should anyone but Faust enter the Corridor.”

Faust, the person who left in the dark of night moments ago. She said she wasn’t a manager, so why did Kuvira talk about Faust as if she was? Jekyll had many questions, which she figured she’d have to go out of her way to ask Jatayu about. He seemed nice enough, anyway.

Kuvira gave a smile as she reached the end of the paper. “These are all the notable features of Mephistopheles, the bus, at this current time. And now, because Faust trusts Vergillius to allow Kuvira to read the remainder of this introduction, Faust would like to task Vergillius with explaining the concepts of EGO Gifts to the Sinners. Kuvira, presuming you are reading this, congratulations are in order-” Kuvira turned around and gave a sly smile to the Red Gaze. “Heh, Faust truly does know all.”

The sigh from Vergilius was rememberable.

“To the Sinners, however, this marks the end of the speech. Any questions can be directed to either Dante or Jatayu- as said many times, geez. Uh, when the Sinners are ready, Vergillius - presuming he has proven Faust correct - will lead the combat training seminar. Thank you for joining Limbus Company. Your every desire and wish will be answered.”

Kuvira ended the welcoming speech with a bow and a smile. No one clapped for her. It didn’t seem to bother her as she stepped backward and handed the papers to Vergilius, looking up at him with glee. “How’d I do? Did I do well?”

“You did… well, yes.” Vergilius sighed. “You’ve proven your reading comprehension to be quite adequate.”

Kuvira beamed in delight, the glow on her skin radiating brighter. “Thank you! It seems Faust was also knowledgeable about me reading it, haha!”

Vergilius placed the pieces of paper back into his notebook, heaving another heavy sigh. “Where is Dante?” He ignored Kuvira’s comment.

“You know, he should’ve been here, let me go find him!” Kuvira took a step forward before looking back. “If that’s uh… alright with you, and you don’t have anything else for me to do at the current moment.”

“No, no I don’t. Please, go find Dante. You may join us in watching the combat as well if you’d like.” Vergilius dismissed her with a wave of his hand as he searched through his book.

Kuvira nodded and strolled across the bus between the sinners, but didn’t get very far as the back door swung open, revealing someone of high status.

Jekyll turned her head to focus on the person who’d just entered the front of the bus. He had a red clock for a head, with yellow and black flames flickering out of his skull-like hair. He wore a pure red suit with yellow stitches and outlines down to his feet. His hands were covered with black gloves and he held many, many papers in his hands. Despite his lack of a face, Jekyll could tell his expression was panicked.

“Dante!” Kuvira strode up to him with pride. “So good to see you, finally! We were just talking about you and I was coming to find you!”

A series of clock noises ensued.

“Here uh, you missed the speech,” Kuvira said in a more hushed voice, taking the papers from his hands and filing them into hers. “Go introduce yourself to your new sinners, I will take care of this paperwork okay? You got this!”

Dante bowed in respect as Kuvira used her foot to close the door behind her. He then strolled up to the front of the bus with a proud posture, before turning around, raising his hands, and-

More series of ticking ensued.

The sinners stared blankly, unable to comprehend what he was saying. Jekyll felt her heart sink into her chest. “I-Is this Dante?” She asked out loud. We’re… working for a manager we can’t understand?

The rest of the sinners mumbled under their breaths, giving judging looks toward Dante.

“Uh, Dante, they can’t understand you yet,” Jatayu grabbed the manager’s attention. “You haven’t shook their hands yet.”

Dante slapped his head, frantically going up to the closest sinners and extending his hands towards them.

Mark was the first, scowling at Dante. “Great, we have a spineless pansy for a manager,” he cursed at him, reluctantly shaking his hand.

Dante made a few more ticking noises, leaning backward.

“Mark, now go do the others already,” Mark answered, pulling his hand away from Dante and looking out the window.

Dante moved towards Othello, offering his hand. Othello shook his hand, with the same smile on his face. “Don’t mind Mariachi over here, he’s in a sour mood,” he teased. “Name’s Othello partner, a pleasure to be working with ye.”

Dante didn’t hesitate to walk over toward Pen, the next closest. The lad seemed happy to meet him. “You must be Dante, our new manager?”

Dante nodded, shaking his hand.

“You’re going to lead me to the star, right?” Pen asked, with hopeful eyes.

The ticking stopped; Dante looked around before speaking to Pen again in words Jekyll had yet to understand. However, his answer seemed to satisfy Pen. The sinner smiled and sat back down.

Dante turned to Jekyll next, extending his hand. Jekyll stood up in reply, wiping her hands on her jacket and clearing her throat before extending her hand to greet her new manager. “H-Hi, I’m Jekyll-”

She cut herself off the moment she touched his hand. Suddenly, it felt like a coil around her soul was unwrapped around her and tied to Dante. The fear of death, the fear of merely having mortality suddenly was attached to this man. Her life and death felt as if it was no longer her concern, but the concern of the one standing before her.

The ticking noises suddenly became audible. “Jekyll! A pleasure to have you! I’m Dante, as I’m sure you know.”

Jekyll let out a large sigh of relief. “Oh thank the Arbiters, I can understand you now.” She laughed awkwardly and scratched her head. “I was worried we’d have to communicate by writing or something.”

“No worries,” Dante nodded before he turned toward the last sinner who needed their hand shook: Mallo.

Dante held his hand to Mallo. “Greetings, I am Dante,” he said in a light-hearted tone.

Mallo stared at the hand, refusing to shake it. She didn’t understand Dante yet, but it seemed like she didn’t wish to, either.

“Uh, you need to uh… shake my hand,” Dante scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed.

“You have to shake Dante’s hand for the contract, Mallo,” Jatayu informed her.

“Nah, I don’t feel like it,” the woman replied, leaning back into her chair.

Pen wasn’t having it. He walked over, grabbed Mallo’s hand, and forced it into Jatayu’s, shaking it up and down.

Mallo resisted but failed to do so under the force upon which Pen acted. She cursed at him before reluctantly shaking Dante’s hand up and down herself, binding herself to the contract, binding herself to Dante.

Mark glanced up with all the commotion going on. He made some comments Jekyll didn’t quite catch, but she paid close attention to the events that followed.

Othello stood up from Mark’s comment, turning towards him. “Marachi trying to beat Mallo in the worst mood on the bus.”

“You better shut your mouth before I do it for you,” Mark snapped, standing up to tower over the former commander.

Othello seemed unphased. “You talk a lot for someone who doesn’t act on his word,” he taunted Mark, freely, belittling him and getting away with it.

Jekyll could theoretically see steam blowing out of Mark’s ears. He raised his fists and cracked his knuckles. There were a few more lines of cursed banter before Mark hissed at Othello. “Let’s finish what we started, then.”

Othello grinned, raising his own fists. “Gladly.”

Dante tried to step in, “Guys, it’s the first day! Please let’s not f-”

“Stay out of this, clockface,” both of the men said in unison, their eyes locked on the target.

Othello lunged for him. He swung first, hitting Mark right in the nose, and sending him back. Mark caught his feet and reeled forward, punching Othello in the nook of his neck and shoulder, making him stumble back.

Dante stepped forward to step in, but Pen stood up and pulled Dante away, standing between the manager and the fight. His spear was ready to kill if anyone dared to step in his direction.

Jekyll noticed that Mallo watched with glee, a large smirk on her face. Jekyll’s attention returned to the two men as they collected themselves. It’s only day one, are these idiots serious-

Suddenly, without warning, a sharp, red light blinded everyone on the bus. Othello cried out in pain as he fell onto the floor, blood pouring out of his arms at a rapid rate. Everything up to his elbows had been cut clean off his body, and his clothes were drenched in blood.

However, Othello was the lucky one of the two. Mark immediately imploded on the spot from the flash, turning into a pile of body remains and a puddle of blood.

Everyone’s eyes widened in horror as the Red Gaze stepped forward, his eyes glowing with great intensity as he eyed down Othello, who was trying to keep his arms from shaking and losing so much blood. His attempts were futile, and he refused to return his stare at the man before him.

“Couldn’t even go one day when without breaking a term on your contract,” Vergilius seethed, staring into Othello’s soul.

Jekyll barely noticed the interaction between Vergilius and Pen, and how the Red Gaze explained how he wasn’t going to hurt Dante, so he didn’t need to stand his guard. Jekyll clenched her head, breathing rapidly. Her heart rate quickened as her gaze was locked on the remains of Mark. She felt her sanity drop alarmingly, and the voice got louder.

HAH! HAHAHAHAAH- A LITTLE MORE, A LITTLE MORE AND I’M FREE!

No, stop! Stop! Jekyll started to shake, she pressed her hands against her head. Be silent- you-! She couldn’t control the voice. Her vision got hazier, and her control was slipping by the second. Her voice became quieter and quieter as the other got louder.

Keep staring, Jekyll! Look at the blood on the floor! How beautiful! How enticing! HOWEVER SO MALICIOUS AND-

The voice stopped, it was replaced with the loud sound of a clock rewinding. Jekyll looked up to see Dante clench his fists in pain, before heaving a few breaths and standing upright once more.

Right before her eyes, Othello’s arms reassembled together, all of the blood put back into place moments before the attack happened. It was as if he had never been attacked in the first place.

Same with Mark; Mark’s body slowly but surely rose from the ground, assembling in reverse the exact way he was destroyed. Limb by limb, every blood droplet returned to its owner, and Mark stood there, completely unscathed.

Jekyll sighed in relief, slowing her heart rate down. That was way too close…

She felt the voice pout. I’m still here idiot.

Shut the hell up, Jekyll hissed at herself.

There was more banter thrown between Othello and Mark, but Jekyll had a hard time remembering it and making sure her breathing slowed. Vergilius didn’t seem to address either of them before he went through the back door of the bus and didn’t look behind him as he closed it.

“Right, you two,” Dante stepped forward. “No fighting your allies, it causes pain to bring me back.” “Ngh, I can do whatever the hell I want!” Mark hissed at Dante. “You're just our personal medic to help us get the job done, with no spine to command us at all. So get out of the way, pansy, and let me finish-”

“You really want to be imploded again?” Othello smirked, rotating his arms as he got off the floor. “Couldn’t even take a single hit before you died.”

“Sleep with one eye open, Othello,” Mark roared, getting up with no trouble. “Let’s get on with the tour of this trash, stupid bus already.”

I love these guys.

No, no we don’t! Jekyll groaned in pain, massaging her eyes in pain before standing up and giving a polite, passive-aggressive smile to anyone looking in her direction.

“Right,” Dante sighed, gesturing to Jatayu. “Let’s give them a tour of the bus, I suppose.”

The party slowly made their way to the back of the bus, which to the newcomer’s surprise, was a lot bigger on the inside than the outside. The hall stretched out to various sections, and each of the doors in the first room they entered were color-coded.

“Right, these are your rooms, where you may stay in your downtime!” Dante began, backing up and resting against the door of his room. “Your uniforms are inside, on your beds. Feel free to explore inside them.”

Mallo was the first to enter her room, without a word. The others slowly made their way to their rooms, going inside and closing the door behind them. Pen and Jekyll were the last ones remaining outside in the hall, with Pen looking at the exterior of each door to every room, perplexed as if he was wildly suspicious of the bus itself.

Jekyll shrugged and rested her hand on the door handle. She smiled softly. It’ll be nice to have my own room, thankfully. She opened the door and peeked inside.

The first thing she noticed was how her room had two very different colors as if it was split down the middle. That was all Jekyll was able to see before she noticed the woman standing in the middle of the room, smiling wickedly at her.

“Boo.”

Jekyll’s heart stopped. She slammed the door shut, stepping away from it as her hand clenched her chest. Her heart rate picked up again, and she couldn’t catch a breath to save her life. No, no, no, nope, no way, nuh uh, surely there’s another room I can- stay- ack- help-

The door slam caught the other’s attention. Pen was the first one to walk up to her. “Are you okay?”

Jekyll stood up straight and glanced him in the eyes, unable to stop the laugh that escaped her throat. “Haha! Hahaha, yeah, I’m fine... I’m fine… uh…”

Pen tilted his head curiously but did not say anything else as Dante came up and asked the same question.

Jekyll gave him the same reply before her breath finally slowed down. “So sorry- I didn’t mean to alarm everyone, ahah… Do… Do we have to put on the uniforms… right now?” She stared at Dante with a pleading look of pain on her face.

If Dante could have a facial expression, it would be one of confusion. “Well, I suppose you don’t need it right at this moment-”

“Oh thank the Arbiters…” Jekyll sighed in relief, clenching her heart before her breath slowed again.

Pff, weak. The voice mocked her.

She retorted back. Moron.

You jumped like a cat, it was hilarious.

I hate you, I hope you know that.

That’s the best part.

Her internal dialogue was caught off as Mark burst the door open, storming up to Dante and grabbing him by the scruff, his eyes raging with fury. “How do you know that?!” He hissed. “How does the company know about what I saw in there?!”

Jekyll looked around for Pen, but he was nowhere to be found. However, Dante seemed surprisingly calm as he replied. “I don’t- we don’t… We don’t know anything about how your room is, but as explained by Kuvira… your room matches your mental state, and reveals your memories.”

Mark’s back heaved from the breaths he was taking before he dropped Dante onto the floor and stormed off to the right… He went in the opposite direction that they were supposed to go.

Jatayu sighed and followed behind Mark from a safe distance, leaving Jekyll and Dante in the hallway alone. However, she didn’t get the chance to say anything before Othello came out of his room, seemingly in a good mood.

Dante gestured to the left hall, mentioning that was the way to go. Jekyll decided to go immediately, not waiting for the others. She needed time to sort through everything that happened that day.

To her dismay, Othello followed close behind her. She couldn’t recall if he said something to her or not, but amongst the very, very little small talk they had made, she remembers giving it straight that she would be referred to as Dr. Jekyll. No nicknames, no other names, only Dr. Jekyll.

She had earned that title and was going to stick with it.

Aw, I like nicknames though. The voice whined as Jekyll walked ahead of Othello to end the conversation.

Your opinion is not needed.

Eventually, Jekyll reached the end of the hallway and entered a spacious room, with some sort of control panel to the left, and another hallway to the right. The control panel only had a few settings on it, and it was labeled Ordeal Gauntlet. Jekyll connected that name to the speech Kuvira gave not too long ago.

In front of her stood Vergilius with a box in his hands, full of various small equipment. Kuvira was by his side, trying to rummage through the box. Vergilius gently whacked her hand away each time she tried.

“And what could these be?” Othello strolled up to Vergilius as if nothing happened.

Jekyll was more hesitant to approach the two. Was it against the contract? Is she allowed to talk to them? Would Vergilius flatten her like a pancake if she tried? Should she even think about trying? Her anxiety spiked as she slowly took a few steps toward the Red Gaze and Kuvira against her better judgment. She vowed to read the contract in detail to make sure she didn’t break any part of it.

“These are EGO gifts,” Vergilius explained to Othello. “These are for the party to assist them on the journey. Normally, I’d have everyone divide them up to what serves them best. However, seeing as only three of the six of you are here, I suppose it is first come first serve.”

Jekyll turned around to see Pen walk through the hall into the room. Pen asked her why she was not approaching them, and she explained that she was afraid of the incident that happened in front of the bus.

“I sense no hostility,” Pen shrugged, taking a few steps forward. “I’m sure we will be okay. Come, let’s claim some of the EGO gifts before the others get here.”

That specific wording triggered something in Jekyll’s brain. She realized the gifts were limited, far and few, and the urge to have the best ones overwhelmed her. She didn’t want to take any chances. Greed overtook her as she went up to the box first, scrummaging through the EGO gifts before choosing three that she thought would benefit her the most. She stepped to the side. Her mind raced as she put the EGO gifts on.

See? You should listen to me more often. The voice hissed. You get more benefits when you put yourself first.

Yeah, at the expense of others… Jekyll frowned.

Do you really want to care about these idiots? No, you take what’s yours.

I will give them back if someone needs them more, Jekyll argued, putting the last EGO gift on.

As if I would let you do that.

“Where are the others?” Vergilius asked openly, staring down the hall.

“Dante stayed behind to wait for Mallo to exit her room,” Pen explained. “Jatayu and Mark went down the other hall.”

“Hmm,” He hummed in disapproval, and took a few steps back, resting the box on the floor.

“Oh my gosh, hi!” The familiar voice of the Red Gaze’s assistant ran through Jekyll’s ears.

Jekyll glanced up to see Kuvira had approached her, her eyes beaming and her hand extended. Her skin glowed bright, but somehow, it wasn’t blinding. Jekyll was thankful for the recognition and shook her hand. “Good evening… Kuvira, was it?”

“Yes ma’am! I’m not sure I caught your name, would you be so kind as to tell me?”

“Jekyll. Dr. Jekyll.”

“Oh my gosh, you’re a doctor?!” Kuvira’s eyes widened in delight. “That is so cool, like, wow! I’m sure you worked really hard to study for that, and it sure has paid off!”

Jekyll smiled softly, retracting her hand and giving a slight bow. “Yes, it was hard work, and I appreciate your acknowledgment.”

“Also before I ask all my questions, I just have to say I love your style, it is beautiful with the simple color scheme, awh! It’s just glorious, and it really compliments you!”

“Aw, thank you,” Jekyll’s smile widened as she stared at Kuvira. This person is so… oddly kind. People with her energy and happiness would die easily in the city. Heck, most of Jekyll’s clients had stories like that. However, it was nice to finally meet someone with that energy, and still alive. At least, it was nice for Jekyll.

The voice didn’t seem happy. Disgusting. Let’s kill her.

“Shut up,” Jekyll’s face soured as she muttered under her breath.

“Oh, sorry! I didn’t say anything,” Kuvira responded, laughing while messing with her hair.

“Oh no, I wasn’t saying that to you, I apologize,” Jekyll’s face turned red from embarrassment. “Just… voices in my head, haha-”

I have a name you know.

I could care less about your name, Jekyll responded.

Kuvira shrugged it off, smiling as if it was usual for her. “Just wanted to make sure! I know Vergilius has to tell me to shut up a lot because I ramble like, so much haha! So if I ever need to be quiet just let me know, okay?”

Jekyll returned her focus to Kuvira. “I don’t think you need to shut up, I would very much like to listen. Preferably, to the answers to some questions I had?”

“Oh of course!” Kuvira smiled. “I mean, the speech mainly said to give questions to Dante and Jatayu, but I can do my best to assist! What questions do you have, my dear?”

Jekyll could not get her face to stop turning red, she was not used to this type of friendship and excitement shown to her. “Uhm- uh, f-firstly, I was curious if uh… Have you all been here since LCB-1? How long ago was that?”

“Oh! Well, I believe Vergilius, Charon the bus driver, and Dante have all been here since LCB-1, Jatayu joined with LCB-2, and I joined midway through LCB-2. It’s been great for most, haha.”

Jekyll raised an eyebrow. “What about Faust?”

“Oh, Faust! You probably met her, yes! She was part of the LCB-1, and I believe she still is around as a manager of sorts! She doesn’t work directly with us as much anymore. She has better things to do, anyway!”

“Right, okay,” Jekyll nodded, taking a mental note. “Is… Vergilius, well, does he kill all of us commonly?”

“Oh no,” Kuvira glanced over her shoulder at the Red Gaze. “Absolutely not, he mainly gives consultations to the sinners who misbehave or are breaking their contracts. He tries not to kill them when it happens. Why do you ask?”

“There was an incident at the front of the bus after you left, where…” Jekyll shuddered at the thought. “Mark imploded on the spot, and Othello got his arms ripped off after they started to quarrel.”

Kuvira sighed. “Ahh, yeah, that might happen for a bit. Every team is bound to quarrel over something sooner or later, but eventually things work out, so I’ve been told.”

“You mean, this is normal?”

“Yeah, of some sort.” Kuvira shrugged. “After death is no longer in the equation, people get initially violent over disagreements before slowing down. Things settle down after a while. LCB-1 and LCB-2 had that as well, don’t worry.” Kuvira tilted her head as she looked slightly down to meet Jekyll’s eyes. “Which sinners are Mark and Othello again?”

Jekyll tilted her head and pointed in the direction Othello was heading. “That’s Othello, and Mark… is the one with the blonde shaggy hair.”

“Gotcha, I will need to learn names eventually, haha!” Kuvira smiled sweetly before glancing over toward Mallo, who had just entered the room. “And she is?”

“Mallo, if I remember correctly,” Jekyll mimicked Kuvira’s smile. “And over there is Pen.”

“Gotcha, thank you!” Kuvira gave a soft nod toward Jekyll. “I appreciate the information, I will make sure it goes to good use!”

“One more question, Kuvira,” Jekyll’s smile faded as she clasped her hands together. The mere thought of asking seemed like a burden, and the voice did not like it.

I swear if you take one of those things again, I will lash out-

“Of course! Anything!” Kuvira smiled.

“Do… Does this workplace provide moonstones to keep our sanity levels the same?” Jekyll asked her visible eye twitching. “It seems our line of work will tamper with our sanity, quite a bit… I wanted to ask if the company had spare moonstones so our sanity can remain fixed.”

“Oh! M Corp’s singularity,” Kuvira nodded, looking up at the ceiling to think. “Hmm, I don’t know of any moonstones in our possession, perhaps I can ask Vergilius for you, if you wish. I do know that sanity rises and falls when people use EGO, whether or not it's their personal one or ones from a…” Kuvira pauses, clearing her throat. “Abnormalities, so I do know that sanity rising and falling is a key part of the job, but I can see if the company has a moonstone for you. I don’t know if it would be allowed though.”

Jekyll cursed in her head as the voice laughed with glee. No stability mentally? How was she going to keep sane?

HAHA! Oh, how perfect.

“But hey,” Kuvira rested a hand on Jekyll’s shoulder. “If you ever need anything from me, to keep mentally sane or just need someone to talk to, I’m your gal, alright? I’m here for you.”

Jekyll nodded in thanks toward the assistant. “I appreciate you, really. I will… take you up on that sometime, perhaps later, closer to the morning.”

Kuvira opened her mouth to speak but clamped it shut as Vergilius announced the voting process to fight some ordeals in the gauntlet. She smirked, “Hey, go for the crimson ordeals, I heard they’re better than the amber ones.”

Jekyll smiled and said her farewell before walking over toward the menu. She did her best to give Mallo space, but they shared proximity as she came closer to view the options.

Mallo glanced over with a fierce glance at Jekyll. Jekyll met eye contact and started talking without realizing it. “So, have you heard of ordeals before?”

Mallo’s gaze softened. “Yeah. I've heard of 'em. Nasty things from L Corp. Disgusting things that show up to cause chaos.” She inhaled a large breath from her cigarette and stood up straight, letting it out.

Jekyll clasped her hands together nervously. It was the first time she heard Mallo speak more than one word. Her voice was quite pleasant. “Ahh... lovely, are they hard to kill?”

Mallo explained how the worms move around and jump, using flavorful curse words to describe them. She elaborated on how they make abnormalities breach and how they explode when killed but reassured it was more annoying than deadly.

Jekyll nodded and cast her lot. The current votes were two to one, with crimson ordeals being in the lead. She stepped back, sighing. She would have to wait for the others to arrive before actual combat began. She wished not to fight, but it was the job she signed up for. A shudder ran through her spine, she knew what was about to happen. Oh, how wrong you were about this company, Jekyll.

#limbus company #fanfic #vergilius lcb #kuvira lcb #charon lcb #dante lcb #faust lcb #jatayu lcb #mark lcb #mallo lcb #jekyll lcb #othello lcb #pen lcb #writing #chapter #limbus #project moon #lcb oc #lcb sinner

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drdiabolical · 8 months ago

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Hellooo, hope you are doing well!

Was just wondering if you have any crumbs to give us from IR,TSWAT. I love love love that fic sm and soooo want an update 😁😁

Hi, I'm sure doing .

Just joking. Thank you for the well wishes, apologies it took me so long to get back to you. I've been inactive for a reason which I may talk about in greater length in a different post on another day. For now, however, your wish is my command.

In Retrospect, The Signs Were All There - Unreleased Chapter Nine Excerpt

"Village Spirit Team is a lame name," Kakashi said after the assembly of forgettable civilians shuffled out of the Hokage’s office.

Minato hummed and shuffled his papers into a neat pile. "I think it’s endearing."

"I don't see why..." Kakashi trailed off as Minato's eyebrow rose. "It isn't... clear to me why my presence is needed at this... village... party."

Minato's eyebrow lowered, and Kakashi exhaled a quiet breath.

When Minato gave his signal, Kakashi stretched his tight muscles and put his eye to rest. The snapback was predictably awful, and he braced himself preemptively. For a moment he considered the low thrum of his drained chakra slogging through his system and wondered when it'd become a forgotten ambiance.

"It would be best we rested well, we have a long day ahead of us," Minato said and Kakashi rolled his eyes out of sight - every day was long - and then immediately cringed because what if Minato knew somehow.

He risked a glance back. Minato's face was as serene as ever, his signature look. Phew.

On the day of the Village Spirit Team announcement, the extensive production of the event smacked any snide comments from his slack-jawed face. Shinobi and civilians alike adjoined in a temporary cluster of gazebos destined to be replaced with a permanent structure, a building they would call the village hall.

Ridiculously portioned canapes floated around with civilian caterers. Servers offering champagne flutes patterned and intersected their movements at equal intervals. Kakashi couldn't help but draw up mental schemes as if he were cataloguing guard rotations.

Fairy lights entwined with the skinny wooden support beams, linked up to a generator half hidden by table cloth sewn together from doilies. A lone chūnin stood guard on the off chance an enterprising idiot blew the thing up. Besides him, the rest of the guards were far less visible and light on the body count. Likely due to the heavy presence of infamous hidden leaf shinobi mingling with the rest of the guests.

Kakashi stood in one corner of the largest gazebo, adjusting his position as needed to keep his comparatively small stature hidden behind the crowd. Minato had originally deposited him by the punch stand in full view of several bored guests fishing for conversation. The moment the fishmonger turned his eyes to him, he fled.

The crowd quieted and rippled towards the stage. Kakashi couldn't see Minato, but he could hear his voice. He'd forgone a microphone but his audience were captivated and his words projected.

Privy to the script, Kakashi slipped out and headed to the smallest gazebo, home to various spare supplies and, most importantly, the generator.

Read Chapters 1-8 here. Hopefully, 9 will join them soon.

#naruto #kakashi hatake #dark minato #minato namizake #irtswat #excerpt

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zippdementia · 6 months ago

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Metroid Retrospective: Metroid Pinball

Metroid Prime Pinball came in the mail yesterday and so, after nearly 20 years of wondering what it was like, I got to experience it. And... I'm underwhelmed.

Look, I know it's just pinball, so you might be wondering what I was expecting. And my answer would be: more variety. More creative ideas. More incorporation of the feel of Metroid, instead of simply a skin over what is actually pretty basic pinball.

Most surprising are how limited the boards themselves are. They are limited in number, to 5 that you can easily access, a 6th that is only accessible via multiplayer -- don't ask me why -- and a 7th that is a final boss fight and gated behind some stringent requirements. But more than this, they are rather simple, with a lot of repeated mechanics and really two main layouts that see only slight adjustment across the various stages.

I can picture a Metroid Pinball game where you have to progress through multiple interconnected boards via different colored doors, collecting items in some boards (like missiles) to be able to backtrack and open doors in older areas, leading to yet new areas. Or finding secret paths once you reach a certain number of points that let you bypass some of this. I picture multiple mini games activated by different areas on the board. I can even picture save rooms, if you can get inside them, which let you continue from where you lost your last ball. In short, I can imagine a Metroid game that uses pinball controls to progress towards a non-pinball goal, offering an experience that is more skill based than luck based.

And this imagining is actually supported by concepts present in the game. The boards are connected (although via warp points and not organically); there are items to collect (though their uses are minimal and don't aid in progressing from stage to stage); there are mini-games, though only two and they don't demand much in terms of reflexes or timing. The result is a game that promises a lot but is actually very shallow waters.

The blame, I think, comes from a confusion as to who the market for the game is. The clear target is a casual pinball market but the theme is Metroid, which is not a casual gamer's game. Casual gamers will be turned off by the innovations that are present while Metroid gamers risk feeling underwhelmed -- as I did -- by the lack of follow through on these innovations.

Within 2 hours, I had topped the pre-set high scores, even coming within 20 seconds of beating the world record on one level (Ancient Temple). And I can't claim that it was due to skill: I was really just slamming flippers and lucked out. At this point, there isn't anything left for me to do expect pursue beating my own high scores, which is diverting but not particularly engaging.

Hey, it looks very pretty, though.

1) Super Metroid

2) Metroid Fusion

3) Metroid 2 (original)

4) Metroid Zero Mission

5) Metroid Prime Pinball

6) Metroid (original)

#metroid #samus

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3genconsulting · 7 months ago

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Retrospective Risk Adjustments: 5 Major Impacts On Health Plan Payments - 3Gen Consulting Discover how retrospective risk adjustments affect health plan payments, from accuracy improvements to reduced claim denials. Learn how 3Gen Consulting can help. To know more, read the blog!

#Retrospective Risk Adjustments #risk adjustment coding #certified risk adjustment coder #coding risk adjustment #outsourced medical billing services #risk adjustment management #3Gen Consulting

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mrsreginagold · 1 year ago

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Fic: So Tempt My Trouble

Fandom: Nikita

Pairing: Ari Tasarov x Nikita Mears (Nikari)

Rating: R

Spoilers: Canon divergent AU, set near the end of season one. She and Michael did not get together.

Summary: Nikita decides to take a risk and finds herself face to face with the temptation that is Ari Tasarov.

Author's Note: Within there are lots of OTP shenanigans and brief references to Pride & Prejudice. Loosely based on the song Tempt My Trouble.

On AO3

So Tempt My Trouble

In retrospect, it probably wasn’t the wisest use of her intel.

Nikita Mears typically could tell if something was too good to be true, but her desire to pull one over on Gogol after the rough year she had experienced was far greater than reason.

Sneaking into the company’s yearly Masquerade Ball – and really, who held such a thing in a glorified office building – was the easy part. The tricky element was getting past the security posted at the elevators so she could head to the lower levels. She knew that was where the vault that housed their tech was located, thanks to some intel via her protégé, Alexandra Udinov. The issue was causing a distraction that would be enough to lure the guards away.

The former assassin had some smoke pellets in her purse, but those were usually employed for quick getaways. Additionally, the crowd of people that took up the lobby was substantial. She wasn’t certain how many were even employees for the organization that rivaled Division.

She adjusted the mask that hid her lovely, yet recognizable features from view, hitched up her cerulean-colored gown, and made her way towards the stairs that led to the upper floors. Some distance from the party goers would allow her a chance to think her plans through, and she suspected that there would be a balcony somewhere to offer her some fresh air.

Nikita entered a deserted office when she arrived at the fifth floor, uncertain of whose it happened to be but grateful that it was unlocked. If she could hack into a computer: pulling up schematics of the building would be child’s play.

She dug into her bag and located her flash drive, which she quietly plugged into the side of the laptop set on the large desk.

She sat in the surprisingly comfortable chair, pulled off her mask so her vision wouldn’t be obscured, and flipped the top of the computer open. A pale blue glow washed over her face as she began to type rapidly.

Thanks to the decryption software on her drive she was able to log in, only to go pale when she discovered just who the computer happened to belong to.

Fuck. It would be his, wouldn’t it?

Her history with Ari Tasarov was, in a word, complicated. While the attempts at inviting her to work with Gogol had fallen through, it led to a different kind of courtship entirely. Their last encounter had resulted in desire finally erupting, a tryst in his hotel room, and then her sneaking out at dawn.

“Well now…this is a surprise,” a familiar, amused baritone jolted Nikita from her thoughts, and she stood abruptly with a startled sound.

“I don’t know if I would call it a pleasant one, however. Perhaps ironic?” Ari stepped out from the shadows, crossing his arms over his chest before stating. “Hello Nikita.”

Despite her best intentions not to be affected, her features flushed at the sight of him. The man was incredibly handsome, and this was not helped by the fact that he was currently clad in a tuxedo that seemed to accentuate the solid lines of his tall, lean form.

“Hello Ari,” she managed, willing her heart to calm down as she moved around the mahogany desk. “Why aren’t you at the party? I mean, it is held by your organization.”

“These things are always spectacularly boring…and is it? I mean, yes, I work here. But contrary to whatever belief you’ve harbored, I don’t actually run things.”

“Ah, now it all makes sense.”

“What does?” he tilted his head when she moved closer.

“Why you tried to recruit me. It was a power move.”

“Is that what you think? That I only desired you for power?”

“Why else?”

His perceptive gaze locked into her own, the sea of blue and gray that was so easy to become lost in reflecting emotions she wasn’t quite prepared to see. “Is it really that difficult to imagine that I truly care for you? Even after everything?”

She took a step back, guilt rising. “But…you can’t.”

“I assure you that I can. That I do,” he reached out, grabbing her before the instinct to bolt took hold, as if he were anticipating exactly what she was planning.

“Ari, please, just let me go and forget you ever saw me,” she pleaded, tears springing to her eyes that she couldn’t hold at bay. “We had one night. One amazing night and I left. I had to. It’s what I do. Forming attachments is just disappointment waiting to happen.”

Elegant fingers crossed over her mouth, those eyes of his boring into her own. “I’m not looking for an apology here, Nikita. I simply wanted to be clear with you. The truth is: I’ve fallen in love with you. And I think somewhere along the line, I wasn’t the only one.”

“I panicked. I woke up in your arms and I panicked because it felt right. Leaving you that morning was the only option, because if I stayed…Ari, if I stayed I wouldn’t have left.” She shook her head, trying to fathom why the truth was pouring so easily from her.

His arms curled around her waist to pull her flush against his chest. “And, if I asked you to stay now, would you?”

“Yes.” She replied, slightly breathless, but meaning it. Then the reminder of what she was there for came crashing back and she winced at the awkward timing. “Although; that’s kind of difficult when I was plotting on stealing from the company.”

Instead of looking displeased, Ari appeared thoughtful. “Really? What were you planning on taking?”

“I hadn’t really thought that far ahead. You found me before I could do any research.”

“In that case,” he guided her back over to his desk, taking a seat before pulling her onto his lap and then opening a folder full of documents. “Let me help.”

She blinked, incredibly confused. “I’m sorry? Let you help?! Why the hell would you steal from your own workplace?!?”

“Making your way up the rungs of Gogol’s ladder is difficult. I know because I’ve been climbing for years, and obstacles keep on hindering my progress. Not to mention that the man I work for is a complete asshole,” he grumbled the last bit and hit the computer keys more forcefully, belying his anger at the entire situation.

Her expression softened and she draped an arm over his broad shoulders. “That’s Sergei Semak, right? Wasn’t he close to the Udinov family?”

“The very same,” Ari confirmed, smirking triumphantly when he finally located the inventory list he was hunting for. “He’s the whole reason Gogol’s become a glorified weapons dealer. We used to be more like Division, but Semak has a lot of ties to crime syndicates. He used them to buy his way to the top, more or less, and once he took over Zetrov: operations changed.”

Nikita processed the information as carefully as she was able. “That’s why you wanted to work together from the start, wasn’t it? To knock Semak off the throne, take Gogol over yourself and restore it to its former glory.”

It fell silent for a moment before he responded. “At the beginning? Yes. But this past year has brought a lot to light. There’s too much to fix at this point, and frankly – I want to be free of Gogol as much as you wish to be free of Division. This life changes you, so much so that I barely recognize who I used to be. Then, I met you,” he trailed off, bringing a hand up to stroke along the side of her face. “And somehow, the idea of what I actually wanted was much clearer.”

“What is it that you really want, Ari?”

“Besides you? A life. A choice,” he leaned in, his forehead touching hers lightly. “A future.”

His honest answer made her think back on their story. They’d met under dire circumstances, but the attraction they both felt had been crystal clear from the start. Their first kiss happened after he took her aside during a mission that had gone awry and cleansed her wounds. That initial embrace had been one of tentative compassion, and yet it resulted in mixed emotions on her part. When they saw each other again after that: the slow, simmering passion finally boiled over. They’d made love recklessly, giving in to their all-consuming hunger for one another. And then – she left, ashamed, and afraid of what her heart had been trying to tell her.

Nikita chose to listen to herself this time and gave herself over to the temptation for another kiss. Her lips sought his out, initiating a tender, romantic one that expressed just how much she cared for him.

Ari returned the affection just as sweetly, his hands sweeping across the curve of her jaw and tucking a stray lock of hair over her ear. He nipped lightly at her mouth as they parted, smiling before he whispered. “I take it that was the right thing to say?”

She laughed and nodded. “Yes, it was. So: what’re we stealing?”

His smile stretched into a playful grin. “Something that can bring down both Gogol and Division in mere seconds, if used properly. Think of it as a master key, of sorts. And best of all, we can sneak it out in that handbag you brought with you.”

“That sounds promising. It also sounds like there will be guards and multiple security measures to get through.”

“Luckily, I can handle that,” he gestured for her to stand. “But we’re going to have to adjust our appearances.”

She was about to ask him what that entailed when he undid his bow tie and discarded it on the desk in front of him. Then, he took a few moments to muss his own hair, and popped open the top few buttons to his collar for good measure.

After getting a clear picture of what was required, Nikita took her hair down from the intricate French twist, fluffed it out over her shoulders and then slipped one strap of her gown down her arm. She pinched at her cheeks to add some color, and finally settled her mask back over her face so no one but her companion knew who she was. “It’s amazing how often the “drunk and can’t keep our hands off each other” routine works.”

“Mmm, though, there is one thing that could sell the whole charade even further.”

“And what’s that –

Ari cut her off with a fervent embrace, backing her up so that she was pinned between the desk and his body.

She wrapped her arms around his neck as it deepened, the pair biting and teasing at each other’s lips until forced to separate for air.

His mouth strayed, darting fiery kisses along the swan-like column of her throat before he reached the junction between her neck and shoulder.

She wasn’t quite expecting it when he bit down, hard enough to break the skin, and cried out sharply.

He nuzzled apologetically at the area. “Sorry.”

She snorted derisively. “Oh, I am definitely getting you back for that later.”

“I wouldn’t expect any less,” he looked into her eyes reassuringly. “Ready?”

“Ready.” She linked their arms together and they exited his office.

All it took to get onto the elevator was a little bit of play acting, which was easy enough for Nikita as she didn’t have to pretend to be attracted to Ari. If anything – it was difficult to keep her hands to herself in the process, though he didn’t seem to mind one bit.

Once they arrived at the correct level, he assumed the lead and guided her through the labyrinthian vaults where Gogol’s tech was housed.

“I’d suggest setting this whole place on fire, but I’m guessing there’s a system that will go off?” she peered up at the ceiling curiously.

“This entire floor is rigged to suck out the oxygen if it’s breached,” he admitted, squeezing more tightly at her hand. “Luckily, I know the work arounds.”

“Good, because I probably would have tripped something,” she shuddered at the thought of such a painful end and inched closer to her companion.

Wordlessly, he circled one arm around her waist. Eventually: they stopped in front of a safe. “It’s in here. Now comes the tricky part.” He knelt down and keyed in the pass code.

When the door opened immediately, she was about to request a clarification on what the “tricky” element was – but when she saw just how tiny the device was, she could only respond with a quiet: “Oh. You weren’t kidding about it being small.”

“We live in the spy world, sweetheart, remember? Small and sleek equals sexy.”

“It’ll be easy enough to sneak out, so what’s the problem?”

“Replacing it with something of equal weight so the sensors won’t know any better.” He fished around in his pockets. “You don’t happen to have any small change on you, do you?”

“No but,” she unhooked the delicate necklace that she wore and presented it to him. “Maybe this? It’s nothing valuable, but I thought it tied the outfit together.”

Ari weighed the bauble in his hand, and then smiled. “Yes. This should do nicely.”

She admired the skill of his sleight of hand as he switched the items, managing not to set off a single alarm in the process. “You do realize that, sometime, you’re going to have to clue me in as to what, exactly, the KGB had you doing back in the day.” She accepted the miniscule flash drive from him and carefully placed it in her clutch.

“Eventually, yes,” he grabbed her hand and began to hurry out of the area. “Though perhaps when we aren’t carrying something worth billions?”

“Good point,” she linked her arm around his and held up her skirt so they could run a little faster.

They reached the corridor where the elevators were located, but Ari veered towards the stairwell instead. “The parking garage is only a few floors up and there aren’t any guards to deal with.”

“Wait a second,” she paused to remove her high heels.

Once Nikita was ready, Ari once again took her hand, and they rushed up the flights of stairs as quickly as was possible.

A relieved sigh escaped the former Division operative once she and her Gogol counterpart were in his car. She settled into the comfortable leather seat and glanced in his direction while he started the ignition. “Where are we heading now?”

“I have a property a ways out. It’s admittedly more of a safe house than anything else,” he explained, putting the vehicle in gear. “We can stay there for a few days and plan things.”

“Will you have to check in while we’re making our move?” she found that she liked referring to the future being faced as theirs.

“I’ll put in for a short vacation. I haven’t used any of my time in years anyway,” he admitted, his attractive features relaxing once they were properly on the road and heading away from the organization he had just betrayed.

“A vacation sounds amazing, honestly,” she stretched and finally removed her mask, tossing it onto the backseat before fiddling with the radio.

“We should take a proper one once we’ve dealt with everything.”

The suggestion made her smile, and when she found a station that played familiar sounding pop music, she left it there.

The drive was spent mostly catching up on everything that had been going on in their lives, though they made a quick stop to grab some clothing, food, and supplies from a store not far from their eventual destination.

Grogginess had taken hold of Nikita by the time they arrived at the property that Ari had mentioned earlier, but when she saw exactly what lay before them: her jaw dropped.

“You said it was a safe house. This is more like a safe estate.”

Her companion chuckled as he parked the car and shut off the engine. “I think it was actually a boarding house at one point. It took me a few years to get it fully renovated.”

“The fact that you say something like that so casually only emphasizes my point,” she exited the vehicle and followed him around to the trunk to gather their belongings. “This place is huge.”

“Which gives us plenty of room to relax for a few days while we sort ourselves,” he placed a hand gently along the small of her back and began to usher her forward.

“Is there running water? Heat? Electricity? Or did I just wander onto the set of Pride and Prejudice?”

“Yes. Yes, and yes. And I’d venture a guess that the Darcy estate was larger.” Ari shook his head, amusement clear on his handsome face as he unlocked the door. “Now: if you’ll indulge me,”

She let out a squeak when he abruptly swept her into his arms and carted her, bridal-style, inside.

“Well then Mister Darcy, just what are you planning for me?” she coiled her arms around his neck, touched by the romantic gesture.

“Nothing untoward, Miss Bennett, I assure you,” he played along, ducking a sweet kiss to her temple before setting her on her feet. “Let me put a few things away, and then I’ll take you on a tour.”

Nikita wandered into the vast space that served as an entertaining room while she waited for her paramour. The centerpiece was a fireplace that was arguably the largest she had ever seen, and she refrained from drawing closer thanks to how intimidating it appeared. Instead – she inspected an ornate table which functioned as a focal point for the room.

She knelt down to look at the intricately carved mahogany more closely, appreciating the attention to detail in the roses that decorated it.

“A family heirloom,” Ari’s tone was warm, prompting her to glance up and find him observing her with a fond expression.

She stood and dusted off her skirt. “It’s lovely. And probably worth a small fortune.”

“Many things here are,” he confessed, crossing over to her. “Though I haven’t had the time to take a proper inventory.”

She tilted her head while she draped her arms over the breadth of his shoulders to draw him near to her. “I could help with that if you like, after all: we’ll have lots of time to kill. Unless your plans are for us to make love on every possible surface in this place, in which case we may be here a lot longer.”

He laughed, which brought a brightness to his features that made her pulse thrum with affection. “I’m not adverse to that idea, obviously. However, I thought that I might put together a late-night dinner for us after I give you that tour I promised first. It’s been an adventure of an evening, and I don’t know about you but I’m rather famished.”

“You cook too?” she grinned. “I really did hit the jackpot.”

He merely smiled, kissed her, and then proceeded to show her around the estate.

After exploring for a considerable time, Ari led Nikita to a room where she could freshen up and change.

Part of her considered asking him to join her in the shower, but she had noticed a subtle hesitance in his countenance whenever the subject of physical intimacy was broached, even after all their previous flirtation. She would question him on it at another time, as the desire to get out of her constricting evening gown was a higher priority.

She emerged from the bath a short while later, dressed in a simple black tank top and yoga pants. She pulled her naturally long, dark hair into a low ponytail and then ventured to the wardrobe to look for something to stave off the chill in the air. She settled on a dark green sweater that she immediately knew was his thanks to how roomy it was on her.

Smiling, she pulled on the slippers she had purchased during the trip up, and then braved her way through the corridors in hopes that she wouldn’t get lost.

Luckily – a sweet aroma guided her, making her stomach growl in anticipation for whatever he happened to be concocting.

Nikita finally discovered Ari, completely immersed in his work, once she entered a kitchen that she immediately deemed as large enough to serve the entirety of Division’s staff – and perhaps Gogol’s as well.

Her heart fluttered at the sight of the man she loved. She could tell that he had also showered, as his hair was still slightly damp, making it even darker brown in color. He was dressed casually in a black tee shirt that clung nicely to his toned build, and indigo jeans. She watched him for a few minutes, warmth easing up her spine as she noted just how content he appeared. There was a natural elegance to him that made even the simplest actions seem sophisticated, but it was remarkable how at home he was doing something so domestic at the same time.

Eventually, she cleared her throat to announce her presence.

He looked over his shoulder to acknowledge her arrival. “I hope you don’t mind breakfast for dinner.”

“I love breakfast,” she confessed, striding forward to inspect what he was making. “And French Toast happens to be of my favorites.”

“It’s one of mine as well,” he admitted, leaning back slightly when she wrapped her arms around his waist and snuggled close. “It’s also deceptively easy to make. Would you like to try?”

“I think I’ll leave the culinary arts to you,” she winced despite herself. “I’ve burnt eggs too many times to count at this point.”

Rich laughter emerged from her more skilled companion, but there wasn’t a hint of unkindness to it. “Then I’ll have to teach you some tricks when you feel more confident. No rush.”

“I do make a mean smoothie though, so maybe in the morning, I’ll handle things,” she stood on her tiptoes so she could press her lips more easily to his cheek.

He twisted slightly to capture her mouth with his, initiating a tender yet brief embrace. “I look forward to it.”

They fell into a quiet routine as he finished preparing their meal, with Nikita assisting by cleaning and cutting up some strawberries to adorn the toast, as well as making sure the maple syrup was at hand.

Since the dining room was too formal, they ate at the homier wooden table in the kitchen, talking quietly between bites and enjoying, for once, being as normal a couple as they could be.

When they were full, Nikita insisted on taking care of the clean-up since Ari had cooked. She shooed him off, instructing him to wait for her in the living room, and saying that she wouldn’t be long.

She was true to her word and found him standing a safe distance away from the fire now blazing in the hearth. He had pulled a dark blue, warm-looking cardigan over his shirt, and there was a contemplative, somewhat melancholy expression on his striking face as he gazed at the flames.

Tentatively, she approached, not wishing to startle him too much. “Ari? Is everything all right?”

He glanced in her direction, attempting to mask the swirl of emotions. “It’s nothing.”

She arched a skeptical brow. “Uh-huh. No, if it were nothing, we would have been tearing each other’s clothes off the second we walked in here. What’s really going on?”

He shook his head, trying to shrug off whatever was bothering him. “I’m fine. I swear it.”

“Babe,” her tone softened, and she reached out: taking his hand within hers and coaxing him away from the fireplace. “Talk to me. It’s okay.”

He looked deeply into her eyes, took a steadying breath, and then nodded, allowing her to guide him over to the couch.

They sat close together, pushing pillows aside so there was little space between them.

Ari inhaled again, his grip on Nikita’s hand tightening, before he began to elaborate. “The last time we were together, it was frantic, probably due to the heat of the moment.” His gaze locked with hers. “And while it was completely amazing, I think we both had it in our minds that it was a one-time thing. Usually – right after, I’m out, but that night I just couldn’t stop watching you. You looked so peaceful, so right, there next to me.” He swept his fingers through her hair. “I wanted you from the moment I laid eyes on you, Nikita, but I’m pretty certain it was then that I fell in love with you. And now you’re here, and you want to be, but there’s this tiny voice in the back of my head that worries you’ll run off again.”

She swore that her heart dropped at his revelation. “God, I was a complete idiot that morning, wasn’t I?”

“No, it was my own fault for expecting you to feel exactly the same way,” he interjected. “And it’s not like it made me love you any less.”

She looked down and chewed at her lower lip, wondering how to reassure him of the depth of her feelings. “Still, I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d hated me.”

“I could never hate you, Nikita,” he murmured, tilting her chin so their eyes met again. “You mean everything to me.”

“And you mean the world to me,” it dawned on her then, with nearly perfect clarity. “Ari, I love you.”

Evidently, that was what needed to be said, because his next act was to tug her into his arms.

She immediately crawled onto his lap, their mouths meeting in an ardent kiss while she shoved persistently at his sweater.

He pulled back to breathe but stopped her before anything could be removed. “Patience. That’s what we lacked last time, remember?”

She flushed at her own haste. “Sorry. Habit.”

Ari chuckled softly and caressed at her cheek. “I just don’t want this to be some frenzied tryst, that’s all. We should try to make it special.”

He made an excellent point. Nikita glanced around the room, her mind mulling over possibilities. “Do we have more blankets?”

“In the linen cupboard. Why?” he inquired curiosity overtaking his face.

She responded with a blinding, open smile. “I have an idea.”

The next few minutes were spent with the pair of them locating as many blankets, quilts, and pillows as possible.

An outright girlish giggle escaped the rogue operative as she began to spread them out on the living room floor, safely away from the fire but still close enough so that they could appreciate the natural heat that it offered.

“What exactly are we making here?” her partner couldn’t help his own laughter, caught up in the playfulness of the moment.

“Well, if we wanted to pilfer the curtains we could build a tent but, for now a nest will do,” she threw a few final pillows onto the pile that they had formed and inspected her work.

He moved to stand beside her, reaching out and twining their fingers together.

They stood for a few moments, silent, until Ari whispered. “It’s perfect.”

Nikita swiveled on one foot to face him, her heart cartwheeling upon seeing the raw emotion directed at her. She murmured his name and pulled him forward by the sleeve of his cardigan, the mood effectively shifting.

When they kissed this time, it was unhurried and filled with care, perhaps as a testament to his wish that they proceed more carefully than they had their first time.

She sighed quietly against his mouth and coiled her arms around him, pressing close but not asking for too much, too soon.

He parted from her first, those eyes she could so easily drown in sparkling with gratitude at her understanding. He leaned back in to nuzzle his nose to hers, and then gradually slid his hands down her back so he could glide his fingers under the pullover she had borrowed.

Pleasant heat bloomed at her center when he bypassed her tank-top and touched her bare skin instead, indicating that, although they were going slowly, it was still his intent to seduce her.

To even things, she pushed his cardigan off his shoulders, smiling when he yanked his arms free and allowed the garment to fall to the floor.

They embraced again, more heatedly than before, Ari steering Nikita towards the comfortable looking pile of blankets.

When they broke apart, it was both for air and so he could lift the sweater over her head before they tumbled back together.

Their legs tangled while they kissed, reclining back on the plush surface, hands delving under fabric to begin caressing over flesh.

She mewled softly when clever, elegant fingers trailed along the tone of her abdomen, goosebumps erupting upon contact. For reasons she could never fully fathom, she was more sensitive to touch there.

She felt him smirk, alerting her to the fact that he had quickly figured this out. In retaliation, she scratched long marks over his chest beneath his tee.

He hissed, but continued in his ministrations, tracing up along her ribcage and then deliberately pausing before he pulled away to gaze down at her.

“Why’d you stop?” she mumbled.

“Because I want to see you,” he replied, peeling her tank up over her stomach.

She arched her back to assist him in the removal, glad to be free of the confines of restrictive fabric, but before he could fully appreciate the image of her: she plucked at the shirt he was still wearing and gave him a significant look. “It’s only fair that I get to see you too.”

Luckily, there was no hesitation on his part when he settled back long enough for her to whisk the tee off.

Nikita took advantage of the shift in balance to pin Ari against the blankets, straddling his hips and taking a long, proper admiration at what lay before her.

The fire’s light flickered patterns over his pale skin, his chest rising and falling evenly with each breath. Her gaze drew slowly over the perfect, athletic tone of his frame, prompting a molten warmth to gather right at her core.

He was doing his fair share of appreciation as well, that stare of his lingering and making her feel entirely exposed even though they weren’t fully naked just yet.

That was why she wasn’t fully prepared for him lunging, their lips colliding in a feverish kiss as he turned and trapped her under him.

She could tell that the tightly wound threads of his control had snapped when he pulled the rest of her clothing off in one swift move, and then hurriedly rid himself of his own.

“What was that you were saying about patience?” she teased, carding her fingers through his hair while drawing him down on top of her.

“Never listen to me when I’m trying to be logical,” he muttered, inching one hand up along her thigh tantalizingly while dipping his head to taste at her clavicle. “Besides, I’m sure we can reach a compromise here.”

They did, in fact, discover a happy medium in spite of the burst of urgency.

Nikita quickly became lost to sensation while Ari took his time to explore – his lips traveling across her shoulder, pausing to dart his tongue over the mark that he’d made earlier before coasting further down.

The reminder that she still needed to get some proper payback was pushed to the recesses of her mind when he cupped her breast, thumb dancing along sensitized flesh for several moments until it was replaced with his mouth.

She cried out at the contact, weaving her hands further into his hair to keep him steady as he bestowed attention first upon one and then the other.

Simultaneously, his free hand drifted lower and lower, his touch light and feathery as it skimmed over her stomach right before ducking down between her legs.

Her hips bucked instinctively, a much louder moan emerging as he eventually drove her over the edge, her mind whirling from the pleasure of it all.

This was what they hadn’t involved in their previous encounter – it had been hasty and impetuous, a collision of their bodies but not of their hearts, and it was clear that Ari intended to make up for that in spades.

Not to be outdone, Nikita turned so that she was in control for a while, initiating another passion-filled embrace as her hands skimmed down his torso, her nails purposely dragging through the hair that dusted his chest. She then leaned in to nibble provocatively at the junction between his neck and shoulder before sinking her teeth down hard enough to break the skin: marking him the way he had her.

She grinned when he groaned and arced upwards, revealing that he was equally sensitive in certain respects.

In a deft motion, she straddled his hips again, staring down at the enticing picture that he made – his breathing erratic and his hair mussed hopelessly by her own doing. The gorgeous color of his eyes was practically invisible thanks to his pupils being dilated with arousal and a deliciously wicked thought crossed her mind.

It wasn’t her intent to join with him this way, but now she simply couldn’t help herself, reaching between them to align properly before sinking down.

His rasped out her name and grasped at her tightly right as they started off in a rocking motion, his head tilting back to expose the elegant column of his throat.

There was a definite thrill to being the one in charge, her desire for him overwhelming any other thought that could be had. She kept them going at a mainly even pace, shifting her angle subtly and anchoring them together.

His hands eased up her back, pulling her forward when their motions began to grow erratic, waiting until exactly the right moment to turn the tides and bear her back into the blankets.

They met once more in a searing kiss that mirrored their entangled bodies, her legs locking around his waist, fingers clawing at his spine as they finally reached that precipice, until – at last, they fell.

Nikita was fairly certain that moving was going to be impossible for the considerable future, her form still hopelessly entwined with Ari’s while they attempted to calm down from the aftermath of their passions.

For his part, he seemed as exhausted as she was, his head resting in the crook of her shoulder and his pulse a rapid staccato that she could feel against her own.

She traced a lazy pattern across his back, lingering over a mark of her creation, before finding her voice. “Did I go a little overboard?”

“Judging by the fact that you could draw a map on me through the scratches, yes.”

“…I did say I’d pay you back for the love mark from earlier.”

He chuckled – a deep, gravelly, and oh-so-sexy sound, and if only she wasn’t so damn tired.

As if reading her mind, he pressed a kiss to her shoulder and then murmured. “Rest.”

She didn’t need to be told twice, wrapping her arms around his torso, and letting her eyes flutter shut.

The clacking sound of computer keys was what eventually stirred Nikita from a sound slumber.

Groggily, she opened her eyes, her vision swimming blurrily at first till the image of Ari next to her came properly into focus.

He had re-situated some of the pillows so he could sit comfortably with his back against them. One of the many blankets surrounding them was pooled around his waist, and he had a computer placed on his lap, hence the sound she had heard.

What really made her heart flip around erratically in her chest, however, was the sight of her lover wearing glasses. Silver, thin rectangular frames were perched on the bridge of his aquiline nose, giving him an extra bit of allure that certainly wasn’t necessary, but she would be lying if several different fantasies didn’t immediately flood her mind.

She gazed at him contentedly, stretching lazily against the plush surface she was lying on. “Can’t whatever that is wait till morning?”

“It never hurts to get a head start on decryption,” Ari turned to smile at her and patted the space next to him invitingly. “But you were sleeping so peacefully, I couldn’t bear to wake you.”

Nikita stood up and gathered a stray blanket around her like a dress before moving to sit next to him, shoulder-to-shoulder so she could take a look at what he was working on.

“Oreo? I felt peckish after I woke up,” he reached blindly to the side so he could grab a few.

“Yes please,” she gladly accepted the treat and didn’t hesitate in devouring it.

He laughed and handed her the entire package. “Here.”

She thanked him around a mouthful of cookie before swallowing and taking another out of the plastic tray. She twisted the top layer off and set about licking the filling, then joked, “Congrats; now you know my two biggest weaknesses: mind-blowing sex and chocolate.”

Another amused chuckle escaped him. “Duly noted.”

With a fond expression, she curled close, resting her head upon his shoulder and watching him continue his task. “What exactly is on this thing anyway? You never fully explained.”

“The black boxes that your former boss has stored around the world can’t be opened without his DNA. This is something Gogol was working on to bypass that. If used wisely, it can open every single one at the same time and unleash all the information on them to wherever we choose.”

Her pulse leapt excitedly at the prospect. “I’m assuming there’s a catch.”

“Two specifically: we can only use it once, as there’s a self-destruct built into the coding, and we have to be close to all of the boxes.”

“Which means we have to find them.” She surmised, plucking another couple of Oreos out from the packaging.

“Yes, it does. That being said – it’s nothing we can’t handle if we work as a team.”

She had never been one to imagine picket fences, and there was certainly rough terrain ahead, but for the first time, Nikita felt secure about the future she had.

She could picture a life with the man next to her, even if it took time to get there. The idea of an actual home and perhaps a child of their own someday was something she assumed would never happen, but now all she could think of was how much she craved such a thing. It was frightening and exhilarating at the same time.

Ari eventually set the computer aside, concern in his gaze as he turned his attention to her. “Nikita…did I lose you somewhere there?”

She shook her head and tilted her chin up to kiss him languidly. “No, I think it’s the opposite. You have me for the long haul.”

Judging by the way he embraced her after that confession, it was obvious that the feeling was entirely mutual.

The End

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