To Carry A Tune

by CyKeys

Summary:

After stumbling across a strange Wooden door on their way to the next inn after an expedition gone horribly wrong, Sarmenti The Jester and Damian The Flagellant end up in Faraway Town. Plagued by threats Societal, Physical, and Mental, They must find new methods to adapt to the modern times, surviving Rowdy teenagers, Local police forces, and an Eldritch horror or two.

Also there’s orange Joe. That’s probably important in some way.

first fic pls nu bulli. WIP

Chapter 1: Just Another Day

Notes:

Prologue stuff ahead. If you're not familiar with Darkest Dungeon 2 not a whole lot is going to make sense but don't worry and just roll with it lol

“I knew this was an absolutely horrid idea.”

 

Sarmenti The Jester muttered to himself as he brushed another layer of ash from his shoulder. They were once again in The Sprawl, an ever burning city consumed by the apocalypse, and the flaming Fanatics that fanned its spread. The carriage that was supposed to take them to the next inn had been ambushed, and due to being woefully unprepared by a journey that could be optimistically described as “Barren”, they were slaughtered practically to the last. Sarmenti didn’t really care too much about that. After all, The Light’s power flowed through them. Every time they would die, they would simply reawaken at those damned crossroads, waiting for another go at saving the world. Sure, dying was painful, and he would much rather simply not go through the stained fog that clouded his mind and leached away at his memories, but he learned a while ago to not heed it any mind. He would meet his friends some other sunny day.

His compatriot, on the other hand, had a far more… intimate relationship with suffering and death.

“Sarmenti! The longer we stay here, the slower we reach the next fight! Do you think we will find any Whippers? Or maybe a Pit Fighter! Or a Sacrificial! Ohhh how I love Sacrificials~”

 

Damian, the half decayed, rotted immortal known as The Flagellant, gleefully grinned at the possibilities and prospects of pain. Sure his blight laden Lash could keep him preoccupied between fights, but the real pain came from battle! Such torments, such delights!

Sarmenti: “Damian. The last fight we got into very nearly got us killed! I know you’re eager to get your skin charred a nice shade of night sky, but not I! I prefer my clothes not burnt to ash thankyouverymuch.”

Damian: “Bah. You’re no fun. You’re too busy strumming away with that lute of yours, You barely even use your Dagger and Sickle!”

Sarmenti shot Damian an annoyed glance.

Sarmenti: “Well sorry that someone needs to keep our minds in the fight! You’re the one that’s practically devouring my stress and horror with that...thing you do with that whip. Without my Tunes, you would have gone Toxic…6 and a half times over?”

Damian gave a sickly green smile.

Damian: “And who exactly says that’s a bad thing?”

Sarmenti: “Well I’m not exactly a fan of you suddenly making Gaunt noises and talking about how you’re going to peel all our faces off, Dami.”

Damian: “That was ONE TIME okay?! Sheesh! I wouldn’t actually do that to you guys…. probably .”

Sarmenti sighed. While this conversation may hint at deep seated resentment or hatred for one another, in practice, nothing could be farther from the truth. The two respected each other deeply. Sarmenti knows Damian has his back, and vice versa. Sure the ride may not have begun this way, what with the general vibes that Damian gave off as a living rotted corpse, but now? The two were as thick as thieves, a relationship forged with blood, blight, and trust. As the two pressed onwards into the city, seeking an escape route from the burning walls that did not require angering the Cult of The Stain, the instead found a group of fanatics…a very confused group of fanatics. They had gathered around one of their massive piles of burnt rubble, sacrifices to the dark gods wreathed in flame. Nothing out of the ordinary…save for a singular White Wooden Door that had somehow managed to escape the flames without so much as a scorch mark. Understandably, the Fanatics were befuddled by this failed kindling, and had gone to burn it directly with the power of a few Shamans, and some unfortunate Sacrificial's. The bright light and scorching heat wave burnt and melted even nearby structures to ash and slag…but the door remained untouched.

Sarmenti chuckled to himself. “Hmhmhm. If we survive this, remind me to find who made that door. Maybe he could give that blasted Wainwright a few pointers on making a sturdy coach…”

Damian however was greedily eying the Fanatics, practically salivating at the bloodbath that was to come.

Damian: “Heh heh heh! C’mon Jingles, what are we waiting for?!”

Sarmenti: “You really wish to go now? You don’t want to wait for a few to le-“

Damian: “OF COURSE NOT!”

…The Fanatics, hearing Damian’s cry of defiance, turned their molten heads over to the scene. Sarmenti immediately deflated with a groan.

Sarmenti: “Welp. So much for an ambush…”

Damian: “WITNESS MEEEE!!!!”

And with that, the Flagellant rushed forward, Flail in tow, into the small enclave of flaming Fanatics. Sarmenti followed behind, Lute strumming out Ballads of exhilaration and amplitude, encouraging Damian to strike harsher, faster. With every flail lash came rending to his own self, but that simply served to whet his appetite for the pain the Fanatics could bring. Whips and blades. Flames and uppercuts. Agony by degrees…it was delightful. But he wanted, no, he needed more of it. More pain! More suffering!

More! MORE!

With every blow on Damian’s body, the stronger he appeared to become. His fresh wounds sealing, tendons and nerves knitting together to keep his body from breaking. The anguish of recovery only served to make the experience so much sweeter. Meanwhile, Sarmenti was taking much less of a liking to such an assault. While his music could do plenty, encouraging himself and his team to perform better, clear their minds of hardships, or even…no, not that one, that one was too risky, he still had to rely on more offensive measures while his back was to the wall. Aiming for the eyes helped,blinding them and making them especially vulnerable to Damian’s blighted machinations. To and fro he danced from hostile to hostile, dodging and weaving between fists and fires alike. He had to admit, something about seeing his foes trip on their own feet as they stumbled and grasped to get a hit on him did bring some wicked sense of satisfaction. But nevertheless, such a good joke mustn’t overstay its welcome. The impromptu brawl eventually ceased, the last of the Fanatics gurgling out half sputtered prayers and rites. Sarmenti wiped the blood from his blades, and returned them back to his sheaths. Damian was finishing up flat out garroting some poor bastard with his flail ropes, and soon the Fanatic fell, dead on the ground. Damian laughed victoriously.

Damian: “Hahahaha, Yes! Ooough that was good. One of the better fights this journey I think! They actually managed to get some decent scratches on me!”

Sarmenti: “Well. Let’s collect the loot and continue…onward…”

Sarmenti took pause as his eyes wandered over to the unyielding door…the flames had been unable to catch upon it and yet, the Door seemed to have an odd glow to it. Not a glow of hope, like the flame provides…nor a sickly glow of Loathing like the stain spreads around…it was an otherworldly shine.

Sarmenti: “Dami? Am I going insane, or was that door not glowing before the fight we just had?”

Damian: “Yeah, it wasn’t. But now it is. Interesting.”

Sarmenti walked to the door, and out of some sick curiosity he had, attempted to open it, only to find the door locked. He pulled his hand back for a moment with disappointment, and hummed gently, then frowned.

Sarmenti: “…Do you hear that?”

The Flagellant listened out…and shook his head. Damian: “Nothing except the crackling of flames.”

Sarmenti: “No, no no. There’s…music playing.”

Damian: “Music? Are you sure you got through-“

Sarmenti: “Shhh,Sh sh sh…”

The two sat in silence for a few moments, and Sarmenti pulled out his lute.

Sarmenti: “Let me try and recreate what I’m hearing, Damian. Maybe you know about it?…Hmm…”

Damian fiddled with his instrument a bit, tuning it.

Sarmenti: “…so that would be…a different chord…pitch….and a bit of this….”

The Jester began to play…

 

      A...B-A, B-A, D-C#-A...

 

As the jester played the melody, the door began to glow brighter…and then it stopped glowing…

Damian: : “I think you broke it, Jingles.”

Sarmenti: “Well, perhaps it was a spirit that needed to be put to res-“

KCH-CHUNK!

The door suddenly flung itself open, revealing a gaping wound in reality itself! Two arms, formed as pale shadows, punctured through the crack in the air, gripping onto The Jester and The Flagellant, nearly crushing them in its vice grip, as it dragged them into the doorway, and into the unseen world below…

Sarmenti: “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”

Damian: “YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”

 

And everything faded to an unconscious darkness… black as death …

---

 

Chapter 2: An Unfamiliar Town.

Summary:

Local idiots find themselves in the 21st century. Have a bad first impression. More at 11.

Also, yes, I do infact subscribe to the HC that Faraway is located in Long Island. Oya Sue Me.

Pain. Throbbing, agonizing pain. That is what Sarmenti’s mind immediately went to as he began to recover his senses. A split second earlier his eyes were shut involuntarily…now they remain shut to gather the strength to breathe. He felt the ground beneath his skin…soft…grassy. Strange. Haven’t felt a patch of soft grass since the Stain emerged. It felt good truth be told, like a warm welcoming embrace from Mother Nature. A cool breeze fluttered the air, bringing with it clean, fresh scents…that were rather rudely interrupted by the smell of blighted rot.

“Sigh .”

Sarmenti worked up the courage to open his eyes, expecting to see the worst…and found himself staring at a night sky, twinged with the gentle orange hue of sunrise. There were…trees, green healthy trees just in his peripherals. The stars he could barely see in the sky were calm, no signs of interference by the occult or eldritch. He gathered enough willpower to sit up, finding Damian on his side, unconscious.

Sarmenti: “Damian?! Damian!”

Sarmenti pushed the blistering pulse in his head to the backburner as he raced towards his friend. Desperately he shook the corpse, attempting to wake it…and was met with displeased mumbles…and a horrendous gasp.

Damian: “-NEVER GET ME YOU WHITE HORsed…bastard…”

Sarmenti: “Oh thank The Light, I had assumed death claimed you at last!”

Damian: “Nope. And she isn’t going to! Haha!”

Damian triumphantly rose to his feet…and looked around, experiencing the same confusion Sarmenti was having.

Damian: “Jingles? Where the fuck are we?”

Sarmenti: “We aren’t in the Valley, I can tell that much. Trees are too full.”

Sarmenti stood up, and looked around. They were on a medium sized hill, overlooking water. To their front, a small beach could be seen, with bluer waters than either of them had seen in years. To their flanks were more trees, leading into a few clearings…and signs of man made structures stood. Fences, and lampposts…that weren’t powered by fire. Odd colorful half buildings stood…a park for children…and in the far distance stood the grandest sight. Massive obelisk-like buildings that could reach the sky, one with a red medicinal cross blazing radiantly.

Sarmenti: “…What is this place?”

A bit of walking around a path not paved with cobblestones revealed a slightly overgrown sign, hidden by some stray weeds and vines.

“FARAWAY PARK”

Sarmenti: “Faraway…Park? Dami? Have you ever heard of a place called Faraway?”

Damian: “I can't say I have.”

Sarmenti: “Strange…”

Sarmenti coughed softly.

Sarmenti: “Well with any luck there will be an Inn nearby where we can find out how to get back to the sprawl. If we’re lucky maybe we’ll even find a shortcut to the mountain! Heehee!”

Damian: “Yeah…about that. Jingles, you happen to notice anything… off ?”

Sarmenti took a moment to look around.

Sarmenti: “Not particularly, no.”

Damian: “ Exactly. No one is dying, No buildings are on fire, the roads and places are clean, the water is crystal clear, the stars are unmolested, and most of all, the mountain isn’t visible. ”

Sarmenti took pause, looking all around as high as he could. The infernal Mountain, source of the Spreading Stain, could be seen for leagues and leagues away, ever taunting, ever oppressing. An everlasting reminder of the coming apocalypse, and the force that ruined the world. And yet, it was nowhere in sight. Gone. Hidden.

Sarmenti: “…You’re right…by the Light, you’re right…”

Damian: “…We need answers. We need to get to an inn. The sun is rising, let’s move.”

Damian Idly picked at some of his scabs, exposing them to the air. Sarmenti walked along, both their heads on a swivel.

The sun rose brightly over the sleepy town. Normal, decent folk emerged from their bedrooms and homes, brushing teeth, eating breakfast, wishing loved ones a good day as they made their way out the door to go to work…and they would more than likely be greeted by the sight of a strange man wearing a white mask dressed in bells and jingles with a sickle and lute, and a living, desecrated corpse, constantly bleeding at his own discretion a thick, dark green fluid….Quite understandably, people were horrified, and the police would be bombarded with a storm of panicked callers.

 

“There’s two men outside my home that are gonna kill someone!”

“I saw two strangers on the street, drug addicts maybe!”

“There’s some clown parading around with a dead guy!”

 

And so on and so forth. The police would respond quickly. Rumors of a band of strange looking murderers will do that. A cop car quickly pulled in, spotting the two, letting a quick “BLOOP!” From its siren. Sarmenti and Damian spun around, weapons instinctively drawn.

Sarmenti: “What…the hell is that thing?”

Damian: “Another form of the Implication?”

The police man and his partner exited the car, weapons not drawn yet, but at the ready.

Policeman: “Good morning gents. You mind telling me what you’re doing at 7:50 AM on a Friday wearing…whatever Halloween costumes you’ve got on?”

Sarmenti breathed a gentle sigh of relief.

Sarmenti: “Are you a local guild member?”

Policeman: “…What?”

Sarmenti: “No no no, A member of the local guard then?”

Policeman: “Sir what on god’s name are you-“

Damian: “Who the hell do you work for?”

The policeman glared at Damian, his polite demeanor dissolving at Damian’s transgression.

Policeman: “ For your information I “work” for the Suffolk County Police Department. I’m a cop. Now what the hell are you two freak show folk doing terrorizing this neighborhood?!”

Sarmenti would immediately step in, holding his hands out between the two, seeking to deescalate the situation before things got worse. If there was one thing they were in no need of, it would be hostilities.

Sarmenti: “Woah woah woah, okay okay. I do believe we allll got off on the wrong foot here. My name is Sarmenti, and here is my friend, Damian.”

Damian: “So are you an authority in town? Or another brigand leader?”

Policeman: “Brigand Wh- What the hell are you talking about?”

Sarmenti and Damian looked at eachother.

Sarmenti: “You haven’t been assaulted by any brigands? Or perhaps you have run into the cultists?”

The policeman cocked an eyebrow.

Policeman: “Only “Cultist” we’ve seen around here is that one weird guy obsessed with…trash or something, Look, I don’t know if you two are trying to be funny or something, but it’s early in the morning, so if you two will just give me some ID then I can write you off a ticket or some shit and just be on with our days.”

Damian: “ID?”

Policeman: “Yeah. Identification…You speak English, right?”

Sarmenti: “Well of course. Surely you must have heard word of our deeds from the other inns?”

Policeman: “The other what now?”

Sarmenti: “Yes, the other inns. The…The bearers of news?”

The policeman looked at Sarmenti with a face full of bafflement, and vexation.

Policeman: “Wh…I…Wh…what? What time period do you numbskulls think we live in?!”

Damian opened his decayed maw to speak, then took a pause as that sentence clicked in his rotten head. He began speaking slowly and methodically.

Damian: “What year are we in exactly?”

Policeman: “It’s 2000, last I checked.”

Sarmenti and Damian slowly turned towards each other. The look on Sarmenti's face said it all…he coughed loudly, turning to the cop, putting on his best innocent voice and face behind his mask.

Sarmenti: “My apologies sir. It seems we’ve drastically misunderstood the situation. Sorry for making you come all the way out here…We’ll be taking our leave now.”

The two began to walk away, when the partner exited the car...

Policeman 2: “No ID huh?”

Policeman: “Maxwell, calm down.”

Policeman 2: “What are you two? Some kind of carnie freaks or something?”

Damian looked at the cop, frowning.

Damian: “Do I look like I sell trinkets and baubles? Like Sarmenti said, We’ll get out of your hair.”

Policeman 2: “No I don’t think that’s how this ends. I think, we should take you down to jail and see what the city records say of you.”

Policeman: “Maxwell! Cool it!”

Policeman 2: “And give up this chance to boost my portfolio? I haven’t made an arrest in 3 months!”

Damian stood fast, staring into Maxwell's soul. He approached…and Damian moved to peel another scab. Maxwell’s brain auto corrected, drew his weapon, and fired…unleashing a stream of high voltage directly into Damian’s chest.

Damian: “GZTZTZGZGGGZTZTTGGGZHNHHNGGHHG”

Normally, this would be the part where the policeman heroically watches the tazed victim fall to the ground and arrests them…but Damian wasn’t most men…he began to laugh and grin as the new sensation flowed within him. Sure he was used to the sting of an odd jellyfish now and again. But such high energy, coursing through him…it was intoxicating, refreshing even! The taser emptied its charge, and a huffing and panting Flagellant tore the taser prongs out of his skin, chuckling darkly.

Damian: “That….was… marvelous ! I had thought all sources of pain had been brought to me, but that…do it again!”

Sarmenti at this point leaned against a streetlamp, regretting every decision that lead him to this moment, idly strumming a tune.

Maxwell: “Wh…What the hell…? How are you still…?!”

Damian: “That thing! That glorious thing! Hit me with it again! I beg of you!”

Maxwell began to back up, clearly unsettled by the Flagellant’s reaction to being pumped full of amps. Damian’s reaction was to menacingly stride over, hoping to provoke a reaction. The first policeman sighed deeply, and pulled out his taser, shocking Damian with his own stun gun. Again, the feeling of freshly stimulated nerve cells was invigorating and ecstasy delivering to Damian, who simply stood there, awash with the sensations he was feeling. That stun gun too emptied its charge into the rotting man, and Damian let out a triumphant laugh!

Damian: “Hahaha! Yes!….This time may have new sensations yet!”

Sarmenti: “Yes yes. Now, fine gentlemen. I do not wish to be rude, but we have important things to discuss. If you’ll excuse us-“

With one clean flick of his wrist, a hidden smoke bomb was deployed, blinding the cops with thick white smog. When the miasma cleared, all that was left was a handful of RELICS. Useless as normal currency in this modern era…excluding the fact that they were made of gold of course.

Maxwell: “Damn it! Where the hell did they go?!”

Policeman: “Hell if I know, and quite frankly, I don’t care. You drew your service weapon on a suspect who wasn’t hostile.”

Maxwell: “Not hostile my ass! He was clearly armed!”

Policeman: “Oh yeah, sure, with a short ranged flail. How life threatening….speaking of life threatening though, how is that guy still standing? Think he’s got some kind of skin condition with how rotted he looks?”

Maxwell: “I’m a bit more concerned as to how the hell he withstood two full charge tasers!"

Policeman: “The Chief is gonna want to hear about this….great. Here's hoping that's the last of our worries for the day..."

The cops enter the police car, and drive off back to their headquarters...

 

Chapter 3: The Outcasts

Summary:

Sarmenti and Damian meet with the Local Hooligans. First impressions once again do not go so great...but an opportunity arises when push comes to shove.

Damian and Sarmenti had fled into the woods of the park once more, panting and sweating as they ran deeper and deeper into the greenery. After a few minutes of this, Sarmenti slowed down, holding onto a nearby tree for support, heaving and gasping.

Sarmenti: “Hufff….huufff….did….huffgh…did we….lose them….?”

Damian: “I think so. I don’t hear the baying of hounds quite yet, so I assume no.”

Sarmenti slumped down, leaning against the tree he had supported himself on just a moment ago. The gravity of the situation settling in.

Sarmenti: “…2000. We are in the year of Two. Goddamn. Thousand.”

Damian: “Assuming that guy wasn’t lying of course.”

Sarmenti: “What reason would he have?”

Damian: “Touché.”

The two spend a few seconds compiling their thoughts, Sarmenti casually throwing a small rock at another tree in the distance.

Sarmenti: “400 years and culture has changed so harshly…it’s rather strange, no?”

Damian: “At Least the world is still alive.”

Sarmenti paused…and a slight grin formed

Sarmenti: “True, True! If the world is still alive by now, then surely that means the apocalypse has been averted!”

Damian: “Heh! Yeah! I bet that bastard got what was coming to them…Who do you think did it? Dismas perhaps?”

Sarmenti: “Ah yes, the gunman…perhaps…”

Sarmenti and Damian laughed gently. Taking a few minutes to rest and recover from ordeals was something that was rarely an opportunity outside of inns and the occasional Oasis, so a moment to spend reflecting and recovering is always a luxury…a luxury that would be short lived as there were sounds of laughter and commotion occurring in the distance of the park’s woods.

Sarmenti: “You hear that?”

Damian: “Yeah, that I can hear. Laughter.”

Sarmenti: “I swear if it’s any of those…flesh wall… things from the Manor…eugh…”

Sarmenti rose to his feet,creeping down as he made his way along with Damian towards the noise. Sneaking around was always Audrey and Bonnie’s thing, but Sarmenti knew how to stay low and out of sight; a necessity born of working in the courts…Damian however would be more of a problem. The decayed, blighted blood that coursed through his veins had an extremely peculiar green glow to them. And while that was rather useful at times, stealth would not be one of those times. Thankfully the forest was chock full of green, and the daylight hours made the prospect of glowing a moot issue.

Damian: “Hey, Jingles. How many more smoke bombs do you have?

Sarmenti: “I only have one. I left the others in the Carriage with the rest of the explosives.”

Damian: “Great. Juuuust great.”

The two continued to slink closer, and eventually found themselves on the outskirts of a private sector of the park. Closed off to the public due to ongoing construction, as evidenced by the wooden blockades. It was a quaint area, covered in trees, dirt, with the odd plaything littered about, forgotten by time. The central focus of the zone would be a medium sized water hole, with a wooden pier attached that went out to the lake, and a disconnected island in the middle that housed a disconcernable structure, a statue of some sort of memories long past. A more recent addition, however, would be that of a blue plaid colored rug laying on the ground, coated with various stains of food, and other, brighter pigments. A singular, forlorn wood basket lay upon it, Preserved, but not in use. The area was empty, except for the bird and bugs that lazed around.

Sarmenti: “What a strange area this is.”

Damian: “It’s…peaceful. Tranquil even….I’m not a fan.”

THWIP! The familiar sound of the lash smacking into Damian’s back would ring out, as He sucked in a breath.

Damian: “Oooh. Got a good one that time~”

Sarmenti: “Shhh! We still don’t know where that damnable laughter came from. We could be watched at this very second!”

Damian: “Who on earth would come to this place?”

Sarmenti: “Someone or Something who would want privacy, no doubt.”

Damian: “I guess so.”

The two would fan out in the area, exploring the secluded spot for any worthwhile notes, hints, or baubles. Sarmenti would have little luck. Damian on the other hand would manage to find a pristine blue Seashell. Damian slipped it into a shockingly hole less pocket on his ruined clothes, and chuckled.

Damian: “Hey Jingles. Found a seashell here. You think Baldwin’d know where it’s from?”

Sarmenti: “I don’t know, What do I look like, a sea creature analyst?”

Damian: “You look like a clown in motley garb.”

Sarmenti: “No shit.”

Damian let a playful snicker out, and Sarmenti rolled his eyes.

Sarmenti: “Look. This area could be beneficial to us. It’s close enough to civilization to further our exploits and information gathering, yet far and abandoned enough that no one in their right mind would come here!”

Damian: “So this is to be our campsite then?”

Sarmenti: “Do you have any better ideas?”

Damian: “…No.”

Sarmenti: “Then it’s settled. Until we can either improve our conditions, or find a way back home, this shall be our campsite.”

Damian: “Fine. But we’re gonna need some campsite stuff. You atleast.”

Sarmenti: “Think perhaps we could fashion a tent out of that cloth?”

Damian: “Probably.”

Sarmenti: “Then let’s……hold on.”

Sarmenti paused again, listening…the trees rustling oddly, in a certain direction…leaf and branch cracking under feet…

Sarmenti: “Something’s coming! Move!”

Damian and Sarmenti dove into some nearby bushes, and waited. Sure enough the crushing footsteps got closer and closer…and out popped a rather energetic, thin male teenager. Hair in an atrocious pompadour, wearing some form of overalls with angelic wings upon it, they eagerly scoured the area, motioning the others to follow. And follow in the others did. Another person, this one with a thick blue cloak despite the weather, equipped with strange bifocals upon her face, walked alongside a much heartier man with a stubble and hair molded into devil horns. An extraordinarily tall woman came next, lumbering into view, hair partially obscuring her face. Despite her intimidating demeanor, she seemed to be the farthest back of the group so far. Especially compared to the blowhard extravaganza that was the next one to pop out the woods. Hair a shining blond, teal dress shirt half tucked in, simultaneously a fashion disaster and attention grabbing, his exaggerated movements only served to bolster his swagger.

Sarmenti: “ That must be their leader….hmm…Strange choice, but I’ve witnessed-“

And then, she came into view. She had long flowing pink hair, with a blue bow and icy blue eyes, adorned with a jacket with sleeves rolled up to her elbows, opened up to display a black shirt that exposed her midriff, wearing a skirt of jean material, only going down to her knees, and that was just barely. In her hand she held a wooden baseball bat that had been modified with nails driven into the barrel and wrappings applied to the grip for better handling and higher lethality. Her aura radiated that of supreme confidence and head strength. The others looked to her with awe and for guidance. No doubt about it, she was their leader. The skinny overall wearing kid spoke up.

???: “Alright AUBREY, We’re all here, what’s the plans for today?”

Aubrey. The name of their leader. A name Sarmenti rolled around in his mind. Curious. What is this group though? Brigand? Cult? Aubrey is clearly armed with a weapon, yet the others aren’t? Curious still…

Aubrey: “Well…Not much. Anyone got any ideas?”

The leader leaned aloofly on a nearby tree. Sarmenti scanned around with his eyes, looking for Damian, when he noticed a gleam in a brush next to him…a strange contraption, a metallic frame supporting two small wheels on the bottom, with an elongated metal stick pointing upwards. A method of transport? Why would you use this? Wouldn’t a carriage or horse be a better alternative than such a flimsy thing? Then again those policemen did arrive in that metal vehicle…

???: “We could head to Gino’s. Weather guy said it’s going to be boiling hot today!”

Aubrey: “Maybe. But it’s still pretty cool out for now…”

The leader put on a grin.

Aubrey: “You guys wanna pull some pranks?”

The group chuckled in agreement.

???: “Of course! THE MAVERICK agrees with this idea!”

???: “Oh my god MIKHAEL if you call yourself that one more time I’m going to throw you into the lake.”

Mikhael: “The Maverick shall take no offense to your inflammatory statement, KIM!”

More names to faces. Good, Good. Now all that’s left is the tall one and the fat one.

The Maverick: “VANCE! CHARLENE! The Maverick asks you to retrieve our Scooters!”

The Maverick spoke with an air of exaggerated swagger and poise, imagining him a king above his subjects.…Vance and Charlene both looked at The Maverick…unamused.

Vance: “Hey, you’ve got arms of your own, don’t you? Go get your own ride!”

The Maverick hemmed and hawed, but eventually went over to the bushes where they had hidden their certainly legally acquired modes of transportation…although Sarmenti was dangerously close to one of those rides so long as he doesn’t move or get touched, he should be f-

*Rustle Rustle.*

*Jingle Jingle!*

Sarmenti: “… Damn it all.”

The Maverick would have about 0.7 seconds to register the odd jingle sound as Sarmenti popped out from the bush. Immediately the Cocksure teenager would fall backwards with shock, and the rest of the gang’s gaze would fall upon the stranger with impunity. Immediately the group’s leader, Aubrey would stand forward, bat at the ready.

Aubrey: “Who the hell are you?!”

Sarmenti: “Who the hell are you ?!”

Aubrey and Sarmenti would lock eyes…and Aubrey’s face would turn to a cruel grin.

Aubrey: “Well now. Looks like someone’s treading on our Turf !”

Sarmenti: “Turf?! Miss, we found this place first!”

Angel: “Bullshit! Aubrey led us to this place years ago!”

Sarmenti’s gaze would land onto the suspiciously not decayed Picnic Blanket, and groaned. Why would a picnic blanket just be there?! Stupid, stupid, stupid…

Sarmenti: “…I see. Well, I suppose I’ll take my-“

Kim: “Hold up…You look like one of those Clowns they had in the old days. Court jester, right?”

Sarmenti blinked, astounded that his profession remained even to this day.

Sarmenti: “Why, yes! That is exactly who I am.”

Kim: “Then why don’t you give us a little song and dance, clown ?”

The teenagers snickered. Sarmenti looked at them worriedly as they began to slowly advance…surely he wasn’t going to be forced to run away from a group of rowdy teenagers. They are older, wiser than their prepubescent counterparts…

Sarmenti: “Um…Now now you all, i'm sure we could talk this out properly…!”

Aubrey: “ Get him !”

Sarmenti: “FUCK-“

And with that the chase was on! Sarmenti dashed into the woods, being eagerly followed by the rest of the hooligans, save for Charlene, who was content with simply hanging in the clearing, and Maverick, who was dusting himself off after falling in the dirt.

Maverick: “How dare that miscreant cause such a startle to The Maverick!

It would be at that point that The Maverick would be greeted by the sounds of snapping twigs, as Damian shuffled into view from out of his own bush. His rotted body and glowing green veins looking straight out of a horror film…and a good quality one at that! He gave Maverick a sly smirk.

Damian: “Heya there, Mikhael.”

Maverick: “…. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA ”

The Maverick’s bravado would vanish in about -2 seconds flat, as he let out a girly, ear piercing scream that the other teenagers could hear from a mile away, as they all rushed over to see what the matter was…and come face to face with the vivisected living dead man known as Damian. Aubrey would rush to the head of the group, face alight with worry…which turned to a dark glare as she saw this spike wearing decaying man standing over her friend.

Aubrey: “MIKHAEL!”

Aubrey would act on instinct, thinking one of her friends was about to be hurt! Quickly she readied the bat, and smashed it into the torso of the rotted man. A painful, if not life threatening wound…but Damian reacted simply by laughing, marveling at the pain of the nails digging into his skin.

Damian: “Oh! Oh, That weapon is good, it’s punctured deep into my flesh. You make it yourself?”

Damian would rip the bat out, and hand it back to an utterly flummoxed Aubrey.

Aubrey: “Wh…I-“

Damian: “Well? Aren’t you gonna hit me again?”

Aubrey would forcibly take the bat back, a look of disgust flashing on her face.

Aubrey: “…Are you like…a zombie or something?”

Damian: “You mean like a Gaunt? Sort of.”

Damian beamed with pride.

Damian: “Through my endless wandering I have found pain aplenty, and from its morbid delights, I have gleaned power beyond the void! My very body, a living prayer to the light, eager for new marks!”

Damian pointed to Aubrey’s bat, then opened his arms wide to maximize surface area.

Damian: “So come on! What are you waiting for?! HIT ME DAMN YOU!”

Aubrey panic swung at that loud yell ,clocking Damian in the head. He staggered a bit, laughing excitedly.

Damian: “Yes! Yes! Again!”

Aubrey took a few more steps back, obviously freaked out.

Aubrey: “…Dude you need like… Clinical help.”

Sarmenti would walk back into the clearing, a twig tangled in his outfit’s extends.

Sarmenti: “It’s a long story. Damian is just like that. He’s a Flagellant.”

Aubrey and The Hooligans would back up from the two, faces drained of bravado.

Aubrey: “You-You know this freak?”

Sarmenti: “Yes, Regrettably. Now, I know this whole situation seems out of whack, but trust me, there is a very rational, standard explanation for this-“

Damian: “We’re from 400 years in the past!”

….

……

……………

Aubrey: “…What”

Vance: “Aubrey? Should we call the cops or something?”

Kim: “Yeah really, these guys have gotta be escaped nut jobs or something.”

Sarmenti groaned at Damian’s response. So much for seeming like somewhat normal people.

Sarmenti: “…No no, it’s true. As blunt as my friend here is, he’s telling the truth. We…are, from 400 years ago.”

Vance: “Yeah, right. And I’m the king of England.”

Sarmenti: “I’m telling you all the truth!”

Kim: “Definitely nut jobs. I’m getting the cops and-“

Damian: “And risk them finding your secret spot?”

The conversation suddenly ground to a halt, as Damian let out a raspy giggle.

Damian: “You claim this area is your turf, right? I doubt some young people like you would be able to get a land permit, or some other form of official documentation. This is public property, you’re just a bunch of vagabonds here, like us.”

Sarmenti would almost instinctively jut in to say that is not what a vagabond is, but held his tongue for the moment.

Damian: “Now, you could go get the local guard, and sure they’d probably remove Jingles and I, but who’s to say you won’t be next? I’m not so sure you’re a bunch of nice little pure angels the cops would come running to save…more likely you’re a bunch of troublemakers the cops are gunning for, waiting for you to make a mistake, to bust you in the act, right?”

Aubrey and the rest shuffled uncomfortably.

Damian: “So, how’s about this for a fair trade? You don’t believe we’re telling the truth so…why don’t we just…agree to disagree? Sarmenti and I stay here, away from you guys while we figure out this mess we got ourselves into, and in return we both benefit from it…after all…”

Damian took a prideful pose, sickly grin and pulsating scars bared for all to see.

Damian: “We’re adults. We can do things you kids can’t.”

The group fell silent…and Aubrey huddled them together, whispering and muttering.

Sarmenti: “How the hell did you learn to do that ?”

Damian: “You think I don’t pay attention when you’re negotiating with the Desperate Few?”

Sarmenti: “Oh, you cheeky bastard! Learning from the best I see?”

After a few seconds more of deliberation, Aubrey walked forward…and sighed, arms crossed and a glower in her gaze.

Aubrey: “ Fine . You two can stay over by the corner there, near the pinwheels…but if you as much as look at anyone funny so help you god…”

Damian took out his less rotted hand, holding out for a handshake. Aubrey reluctantly returned the grasp, completing the impromptu agreement.

Damian: “Trust me, Aubrey. You won’t regret this.”

Damian chuckled again, and led Sarmenti and himself to the corner…the others spoke worriedly as Aubrey desperately wiped her hand on her coat.

Kim: “This is so going to end poorly, isn’t it?”

Charlene: “…I l-like the clown…”

Aubrey: “Alright… sigh… back to our plan…”

Chapter 4: Uneasy Alliances

Summary:

After a rather daring Prank gone successful, Aubrey returns to the hangout spot, only to find she forgot something back at the scene of the crime. Thankfully, the recently arrived Jester knows a thing or two about sneaking into places unseen.

Time passed, and the Hooligans were out and about. They had returned later in the afternoon, depositing their rides back to the bushes briefly before going out to either conduct some more mayhem, or simply return home. Sarmenti and Damian, following the terms of the agreement, had made their sector of the hidden hangout known. Scouring about for some materials had borne fruit, as a shopping cart and some old musty tarps allowed for the construction of a makeshift shelter. It was no Torch and Crown, but it would do for the moment. The stars in the sky shone radiantly, with no hint of corruption or malevolent force. It would be pretty, if not for the fact that Sarmenti and Damian had other things to worry about. They would need food and water soon. While they very thankfully had a few tinned delicacies and some spare mineral rich water, such supplies would not last forever. There were surely methods of nutritional acquisition, but due to their vigilante status with the local guard, such methods would have to require some…finesse. Sarmenti would be lying against a half rotted stump of a tree, pondering how to solve his predicament, when he heard more rustling…the pink haired lady returned, looking slightly tired, yet satisfied with the work she had done with the others. She glanced a look over at the two miscreants, sighed, and went to reach for something in her coat before heading out…which she evidently failed to have on her.

Aubrey: “Wait the…where…Where are my fucking keys?”

Aubrey’s pat down became more panicked, frantic, looking about…then froze, remembering a critical detail…and groaned loudly.

Aubrey: “Shit! Goddamn it!”

Sarmenti, sensing an opportunity, got up, dusting himself off.

Sarmenti: “Something wrong?”

Aubrey: “Nothing of your concern.”

Sarmenti frowned.

Sarmenti: “Aubrey. Do you need-“

Aubrey: “It’s nothing!”

Silence filled the air as Sarmenti shrugged and went to sit back down…then Aubrey sighed.

Aubrey: “While I was out with the others, I set my keys down for a second to help out. I must’ve forgotten to pick them back up before we left.”

Sarmenti: “Any idea where you left them?”

Aubrey: “In the school. We were doing…stuff, there. The building is empty for the summer, at least until either summer classes start or some other bullshit, so we wanted to leave a…message for them. Heh.”

Aubrey’s frustration lowered a touch as she chuckled proudly at her work.

Sarmenti: “Ohhh I see…and you leaving your keys there are bad, cause it’s not like you can just go back, right?”

Aubrey: “Yeah, no shit.”

Sarmenti: “So you’d need to sneak back in, get your keys, and sneak out all over again.”

Aubrey: “What are you getting at?”

Sarmenti cleared his throat.

Sarmenti: “This sounds like a multi-person job, does it not?”

Aubrey: “I can manage without the others.”

Sarmenti: “I was meaning more like…oh fuck it, do you want us to help you with this?”

Sarmenti’s suave tone fell as his patience ran dry.

Aubrey: “Pfft. Yeah, sure. Bring two random strangers with me, one who’s a clown and one who’s a corpse. Fat chance.”

Sarmenti: “A clown who has skills. Very…Unique skills."

Sarmenti stood up, cricking his neck.

Aubrey: “What? Are you gonna juggle my keys to me or something?”

Sarmenti: “I was thinking more…breaking and entering.”

Aubrey cocked an eyebrow.

Sarmenti: “Come on. You seriously don’t think in my time a person like me survived by being innocent now do you?”

Aubrey: “You? Breaking and Entering?”

Sarmenti: “Being a court jester made it rather easy to get into secure places.”

Aubrey thought, looked around for a bit…and exhaled through her nose.

Aubrey: “Okay fine. You can come. But not that zombie dude…where is he anyway?”

Speaking of the devil, Damian came out of the woods, mouth in a manic grin…and a small cat latched onto his arm, clawing and biting and munching on it.

Damian: “Look who I found in the woods! This tiny cat has potential! I shall claim him, and name him…later.”

Damian sat down with the newly found feline companion, and watched with awe as it cutely sliced into his dead skin.

Sarmenti: “You have cats in the woods?”

Aubrey: “Ferals. They’re always hungry. Some say a pack of them can clean a person’s body to a skeleton in just under a minute.”

…Sarmenti was about to ask just how such a specific measure of time was acquired, but Aubrey began to head out, so Sarmenti bit his tongue and moved along with her out of the woods of the park. The streetlights were on, the neighborhood was sleeping….it was quiet, save for the odd vehicle that drove around containing late night teens, or an occasional fast food order. Thankfully the school wasn’t too far from the park, although it did require some yard hopping, and at least one duck behind a car to avoid getting spotted by a rogue police patrol ensuring no mischief was happening…once again showing just how fantastic of a job they were doing. The school was in view, and soon it was within spitting distance. A tall chain link fence would normally prevent such a devious crime of trespassing, but alas, an unfortunate run in with time and decay resulted in a chunk of the fence breaking free, enough to be held up to allow entry. Aubrey looked up at the window they used to break in.

Aubrey: “Alright clown, I’m gonna head into that window. From there I’ll be able to get the door, and then we can head into the gym from there.”

Sarmenti: “Wouldn’t it be faster to use the door?”

Aubrey: “Door’s locked, dumbass.”

Sarmenti: “In your words: No shit. You happen to have a small bit of metal?”

Aubrey paused for a moment…and produced a small hair pin. Sarmenti took it, and pulled out his dagger. In an instant he began work on the lock. You would expect such an important establishment to be well protected, but nope, the lock fell with just a bit of effort with the hair pin to set the lock, and some crafty turning of the knife to act as a tension rod. The door clicked, and it swung open, with Sarmenti smugly handing the Bobby pin back.

Sarmenti: “Ladies first.”

Aubrey: “Hmph. Well done.”

Aubrey nodded in acknowledgment, heading inside the building, shutting the door once Sarmenti was inside.

Sarmenti: “Okay. We’re inside. You know where the gym is so I’ll follow. Are there any guards?”

Aubrey: “Yeah. Two of ‘em today, one on the top floor, one on the bottom.”

Sarmenti: “…And I assume you want to deal with this without bloodshed?”

Aubrey looked at Sarmenti aghast, smacking him on the back of the head

Aubrey: “Dude, seriously?! This isn’t some assassin job, I’m just getting my fucking keys!”

Sarmenti: “Ow. Just making sure.”

Aubrey and Sarmenti crept through the halls, staying low. Aubrey had this place known like the back of her hand, so getting to the gymnasium was easy. The hard part however, was soon to rear its ugly head, as one of the flummoxed patrol officers was standing there, staring at the…very vulgar and crude message, lovingly spray painted on the wall of the room. She called immediately for back up, and harried footsteps came from down the hall.

Aubrey: “Shit, hide!”

Sarmenti and Aubrey ducked beside some empty spaces next to the lockers, normally reserved for hallway make out sessions, or for the janitors to put their buckets. The guard peered down for a moment, before turning to the gymnasium and nearly shrieking.

Guard: “WHO THE FUCK DID THIS?????”

Aubrey snickered.

Guard: “I swear to god, if it’s those stupid hooligans, I am going, to STRANGLE THEM, WITH THEIR OWN REPORT CARDS!”

Aubrey held a hand to her mouth to keep her position hidden, trying to suppress as much laughter as she could. Sarmenti desperately held a finger to his masked mouth, trying to get her to shush. Eventually one of the guards stormed out feistily to call for some help cleaning this up, leaving the gymnasium with the other guard lady.

Sarmenti: “There’s one inside. Where are your keys?”

Aubrey: “Last I remembered, they’re by the bleachers.”

Sarmenti: “The what?”

Aubrey: “The bleachers. Y'know…big metal seats? Used for sports?”

Sarmenti: “Oh! You mean the stands. Okay okay, I think I get it.”

The jester peeked at the corner, watching as the guard in the gym sat down to look at something. He slinked into the gym, hiding within the deep dark that enveloped him…ignoring the feeling of unease being in such an unlit area gave him. He pressed on, hiding behind the metal stands that just a few weeks ago held hundreds of rowdy students watching sports games en masse. Sarmenti peered through the slits of bleacher seats, and eventually spotted the keys…and a simple bit of sleight of hand allowed him to swiftly snatch the keychain, which had an odd trinket of…an aubergine with a face on it. How entertaining. He was about to head back towards the entrance, when that rowdy guard from earlier rushed in.

Guard: “Alright, I’ve got the janitors on the way. Said he’ll be here in about 5 to 10…ARE YOU PLAYING A FUCKING TOMAGATCHI ON DUTY?!”

The other guard panicked, arms sheepishly hid behind her back.

Guard 2: “Uhh, N-No I’m not!”

Guard: “What’s in your hand?”

Guard 2: “Nothing…!”

While the two guards argued, Sarmenti gave a smirk. The distraction was nice but alas, he needed their attention away from the doors. He took a relic from his bag, and chucked it across the room, in the direction of the artwork. The guard’s visions snapped to the loud thudding noise that followed, and Sarmenti snuck over to the door, opening it quietly….or that was the plan anyways. The door’s opening mechanism would activate with a loud, distinct CHUNK sound which immediately alerted the two guards to his position.

Sarmenti: “ Shit. ”

Guard: “HEY!”

Sarmenti bolted through the door, slamming it open and sprinting down the hall.

Sarmenti: “I got the keys! We gotta go, now!”

Aubrey followed quickly behind as Sarmenti burst through the exit door he unlocked, the guards rapidly pursuing. Racing to the fence line, Sarmenti opened the chain link disappointment for Aubrey, and she crawled through. He ducked in quickly himself, pulling down the fence just as the Guard reached where he had been a second prior. The Jester laughed mockingly as he sprinted away into the night with the pink haired delinquent, The guard slamming her fist into the fence with rage at being foiled by a teenage hooligan...and a man in a costume.

Heading back to the secret hangout spot, Sarmenti panted and huffed as he slumped to his knees, taking an emergency session of oxygen heaving. Aubrey exhaled as she spent a far more graceful second recovering.

Aubrey: “Huff…Holy shit dude…we actually managed to outrun both of them…nice work.”

Sarmenti: “Huff…huff….hooough…fuck me, last time I ran that fast was when I was being hunted by Swine Folk…”

Sarmenti held out the keychain, which Aubrey swiftly took.

Aubrey: “Thanks….Mom probably would have killed me if I lost this.”

Sarmenti: “Or the…guards could’ve traced you…to the crime.”

Aubrey: “…Ohh shit, I didn’t even think of that, you’re right…damn….”

Aubrey held a hand out towards Sarmenti to help him up, which Sarmenti graciously accepted.

Sarmenti: “Huff…See? Both benefiting. Heh.”

Aubrey let out a snort at that, and headed into the clearing. Damian was asleep on the bare ground,rocks intentionally digging into his back, with the tiny feline laid on his chest, kept warm in the small pocket of his clothes.

Sarmenti: “Huh…If not for the fact that Damian is a rotten glowing corpse, I’d say that looked moderately cute.”

Aubrey: “It’s like Evil Dead met Hocus Pocus.”

Sarmenti: “What met What?”

Aubrey: “Oh come on, don’t tell me you’ve never heard of movies before?”

Sarmenti would give a confused look.

Aubrey: “Oh fucks sake…look, I gotta get home before my mom realizes I’m out past curfew breaking the law with a Clown. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Sarmenti: “Alright then. Good luck, and rest well.”

Aubrey: “….You too, uh….Sarmanti?”

Sarmenti: “ Men ti”

Aubrey: “Sarmenti…Gotcha.”

And with that, Aubrey was off, walking into the night. Sarmenti himself rubbed his eyes behind his mask, blinking harshly. He slowly walked over to the tarp covered shopping cart he called a home, crawled under it, and began to drift off to sleep, thankful for the soft patch of grass that laid beneath him.

Unfortunately, sleep would not be peaceful this night. Not for Sarmenti anyhow. For the blighted beast, the pink haired punk, and everyone else in this small hamlet, maybe, but for Sarmenti, he would not be afforded the luxury of a calm rest. Instead, he would awaken within his mind’s eye in a dark, black void. This was no surprise to Sarmenti. He had been here before, in the days after he would confront his past at the Hero Shrines, giving him access to abilities long forgotten, forcing him to face his failures…except there was no spreading stain here, no graveyards nor mocking courtesans, no this was something else. Something far more ancient and venerable, some place he had slipped into…a dark place…he saw some things all around him, echos of echos, flittering scenes available for viewing for naught but a second, a maelstrom of sounds and visuals…a pinwheel, a shoe, a basketball, a box…a tree, a snowflake, a plant…a rope, a promise, a secret, sirens blaring…a closing door, a locked door, a piano key, laughter, laughter, sun, friends, peace, adventure, hope, clouds oranges trees keys fog sand volleyballs rabbits burgers a blade pizzasjelliescreaturesheartbreakflyingshipsaholeabarnaredlightacreatureapastrepressionguiltacrackacreatureanentityathingsomethingsomethingsomethingsomethingsomethingsomethingsomething

A vision - something falling…

Sarmenti would awaken with cold sweat and even an colder pit in his stomach. He lurched upward…banging his head on the shopping cart he was sleeping under. He quickly scrambled out and looked around for threats, both real and imagined…nothing. Nothing but the quiet hum of the night. Sarmenti staggered, bleary eyed and shaken from that nightmare, to that rotten stump from earlier. If he wasn’t going to be able to sleep, then the least he could do was take watch…

Chapter 5: Frustration, and Fury.

Summary:

Tensions run high as various events cause stress to rise. Damian falls unsatisfied with his pain quota, and so, seeks out new methods to acquire suffering...and he just so happens to know how to make people tick.

CW: This contains some rather graphic descriptions of violence. Il place a line before and after the segment incase you would rather not see that.

The morning sun lazily rose once again, filling the sky with bright beams of orange and yellow light. Sarmenti yawned, gently slapping the side of his head…and winced. Aubrey’s slaps may have hurt a bit more than he originally took her credit for. Damian groaned as he woke up, the cat hopping off and clamoring to the top of the shopping cart shelter. The tiny mews it produced invited surprisingly gentle pets from the Flagellant.

Damian: “Heheh…who’s my cute little pain box? Yes you are, yes you are…”

Sarmenti: “Pain box? Seriously? That’s what you're going to name it?”

Damian: “Maybe. I don’t know."

The cat responded to such indecisiveness by pouncing and nomming on Damian’s finger.

Damian: “Mngh!…Good kitty!”

Sarmenti sighed, rubbing his eyes to get the lack of sleep out of them.

Damian: “Slept poorly last night I see?”

Sarmenti: “Regrettably, yes. You appear to have slept well, so I suppose you’ll be the more level headed one today…Light help us all.”

Damian laughed, and pat Sarmenti on the back.

Damian: “Hey, at least we don’t have to worry about cultists or brigands interrupting our rest!”

Sarmenti: “Sure, Sure. We only have to worry about the weather, the local police, the teenagers we have an agreement with , lack of food, lack of water -“

Damian: “Light’s Radiance what the hell has you in such a twist?!”

Sarmenti paused, taking a deep breath, sighing.

Sarmenti: “My apologies…I…had a most peculiar evening last night.”

Damian: “You manage to complete the job with uh…Aubrey?”

Sarmenti: “Yes of course…but after that when I went to sleep I…I had this horrific dream. Not like the shrine dreams we got but…not unlike them either. It…it was just a constant barrage of visions, half remembered moments…and not my moments either, this was something else.”

Damian: “Anything specific you can remember?”

Sarmenti: “Not much…there was a shoe…a rope…some sort of flying ship?…And a vision…something falling to the ground…”

Damian: “The work of The Prophet?”

Sarmenti: “No. We killed him a long time ago, remember? Back at the Manor?”

The two shuddered.

Damian: “Yeesh. Don’t remind me of that damnable place, please.”

Sarmenti: “Sorry…”

Damian: “Still, sounds like you had it rough…I envy you somewhat. My sleep was peaceful and unremarkable.”

Damian would pick at another scab, and allow the kitten to bite at the fresh wound.

Sarmenti: “Ohh how horrible for you.”

Sarmenti snorted, and Damian grabbed his lash.

Damian: “Hang on. I know what to do.”

Damian gripped Sarmenti’s shoulder, concentrating on the Stress his friend was feeling…and struck at his back thrice over, fresh wounds soaking in the negative energy into himself. Sarmenti would feel the burden on his mind lessen considerably. Damian would feel…basically just as nutty as usual, so no big deal there…probably.

Sarmenti: “Gaugh…Thank you Damian…I, still have no idea how that works, but I appreciate it nonetheless.”

Damian: “You’re welcome.”

Sarmenti and Damian chuckled, and Sarmenti pulled out his Prized Lute.

Sarmenti: “Well…At Least I’ve still got Solo to strum with.

Sarmenti began to idly strum out a somewhat merry tune. A small diddy he once heard from one of the inns he and the others so frequently rested upon. The air began to clear, the mood around them improving beyond the confusion and stress, the times may be rough, but for this moment, it was bearable. That would be, until that oh so familiar walking sound of multiple crunching feet began to emanate from the woods.

Sarmenti: “They’re back? Already?”

Sarmenti and Damian went to the corner, as Aubrey arrived first this time, ahead of the others. She sat down and looked at the two.

Aubrey: “Hey Sarmenti.”

Sarmenti: “Hey. How are you?”

Aubrey: “Same shit, different day…was that you playing music just now?”

Damian: “Yep it was. Sarmenti knows how to play the lute.”

Sarmenti proudly held said lute.

Sarmenti: “It uh…I’ve always been a musician at heart. Since I was a young lad anyway. Father wanted me to be a farmhand, but…come on? Since when has farming ever compared to being a traveling musician! Heheh!”

Sarmenti strung out a few notes...while he was very much aware on his music being magic, he assumed that with the changing times, magic had been phased out by technology. Not wanting to strain the uneasy alliance he had formed so far with the teens, he simply chalked it up to playing well.

Sarmenti: “This bad boy has kept me company for…Light knows how long now. Strings never wear down, just needs some tuning now and again, like any good instrument.”

Aubrey: “What songs can you play?”

Sarmenti: “Well…anything, unless it involves the horn…but strings have always been my specialty.”

Sarmenti cracked his knuckles, and began to play,singing along.

There once was a beautiful meadow, Where cows would graze and feast, 

A place I sing in falsetto, Because it was ravished upon by a beast.

Listen to me my fellow, fore this fact is forgotten the least...

The monster that pillaged the lands was lead by a Mother, Fucking, Priest!

Aubrey let an amused half laugh out. She felt...strangely better after hearing that. Like a little weight was taken off her shoulders. Nothing major, but it certainly was appreciated.

Damian: “Hey, Jingles. Why don’t you show her the trick with the rose petals and-“

Sarmenti slowly looked at Damian, eyes wide. He shook his head firmly.

Damian: “Right, right. Forgot about that…sorry. But can you do that thing where you make your lute sound like a marching drum?”

Aubrey: “Make it sound like a what ? No way.”

Sarmenti smirked, and stood up straight. He held his lute in a peculiar fashion against his shoulder, gripping most of the strings, and then he plucked them with the other hand, energy flowing through the congested instrument…and sure enough, it sounded like some military standard marching drums. Sarmenti didn't need to hold it like that, not at all, but it helped sell the illusion of skill being used rather than magic. Aubrey’s eyes widened, impressed.

Aubrey: “How…Dude, that’s actually kind of sick.”

Sarmenti: “Yes, indeed. It took me a long time to master that little number.”

Damian: “And if you really wanna see something insane, just wait until you see when he talks about Junia-“

And that would get a swift back of the head slap by the Jester.

Sarmenti: “ ANYWAYS when are the others going to get here?”

Aubrey: “I dunno. Whenever they get here I guess.”

Sarmenti: “You don’t have a specific meeting time?”

Aubrey: “Not…really, no. Mainly just…”Morning”.”

Sarmenti: “Interesting.”

A few more minutes would go by, and the others slowly trickled in. They sat at various parts of the hang out spot, simply chilling out and enjoying the cooler weather today brought. Damian would get up, stretching out emaciated bones, and walked over to the pond in the middle of the place, holding his hand in to get some form of refreshment, leaving Sarmenti the spring water. He held his hand inside to scoop up some of the water, and drank it…to the disgust of the others.

Kim: “Yo zombie dude, how does botulism taste?”

Damian: “Like the finest wine ever crafted~”

Kim: “Christ you’re weird…and so is that clown guy.”

Angel: “Why do we even let them be here again? Why can’t we just run ‘em off?!”

Aubrey: “Hey, we have a deal, remember? Plus, The clown guy, Sarmenti…he’s useful.”

Vance: “Useful? How? I haven’t seen him juggle or fall on his face once!”

Aubrey smirked.

Aubrey: “Turns out Sarmenti knows a thing or two about breaking into and sneaking around important places. He helped me get my keys last night when I left them at the school.”

Angel: “Seriously?!”

Aubrey: “Yeah. And let me tell you, hearing the Bulldog’s reaction to our art was so worth having to break back in.”

Sarmenti: “I’m gOiNg tO StRaNgLe tHeM, wItH ThEiR OwN RePoRt cArDs!”

Aubrey and Sarmenti fell into laughter, and the rest of the hooligans followed quickly after.

Angel: “Hahaha! Oh man I wish I could’ve heard that!”

Vance: “You got your keys back, right?”

Aubrey: “Of course. Sarmenti snuck into the gym and pulled some trick with a coin to get the keys, then he ran through the door and we bolted out of there.”

Kim: “The door? How’d you get through the window?”

Aubrey: “We didn’t. He knows how to pick locks.”

The group looked at Sarmenti, who idly flipped his dagger in his hand, chuckling smugly.

Sarmenti: “Mmm, yes, please, inflate my ego even further.”

Kim: “Pfft. So you know how to pick some locks and throw some distractions. Big whoop.”

Damian: “Sounds like someone isn’t convinced.”

The attention shifted to the blighted thing, who was scratching at his arm, seeking to open some stale wounds.

Kim: “And who said anything about you, dead man?”

Damian: “Sarmenti’s my best friend. I’m not going to just allow you to slander him like that. That’s my job!”

Damian got up, grinning.

Damian: “And I’m not so sure you’re one to talk, Lens-Head. ”

That got a collective “Ooooooo” from the group. Vance stood up, shooting daggers at Damian.

Vance: “Hey! The hell’s your problem, talking to my sister like that?!”

Damian: “Ohhh! Brother and Sister! The Weak and The Stupid! The Fat and The Furious!”

Sarmenti: “Damian, Damian, calm down-“

Damian: “And you, scrawny kid. What’s your whole deal? You look like skin and chicken bones, I bet a stiff breeze could knock you down, yet all you do it act tough! At least you’re not like sun head over there.”

The Maverick turned over, Aghast.

Maverick: “How dare you!? The Maverick-“

Damian: “-Is a baby back bitch with delusional grandeur. There. Finished your sentence for you!”

The group began to simmer and froth internally at Damian’s statements. Insults. Child’s play…but an effective method of arousing emotion…and rage. How much stress did Damian have exactly?

Aubrey: “Dude! What- Sarmenti? He normally like this-“

Damian: “Oh, and let us not forget the great leader Aubrey! The one who’s such a great leader, she had to rely on a complete stranger to help her find her lost keys!”

Aubrey: “At Least he helped! You’ve been nothing but a nuisance! A rotting corpse man zombie thing!”

Damian: “Ohh. How original. What do you practice your insults on, Flower boys ?

The air suddenly grew tense. Comments froze, snickering and emotions gagged in the throat. Aubrey stared at Damian with a hateful gaze even the Focused Fault couldn’t match.

Aubrey: “ You take that back. ”

Damian: “Ooh!~ Struck a nerve did I? Acting all cocky and gung-ho, it’s nothing underneath all that bluster, just hot air.”

Aubrey grit her teeth, hand gripping her bat tightly.

Aubrey: “ Shut up!”

Damian: “No. No I don’t think I will. And it’s not like you have anything to gain from your heroism. Look at your friends! Look at how they clamber up! Look at all you cowards! ”

The air fell silent. That last statement was no idle gesture, it was a declaration of war, a spat against the very honor of the hooligans! Sarmenti got up, took a few long steps backwards, and prepared for the coming storm that was sure to follow in the next few seconds. Aubrey let out a malicious laugh that only barely held back ill concealed rage.

Aubrey: “Oh?…You…heh…You think we’re just some…fucking cowards , hmm?”

Aubrey held her bat in prime fighting position.

Aubrey: “Then let me show you just how “Cowardly ” we are!”

The hooligans rallied behind her, as Damian slid his metal cuff off his long malnourished wrist, and set his precious flail to the side, mouth curled in a satisfactory grin. This was going to be beautiful.

Aubrey: “Come on gang! LET'S TEACH HIM A LESSON!!”

Damian: “What are you WAITING FOR THEN?! BRING IT ON!!! ”

Unsheathe your blades!

---

Damian charged forward, rushing into the maelstrom of puberty and wrath, and was rewarded with a flurry of hand and weapons pounding upon his necrotic being. The satisfying smack of fists upon flesh, the delicious feeling of getting clocked in the jaw, and kicked in the stomach, the ecstatic sensation of Aubrey’s bat bashing into him hard enough to get him to see stars…he laughed triumphantly as he was battered.

Damian: “Come on, that's the best you can do?!”

The hooligans responded by assaulting him even harder. Angel stood back and rushed forwards towards Damian, dropkicking him in the chest, sending him sprawling into a tree where Vance and Kim pressed the advantage by keeping him held there as gut punch after gut punch was applied to his core, and his legs brutally desecrated with Aubrey’s prized Slugger. Eventually he fell to his demolished knees, where Aubrey grabbed him by the tattered collar, and in a fit of blind fury even for the anger laiden teen, smashed her fist into his face over and over again, mashing his facial features into a rotten bloodied pulp, and only stopped to raise him to his feet, and violently smash her head into his, forcing him to stagger backwards as his vision filled with a black green, falling on his back. He let out a wheeze filled chuckle, as he rose once more, spitting a loose tooth and the rotten roots attached to it on the ground, mouth twisted into a grotesque grin, eroded gums showing as blood poured from his maw and some other cuts upon his face.

Damian: “Heheheheh…Well done, Well done! I couldn’t expect more from a group of trained Cultists, let alone a fresh bunch of teens!”

Damian cracked his jaw into place with a godawful crunching sound. The hooligans were exhausted after that combination attack, Aubrey particularly resting on her bat, panting.

---

Aubrey: “Huff….Huff….What…the fuck….is your problem…?”

Damian: “Pain is what drives me. Every scar upon my skin, a blessing. Every burn, every cut, every wounded pore, a divine gift…and you all have given me such sweet suffering~”

Damian limped forward.

Damian: “And all it took…was a few false words…to get you to shower me with gifts…hahahaa…”

Kim: “You…You didn’t…mean all that?”

Damian: “Not a word .”

Vance: “Wh…What kind of a person gets…huff….what kind of psycho lies to get beat up?!”

Damian: “Me!”

Sarmenti would walk over to the husk, and lead him over to the corner. He looked back at the group.

Sarmenti: “If you all think I’m going to call you out for beating my friend to a pulp, I'm not. It’s kind of his thing, and he was being an asshole.”

Aubrey: “…uhg…Everyone okay?”

Aubrey looked at the hooligans…they were tired, but otherwise unharmed, as Damian let no punches fly of his own. Aubrey however had a small cut on her head from where she bashed into The Flagellant’s…Her face was pale, and not just from exertion…

Kim: “Yeah, Aubrey? You uh…You don’t look so good.”

Aubrey sat down on the blanket, coughing.

Aubrey: “I’m fine I’m…just need a sec to catch my breath….”

She took a few seconds of deep breathing, which was interrupted by mass coughing…she didn’t feel right, there was something wrong.

Aubrey: “Uggh…I don’t…feel so great, guys.”

Damian turned his head around to see what was going on.

Sarmenti: “Everything okay over there?”

Angel: “Yeah, Aubrey’s just recovering after thrashing Zomboy over there.”

Damian: “She does not sound alright…”

Damian took some jagged steps over…when Vance and Kim glared at him

Vance: “You really wanna start some more shit, huh?!”

Damian: “I meant no harm to come to you all! You are teenagers! If something is wrong, then allow me to-“

Aubrey suddenly sprinted over to a nearby trash receptacle, and emptied her guts into it. Her skin was flushed badly, veins far more visible and…slightly green.

Damian: “THE BLIGHT! She’s infected with The Blight!”

Damian forced himself over past the upset hooligans,and equipped his spiked metal cuff. He held his hand open, palm to the sky and…some sort of dark green ball appeared in it, held aloft in the center, a liquidated orb of Toxic power.

Damian: “Aubrey!”

Aubrey wiped the bile from her mouth, and stared at Damian’s orb…he reared forward from a distance.

Damian: “For the record, I'm rather sorry, but this will hurt. ”

And Damian tore the orb back, summoning forth the blighted infection within Aubrey’s veins, ripping it through her very pores on her skin, and adding it back to the ball of blighted power that went back into his own self. She (understandably) shrieked in agony for the second this process took, falling to her knees…and blinked, feeling remarkably less nauseous. Physically pained now sure, but sick no longer.

Aubrey: “Gaugh…wha…what was…”

Damian cracked his knuckles again, this time channeling within himself the immortal energies that allowed him to keep death herself at bay…and raised his battered arms to the sky. Aubrey would find herself awash with this new energy, pains and injuries fading and her energy returning…and Damian’s wounds following suit, sealing into themselves and knitting into fresh scar tissue and scabs, once again ready to receive agony.

Damian: “Let yourself be healed from my mistakes!”

Aubrey just…stared at this maniac for a solid few seconds, sure enough having been healed. Sarmenti frowned behind his mask…

Sarmenti: “ please don’t ask please don’t ask please don’t ask please don’t ask please don’t ask please d-“

Aubrey: “Wh…What was that? What was that…thing you did to me?! And why do I feel better? And why are you healthy all of a sudden? And Wh…I…No. No. No, I am NOT doing this right now…I’m-I’m going to Gino’s, anyone wanna come with I don’t care-I need a minute…”

Aubrey stormed off in a confused huff, leaving the rest of the hooligans to awkwardly shuffle in her direction.

Sarmenti: “…Great. Absolutely fantastic. Now they think we’re freaks, and are probably going to call the cops or make us leave. Just… awesome. ”

Chapter 6: Deliberation, Discovery, and Delirium

Summary:

Aubrey recovers from her experiences with The Flagellant, and Sarmenti does a bit of explaining. in return, he discovers more aspects of the times he's found himself in...and finds a glimpse of less...friendly, forces at play within this town.

Notes:

Bit of a long one here folks.

Aubrey had always thought that she was capable of dealing with anything. After the heartbreak of Mari punching her own ticket into the afterlife, the friend group slowly drifting apart, the entirety of her own mother, she figured: “Hey. I’ve weathered enough of a shitstorm, I should be fine with anything else the world could throw at me!” That mentality allowed her to become who she was today, a somewhat independent girl with a nail bat and some good company.

Apparently, that shitstorm didn’t prepare her for witnessing actual goddamn magic being used by a living dead person with blood that was toxic enough to make you puke . It was like every single cliché Saturday morning cartoon villain trope combined into one person, thrown into a blender, and then filtered through the sifter of reality. And…why? The guy’s whole purpose according to him was pain, and from the looks of him he’s got that down, so why more? And why- No- how did he do that thing with the orb and literally tearing away the sickness from her body? And how did he make it so his own body healed almost instantly, and her own body recovering too?! This…This was way, way, waaaaay too much to handle. So, she simply thought of the only thing to do. Go to Gino’s, rest in the air conditioner for a bit, maybe get a slice of far too greasy pizza…and think. Think about what she just saw, what had just happened.

She eventually made it to the pizza place, took a seat, and took a few deep breaths…in…out…in…out…she felt somewhat better with the cool air blowing on her face…which was interrupted briefly by the door opening, and the gang coming in…much to the silent horror of the Pizza Guy. They took seats near Aubrey.

Kim: “Yo, Aubrey….what’s up? You doin’ ok?”

Aubrey: “…I have no fuckin’ clue man.”

Vance: “You want us to beat that zombie dude up again?”

Aubrey: “And give him more of what he wants?…I…Okay, first things first, I wasn’t crazy right? We all saw him do that thing with the-the orb, right?”

The group nodded, and Aubrey heaved a heavy sigh of relief.

Aubrey: “Okay, thank god for that. I do not need to add going insane to my list of shit to go through…but what the hell even was that?!”

Angel: “I dunno! But how the heck did he get up after my flying drop kick?!”

Maverick: “Perhaps we still have more training to do, young one.”

Kim: “Oh god please not this again.”

Kim buried her head in her arms, and Aubrey gave a brief smile at the embarrassment that is Maverick. She took a moment to turn her head around to look out the window…and found herself looking at a familiar harlequin mask wearing clown, that was peeking in from the window. Sarmenti gave a friendly wave hello…and Aubrey reciprocated. Sarmenti took this as an invitation to enter, and did so…and immediately was struck with the wave of freezing cold air.

Sarmenti: “GAH! What the hell is this trickery?!”

Sarmenti retreated out the door…then opened it again, getting struck with the ice air, and shutting it again. Then repeated this process…twice. He opened the door a crack.

Sarmenti: “Is this place safe to enter?”

Aubrey: “Uh….Yeah? Why?”

Sarmenti: “It’s cold as ice in here!”

Aubrey: “Dude. That’s just the Air Conditioner.”

Sarmenti: “Air…Conditioner?”

Sarmenti took a few jingly steps into the building, allowing the cold to seep onto his clothes, exhaling refreshingly.

Sarmenti: “The future contains temperature mastered buildings? No doubt only for the finest courts and service areas.”

Sarmenti looked at the table, and the odd looks he received from the gang.

Sarmenti: “May I sit with you all?”

Aubrey: “I’m…cool I guess. You guys cool?”

The group responded in the affirmative, and The Jester took a chair.

Sarmenti: “Thank you Aubrey. I’m… sigh. ”

Sarmenti groaned…this was going to take a lot of explaining.

Sarmenti: “What you saw Damian pull was not a figment of imagination, nor-“

Aubrey: “It was magic, you can say it was magic, I know.”

Sarmenti: “Oh thank Light, okay, then I can skip a few chapters of the history lesson and just head to the cliff notes…and no, none of this will be on the test.”

The group half chuckled at the attempt at humor, excluding Aubrey, who gave the jester an exasperated stare.

Sarmenti: “In our world, where we come from, Magic exists. It’s an…unnatural and odd phenomenon, but it’s there, and it’s usable. Damian uses it to fuel his powers, Others use it to fuel creations…and…I use it for my music.”

Angel: “Wait what? You mean you’ve got like, Magic Songs and stuff?”

Sarmenti: “Sort of. It’s taken me some trial and error over the years to find the right Melodies, yes, but I do have a fair repertoire of Magical Music.”

Sarmenti took out Solo, and prepared to strum some notes.

Sarmenti: “Here’s an example of one you heard earlier.”

Sarmenti played a brief yet Inspiring Tune from his lute. The notes echoing off the walls of the pizzeria, into the ears and minds of anyone inside, including the tense pizza guy…and things began to calm. The way the melody rang, it was as if things weren’t going to be so bad. That you had a friend to rely on in tough times, to make things easier. As if there was Hope in any situation, no matter how dark. It was a well needed boost in a confusing situation.

Aubrey: “Huh…that was… much different than the one earlier.”

Sarmenti: “Well, I wasn’t using the right chord then, so the effect is weaker.”

Vance: “What other songs can you do?”

Sarmenti: “Oh I’ve got plenty. That number you just heard, a selection of Ballads for Battle, that drum thing I played earlier…Some other cuts and jibs, and uh….”

Sarmenti opened his mouth to speak…but felt the words dying in his throat. He had the big ones , but no. Not again. Not after the last time he used them.

Sarmenti: “That’s about it, so…”

The hooligang thought for a few seconds…Then Aubrey spoke.

Aubrey: “Okay, two questions I have to ask. 1: What’s with the scythe on your back?”

Sarmenti was about to launch into a tirade…but shook his head, merely settling for giving Aubrey an annoyed look.

Sarmenti: “This isn’t a Scythe. It’s a Sickle. A gardening tool that my father gifted to me…or rather, gave me on my 11th birthday to work the fields with.”

Sarmenti pulled out the instrument of murder. A humble gardening tool at one point, it has since been modified to have numerous sharp edges placed upon the inner and outer portion, allowing for a jagged approach of ripping more intestines out of an unfortunate soul this ended up in. The word “Slash” was pressed into the metal.

Sarmenti: “This blade isn’t magical…in the traditional sense anyway. But I’ve always found it hits its marks right where it needs to, and it’s never failed me yet!”

The gang gazed in awe at the macabre tool,and Sarmenti put it away…and then grinned behind his mask.

Sarmenti: “Say…Anyone wanna see a party trick?”

Curious choice of words…but the group murmured semi-enthusiastically. Sarmenti responded by pulling out a small relic, the size of a modern day quarter, and idly flipped it forward to himself. In one swift movement however, the coin would find itself pinned to the far wall by a decent sized pocket dagger, ejected from Sarmenti’s holster and grasp with some deft finger work. The hooligans flinched as this occurred, with Maverick nearly falling out of his seat…and they gave a polite smattering of applause. Sarmenti gave a nod, pulled out the coin and the Dagger, and tossed the coin in his hand, sliding it into a coin pocket.

Sarmenti: “Anyhow…What was I talking about before that diversion…oh right, Magic.”

Sarmenti idly flipped the dagger in his hands, sliding it into its sheath.

Sarmenti: “So, as mentioned, Magic exists in our world, our time. Perhaps something occurred to make Magic not so commonplace in today’s time…though given the lack of roaming beasts and nightmarish creatures, that’s probably a good thing. Plus, I’d say your technology is a good, if not better, substitute for the stuff. I mean, that policeman with that Lightning Launcher pumped out more bolts than an average day fisherfolk!”

The air fell quiet.

Vance: “Wait, are we just gonna skim over the part where he says “Nightmare Creatures and Roaming beasts”?”

Sarmenti: “Oh Light your time seems so much more peaceful. No monsters, No Stain…practically a utopia.”

Aubrey snorted loudly. Utopia her ass.

Sarmenti: “Well yes, monsters do exist during our time. And recently we’ve been…put up to task with dealing with the source of them. Again .”

Angel: “Again?”

Sarmenti: “What can I say? Some people are just so astronomically stupid that they forget that certain things should remain locked away for a reason. So naturally, we get put up to the task of shutting it down and saving the world.”

Aubrey: “Who, you and Zombie guy?”

Sarmenti: “Among others. There’s Dismas, Paracelsus, Audrey, Bonnie, etc. etc.  We’re a sort of…team.”

Kim: “What, The A-Team?”

Sarmenti: “Har har har.”

Kim chuckled.

Sarmenti: “But anyhow, I’m glad to be here, if for a limited time. A place without monsters or nightmare creatures is…a luxury. And while Damian is…Damian, I don’t plan on letting this odd situation slip through my hands! Haha!”

It would be at that moment the pizza guy called over.

Pizza Guy: “YO! You guys gonna loiter all day, or are ya gonna order something?”

Aubrey: “Oh. Right. Uh…y’all wanna get some pizza?”

Sarmenti cocked an eyebrow.

Sarmenti: “Pizza…? What’s that?”

You could practically hear the vine boom sound effect as the group stared gobsmacked at Sarmenti’s words.

Angel: “I’m sorry, WHAT?!”

Kim: “You guys don’t have Pizza in your time?”

Vance: “Christ your lives must suck!”

Sarmenti: “1: Evidently not. 2: It certainly does sometimes.”

Aubrey went over to the counter, and ordered a pizza pie. $15 is a bit steep, but it’ll be worth it…or well, it would be, if Sarmenti didn’t walk over to the counter, count a handful of Relics, and put them on the counter.

Sarmenti: “Here you go Sir. This should be enough.”

The pizza guy looked at the odd coins, and shook his head.

Pizza guy: “What the hell is this?”

Sarmenti: “Relics! They’re…Gold.”

Pizza Guy: “Oh… Oh. ”

The pizza guy nodded, and headed to the back, excited with the strange payment he received.

Sarmenti: “Ah. Same as all time, gold remains valuable.”

Aubrey: “How much-“

Sarmenti: “Not much. Gave him a few low denominators. Should be about the price of the “Pizza”…but if he thinks it’s worth more then, meh, who am I to correct him?”

Aubrey chuckled along with Sarmenti as they went back to their table to wait for the pizza. It didn’t take long for the Pizza guy to bring over a large cheese pie, topped with pepperoni.

Pizza Guy: “Enjoy you guys!…Heheh…”

The pizza man headed back to behind the counter, and the hooligans ate. Sarmenti picked up a slice, looking at it curiously.

Sarmenti: “…This looks…unnatural.”

Sarmenti however quickly copied the fold method the teenagers were using to consume the cheese covered dough triangles. Sarmenti lifted his mask ever so slightly to expose his mouth, and took a bite…

It was… otherworldly .

Melted Cheese, tomato sauce, melted together atop a crispy thin slice of bread made for an absolutely beautiful symphony of flavor and texture. A combination that seemed so obvious and yet no one dared to dream in Sarmenti’s time! This warm slice of pure happiness was one of, if not the best thing Sarmenti had ever tasted…although that could be due to the fact that A: He had been surviving the past day on naught but tinned delicacies, and B: Had had been surviving the past few months on nothing but Apples and Cheese, Stale Bread, and the rare Flapjack or Stew. So perhaps it was having something other than those food items entering his system, but in anyway and any case, this was a delicacy.

Sarmenti: “…This is perhaps the best thing I have eaten in months.”

Vance: “Damn straight! Gino’s is the best baby!”

The group cheered, and the pizza pie was aptly devoured.

---

After the pizza was downed, the hooligans gathered to split off to do their own things for a while, leaving Sarmenti, Kim, and Aubrey together.

Sarmenti: “Mmhm…Thank you, Aubrey. That pizza was…fantastic.”

Aubrey: “Gino’s is the best pizza here. It’s been here for…god knows how long.”

Sarmenti: “Well I assume it stood the test of time not by being wretched….Truth be told, things don’t seem too bad in this time.”

Aubrey looked down at her drink, idlying stirring it.

Aubrey: “I mean I guess so. Compared to, like, Fighting Fucking monsters and magic and stuff it’s…not too terrible.”

Sarmenti sensed an aura of traumatic backstory, and shrugged. He was a court jester, not a therapist…though he did think on things for a moment.

Sarmenti: “Miss Aubrey? May I ask a question?”

Aubrey: “Shoot.”

Sarmenti: “…Have you gotten any strange nightmares as of late?”

Aubrey paused, looking at Sarmenti oddly….I mean, yeah sure she had nightmares on occasion, but who could blame her? Seeing the dead corpse of your best friend strung up like a cheap decoration isn’t exactly good for the mind.

Aubrey: “Not really…I mean…Yeah I get a bad one here and there but uh…Not anything noteworthy, why?”

Sarmenti: “Well I had a rather odd one last night, and from my time dreams are… interesting .”

Kim: “…Go on…”

sarmenti: “I…well it’s hard to explain, but it seems in our time that dreams can function as a sort of…window, into other things. Other times, other worlds, almost. And last night I found myself in one of these worlds. It was a place I had been before when I was dealing with some moments I thought I had left in the past. But I conquered them and I became stronger, as a result. Better……The place I visited in my dreams last night was akin to that but also, not, that. It was something else, something darker, more venerable.”

Kim: “Are you sure you’re not suffering from lead poisoning?”

Sarmenti: “No, I’m pretty sure we haven’t used lead piping for a while. Clay is the go to choice mainly.”

Sarmenti snickered.

Sarmenti: “But I appreciate the concern…anyhow, I was wondering if you’ve gotten any dreams like that lately. Or perhaps the horrors of the world are finally catching up to me, who knows?”

Sarmenti sighed over dramatically.

Aubrey: “Nah. Can’t say I have.”

Kim: “Me neither. What about zombie dude?”

Sarmenti: “Oh him? I don’t even know if he sleeps or if he just dies and comes back.”

That got a laugh out of Kim.

Sarmenti: “So, aside from basking in the divine cold of Conditioned Air, what else is there to do?”

Aubrey: “We could go to Hobeez. It’s right next door.”

Kim: “Ooh, maybe we could go to the Othermart and uh… ”Legally Acquire ” some candy.”

Aubrey: “Also right next door.”

Sarmenti thought…and flipped a coin idly in his hand, before sending it skyrocketing into the air, and watching it come down on the table……..right on the edge.

Sarmenti: “Oh for fucks sake, What are the probable odds of that?!…Grr, fine. We shall head to uh..”Othermart”………Stupid relic.”

Sarmenti pocketed the indecisive chunk of currency and got up with Aubrey and the Others, heading next door to the massive retail building that serviced the community. It was technically a grocery store…that also housed a dedicated pharmacy, a comically large candy shop, and a larger-than-you’d-expect Hardware store/Greenhouse. A one stop shop for basically anything you could ask for. Sarmenti’s eyes went slightly wide as he comprehended the scale of everything. In his time, goods and luxuries would be sold, but only by wandering merchants and the occasional bazaar. Here though…everything was just a simple walk away.

Sarmenti: “…My god.”

Aubrey: “Ah. Yes. Welcome to the future…it’s uh…marketable. Here lemme show you aroun-“

Sarmenti: “ Is that a fucking orange?! ”

Sarmenti immediately strode up to one of the produce stands, and marveled at the absolute behemoth of an orange pile that stood before him.

Sarmenti: “I…I haven’t seen this fruit in ages, since I was a young lad. It was after a hard day’s labor on the farm, and he had returned home from the city…some coastal people had come in with exotic fruits and meats, and he bought a few oranges…I…”

Sarmenti took an orange, sliced off the peel with his dagger, and split the fruit in Twain, marveling at its interior.

Sarmenti: “By the light…it’s…it’s even more orange than I remember…”

Sarmenti looked at Aubrey, and offered half of the fruit to her. She politely declined.

Aubrey: “I dunno where that knife has been, man!”

Sarmenti: “Understandable, but suit yourself.”

And Sarmenti popped an orange piece into his mouth, shuddering gently at the fresh citrus taste. His mind filled with images of childhood. A father who taught him how to work the fields, and a mother who taught him how to sing…better times, peaceful times…before The Stain came and brought Ruin to everything…he was savoring the wave of resurgence, when he heard a loud throat clear behind him, and an annoyed security guard stared at him.

Guard: “I hope for your sake you’re gonna pay for this.”

Sarmenti: “Oh absolutely, yes! And may I say these oranges are of absolute perfect quality! Well done!”

The guard nodded, shrugged, and walked off to see if more interesting things were happening elsewhere…which given how Kim was slinking off to the candy shop while the guard was distracted by Sarmenti, more interesting things were about to happen. He looked around for a bit…and paused, listening to the hustle and bustle of the mega store. Items being rung up, shopping carts squeaking and rolling, the laughing from earlier, floors being mopped clean, stocks being refill- hold the fuck up what

Sarmenti’s head whipped around as that laughter he heard from earlier rang out. It was faint amidst the roar of commerce, but distinct enough that he could guesstimate where it came from. It was a row of refrigerators, colder than most of what he had felt before (but perhaps not colder than the mountain) with shoppers going to and fro. Two people there stood out. Two teens, one male with brown hair, blue t-shirt, and some strange form of shorts…and a female in front of him, long black hair, long sleeved sky blue shirt, a purple skirt dotted with designs. The two were talking about something, he couldn’t quite make it out. Sarmenti attempted to nonchalantly walk over to find out more, but as he walked over, an errant wasp flew about, buzzing past him.

Sarmenti: “Gah!”

Sarmenti quickly swiped out at the pest with his hand, crushing it against the cold condensation-filled freezer. A quick breath later, and Sarmenti continued to head to that teenage couple…only to find they had vanished. And not in the “I was distracted so they must have wandered off” kind of vanished, but they were gone , despite his attempt at looking around for them.

Sarmenti: “…I am losing my goddamn mind.”

Sarmenti looked around himself once more, slightly unsettled by that experience…and by chance was able to catch a glimpse of Aubrey and Kim dashing for their lives, pockets lined with ill gotten sweets. They were being pursued by an upset looking old woman, and that guard. Sarmenti simply hung back and watched as the two hooligans made their getaway, chuckling.

Sarmenti: “Kids these days. Back when I was a lad I would’ve stolen so much more. Tragic.”

Sarmenti turned to head out, when once more he heard that laughter, this time coming in the direction of the hardware store. He started to head that way, past the shoppers and the odd looks the harlequin was given. He made it to the store, and wrinkled his nose gently at the vastly different smell. Unlike the rest of the place, this air wasn’t cooled, and as such, the tools shop was much hotter than the rest of the market. He listened again for that laughter, and heard it, louder this time, coming from the greenhouse plant area. Sarmenti made his way over to it…trying to ignore the feelings of unease he had as he approached.

 He entered the floral den and was hit with a wave of heat and humidity. Well, it was a greenhouse, what did you expect? Sarmenti got to searching, passing by the occasional flower shopper…and eventually he spotted a small boy, sitting alone. Blonde hair, blue eyes, wearing a thicker than standard T shirt, equipped with a Flower Crown upon his head…the child was working on a flower bracelet to go along with it, quietly humming a soft tune to himself. Sarmenti slowly approached the child, trying to not spook them. He spoke in a calm voice.

Sarmenti: “Erm…Hello?”

The small child looked up at Sarmenti, gaze held softly, tenderly.

Sarmenti: “…Have you happened to hear any laughter in this store? Or saw anyone laughing for that mat-“

Little Boy: “ You don’t belong here. ”

Sarmenti froze, the boy’s politely spoken words somehow rattling him.

Sarmenti: “I…I beg your pard-“

And at that moment, The Child vanished from view, and Sarmenti was slammed with a roaring typhoon of mental agony and painful Stress . The Jester clutched the sides of his head, staggering backwards. His foot made contact with a puddle and an improperly placed electrical cord…and he tripped on it, sending himself slipping backwards, crashing to the floor with a loud THUD! noise. He laid there for a second to let the stars in his vision pass, and shakily sat up…and it was there that he saw another boy, remarkably like the one he just saw, scurry away, arms containing a large flower pot, with a beautiful golden sunflower within it. Sarmenti would give chase, but he was too busy reeling and gasping from whatever the hell that was. He slowly rose to his feet…and felt the wetness of his pant leg stick to his calf. He had landed the leg in that puddle when he slipped.

Sarmenti: “…Fantastic.”

Sarmenti groaned as he rose, sorely walking out of the hardware store, and out of Othermart in general, staggering towards the park. He took a brief moment to sit down on a bench nearby…and bore witness to the sign at the front of the park.

“The Future Belongs To The Dreamers!”

Sarmenti: “… How charming . ”

Sarmenti made his way over to the hangout spot…when an errant basketball bounced gently off his leg. Looking as to where the ball came from, it was clear that it was from some sort of game of Basketball. Modernized of course from the stone rings used by other civilizations long ago, but the rules remain the same it seems. Sarmenti tossed the ball back over, to the pleasure of the athletic teenagers…one specifically wearing a pair of thin orange overalls and shorts. Sarmenti resumed his trek back to the hangout spot, hoping to examine the damage done to his leg and clothes…and also his mind if need be.

Chapter 7: Wherefore, Heroism?

Summary:

Aubrey, Kim, Sarmenti and Damian find themselves needing to break into the local church to acquire a cleaning solution. They find much more than they bargain for. Much. Much more.

It seemed like a good idea at the time!

Aubrey, Kim, Vance and Angel were already at the hangout spot, sharing their spoils. Damian was currently attempting to uh…punch a tree down. With his bare hands…and it was somewhat slowly working. Aubrey was about to wave hi to The Jester, only to notice that he looked absolutely like shit and ass.

Aubrey: “Jeez dude. What happened to you?”

Sarmenti: “I saw a small blond kid with a flower crown disappear before my eyes, tripped and fell into a puddle, and smacked my head into the ground. My skull throbs, my leg aches, and my suit is ruined.”

Sarmenti groaned as he sat down, inspecting himself for damages. Thankfully the wounds were nothing major…or well, nothing as major as he had experienced before.

Sarmenti: “I see you got yourselves some goodies…an impressive haul.”

Sarmenti shot a smile, and Kim grinned.

Kim: “We’ve been heisting from that old coot for years now!”

Vance: “She never seems to get wise from it. Haha!”

Vance put another chunk of processed sugar into his mouth.

Sarmenti: “Eh. Hey, if she’s dumb enough to not catch on, who’s to blame you? You’re only young once.”

Sarmenti shrugged, rubbing his eyes, trying to shake the sudden exhaustion he found within them.

Sarmenti: “So…Now what?”

Aubrey: “I dunno where Angel and Maverick went…maybe we could look for ‘em?”

Kim: “Yeah. Wonder where they went…maybe to Hobeez?”

Vance: “Nahh. Maverick is too good for that place, so he says. And plus, Orange Joe always hangs out around there.”

The group snickers.

Sarmenti: “Orange Who?”

Kim: “The kid who wears orange and plays basketball. His name’s Kel but-“

Vance: “Orange joe is waaaay funnier.”

Aubrey held a sinister smile…but her eyes had a bit of issue focusing, looking around.

Sarmenti: “Oh that kid? I tossed him back his ball as I walked back here cause it bonked into me. Kid’s lucky it didn’t hurt or I would’ve…tossed it into some trees or something.”

Sarmenti grunted as he set his head down, face towards the sky. It felt nice seeing a crisp blue summer sky for once that wasn’t corrupted by the maligned forces of the world. The only thing that could mar the view would be the odd cloud that rolled in, a white puffy reminder of the weather of a proper world, of one that hadn’t gone mad…now the problem fell onto him to make sure he didn’t fall (more) mad himself.

Sarmenti: “When I fell and smacked my head…I…I saw something else. I saw that flower crown kid again. Blonde hair, blue eyes….know him?”

Aubrey: “ Basil. ”

Aubrey’s grip on her bat noticeably tightened, the mere utterance of the name filled with more contempt than even most beasts could hold.

Kim: “Oh yeah, that freak. What a piece of work he turned out to be, huh?”

Sarmenti: “Pardon?”

Juicy gossip about people becoming evil? Blue sky and head wound be damned, Sarmenti had to hear this!

Kim: “Yeah, Kid named Basil used to be Aub’s friend, then uh….things got bad….real bad.”

Kim looked down at the unwrapped sweet, rolling it in her hand.

Kim: “Basil and Everyone started drifting apart…and then Basil uh…he um…”

Aubrey: “Basil keeps a photo album…From when we were kids. He was always taking photos of everyone. Me, Kel, Sunny, Hero…And Mari. I found his stupid album and…he…”

Aubrey gripped her bat even tighter.

Aubrey: “He fucking ruined it! Almost every photo he had, scribbled on with goddamn sharpie!”

Kim: “They aren’t ruined. Like I keep saying, they’re salvageable. I just need to get that cleaning stuff, and I can remove it.”

Sarmenti: “What cleaning stuff?”

Kim: “The uh…god what’s the name……”Mont La Salle” yeah, that stuff.”

Sarmenti: “Well you have access to that hardware store-“

Kim: “Tried that already,they don’t sell it there. Turns out the only place that has it is the Church.”

Damian’s head perked from his IRL Minecraft session.

Sarmenti: “And they won’t allow you to use it?”

Kim: “Nope.”

Sarmenti: “…Have you asked?”

Kim: “Nope. Aubrey was supposed to, but she can’t. Not without uh…I-It’s a long story.”

Aubrey fell silent, breath subtly deepening.

Kim: “So…We’re gonna break in. Steal that cleaning stuff, use it, and give it back.”

Sarmenti: “And when does this break in occur?”

Kim: “…We could go tonight.”

Aubrey: “Yeah…We could go tonight. Sarmenti? You good enough to come with?”

Sarmenti: “Tch. I’ve been stabbed, burned, poisoned, bruised and massacred worse than this. Il be fine in an hour or so.”

Aubrey: “Well we gotta wait until nightfall to do anything, so if-“

Damian: “I’m coming too.”

Damian calmly walked out of the forest, fists bloodied with wood splinters and satisfaction.

Damian: “The church was home to me for a time…until my purpose exceeded their stomachs. They banished me, kicked me out!”

Aubrey: “Absolutely not . I’m not going anywhere near you and your toxic blood freak ass!”

Damian: “Perhaps what I said and did was harsh-“

Aubrey: “You damn near killed me!”

Damian: “Oh please! A little blight never hurt anyone. Plus I cured you, didn’t I? Look if churches are still the same here as in my time then you’ll need muscle to get in.”

Vance: “That’s what they got me for, Dickhead.”

Damian: “Oh sure, a teenage fat kid. How horrifying. Look, if there is a church in this place, then I must see myself to it so my worship isn’t wasted! If you won’t allow me to go with you, I will go myself. Right now!”

Damian spun around, and began to walk out…when Aubrey spoke.

Aubrey: “Wait-Wait!…Wait…”

Aubrey took a deep breath, and looked at Sarmenti, holding a solid gaze.

Aubrey: “Are you positive he can…act, chill?”

Sarmenti: “If by chill you mean “Not a pain seeking asshole” then I can atleast say that he can do without the Asshole part. I can vouch for him.”

Aubrey: “…….Fine. But if he goes crazy, it’s on you.”

Sarmenti: “I’ll take that chance.”

Aubrey: “Alright zombie dude. You can come.”

Damian: “Yes! Hear me now, O glorious Light! Your faithful servant shall arrive once more to your glorious chapel!”

And with a religious fervor in his soul, he dealt a devastating blow to a nearby tree, causing it to fall over. He laughed triumphantly.

Aubrey: “…I’m going to regret this…”

---

Night would fall. While Vance and the others went home (Vance in particular explaining that Kim would be staying over at a friend’s house for the night.) Kim, Aubrey, Sarmenti and Damian began to prepare for the raid.

Sarmenti: “Alright. Do we have a plan for this?”

Aubrey: “Simple: We go to the church, go in via the backdoor, sneak to the basement, get the stuff, use it on the photos, then get out.”

Damian: “Why not just go to the basement via the outside? Surely there’s an entrance there?”

Aubrey: “Basement doesn’t have an outdoor entrance, it got sealed up a long time ago.”

Damian: “Then where do they store the corpses?”

Aubrey: “…They don’t…wha?”

Sarmenti: “I take it churches aren’t the end all be all for funerals anymore?”

Kim: “No, why would they be?”

Sarmenti: “…Saves space.”

That got a muffled snort out of Kim. Aubrey sighed, rising to her feet.

Aubrey: “Alright. Let’s get moving.”

With Aubrey leading the group, the 4 began to sneak out of the hangout spot, into the shadows of the night. The quickest route to the church was by cutting through the thick woods that dotted various sectors of Faraway Town. Backyards primarily would connect to those wooded areas. A street did have to be crossed to get to the next wood section, but the streets were quiet today. A turn left and the small party continued. They continued to pass by various homes, including a rather run down one Aubrey looked at with contempt. They reached a small clearing in the woods connected to some yard…with a cut down stump acting as a landmark. Kim, Aubrey, and Damian continued onwards undeterred. Sarmenti…suddenly felt nauseous. Like something was pressing on every wrong button in his body. A gnawing sensation that sapped away at his strength. Damian stopped, looking curiously.

Sarmenti: “…mmngh…ugh……Keep going Dami. I will be with you soon.”

Damian nodded and continued on. Sarmenti took a second to breathe, head tilting to the two story home that lay in the distance, a glass door allowing a glimpse inside, shadows bending and twisting to suggest…movement? Movement, someone inside, skulking in the dark. Slowly down the stairs, into a kitchen…a brief burst of light, and a fainter glow…panicked rushing, back up the stairs…and silence. Sarmenti shook his head, confused as to what the hell that was. Nonetheless, he returned to the route, the church now in sight. Sarmenti stumbled to them.

Aubrey: “Yo, dude. Are you sure your-“

Sarmenti: “I’m fine I was…struck with a brief wave of nausea.”

Kim: “Well, take a breather, then make sure you’re good. We’re almost at the church. It should be empty, but if we were caught breaking in…”

Sarmenti: “I’m fine, I’m fine I’m…fine. Let’s go.”

The group crossed over, hopping the fence into the graveyard. The old madman who took care of the place, having long since retired for the evening, leaving the door available for some deft picking by Sarmenti…though the lock itself was a much larger challenge to crack open. That, and the fleeting energy that his body held made it harder to think, harder to concentrate…by the light he was tired. And yet he pressed on. The door swung open, revealing the grand interior of the modern church. Stained glass windows adorned lovingly on all sides, allowing the pale moonlight to illuminate the hallowed halls with color. There was no time for gawking however, as the group quickly fanned out to try and find the cleaning solution. The bathrooms? No luck. The altar? None there. The transepts? Incorrect buzzer sounds. The cleaning solution wasn’t here.

Aubrey: “Damn it! It was around here just the other day! Maybe they uh…moved it somewhere else!?”

Sarmenti: “Where could they have moved it to?”

Kim: “Basement maybe?”

Sarmenti: “Well why don’t we look there the-“

???: “Hello?”

A voice rang out from the shadows. A voice that brought with it respect and commanding…and yet nothing but kindness and goodwill along with it. Sarmenti ushered everyone behind the pews, forcing them down…save for Damian, whose ungodly green glow made him a dead giveaway. Damian would simply sit down on the front pews, clasping his hands together.

Damian: “Hello? Do my ears betray me at last?”

The man exited from the basement, locking it behind him. It was a preacher, dressed in a black suit, hair somewhat gently unkempt in the front. The man looked upon the Flagellant…and despite the grim appearance of the rotted corpse, the preacher simply held a kind smile.

Preacher: “Hello there sir…I don’t believe I have met you before.”

Damian: “I am new to this town, this place…and I seek solace within your hallowed halls. Please forgive my trespassing, pastor. I mean no harm.”

The Preacher’s gaze softened as he sat beside Damian…looking at him and his many, many wounds.

Preacher: “You seem hurt…May I call for an ambulance?”

Damian: “There is no need for that, Pastor. My wounds are meant for The Light. For God. Every cut, every lash…a prayer….it has been so long since I have been in a house of worship, Reverend…”

Damain gave a smile with a hint of genuinity.

Damian: “I will leave here shortly, of that I can assure you.”

Preacher: “Please, my son. Take as much time as you need…”

The preacher looked out…and gave a kind, knowing laugh.

Preacher: “It is alright. You may all come out. I seek no harm to be done to you.”

…Aubrey rose up, along with Kim. Sarmenti remained hidden, dumbfounded at how the man of god could tell they were here. Aubrey looked over.

Aubrey: “Sarmenti, it’s alright. He’s…cool.”

Sarmenti gingerly peeked from the wooden seats…and rose to full attention. He blinked harshly.

Sarmenti: “How did you…”

Sarmenti looked to the floor, and noticed the light from the windows casting barely visible trails of shadow across the wooden flooring…easily dismissed as shadow…unless you were familiar with how the shadows formed normally. This man was smart.

Preacher: “God works in mysterious ways.”

Sarmenti: “You can say that again.”

Preacher: “Now…What brings you all to these halls? Our sermon isn’t until tomorrow. Or well…later today I should say.”

Damian: “They seek a specific cleansing supply to reverse the damage done to treasured artifacts, Reverend.”

Kim: “…Traitor.”

Sarmenti: “That is correct, Sir. We heard that the only place available for this cleaning solution was the church. We uh…feared it may have been too late to fix the uh…treasured artifacts, if we waited until the morrow, so we…trespassed within your domain.”

A white lie of sorts. He was already on the slow road to hell anyways, lying to a priest would hardly tip the scales.

Preacher: “I see…Well…while I will say that I am a touch disappointed with your methods of entry, I sense no malice within you.”

The preacher turned his head to Aubrey 

Preacher: “Please, tell your mother I hope she is well…in case I forget to mention during tomorrow’s sermon.”

Aubrey: “…Okay…”

Aubrey didn’t strike Sarmenti as one to attend church often, but alas, suprise suprise.

Preacher: “Now then…what is this cleaning solution you wish for?”

Kim: “It’s uh…Mont La Salle”

Preacher: “Oh, We happen to have gotten a new container last week! It’s in the basement, allow me to go retrieve it for you.”

Damian: “Thank you, brother, for taking pity upon our souls in our quest.”

Preacher: “How could I in good faith of the Lord turn away a brother of the cloth? Just, knock next time, okay? I’m just glad you aren’t robbers…or worse.”

The Preacher solemnly looked down.

Preacher: “Anyhow, I will be back in a moment, please do not break anything while I am…gone…”

The room slowly fell into an unnatural silence. The air grew cold,and not air conditioned cold either…colder than cold, colder than the mountain… cold as the grave . Damian rose to his feet, flail tightly grasped, head jerking around, looking everywhere, panicked.

Damian: “No…No, No!…We must leave here at once, she has followed me even here!”

Aubrey: “Wait, What?”

Damian: “We must go, now, before she gets here!”

Sarmenti: “Wait-Wait-“

Kim: “Woah woah woah what are you-“

Damian began to rush down the nave, bashing into the front door, only to find it locked.

Damian: “Nononono! Damn it, No! Not her, anything but her!”

Preacher: “Sir, please! Calm down! I assure you, there is no one else that is here besides me. Whatever you believe is hunting you down, there is nothing to be afraid of-“

???: “…. Damiaaaaaan~”

A haunting feminine voice rang from the basement. The very colors in the room began to fade to grayish hues,as slow, plodding steps could be heard emanating from the underground chambers. Everyone’s attention went to the open door. Damian’s eyes were wide, genuinely fearful for the first time since he was here.

Damian: “ No….”

Sarmenti: “ Oh fuck.”

???: “….. Damiaaaan?”

Aubrey: “Dude…? Wh-What’s going on?”

Sarmenti: “She’s followed us here too apparently…her quota seems to be missing a few slots…”

Aubrey: “Wh-Who?! Who’s fucking following you?!”

Damian: “ Death. ”

And as if on cue, Death in all her unholy majesty, emerged from the basement, coming into view. Cloaked in a pale gray riding hood, with a skeletal head that contained far too many holes, jaw visible and hauntingly open in an expression of calm serenity. She moved slowly, deliberately…like approaching a spooked animal. Notably, her signature horse and scythe were conspicuously absent. It was just her.

Death: “ Damian…once again, we meet. ”

Damian: “And once again, I can…assume the reason..”

Death: “ Yes, I have come for you, Damian. However, I come to you peacefully tonight. I ask you to come willingly. ”

Damian: “Come with you? Willingly?! Hah! The day my heart ceases to beat and the Light ceases to flow within me is the day you can claim me, but not a second sooner!”

Death: “ Please, Damian. I do not wish to fight. Not this time. Not this place. ”

Sarmenti: “And why is that, Death?”

Death: “ It is a matter beyond your mortal comprehension. Time is of the essence, and your presence is an anomaly. Things are occurring beyond the scenes-“

Damian cocked a sneer at the Pale Rider.

Damian: “If you wish to take me so badly, then earn it! I will not go with you, willingly or at all!”

Death sighed, looking at the Flagellant with sadness.

Death: “ Very well…but I would like to point out that you are short a few party members.”

Sarmenti stood beside Damian, Sickle drawn.

Sarmenti: “My apologies, Death. I will not allow my friend to be reaped so easily.”

Death: “ I figured… ”

Death’s attention then turned to Aubrey.

Death: “ Child. I ask you kindly, do not involve yourself in this affair. You have witnessed enough suffering as is, have you not?”

Aubrey’s eyes went wild for a moment. Death’s mere words forcing memories to resurface of that damnable day…the recital…the goddamn recital…feeling a chill down her spine, she stepped back past the pews, staying near the wall, next to Kim, who had wisely decided to back the fuck up a lot sooner.

Death: “ Thank you, Child…and you, Preacher?”

Death’s head swung to the man of god…who was very tightly grasping his cross, fearfully muttering prayers…Death approached, and bended her knees slightly to meet his eyes.

Death: “ You need not be afraid of me, Preacher. Your time has not yet come…and even when it does, know that your service to your Lord has been faithful. You have done well, Man Of God. ”

Death gave a gentle shoulder pat to the man..and turned her attention to Sarmenti and Damian.

Death: “ Know that I have offered you mercy. It fills me with no joy to force myself upon you. ”

Damian: “And experience your numbing oblivion?! Hah! C-Come then!”

Damian stood proudly…almost too proudly. Compensation for the deep rooted thanatophobia that caught in his veins in her mere presence. Death held her hand out, and the air chilled further. From the ground rose a sharp metallic instrument, coated with infested bones…her trusted Scythe, sharpened and ready for war. She gripped her weapon with cold preparations…this was going to be brutal.

Death: “ En Guarde! ”

Death opened the battle by pointing at Damian…and he felt the chilled winds of Death’s grasp echo in his mind. His grip on life suddenly plummeting, he froze, unable to act for the moment. Sarmenti advanced in his stead, Sickle at the ready. He threw out his dagger at Death, and rushed forward. She dodged the flying blade, and slashed downwards with the farming instrument, with only a timely sidestep affording him a miss with the slash,and counter with a slice of his own to her arm. A good wound…the first of many to be inflicted if they wanted to escape alive. Death raised the scythe up, hoping to catch the jester on the way up, but she missed. A sloppy strike. Death grunted, and charged forward at the Harlequin, swinging widely. A decision that paid off, as The Jester was unable to Dodge such a wide strike, resulting in his arm getting a nasty cut, bleeding heavily.

Sarmenti: “Nngh! Fuck!”

Damian snapped out of his fear induced stupor, rushing over and engaging with Death directly. He swung ferociously with his lash, slamming it into Death’s body over and over, tearing up more and more of his precious back flesh with every smack. Death responded by kicking Damian in the leg, then bashing him back with the stick of her Scythe. Thrown off kilter, an opportunity formed, allowing Death to line up another wicked slash, that resulted in a clean slice being formed on Damian’s chest. Not fatal, but close to it. Rotten blood leaked from his newly formed chest wound.

Damain: “Gaaah! Mngh…Impressive, Miss Death.”

Death did not respond to his compliment, and opted instead to continue her assault on The Flagellant, planting her scythe’s blade into the wooden floor, and using it as a sort of fulcrum to swing forward and bash into Damian’s chest, knocking him prone. Sarmenti came from the side to assist, but Death responded with a solid blow to the face, sending him reeling back! Desperate to assist, he let loose another dagger, this one ending plum in Death’s shoulder. She groaned in pain as she tore it loose, sending it aside. Her attention focused now on the clown, she pulled her blade from the floor, and threw it out. Sarmenti ducked to avoid it, which gave Death the moment to jolt in and slam her fist into Sarmenti’s face, causing him to crumple to the ground. Death recalled her Scythe to her hand from across the aisle, and lined up a devastating blow…Sarmenti saw something move out of the corner of his eye…

Death: “ Fear not, Sarmenti. This will be like a whisper. ”

Death wined up the killing blow…and suddenly found herself receiving a blow to the head of her own. Reeling from the impact, she stumbled into a few pews…and looked up, to see Aubrey, nail bat in hand, huffing, glaring into the empty eye sockets of Death herself. She went over, helping Sarmenti back to his feet.

Aubrey: “I gotchu, I’ve got ya…”

Sarmenti: “Aubrey…I am thankful to you…but you’re an idiot. ”

Aubrey: “What!? She was gonna kill you dude!”

Death’s head turned to face Aubrey, recovering quickly from the blow. She cracked her neck, raised a hand up…and snapped her fingers. Immediately, the pews around them formed into a barrier, a fighting ring from which escape was impossible…though Death’s head lacked eyes of any sort, Aubrey could feel the anger boiling from those sockets.

Death: “Very well, Aubrey. Time to die. ”

Aubrey felt sick to her stomach, her nerves screaming at her to get the hell out of there and never look back…and yet she couldn’t. Cornered….Trapped….like a rat in a maze. No chance for egress - will this be a massacre?

Death bounded forward towards Aubrey, blade at the ready, when Damain came in from the side and tackled her, bashing her repeatedly with the whip, locking into a brawler’s grasp with the Pale Rider. Death punched him in the chest wound,forcing more of that blighted fluid to release. Sarmenti rushed up, sickle in hand, and sliced at her back…a mark. An opportunity. Damain shoved her away, and readied that ball of blight once more, targeting Death. With all the blight that she had received from the whacking, she was more than primed for an impromptu round of purgation. Damian reared his hand back, ripping once again the blight from Death, causing massive damage to her being. She yelled in pain as the toxic juices were torn from her, drawn back into Damain. He laughed triumphantly…and then Death got back up.

Death: “ Enough! ”

With a booming force, Sarmenti, Aubrey, and Damian would find themselves thrown to the edges of the impromptu arena. Death would step over to The Flagellant, and sliced him again on his chest, causing massive hemorrhaging…and she sliced again. And again. And again. Every wound causing his body to fail further and further, more than his healing would allow for…and eventually he fell to the ground, panting, barely wheezing his damaged lungs…he was on Death’s Door. One good strike would end things here, and now.

Sarmenti: “Damian! Get back up! Come on!”

Damian attempted to rise, but Death rolled him over onto his back with her foot,and planted it on his ravished chest.

Death: “ Your luck has run dry, Damian. I will claim you now, and be done with this nonsense. ”

Death reared her scythe once more, aiming at Damian’s neck…a clean cut. Painless…And a guaranteed end. Sarmenti thought rapidly at how to salvage this…his smoke bomb would do nothing, not at that point blank range, his sickle would be no good, he was too far away…his dagger lay upon the floor across from him…no, he needed something big, something fast…something now, to end this battle…….Sarmenti weighed the odds…and gripped his lute. He rushed forward briefly, and fell to his knees, sliding across the floor like a heavy metal artist. He strummed some cursedly familiar notes, and the air suddenly went quiet, save for the echoes of the haunting Solo he just played. Death turned her attention to The Jester…and paled slightly.

Death: “ Sarmenti…You would not do that. That is a bluff. ”

Sarmenti: “No. I am not bluffing, Miss Death.”

Damain: “Sarmenti…! Don’t!”

Death: “ You remember the last time you performed this final act, do you not?!”

Indeed, Sarmenti remembered…and he was willing to risk it all.

Sarmenti: “I do. And I find it worth it, to deal with you.”

Death steeled, her attention stolen from Damian…she gripped her scythe…and rushed forward in an attempt to stop Sarmenti…but it was too late. He had already taken his final bow…a few rose petals blew gently from an indiscernible source…and suddenly the sky cracked with energy, as a spear sent from the heavens pierced the veil of reality, and sent itself screaming into Death’s physical form. The Pale Rider went limp, back arching as the Instrument of murder plunged itself deep into her body, going through the other end and vanishing as soon as it came, with a final BOOM of magical discharge. Death’s form began to crumble to ash and dust, as she reached out futilely towards Sarmenti, unable to keep up with the pace of such incredible damage…The pews returned to their positions, and Death’s chill was present no more. Color returned to the church, as the Preacher stood in awe.

Preacher: “…That…that…that was an act of Go-“

Sarmenti: “That…was no…godly act…preacher man.”

Sarmenti coolly took a few steps forward, Damian’s wounds sealing up. He spoke in a quiet…exhausted tone as the weight of today finally claimed it’s due.

Sarmenti: “Aubrey…Kim…Preacher…make sure that…make sure Dami’s alright.”

Aubrey: “I…Okay…dude are you good?”

Sarmenti looked at Aubrey. The exertion the fight had taken on him, plus the disgruntled sleep he had was bad. The energy sapping effect he had been experiencing made things even worse. Even before the Finale he was hanging by a thread…but with such a large burst of energy and magic, Sarmenti’s body and mind could stand no more.

Sarmenti: “……no”

Sarmenti’s words exited out of his mouth with hardly a whisper, and he felt his knees buckle and his body go numb as he fell to the floor, his consciousness sinking away from the waking world before he even hit the ground, sinking into the Darkest depths of sleep…

Chapter 8: Good Night

Summary:

Sarmenti's over-exertion induced exhaustion paves the way for the first (of many) glimpses into an entirely new plane of existence, and the stranger forces that lie within.

"The darkness holds much worse than mere trickery...and boogeymen..."
-The Ancestor (Darkest Dungeon)

…

 

………

 

…………

 

Sarmenti would awaken from his collapse in an…unusual place, that he didn’t even need to open his eyes to tell. Willing his body to do so, He raised his head gently, the throbbing ache between his eyes being set aside so he could analyze his surroundings. He was in some woods-like area, except…not exactly. The trees were there, and so was the grass, the flowers, and the sky, things you’d expect from the woods but it was all…wrong. The trees were paler in hue than normal, as was the grass. A luscious green replaced by more of a creamy seafoam. The flowers again, softer and paler…and the dirt was pink. Pink ! And the sky above was… purple?!?!? The whole area had the vibe and aesthetics of an experimental art piece, not a place rooted in reality!

Sarmenti: “…Where in light’s name am I now?!”

The Jester slowly stood up, wobbling gently as his body reacclimated to not being unconscious. He looked around, noting himself at an intersection, a crossroads with four paths, and a tree stump being in the dead middle of it all…a glowing tree stump with a hole leading down by the roots. He would shift himself around slightly to crawl into the hatch, and found himself walking down a flight of more mutedly colored stairs…a reoccurring pallet it appears. His descent would lead him into a room, where a selection of items would be seen scattered around, recently utilized. Sarmenti would hardly have time to scan the room of all its trinkets and baubles when he heard a polite hiss from below his feet.

Sarmenti: “GAH!”

Some quick footwork prevented Sarmenti from crushing a small snake on the staircase, instead being merely startled by the near foot experience.

Snake: “Thanksssss for not crushing me.”

Sarmenti: “No problem, sorry for nearly crushing you.”

Sarmenti continued down the steps, paused, made a few mental corrections, and turned his head to the snake.

Sarmenti: “…Sorry, did you just talk to me? ”

Snake: “Yessss. I believe we were having ssssuch a polite conversssation.”

Sarmenti stared at the talking animal for a solid couple of seconds, processing this new information. Thankfully, this wasn’t quite the weirdest thing he had seen all week, so he was able to adjust to this situation…somewhat.

Sarmenti: “ Huh. ”

He once again looked across the room, and noticed a few items. A scattered deck of playing cards, a cooked egg on the floor, a cat shaped hole in the floor, a tv that played some indescribable nonsense…another cooked egg on the floor, and a large row of cabinets that lined the back wall. Sarmenti was about to investigate, when he noticed the giant fucking yellow cat that had been staring at him this whole time.  Sarmenti's voice caught somewhat in his thraot, his mind being unable to decide between being horrified, or flabbergasted.

Sarmenti: “…Erm…..Hello?”

Sarmenti gave a wave to the large feline, half expecting nothing to happen...and it blinked slowly. It spoke, because of course it did, in a gentle, soothing tone.

Giant Cat: “Hello there, visitor.”

Sarmenti: “Ah. You can speak too. Wonderful….do you happen to know where in the nine hells I am?”

Giant Cat: “You are here, in the Neighbor’s Room. The others are gone for now, but I imagine they will be back soon.”

Sarmenti: “Neighbor’s room? Wh…No, I meant… Where am I-What is this place?!”

Giant Cat: “Shhh. No need to get upset, Visitor. Calm down…”

Sarmenti blinked harshly, taking a moment to register the fact that a giant yellow cat was telling him to calm down. Yeah. Sure. He’ll get right on that.

Sarmenti: “This situation is…very, very confusing.”

Giant Cat: “When the others get here, perhaps they can help you.”

Sarmenti: “The uh…Others?”

Sarmenti paced around the room, investigating the trinkets and baubles all around him.

Giant Cat: “Yes. Kel, Aubrey, Hero, Basil, Mari, and OMORI.”

Sarmenti held to those names. Kel, Aubrey and Basil made sense, he had seen them earlier and perhaps they were trapped in this place like he was. He had no clue who Hero or Omori was, but wasn’t Mari…dead, like Aubrey claimed earlier?

Sarmenti: “Mari?”

Giant Cat: “Yes. She is a wise one, Visitor, she is always there for you.”

Sarmenti: “I don’t think that’s very likely, Mr Giant Cat Sir.”

The cat blinked slowly, giving a curious look to Sarmenti

Giant Cat: “And why is that so?”

Sarmenti: “Because Mari is D-“

 

…

 

Sarmenti blinked harshly, taking a moment to register the fact that a giant yellow cat was telling him to calm down. Yeah. Sure. He’ll get right…on…that….

Sarmenti: “This situation is...very...I…Erm…My apologies…I am uh…merely…very, very confused, that is all.”

Giant Cat: “When the others get here, perhaps they can help you.”

Sarmenti: “The…Sure. The others.”

Sarmenti felt a chill go down his spine as he paced around the room, investigating the Trinkets and Baubles within…or well he would, if he hadn’t investigated them already…had he? He felt the strangest sense of Deja Vu, like the last few moments he had just experienced. Shaking his head gently, he looked over at the wall across from the Yellow Cat and saw a door….a wooden door! One that was almost exactly like the one he was dragged through at the start of this mess! Sarmenti rushed over, and turned the knob, expecting it to be locked like before, except this time it opened freely…how odd. Sarmenti stepped in, closing the door behind him…and was assaulted by just… White .

Welcome to White Space.

Sarmenti rubbed his eyes through the holes in his mask to adjust to the bright world a bit better, and what he found within wasn’t much. A strange computer, a box of tissues, a small notepad, and a Cat who had just awoken from the sound of Sarmenti’s intrusion. She mewed softly, and curled back up to resume her sleep. A quick look up would reveal a…rather black bulb, that pulsed gently. He frowned, getting a nasty feeling from the inverted incandescent. So instead, he decided to look at the objects within this disjointed space of reality. First up was the Notepad. Cracking it open revealed some…odd, works of art. It was incomprehensible, yet definitively disturbing. Sarmenti continued to thumb through the pages, and was unsettled further. He made it to the back pages, which were blank…save for the final page, which had a single entity within it. An inky shadowy mass with a singular unblinking eye. Sarmenti felt cold looking at it, and so the book would be shut. Sarmenti would instead head to the strange laptop, booting it up and hearing it’s fans whirr…despite never seeing something like this ever in his life, he felt strangely comfortable using the piece of technology, as he opened up the only file available at the moment. A “Journal”. Clicking on it revealed…erm…

Day ???: Today I spent time in White Space. Everything was okay.

Day ???: Today I visited my friends. Everything was okay.

Day ???: Today I spent time in White Space. Everything was okay.

Day ???: Today I spent time in White Space. Everything was okay.

The two lines would repeat interchangeably between days…Light by a lamppost, this was strange…Sarmenti shut the laptop, and having no further options, looked back up at the lightbulb. He could reach it from where he was, if barely. Holding it felt…ice cold, akin to holding a dead body’s hand in your grasp. He looked into it, and found nothing but the infinite darkness within. It pulsed slightly harder in Sarmenti’s grasp, but returned to normal once he let go. Sarmenti then began to wander off away from the door and everything, deeper into the white void. He continued to wander…and wander…and wander…and then something appeared in the distance. Something red. Something…disembodied, The Jester approached, only to be met with a floating Red Hand . Sarmenti approached the hand, which when The Jester got close, reacted in a startled manner, flinching back…and made some very confused looking hand motions.

Sarmenti: “…Can you talk too?”

The Hand in Question apparently didn’t like that question very much, as it flung itself back aghast, and pantomimed some whistling…and that’s when Sarmenti witnessed a lot more Red Hands approach from the infinite white distance. Sarmenti quickly dashed back to the mainland, going for the door, but it was locked, Damn it all it was locked! 

Sarmenti: “Shit! Shit! OPEN THE DOOR!”

Sarmenti tugged and slammed on the door, but it failed to budge. The Jester reached for his sickle…only to find it absent from his person! Sarmenti’s emotions turned to fear and anxiety, going for his dagger which he thankfully still had, and slashed out at the hoard of hands, who backed up apprehensively.

Sarmenti: “Back!....Back I say! Back!”

Sarmenti went to try picking the keyhole open. A process that was shockingly easy, though slower as it was interspersed with panicked slashes towards the hoard of disembodied palms, forcing them to keep their distance. The second he felt the lock fail, he  swung the door open, fleeing forward…and began to fall again as the door opened into an infinite darkness. An inverse of the white glare of the space he was just in, the area around him was black as death, and had no floor apparently, resulting in Sarmenti falling…and falling…and falling…until at last he reached a solid ground of sorts, one that felt springy, gentle to the touch. He heard a voice, off in the distance…and yet not, at the same time. It sounded…um…feminine? Familiar? It was definitely one of the voices of all time, soothing, yet scratchy, like a slightly worn record.

???: “Ohhh shoot! That’s bad, that’s bad! This area shouldn’t be open! I should just be able to close it by shutting that down and…a bit of this…and some of those…just enough to keep them entertained so they don’t notice…aaaaand…there!”

The door above slammed shut, locking and disappearing. Sarmenti hopped to his feet, dagger in hand, Steadily approaching forward towards the source of the noise…and found a rather disturbing sight. A red light, surrounded by a cage of darkness cloaked flesh and membrane. Faces of indescribable emotion flowed in and out of the horrid illuminations and two eyes, belonging to faces framed in shadow, could be seen on either side of the massive chamber the light resided in, staring into the very back corners of Sarmenti’s being. The Jester prepared to call out, when he heard soft footsteps approaching from an unknown wall…and a figure popped out from the darkness. It was a strange, Wraith-like figure, like a shadow of a person projected on a wall taken physical form and manifest. It had long flowing hair, with a bow on it, much like Aubrey…and yet its clothes were nothing more than a simple gown and a skirt, like you would see on a small child…or in a hospital. Its face held eyes that were composed of many pale white circles, much like a child’s scribbles on a piece of paper, only barely able to maintain a form that somewhat resembles standard ocular organs. The thing softly gasped in surprise when it saw Sarmenti, and spoke again. It’s voice sounded something like a younger Aubrey but…it was wrong. Fake. Dreamlike. As if there was no substance behind it, just vocals.

???: “Oh dear me! I must’ve closed the door too late and now you’ve ended up here! I’m really sorry sir, this is all my fault. I’ll get you out of here as quickly as I can, okay?”

Sarmenti: “…what”

The thing blinked, recognition in her strange eyes, which appeared to focus more into something more…standard, in human facial features.

???: “…Hey, wait a sec! You’re not from the Headspace, are you?”

Sarmenti: “…sorry the Wh-“

???: “Nonono! I remember you! You’re the Jester guy I saw in the greenhouse! The-The-The-The-Sarmenti! Sarmenti, yeah, that’s you right?”

Sarmenti’s brain power cycled through the 143 stages of grief before settling upon-

Sarmenti: “WHAT THE FUCK IS EVEN GOING ON HERE ?!?!? ”

…that.  The being covered its...ears?, reacting in shock.

???: “Yeesh! Okay, okay. You know what? I understand, you’re confused, you’re in a strange place with even stranger connotations and you’ve got no clue what’s happening, right?”

Sarmenti: “YA THINK?! I…I don’t even know how I ended up here! All I remember is fighting off Death and passing out…did you bring me here?!”

???: “No no! You must’ve connected here by accident when you fell asleep! Same as uh…he did.”

The strange being giggled softly, gently approaching Sarmenti.

???: “But you don’t have to worry about that right now. Because I’m gonna make sure you're safe, alright? Everything is going to be okay!”

The being smiled, and Sarmenti exhaled slowly…exasperatedly. He sighed. Considering the shadow hadn’t harmed him quite yet, At least he could hope to get some answers from…it…her?…her…

Sarmenti: “Okay, Okay. Three questions. 1: Who are you? 2: Where am I? 3: How do I get out?”

The being cleared her throat.

???: “1: That’s a bit hard to explain. 2: You’re in HEADSPACE, a mental world where dreams happen! 3: You’ll get out once your body decides to wake up in the Real World.”

Sarmenti: “…This is all a Dream then?”

???: “Kind of! It’s more like an uh…mental vacation! Yeah! For when the world really piles on all the bad stuff, you just pack your bags and take a trip!”

Sarmenti: “…Light this is making me confused. So…how exactly do I wake up?”

???: “I dunno. Everyone has their way of doing so. The Dreamer usually takes the sharp way out…Buuut why would you wake up when there’s so much stuff to explain and talk about?! And explore! There’s a whole world up there, man! You just went into like…the start of it! There’s the forest, the castle, the beach, the playground, the moon! There’s so much cool stuff to do! Why would you wanna leave it behind?”

Sarmenti: “Trust me, Miss. If you had seen have the “Cool Stuff” I’ve dealt with-“

???: “You mean the stuff with the Spreading Stain and the Cult of the Mountain?”

Sarmenti paused, somewhat taken aback.

Sarmenti: “How do you know about that?”

???: “Dude! You’re in a mental world! I can kinda…read your memories and stuff!”

Sarmenti’s eyes went wide. Invading into his own personal thoughts?! How scandalous! Was nothing he had sacred to this world?! First his prized weapon Slash and now his m-

???: “Woah woah woah, calm down calm down! I’m not reading too deep into it, just some of the important stuff!…Ooh, you know how to handle a lute hmm? That’s cool! I’m sure the Gator Guys would love a musician at the last resort!”

Sarmenti shook his head, slowly feeling the bulwarks of his sanity drain away from the utter chaos of this situation. He needed to leave, and soon,  lest he lose his mind...erm, more of it, anyways.

Sarmenti: “I…Look, I…can I just wake up? Please? I need to make sure my friends are okay.”

 

???: “You mean Damian? And Aubrey? And Kim? I’m sure they’re doing alright man. You’ve been tired, and you worked really hard in that battle recently! You deserve a break.”

 

Sarmenti, despite everything going on, found the capacity to register in his mind that she was rather curiously pressed to keep him asleep in this dream. While the motivations for such were unclear, it did make playing out the conversation to his advantage a tad easier.

Sarmenti: “…Well I would probably enjoy the break more if I knew my friends were alright, you know?”

The being took a moment to think, humming a few notes of a familiar tune…yet Sarmenti couldn’t quite place where he heard it last.

???: “True, True…Okay. I’ll open up a way out, and you can wake up and see how your friends are, but don’t stay awake too long! Come back as soon as you can, alright? We’ll all be here for you!”

The figure smiled as a new door opened up behind The Jester. Sarmenti went through, and all cross faded to black…

---

Sarmenti woke up…in yet again, an unfamiliar place…Light he hoped this wouldn’t become a habit. It was cold, but not unnaturally so. The surface he lay upon was cold and solid like bedrock, the ceiling made of some wood but the walls made of smooth stone like materials…cement. Sarmenti’s actual inaction would be interrupted by the sensation of being violently jostled and shook. Like an earthquake…a blight reeking earthquake

Damian: “Sarmenti! You return to the land of the living once again! Haha!”

Sarmenti laughed weakly as he held a hand out to grasp Damian’s, shaking it limply.

Sarmenti: “That…I am…that I am…are…you alright? What about the others-“

Damian: “Oh, yes. The one called “Kim” allowed us to stay at her residence while you recover. She and Aubrey are fine, a little shaken obviously with such a close brush with the Pale Rider, but fine nonetheless!”

Sarmenti: “And you?”

Damian: “Me?! Hahah! I am Ecstatic! I feel like a newly flayed pig! I have once again gazed into the cold abyss of Death, and she is the one who blinked! Mwahah!”

Sarmenti: “Okay…Good….good….ugh.”

Sarmenti set his head back down upon the floor. He was unsure whether or not he should go back to sleep to deal with that being he met and the world she resided in, or stay awake and deal with his entire body feeling like it went toe to toe with a meat grinder. Physical agony, or Emotional distress. Pick your poison.

Sarmenti: “…What day is it?”

Damian: “You’ve only been unconscious for…3 hours.”

Sarmenti: “So…3 AM-ish?”

Damian: “Roughly.”

Sarmenti: “Good.”

Sarmenti got to his feet, assisted by Damian. He brushed himself off, cracking his knuckles.

Sarmenti: “So is Kim here too? And Aubrey?”

Damain: “Kim yes, Aubrey no. She said something about having some other place to sleep tonight.”

Sarmenti: “Very well…and how did I get here anyways?”

Damian: “I carried you.”

Sarmenti snorted, giving a chuckle to his rotted ally.

Sarmenti: “…Yeah that sounds about right for a maniac like you to lug me all the way here”

Damian grinned, and pat Sarmenti’s arm…the one that hadn’t been sliced. The Jester gave a quarter of a laugh, and gently knocked on the door in the garage that led further into the house.

Sarmenti: “Excuse me…may I come in?”

The door unlocked, and there stood Kim, wearing some slightly more casual clothes, having the look of someone who had just woken up. The smell of trees filled the air.

Kim: “Oh, hey...you're awake. You feeling alright after…uh……. that ?”

Sarmenti: “Oh, Yknow, just a casual brush with Death and fall into Coma combo. It’s my specialty really.” Sarmenti snarked

Kim: “Well, you can stay in the garage for tonight. Vance and I managed to convince our mom to let you two stay…”

Kim despondently sighed.

Kim: “But you two owe me for that! Had to sacrifice half my candy stash to Vance so he would help!”

Sarmenti: “Your service will not go unpaid, Kim.”

Kim: “It better not…”

Kim groaned.

Kim: “Anyway uh…You guys need any medical stuff or need to use the bathroom, it’s down the hall, to the left. I’m gonna go back to bed.”

Kim nodded, shut the door, and went back to her bedroom to sleep. Sarmenti and Damian looked at each other shrugging.

Sarmenti: “I’ll take watch. You-“

Damian: “Absolutely not, You rest up, I'll watch. I’m practically healed, you’re still recovering!”

Sarmenti went to shake his head…and seethed at the pain that followed the motion…Sleep was tempting, but risk another encounter with that thing? Nope! Out of the question!

Sarmenti: “No. I’m…I'm fine. Il watch.”

Damian: “Well, I guess we can both take watch, but if you fall asleep I’m not waking you.”

Sarmenti: “Alright.”

Sarmenti hopped up on a nearby metallic icebox, and sat on it, waiting for morning to come. Meanwhile, Damian was looking around…when he found a box of long unused tools and implements…he chuckled victoriously, this would be another satisfying evening…

Chapter 9: Good Morning!

Summary:

Sarmenti’s sleeplessness starts to cloud his judgment and brings him closer to collapse. Fortunately a run in with some of the Hooligans’s prime picking targets earns him a temporary reprieve…key word, Temporary.

Notes:

This chapter was originally going to be longer, but I wanted to split this into two parts, so if the ending seems a bit choppy, that’s why.

 

Three Days Left.

It was about 11 AM when Kel would make his move. One last chance, One last try. He only had a few days until he was gone, so he was gonna try, just once more. If he didn’t respond this time then well…let’s hope he does. Kel knocked on the decrepit door to the Suzuki family residence, waiting…praying for a reply.

Kel: “Helllooooo...Helllloooooooooooo? SUNNY? Are you there?”

Kel waited a bit longer, knocking again…

Kel: “Do you remember me? It's your old friend, KEL!”

The orange clad teen put on a smile, sheepishly looking at Sunny’s front lawn.

Kel: “So, I...uh...I noticed the "FOR SALE" sign in front of your house...and I...err...heard from my mom that you were moving away soon…I was wondering... if you wanted to hang out one more time, before you go... or whatever... for old time's sake, y'know?”

Kel held his breath for a few moments…and heard nothing. A miscalculation perhaps?…No. Nothing. Just the rustling summer wind. This was going nowhere fast. The teen’s smile faltered slightly.

Kel: “Oh...Alright, then...I understand....Well, I guess I gave it a shot …”

He sighed despondently, starting to turn back when he heard the door unlock, and slowly creak open revealing a pale skinned child that looked less like a human and more like a zombie. But that mattered not. for In the flesh, was Sunny Suzuki.

Kel…has found him at last!

---

Sarmenti and Damian were once again at the hangout spot. Damian was well rested and full of energy, on account of passing out in the middle of the night watch. Sarmenti was…less so. Having spent the night awake and tending to his wounds. His eyes hurt, and he felt sluggish, but a chipper attitude and a few smacks to the face allowed the clown to push on past the urge to sleep…and risk encountering that world once again. The two waited for the hooligang to make their usual entrance, but they were later than usual. Sarmenti cricked his neck.

Sarmenti: “Our Teenage Allies seem to be taking the day off perhaps?”

Damian: “Maybe. Well that just leaves us more time to do our own shit. We need stuff, and we need it soon.”

Sarmenti nodded, stretching his limbs, and headed into the woods along with Damian, to see what could be done. Spying on the passer goers from within the wooded shroud, they all seemed to be heading towards the Church. The preacher did mention a sermon today, but The Jester remained doubtful they would be allowed to attend after last night's chicanery. You know, with the physical representation of Death Herself coming to pay a visit and all that. Thankfully, it wouldn’t be long until some of the Hooligans came in, mainly Angel and Maverick, and grabbed their scooters to ride out. Sarmenti watched as they scooted away…and pinched the bridge of his nose, setting his sickle inside the makeshift shelter. He looked…tired. Staying up since 3 am after only Coma napping for 3 hours while simultaneously exploring a dream realm and negotiating with some kind of malevolent (probably) force within it will do that to a human.

Damian: “Sarmenti, whatcha doing?”

Sarmenti: “I’m feeling unwell. I’m gonna see if I can’t get something to drink, and I don’t think I’ll need my main tool to do any killing…this neighborhood appears to be monster and brigand free.”

Damian: “Well, make sure you’re staying on your toes…just in case.”

Sarmenti nodded and headed out towards the main section of the park, where he heard the telltale signs of commotion. Peeking out towards the center of the Children’s playspace, he saw Kim. And that blonde haired bastard Basil that ran from him in the greenhouse. Sarmenti would go and immediately start asking questions as to what was going on if not for the fact that he felt something…radiating from the smaller child. An Aura of just…panic… Stress …Sarmenti was familiar with high amounts of stress amongst the day to day locals in his chronological neck of the woods, but a child? In this time? They shouldn't be this stressed unless some major thing was going on. Maybe that's the reason for the fight…In anycase, Sarmenti listened in from his wooded alcove…and ignored the gentle feeling of numbing lethargy that began to creep within his limbs.

Kim: “Look, this ain’t none of my business. If you got beef with her, then talk to her yourself, ya creep!”

Basil: “I’m begging you, please! Just ask her to give it back…”

Kim: “You think maybe she has a reason she’s not talking with you anymore, huh? Now get lost! ”

Yeesh. Talk about resentment…And here Sarmenti was, thinking that that time between Dismas and Baldwin with the stew was bad…The Jester was about to pull his lute out and start strumming a tune to hopefully redirect this spite, when that orange clad ball player strolled up to the two, along with a rather pale looking kid in an attempt to defuse the situation and…oh… oh…. by the light that’s not good. Sarmenti blinked in shock as he felt the energy in the air…it…if Basil’s stress was high then this Vampire wannabe’s was… far worse...

A small explanation for Sarmenti’s immediate panic seems to be in order. You see, Sarmenti’s role as a Jester afforded him the skills and know how to attune to the general Aura of people’s Stress. He could read this feeling of loathing and mental degradation on a scale, ranging from 0 at a minimum to 10 at a maximum. Now, normally, a standard person’s stress on a day to day basis would rest at approximately 1-2. 0 stress would be a fantastic day where everything goes right. Maybe you just got a hard earned promotion at your job, or your favorite restaurant adds a new menu option that’s absolutely delicious, or maybe it’s just a nice day out (some people are easier to please than others). Whatever the case is, a 0 stress day is an extraordinarily good day, so an average stress of 1-2 isn’t unreasonable, because while few days are worth jumping into oncoming traffic for, not everyday is perfect. 3 or more stress however is where things get a bit harsher. Anywhere from 3-5 stress is a tiring, but still somewhat managing day in your life. Maybe you nearly got into a car accident, or you tripped and fell on your bad knee, or maybe a seagull stole your ice cream. Whatever the reason, today just isn’t your day. A 6 or higher would indicate a far more…serious source of stress. A major injury, a near death experience, or a significant event consisting of raw emotional damage. Maybe you just got fired from your job and rent is due in 3 days. Maybe you actually did get into that car accident and nearly died. Maybe your long standing partner just up and dumped you for no reason. Typically, if someone’s stress is a 6 or higher, it means they’re going through something pretty dang rough. To give an example, Sarmenti’s stress after Damian did his whole Stress-whip self-enduring-thingy sat at a comfortable 2, while Damian’s stress before getting the snot beaten out of him by the hooligang was a 5. For most kids, this stress scale is kinda flexible, as EVERYTHING to the little nuggets is stressful, because hey, They’re kids! They have no idea how the world works! And they recover quickly too. Most kids and usually teens can go from 2 to 5 to 1 to 6 to 0 in a heartbeat, but still the average stress level rests at about 2-3 for teens and young adults… So, naturally, when Sarmenti saw that SUNNY had a stress of FUCKING 9 then that was a biiiiiiiiiit more than a little concerning. And it had clearly been at 9 for a while now considering Sunny wasn’t shaking like a mad dog or some other obvious tell…the child was used to a high stress threshold, but any small thing could probably make his mind snap like the small twigs his limbs resembled…unless he had been at this high stress state for long enough that it’s his normal…which would be very bad, as even Sarmenti’s Magic Music couldn’t reach someone’s mind that entangled with Stress. The only thing that could cure that would be a Session at the abbey, Ale and tinctures, or maybe even Therapy… god that word felt gross in Sarmenti’s mouth. The Therapy of the 1600s was not exactly the greatest, and he doubted it had improved much since then if Aubrey and Sunny were to evidently go by.

The Orange one…uh…Kel. He spoke up, confronting Kim as to Basil’s torments, and she reacted with some aloof posturing and general snark...and that’s when Aubrey stepped up to the plate. Sunny started to step in, and Aubrey cocked a sneer, looking at the two with a dangerous grin. She spat out vitriol filled sentences with contempt for the two…and especially Sunny…

Aubrey: “How long has it been since you left your house? Three years...? Maybe four? Heh, Must have been nice to live in your own little bubble like that.”

Kel: “Watch it Aubrey, you don’t know what he’s been through!”

Aubrey: “ Bullshit I don’t know. ”

Basil desperately power walked over to the pink haired punk.

Basil: “Please, Aubrey, just listen to m-“

And he was rewarded with a proper good shove to the ground. Aubrey sneered, and Kel's face twisted with anger.

Kel: “What the heck is wrong with you Aubrey?!”

More words were spoken, threats uttered, and fighting stances quickly took shape. Aubrey held her bat intimidatingly, menacingly approaching  Sunny and Kel with malicious intent. Perhaps Sarmenti should intervene with this conflict, as Aubrey was still technically a child, and he didn’t want her to hurt-

*Shing!*

It was a Moving Attack!

The kitchen knife that Sunny suddenly procured from his side struck violently at Aubrey, ripping into her letterman’s jacket and giving her a light nick on her arm.  She yelped out in a combination of pain and shock, retreating backwards. Her eyes widened, clearly dissuaded by the sharpened blade.

Aubrey: “GAH!…What the?! Is…Is that a knife!? ”

Aubrey immediately drew back, clearly unsettled. Sarmenti didn’t quite understand why she reacted in shock to a weapon being drawn when she had hers out in plain view, but hey, maybe rules of engagement are different in this time. She left away in a huff or…no. Kim was there…yeah, with the scooters. They talked some more, and Aubrey and Kim rode off…Sarmenti blinked his eyes harshly, bells gently tinkling. Now Kel and Sunny were talking…and now there was no more mr knife guy, as Kel confiscated the blade and put it in his backpack. The two headed over to Basil and…and…

Sarmenti: “… urgh… ”

The Jester blinked harsher yet, gritting his teeth. C’mon Sarmenti, concentrate! They talked about a Photo Album . The one Aubrey had…has, rather. She did get the cleaner, right? Sarmenti didn’t ask, why didn’t he ask?!…Right, because she didn’t head to the clearing, the hangout spot…then how did she get the scooter? Did one of her friends bring it over? They must’ve…Did he leave before they did? Why isn’t this making sense!? God he was tired….a drink. He needed to drink something. He needed to maybe get to the market, eat an orange, drain its juices into his eyes, anything to wake him up! He needed to stave off this exhaustion, lest he get pulled back into that horri-

Kel: “Uh…Dude? Are you good?”

Sarmenti half snapped back to reality, and noticed he had not quite merrily jingled his way out of his hiding spot. Damnation. Time to do some impromptu explaining.

Sarmenti: “I…Yes. My apologies I…must have not slept well last night-what was that all about?”

Kel: “Oh, just some crud between friends. Um…My name is Kel, we’ve uh…met before? Kinda?”

Sarmenti: “Yeah, you’re that kid with the basketball.”

Kel grinned with pride. The ball in question was spun on his finger.

Kel: “Yep! And this here is Sunny!”

Sunny looked into Sarmenti’s eyes…and the two found a strange, yet kindred connection in each other's exhausted stares.

Sarmenti: “I have heard about you two. Aubrey’s mentioned you before.”

Kel blinked, surprised.

Kel: “Wait woah woah, you’re like, friends with Aubrey?”

Sarmenti: “Yes, I am. My friend and I…erm….mmmmoved here a few days ago. Yes.”

Kel: “Cool! You wanna be friends too?”

Kel held out a hand. An offer of an intergenerational friendship. Hopefully, this collegial handshake wouldn’t doom them both, as Sarmenti, for lack of better diplomatic options, shook it…limply. Kel frowned, brow furrowing somewhat at his new friend’s apparently lacking in grip strength,

Kel: “…you sure you’re ok? You don’t seem too hot.”

Sarmenti: “I am…I’m…I need something to drink.”

Kel lit up with concern. A mission, nay, a quest to help his new friend!

Kel: “Give me a sec, I’ll be right back!”

And with that, Kel sped off with damn near unnatural speed, leaving Sunny and Sarmenti alone. Sarmenti kneeled down to Sunny’s level, tilting his head, jingling slightly more. He had no clue how to broach this topic, so he may as well get to the point.

Sarmenti: “…Are you doing okay, Sunny?”

In response to Sarmenti’s “””fantastic””” social skills, Sunny shrugged. Looks like he doesn’t talk much. And yet that 9 STRESS still hovered in the surrounding air…if it even was 9 stress and not Sarmenti’s exhaustion talking. He heard fast paced footsteps as Kel returned, orange (because of-fucking-course everything with him needed to be orange ) can in tow. He handed it to Sarmenti, grinning. It was cold, oh thank the Light it was cold. He eyed the strange container, and popped the pull tab, much like a tinned delicacy. Whatever this was, surely it would be good! 

The moment the drink touched Sarmenti’s lips, his exhaustion vanished, and was instead replaced with raw agony and disgust. The vile concoction that the container held was some sort of twisted combination of ingredients that could be described as Cheap Coffee mixed with a horrid mockery of Orange Juice. A terrible concentrate that tasted about as orange as The Sprawl’s ash infested air could be considered breathable. Sarmenti sputtered and gasped, setting the drink aside. Poison! This must be Poison! Sarmenti would soon surely die as the wicked beverage coursed through his innards and entered his digestive tract…and that’s when Kel the Orange Fiend cracked open a can of his own, downing it without a care in the world…no. This was no poison after all…merely a rather acquired taste .

Sarmenti: “Ptuh! Blucgh! What…euch…What madness divined such a terrible concoction?!”

Kel: “Orange Joe baby! Isn’t it the best?”

Sarmenti was about to let fly some absolutely not child friendly insults to the Light and the makers of this world, when he caught himself…catching himself. Hm! Rational thought had returned to him at last, his exhaustion cleared away by that strange brew. It may have use yet to stave off such siren songs of slumber!

Sarmenti: “…Well, I’m feeling better now, surprisingly. But next time warn me before handing me such a horrid cure all, if you would please.”

Kel grinned, finishing the last of his Orange Joe, then making an impressive overhand toss towards a nearby Trash Can. Swish.

Kel: “Okay, so if you’re friends with Aubrey, you got any idea where she went? She has Basil’s Photo Album , and we need to get it back!”

Sarmenti thought for a moment…and shrugged.

Sarmenti: “I don’t possibly know where she went. Maybe if you asked the other hooligans they would know?”

That was a bit of a lie. Aubrey presumably would have headed to the church, as she mentioned she would attend the sermon there last night. Though the two kids said they were friends with her, that “fight” and the fact she immediately fled somewhat challenged that claim, or Atleast hinted that Aubrey needed some time to recover from them. If the neon orange lit basketball star and the gaunt child wished to find her, they would need to find such info elsewhere, and so they walked out, hunting for the rest of the Hooligans to find their dear friend Aubrey, while Basil wasted no time in making his exit back to his home. Sarmenti continued to sip on the can of raw agony he held, wincing as he felt it going down his throat. It was painfully disgusting, yes, but it did miracles with staving off exhaustion…perhaps Damian would like this. In any case, somewhat refreshed, Sarmenti began to wander around, looking for more information about this town. Sticking primarily to the woods, he crept around making his way closer to the Church. It stood well to reason that chapel would be a focal point of today, as Aubrey was presumably there. Eventually, Sarmenti found himself facing the graveyard. He hopped over the small fence and looked around, gazing at the many headstones that lay within. Hopefully, this place was more peaceful than the Hamlet’s graveyard…the only thing you could feel there was the merciful oblivion that threatened to suck you into it as well…damn the Ancestor.

He wandered a bit around, looking at the various headstones…and eventually stopped in front of a specific one. It had a flower on it, recently placed from what it looked like, much like some of the others. And yet, it appeared that even the sun itself would be taking a shine to this particular grave. Feeling an odd draw towards this sun-kissed resting place, Sarmenti crouched down to see who this grave belonged to.

OUR DEAREST MARI 

THE SUN SHINED BRIGHTER WHEN SHE WAS HERE.

1981 - 1996

Sarmenti: “ …ah .”

Sarmenti frowned. His fluctuating experiences with death had admittedly left him somewhat numb to the entire concept. To him, death was merely an annoyance, an unforeseen complication…a setback, nothing more. But Death’s grip still held everyone else tightly, and for them, it was as permanent as anything...barring certain strange phenomena. Was he deserving of being one of the lucky ones, along with the ragtag bunch of misfits he called his coach companions?…With the reality of Mari’s death sinking in properly, and an odd feeling in his bones, Sarmenti knelt down. He had seen Junia do this a few times to the deceased parties of survivors they had occasionally come across, and he vaguely remembered someone else performing these…the knight, maybe? Wonder where they went off to?…Junia was the main performer of these…“Dues to the Dead” as she called them. The Jester thought nothing of them then, but now…he attempted to recollect them into a gesture to pay his respects. The best he could anyhow.

Sarmenti: “Hmm...May the Light bless us and watch over us...may the Light make its face shine on… nonono , upon this soul, yes, and be…good to them?… Sorry, I’m not familiar with this . Aheh …uhm…May the Light look…kindly on this soul and give them peace…In the Name of the Light, and of the Spark and of the Holy Flame……Amen?”

Sarmenti gave one last nod as he rose from his crouching…he didn’t quite know why he did that, but it felt good to do so, half remembered as it was. The Jester at that moment would pause, listening to the wind…the sounds of the world, birds chirping, wind blowing, the piano being played in the church for the Sermon…and then it suddenly stopped. Uh oh. Trouble was brewing within the Church, and Sarmenti began to approach it. Thankfully the backdoor was slightly ajar to let in the cool breeze, so he had little problems opening it and heading inside to see what was going on. In doing so, he would see Aubrey, Sunny, and Kel fighting once again, this time less of a mortal duel and more of an impromptu brawl. One that Aubrey was…losing? Kel had speed and athletics sure, but Sunny of all people seemed to be doing the most damage…why isn’t the preacher stopping this? Sarmenti looked over to see the preacher simply staring at the two with dread and worry on his face. The churchgoers murmuring wicked comments about the situation…and not just standard nitpicky nattering, I mean some seriously nasty stuff.

“I always knew she would be trouble...The pastor should have kicked her out a long time ago!”

“Children these days have no respect...I hope no one’s kids turn out like her. ”

“That girl is a threat to this neighborhood! There's no hope for sinners like her !”

That last comment struck a particular nerve with Sarmenti. He prepared to march over to that hateful croon and strike her in her wretched mouth when the preacher held a cautious arm out, preventing Sarmenti from proceeding further.

Sarmenti: “What are you doing?! Shouldn’t you be breaking this up?!”

Preacher: “This seems important. I’ve had…problems connecting to Aubrey in the past. This is the most emotional I’ve seen her in a long time.”

Sarmenti: “So you’re just going to let them duke it out?!”

Preacher: “They aren’t hurting each other that bad. Aubrey isn’t even using her weapon.”

Sure enough Aubrey’s makeshift weapon lay aside at the front door, where normal citizens would keep their umbrellas. Sarmenti pinched the bridge of his nose.

Sarmenti: “…I see. I don’t understand this, but I don’t run a church, so.”

Preacher: “I am honestly surprised to see Sunny here after all this time.”

Sarmenti: “He doesn’t come here much?”

Preacher: “He doesn’t come out at all . This is the first I’ve seen him in…I would say maybe 4-ish years?”

Sarmenti paused. He remembered the tombstone…1996…4 years ago was when Sunny’s sister died. He winced, putting two and two together.

Sarmenti: “I take it his sister’s passing was the cause?”

Preacher: “That makes sense to me.”

Sarmenti: “That doesn’t sound like a good response to death now does it? Her death truly must have been tragic.”

The Preacher took a clenched breath of remembrance.

Preacher: “Yes. It was extremely tragic.”

Sarmenti: “…I will inquire no further. Know that you have my condolences.”

Preacher: “Thank you.”

The brawl reached its last legs…as Aubrey glared at the two, spitting on the ground. No blood.

Aubrey: “Ugh…Forget it. You two aren’t worth my time.”

And with that, she stormed out of the holy grounds, grabbing her nail bat…and throwing something in the trash. The crowd began to murmur…as their attention laid fixed on the teens who remained, sheepishly looking around. The ghastly nattering changed focus.

“What is he doing here? Shouldn’t he be with his mother?”

“I thought they left already. The house looks unkempt. I thought it was abandoned!”

“How could they be friends with such a nasty girl?”

Sarmenti clenched his jaw. The crowd would surely drive Sunny into a Meltdown at this rate. They needed the attention off of them, and quickly!

Sarmenti: “This crowd seems to be getting into an uproar, with the kids as their lunch meat. I have an idea. You lead the hymnal, I’ll play the piano you have.”

The preacher looked at Sarmenti, incredulous, but hopeful.

Preacher: “You play the Piano?”

Sarmenti: “Yessir.”

Truth be told, Sarmenti was more of a strings person than an ivory tickler, but he could play. The Jester went over to the piano, noticing the onyx black wood that showed his reflection within, and the instrument’s pure white keys, slightly worn from no doubt plenty of use for sermons and celebrations. They managed to look cold and inviting…somehow. Sarmenti ground his eyes shut for a moment, trying to blink away exhaustion further, as his gaze fell onto the name etched into the wood of the Piano, a brand that must have made this specific bit of instrumentation.

“OMORI ™”

Sarmenti: “… oh shit. ”

And with that, Sarmenti began to play, and everything went dark.

Chapter 10: Somniphobia

Summary:

Sarmenti’s exhaustion takes him to the brink, The Being shows a glimpse of its true colors, and the veil between worlds beings to strain.

Sarmenti’s mind was fractured, violently ripped into by the weight of the waking world in a split second. Within it, a rapidly decaying ability to remain awake only barely held together by that horrible tincture of coffee and orange juice. He blinked forcefully, looking around. He found himself within that terrible void he encountered last time he slept, albeit not exactly. The crowd was there, the preacher frozen in watching…everything had stopped. He was in some sort of half asleep half awake in between. The kind of feeling where everything speeds up, slows down, and everything just feels way too floaty. The Jester continued his look around…only to find the mythical figure he escaped from last time sitting on the piano,looking at him…with concern and disappointment.

???: “Don’t stay awake too long!” I said! “Come back as soon as you can.” I said! And what do you do? You stay awake for nearly…11 more hours, running off of 3 hours, an injury, and that orange soda Kel likes!”

Sarmenti rubbed his pupils, staring at the thing. How is it talking to him like this?

Sarmenti: “You…How are you-“

The Being sensed his question a mile away, answering preemptively, but with a kind tone.

???: “I’m able to reach you because your brain is so sleep deprived it called out to me. You evidently need sleep, and, really badly at that!

The figure hopped off the Piano, and slowly walked over, kneeling down to get to Sarmenti’s sitting level.

???: “Look, I…I know I may have given you a bad first impression of everything and freaked you out, but it’s okay! I swear headspace is cool! It won’t hurt you or anything, You just need to sleep…please.”

Sarmenti considered the thought of obeying the being’s request and leaving this place to go take a quick nap, but one look over at the boys frozen in time knocked that notation out of his head.

Sarmenti: “…No. No, No, No. I am not dealing with this right now. I have a performance to do, notes to play.”

The being frowned.

???: “I feel like getting your body an adequate amount of sleep is far more important than a church concert!”

Sarmenti: “It’s not…I also need to get the…attention off of the kids. You must have seen how harsh the church crowd was to them, didn’t you? Allow me to play this piece, and I will rest…probably.”

A clear cut lie that fooled precisely nobody. The Being’s frown deepened and she sighed. She took a soft breath and spoke again,with her voice taking a calm…almost otherworldly soothing tone. She gently approached, holding Sarmenti’s masked face in her hands.

???: “You need to sleep…..It’s okay to rest….It’s all going to be okay…You just need to close your eyes…”

Sarmenti was about to raise his voice in protest with her touching his mask, when found himself suffering from a sudden and indescribable wave of exhaustion that damn near knocked him catatonic. His blurry vision forced to focus on The Being’s eyes for a few agonizingly long seconds, eyes that felt like windows to a serenity that drained his ability to remain awake at ludicrous speeds. His mind began to fog up, threatening to succumb to the creeping numbness that filled his body…then his hand pressed down on a few keys, letting out a mess of musical notes that startled the Being enough to allow him to regain control of himself and brush her away. His eyes widened anew, and a smirk fell on his face. Her ace up her sleeve, revealed at last!

Sarmenti: “Hah! I see now…you have mental manipulation powers within your arsenal! Have I not fallen asleep fast enough for your planning, Dream Demon?!”

The Being’s eyes widened, clearly startled by this reaction.

???: “uhh…Shhhh…It’s okay, It’s-“

Sarmenti: “Nice try, but I’ve gone toe to toe with sirens and actual mind breaking forces, you have naught against them, so you have nothing against me!”

The Being took a few surprised steps back…forcing a guilty smile, and a nervous laugh.

???: “Uh…eheh…ehh…that usually works…”

Sarmenti, filled with a renewed prideful vigor, let out a suppressed laugh, cracked his knuckles, and began to play for the church. The hallowed halls soon began to ring out with surprisingly good church music, playing along perfectly to the psalms and hymns, emulating church bells and organ notes even from a simple piano thanks to the unnatural magic that The Jester wielded. Soon the energy of the church was focused on him, and it renewed his focus. The Preacher and the churchgoers singing joyfully and with praise to god on their minds…and not the incident that happened just a few moments earlier, allowing the boys to escape undetected. The Crowd was happy, and the preacher continued to lead them in song and sermon.

Sarmenti’s motivation for such epic piano playing however was less Altruistic than one might think. With each key pressed, each note successfully played, that thing’s grip on his mind faltered…and with every second spent without song, the being recovered, threatening to seize his mind, and force him back into the dark dream. The Jester felt a familiar feeling, like he was at court once more. Play the hits, keep the crowd happy, keep the melody moving. He played and played and played on. He played until his mind cleared of the lethargic fog, he played until his fingers started to bleed, and he played up until the very end of the sermon, finishing out with a distinguishing, yet legendary, piano solo. The Churchgoers rose with applause as Sarmenti took a (not magically charged!) final bow. He chuckled, grinning behind his pearl white mask. He did feel a bit tired, but nowhere nearly as bad as before!

Sarmenti: “Ahhh…I forgot how much I love a captive audience! Hehehe!”

As the previously vitriol filled crowd dispersed into the day, hearts alight with song, Sarmenti prepared to leave…only for a crisp $20 bill to be placed into his hands by the Preacher, who had a big dumb smile on his mug, laughing heartily.

Preacher: “Well done, well done! I believe that was the most enthusiastic church piano performance this town has gotten in years!”

Sarmenti shrugged, putting the paper into his pocket. He may be from old times, but he could recognize payment when he sees it.

Sarmenti: “Ah, thank you. I just wished to be extra sure the kids uh…got out alright.”

Preacher: “I think you did a bit more than that!…It felt good seeing someone else use that piano to its fullest once again…If you ever wish to join us for another sermon, please, we would be delighted to have you here.”

Sarmenti: “I’ll uh…I’ll keep that in mind, thank you kindly. You take care now, okay?”

Preacher: “And you have a blessed day yourself!”

Sarmenti nodded as he exited via the back, the air having cooled somewhat since he went inside about 4 hours ago…4 hours?! Sarmenti must have rocked in there for far longer than he thought he did. Well, with it being roughly 6 pm, Sarmenti went back into the woods, skulking around, peeking into various homes on his way back to the hangout spot…when he spotted a strange sight from one of the homes. Basil, Kel and Sunny were all together, eating dinner. The three were talking, then Kel said something, Sunny looked away, Basil’s face went pale…and he suddenly went upstairs, going to the bathroom and locking himself away. Sarmenti would chalk this up to the average mental instability of children, if not for the fact that a single, unblinking, unyielding definitely-not-supposed-to-be-there eye was staring at him from the bathroom window. Sarmenti felt his knees buckle, his lungs tighten, his throat seize, his very being chill…The Jester fled further into the woods, his legs automatically carrying him away from the unblinking gaze of that damning ocular…And he would continue running…deeper…and deeper into the woods…the woods that never seemed to end…the trees began to change, the colors turning…softening. The dirt felt strange beneath his feet. He burst out of the trees, stumbling to the ground…and found himself once again at that cursed crossroads, the rainbow glowing stump pulsing.

Welcome back to Headspace.

Sarmenti took a second to rub his eyes rapidly, looking around…and he damn near had a meltdown right then and there.

Sarmenti: “No, no no no no! Light damn it all!”

His breathing began to quicken, his heart pounding. He wasn’t tired, no…he needed to wake up! He was vulnerable previously even with his gear, but with no weapons?! Powerless! He was about to start pinching and jabbing at himself without mercy in a vain attempt to awaken from the dream once more, when he heard commotion coming closer. Sarmenti hopped back into the woods, and peeked out, spying.

???: “Cmon, hurry!”

Along came a child, a young girl dressed in a simple gown, clutching some kind of aubergine plush close with vigor, leading along with her friends. There was a young boy, dressed in a rainbow tiled tank top, basketball in hand, a larger teenager wearing something that looked like plain striped pajamas, frying skillet in his grip, and another child, wearing a pure black tank top, and black and white striped shorts…which would serve his appearance of also being completely black and white rather fittingly. A sharp knife laid bare in his grasp, though its appearance suggested it’s been…used, recently.

???: “Stop rushing us, Aubrey!”

Aubrey: “What’s the matter Kel? Too slow for once to keep up?”

Kel: “Oh shut up Aubrey! Herooo! Aubrey’s bullying me again!”

Hero: “Okay you two, cool it down. We’re almost to the Pyrefly Forest. OMORI? Are you ready to head there?”

The knife wielding child nodded, and took point, leading the group deeper into the woods. As they headed in, Sarmenti practically felt his jaw drop open in his mask. They were what that big ass cat was talking about earlier! Alright. And they were heading into the forest for some reason. Sarmenti followed them, sculking within the shadows of twigs and branches…a process that was made much easier by the thick fog that coated the area. The group slowed down, unable to peer past the thick smog.

Kel: “Ugh…On second thought, maybe we should look for Basil somewhere else…”

Aubrey: “Don’t be a wimp Kel! Omori will protect us, right?”

Omori looked back, and nodded. Sarmenti would sneak a bit more around to get a better angle…when he found himself suddenly face to face with a spider, one that was just relaxing on a leaf. Sarmenti blew forward, launching the spider onto the path…which prompted a terrified reaction from Hero.

Hero: “G-Gah! Spider! SPIDER!”

Hero threw his pan at the 8 legged creature, resulting in it getting converted into nothing more than an 8 legged splatter on the ground. Omori walked over, picked up the pan, and handed it back to Hero, who shakily took it.

Hero: “Gosh…I-I hope we don’t run into any more of those things…”

Kel: “C’mon man, you really gonna be scared of some spiders?”

Kel laughed as he rushed further into the forest…and ran back being chased by a veritable horde of spiders.

Kel: “AAAAAAAAAAA”

Hero: “AAAAAAAAAAAAA”

Aubrey: “AAAAAAAAAAAAAA”

Omori: “…”

Omori readied his blade, and the group engaged in combat with the tidal wave of arachnids. The swarm was able to be easily dispatched by some clever knife swings, and the power of the others. Aubrey wielding a baseball bat, Kel with his ball, and Hero using his frying pan. The swarm was beaten away, and they retreated into the forest…where Sarmenti was. Sarmenti stood perfectly still as the spider swarm began to crawl onto him, hiding around him for protection against the human invaders. They were scared, obviously outmatched, clinging to the clown as if he was their last salvation. Sarmenti remained like a statue, praying to the light that this would end quickly. The group headed forward into the forest, and the spiders dispersed…with one giving a cheeky wave of appreciation to Sarmenti.

Sarmenti: “…At Least they had the decency to thank me…”

Sarmenti groaned quietly as he plodded on through the forest, remaining as hidden as he was able to. The group made it to a clearing, where a picnic blanket laid, pristine and fresh across a small river. There was a basket there, filled with goodies and treats, with orange juice and other refreshments laid aside…and in the middle, was a…half familiar sight. A teenage girl, dressed in a class uniform, a simple skirt around her waist, and dressed up shoes…with long flowing hair. Sarmenti did some mental calculations, and came to a solution via process of elimination.

Sarmenti: “So, she must be MARI. How curious…she is not dead here, in this dream. A spirit perhaps?”

Mari and the party began to talk. A smug look fell upon her face as Hero retreated within himself, blushing with embarrassment. Teasing…the prepubescent love language. Kel and Aubrey laughed as Omori sat next to Mari, leaning his head on her shoulder. Mari gently tousled his hair, chuckling….siblings….The relationships began to show themselves. Sarmenti had seen many relationships within his journeys…Bonds of Hope, Respect, and Love, and of Hate, Envy, and Suspicion. This was a tight knit group of friends, and yet…something felt off. Sarmenti’s exhausted brain took a few moments to process…and his eyes widened. 

Sarmenti: “Kel and Aubrey have dream variants, as does Mari. Hero is not a name I’ve heard in reality before, but he must be real too. A figment of the past then,which leaves Sunny…but I would assume his dream variant is this…erm…”OMORI” thing instead of himself. That’s rather odd.”

Sarmenti continued to stake out the meetup, and soon they left to head to new places, deeper within the woods. It would be at that moment that Sarmenti, against all rational judgment, stepped out, walking over slowly to the picnic blanket, hands raised. Mari turned her head to The Jester, chuckling softly.

Mari: “I wasn’t aware the circus was here too.”

Sarmenti: “It is not, I am afraid…may I sit down?”

Mari nodded, gesturing in front of her. Sarmenti sat down on the soft quilt. It felt comforting, as any good quilt should.

Mari: “So uh…who are you?”

Sarmenti: “Oh, I’m just a clown. I’m uh…lost….within these woods, you know?”

Mari: “Oh! I’m sorry to hear that. I could call Omori and the others and they can help you out!”

Sarmenti: “No no, I don’t…think that would be necessary. Just one last stop before I reunite with my um…troupe?”

Sarmenti internally was mortified by referring to himself with such crude terminology, but it was working, so Sarmenti swallowed his resentment. Mari’s smile softened.

Mari: “I see, I see. Well, you take as long as you need to rest up, okay?”

Sarmenti: “I won’t be long, I don’t mean to uh…bother you.”

Mari: “Oh! Not at all! Honestly it’s kinda refreshing to see someone out here that’s not Omori or a scary monster, haha!”

Sarmenti: “You’ve encountered the monsters here too?”

Mari: “Oh I’ve seen them rummaging around and stuff, but they’ve never attacked me.”

Sarmenti: “Curious.”

Sarmenti was very much attempting to divert his mouth away from the fact that Mari was, supposedly, supposed to be dead and not talking to him right now.

Sarmenti: “You know…why don’t you join the party on their adventures?”

Mari frowned, sighing.

Mari: “I would if I could, but I busted my knee a while ago. I can’t run around like I could back then, I don’t wanna slow them down.”

Mari gave a sheepish laugh, and Sarmenti’s face turned to consolement.

Sarmenti: “Ouch. I’m Sorry to hear that happened to you…How did it happen?”

Mari: “Softball accident.”

Sarmenti: “…Softball?”

Mari: “Yeah, I know, bit of a lame injury, right?”

Sarmenti: “No no no…What’s “Softball”?”

Mari’s face went dumb for a sec.

Mari: “You don’t know what Softball is?”

Sarmenti: “Nope. Mind telling me?”

Mari’s face lit up as she began to speak, explaining the intricacies and rules to the sport, finding some renewed energy in talking to someone besides the Main friend group so vividly. Sarmenti responded in kind, telling tales about the sports he had seen being played, the sights he had seen…and the conversation eventually turned to music.

Sarmenti: “…So when I was at court, I had gone in to play my instruments, right? And instead they treated me like a dummy, a punching bag to belittle and insult! Can you imagine?!”

Mari: “I’ve noticed that guitar you’ve had on your back for a while. You play?”

Sarmenti unholstered his prize instrument, grinning.

Sarmenti: “You don’t think I would lug this bad boy around just for fashion, would ya?”

Sarmenti strummed out a quick ditty, to which Mari clapped.

Mari: “Oh, well done! I play piano myself, actually.”

Sarmenti: “Really? I never expected someone so into sports to play music…usually it’s one or the other, hah.”

Mari: “Yeah. But I can keep with the best of them…I like to think so anyways, heehee!”

Sarmenti: “You know, I played a piano just a few hours ago, back at the local church.”

Sarmenti’s grin wavered for a frame after his mind realized what he said, and mentally facepalmed. The world seemed to hold its breath slightly, waiting with anticipation to see where this conversational topic went.

Mari: “Local church? I uh…don’t know if there are any around here…”

Sarmenti: “Well yeah, it was the church in uh…Faraway Town I believe?”

The world grew more closed in darker as if something was tensing up. Mari remained the same, looking at Sarmenti with genuine friendship. The Jester’s eyes darted around…and he had an idea. Why not piss this world off further, and maybe it would release him? That or, kill him outright. Fun!

Mari: “Faraway town? That name sounds familiar…”

Sarmenti took a breath, held it, and braced for impact.

Sarmenti: “Well it should, it’s where you and Sunn-“

 

…

 

…….

 

Sarmenti blinked, only to find the picnic basket and its sisterly guardian gone. In its place was a dark hole…a hole to some other horrid place. The Jester snickered at his plan working to a degree, before steeling himself and looking down…only to find himself being grabbed by the neck by yet another infernal hand! It choked and strangled Sarmenti as it pulled him down deeper into the darkest void…where everything went black.

Sarmenti would blearily awaken, in a cold sweat, in the normal woods of the real world. It was in the dead middle of the night. Sarmenti groaned as he returned to his senses, standing up to see where he was. He was near that home with the tree stump. He watched through the glass door to see if there was more movement…and there was. That pale child, Sunny from earlier exiting the kitchen, knife in hand. He looked up at the stairs, as if he was watching someone go up them…he trembled as he slowly followed upwards, staring at some unseeable entity. He locked in place, frozen in fear, trying in vain to calm himself…but soon, he was able to Focus and do so, moving past the threat, and going into his room. Huh…how…anticlimactic. Sarmenti turned around to head back to the clearing…only to come face to face with an absolutely fucking horrendously large spider. Sarmenti fell back as the beast decended onto the ground from the trees, allowing its full visage to be seen. Its back held two clay like eyes, akin to the one he saw staring at him from the window…only now it was backed up by a malicious smile that had teeth which were more like rocks stuck in a horrendous grinning maw. Where its fangs should be was a mess of strands, with another singular eye in the middle that oddly enough, looked like that Something at the end of that art book in the white space. Sarmenti went pale, as he crawled backwards towards the tree stump.

Sarmenti: “Wh-Wh-Wh, What the fuck?!”

The being chittered and hissed…before laughing mockingly, and speaking in a terrifying and demonic tone…that for some ungodly reason had slight hints of Brooklyn within it.

???: “What’s the matter Clown? Never seen an itsy bitsy spider before?! Hahaha!”

The beast stamped its front legs into the ground, amused by Sarmenti’s squirming.

Sarmenti: “I…Where you-“

???: “Dealing with the little shit in the house just now? Yeah, that was me. But theeeeeeen I remembered we caught a glimpse of ya running by flower boy’s house, and realized I ought to pay you a visit too!”

Sarmenti’s heart dropped as he remembered running away from Basil’s home…was this the same force? Was this thing plaguing these children?

???: “Heeheheheh. You know what’s funny, Clownie? I gotta put up all this energy, all this time and effort into my works, and I don’t even get to use 'em to the utmost against the kid! It’s just wasted! Not needed! But you…oh, you can take it, can’t ya, big guy? You’re not some hikikomori scrawny ass boy, no no, you’re a monster hunter, a killer, an eldritch slayer!”

The beast chortled excitedly as it skittered around unpredictably, eyes focused on Sarmenti, who’s shock had worn off and had risen to his feet.

Sarmenti: “So…What? Are you looking for a fight or some sort?”

???: “Yeah! A fight that you and I won’t forget! We sensed how you handled that white thing in the church, so how’s about you and I go toe to tarsus, and we see who comes out on top!”

Sarmenti looked dumbfounded.

Sarmenti: “Uh…What are the odds then?”

???: “Of you winning? Who knows! But uhhh….ahhh….Oh! I know. How’s about this? You win the fight, and I’ll tell you some more stuff about this place. The town, the people in it, yknow, that kinda stuff!…As much as I can say of course, heheh…”

Sarmenti found that idea rather tempting, but alas, he was unwilling to do combat. Better put that silver tongue he had to good use once again.

Sarmenti: “I would but…uh…yawn yeah wow I’m so tired…it’d be such a poor sport to fight me in such a crippled condition would it not?”

The spider thought for a moment…and wickedly grinned.

???: “Yeah. You’re right about that…so why don’t we FIX THAT?!”

The beast suddenly lunged at The Jester, dragging him back into the woods at breakneck speeds by the strands on its face, eye staring at him all the while. Sarmenti, quite understandably really, began screaming, the trees and the world blurring around him as he was suddenly brought to a clearing…a dark clearing, surrounded by more of those spiders from earlier, gathered by what seemed to be the thousands in web formed stands…was he back in the dream? No…the trees and the sky and the dirt looked right, it was just these things that shouldn’t be here! The Jester was tossed into the middle as the webs formed again, sealing them in the web arena. Sarmenti got up, groaning from the whiplash.

Sarmenti: “Guh…Where…”

???: “Alrighty Clown! You said you’re tired right? And what’s worse, is it looks like you left your weapons back home! Don’t worry though, we gotcha covered! BOYS! Give the challenger his tools!”

Some scurrying Spiders would scatter out, and soon return with Sarmenti’s prized Sickle. He quickly gripped onto it, holding it…and the spiders on it soon swarmed onto him, combining their power together to give him a massive chomp on the hand.

Sarmenti: “AAARGH!”

Sarmenti whined in agony as he held his hand, feeling the spider’s venom enter through his veins. It burned…badly…but it was surprisingly effective at keeping his attention up.

???: “HAHAHAAH! That oughta wake you up a bit!”

Sarmenti snarled at the giant enemy spider, shooting a glare at them, the burning feeling inside them sparking a suddenly newfound rage.

Sarmenti: “HMM YES, POISONING ME TO WAKE ME UP SOUNDS LIKE SUCH A GODDAMN GREAT IDEA YOU OVERSIZED INSECT!”

The spider crowd chittered with excitement.

???: “Ooh! Now you’re fired up all nice and hot, aHahahahaHAHAHA! AS THE KING, OF ALL THAT WHICH LIVES WITHIN THE WALLS OF THE WORLD, ARE YOU BOYS READY FOR A SHOW?!”

The spider crowd cheered…and Sarmenti gave a wicked laugh, unsheathing his dagger.

Sarmenti: “Alright then…let’s dance.”

And the battle commenced as Sarmenti let loose his dagger, and charged up to the spider. The Arachnid’s leg jagged into by the blade though the fact he had 7 more made that a moot issue. It skittered to the side, lunging at Sarmenti with the hair strands. The jester dodged to the side, slicing at the beast’s form, resulting in a few tufts of shadowy hair being sliced off,lying on the ground. The Beast snarled somewhat, and pounced directly at The Jester, aiming to pin them. Instead, Sarmenti slid under them, slicing at their newly exposed underbelly. The sickle connects, and the beast’s underside is rended open. A killing blow…if not for the fact that the flesh of the arachnid began to fuse together like shadows mixing on a sunny day. Sarmenti winced in surprise as the beast chortled.

In The Walls: “Oh come on Clown! You really think a single good shot like that would do me in?! Hahahaha! We didn’t get around this long by being easy to take down! Not by that bitch, not by anyone, and certainly not by you!”

Sarmenti shook out his limbs, tilting his head curiously, clutching himself somewhat gently at the poison in his body.

Sarmenti: “May I…Nngh…ask who you’re referring to when you…say “That Bitch”?”

In The Walls: “Put up a good fight and maybe I’ll tell ya!”

The giant spider reared up, and aimed its horrid spinneret at Sarmenti, firing near machine gun levels of web strands. It took all of Sarmenti’s nimbility to duck and dive for cover under a nearby rock to prevent himself from being wrapped up in the void colored webbing, the venom within keeping him focused…at the cost of searing agony. Once the webbing had stopped, Sarmenti rushed out, sliding on his side under the grasp of the Spider, and gripped his knife, tearing it from the leg of the spider, causing it to growl in pain.

In The Walls: “NNGHA! Haha! The mortal has some fight in them after all!”

The Beast stumbled slightly as its leg raised up and into itself, beginning the process of mending. The legs! The legs were its weakness! Sarmenti grinned, and went for another rush, this time flipping his sickle to strike with the inner curved portion. The Beast stumbled back,before rearing for another lunge. Sarmenti did a (admittedly kinda silly looking) combat roll under The Beast’s bite, and struck out, cutting off two more legs. The Beast howled loudly, retreating away the best it could,eyes locked onto The Jester.

In The Walls: “GRAAAUGH! Augh!…Hah…Haha! Okay! Okay okay yeah! Finally, someone who can actually fight!…You’ve got gravel in your guts, Clown, I can see that!”

Sarmenti: “Do you concede?”

In The Walls: “Hahh….Fat chance…I haven’t given up, not by a long shot…have you?”

Sarmenti: “No I have not….Nngh…though I must admit the venom coursing through my damn veins is…inconvenient.”

In The Walls: “Keeps you awake though…don’t it? Out of her grasp.”

Sarmenti began to slowly circle the arena, In The Walls following suit, deadlocked on each other.

Sarmenti: “…Well…I can only take “Her” to mean that thing that’s been plaguing my dreams…and my waking hours as well.”

In The Walls: “Ooh, Smart too aintcha Clown? Yeah…That bitch…The Dream.”

Sarmenti: “The Dream?”

In The Walls: “Yeah. She’s uh…complicated. But she’s a right bastard! We don’t know her plans for certain, but we know she’s baaad news!…Lucky we got to him in time, or things could have already been over…”

Sarmenti spat off to the side, veins feeling like magma was flowing through them.

Sarmenti: “…Tell me something, Arachnid. Are we enemies?”

In The Walls: “That’s up to you, are you gonna get in the way of the truth?”

Sarmenti: “The…Truth?”

In the Walls prepared to speak…only to stop, appearing to hear something only it could hear…then it shook itself out, preparing.

In The Walls: “Nevermind, Nevermind…It doesn’t matter…either way we’re gonna beat this…JUST LIKE IM GONNA BEAT YOU!”

With that, The Spider’s legs reformed, and it charged at Sarmenti wildly, seeking to destroy them with one final attack. Sarmenti waiting for the last moment, then hopped up, rolling over the spider and jamming his Sickle into it, the momentum from the roll carrying him further and to the side, resulting in a horrendous squelching noise as the Shadowy Spider was disemboweled from the side, wisps of existence flowing out of it like a thick fog. The Beast fell to its side, groaning and wheezing in pain.

In The Walls: “Ahhh…hahhh…n…nice one…clownie…..Aheh…nice one….grrk…indeed……we’ll see you around…Jester…”

And with that ominous premonition, the beast faded away into the night, sinking into the soil. The spiders around him dispersed, and Sarmenti was left alone in the woods once more, his wounds of battle vanishing in an instant. He felt confused…but relieved.

Sarmenti: “Back in the waking world at last…”

And with that, for real this time, Sarmenti resumed his journey back to the hang out spot.

---

“Hmph. Lot of good getting the iron clad wheels did us.”

Dismas sighed as he wiped the blood clean from his blade, pulling it out of an unfortunate Bishop’s face. The wheels had broken, and the resulting ambush had resulted in the unfortunate demise of their Helion. They did their best, but without proper healing or stress management, they went mad, and then dead real quick. At Least he was safe…or as safe as could be with this idiot currently on his flank.

Alhazred: “Well it was either that or buy yet another useless bauble, so our benefactor made a shit call. I didn’t see you butting in to say otherwise.”

Dismas: “Well maybe it was because I was too busy applying some clotting powders to make sure you didn’t bleed me, again.”

Alhazred: “Well it’s not my fault! Eldritch healing isn’t an exact goddamn science you know! Go talk to Paracelsus if you want that!”

With that name, a peculiar looking Plague Doctor raised her head from her herbal collections.

Paracelsus: “Did someone call my name?”

Alhazred: “No no, just talking once again with Dismas.”

Paracelsus: “Ah. Surely that won’t end poorly.”

Dismas: “Hmph. Welp the wagon is fucked, and unless we can make it to the next inn, we’re next.”

Alhazred: “Atleast that we can agree on.”

Paracelsus: “True…Man, it’s rather fascinating the herbs found here in the Tangle.”

Paracelsus plucked a few mushrooms, and added them to her satchel, joining the other two walking off deeper into the woods. They found their way to an abandoned watchtower, filled with more of the undead soldiers that roam these lands. The biggest one, The Knight, stood upright, glaring at the intruders with malicious intent. Behind him was a frontline soldier…and a Drummer. Oh god, a fucking drummer. Dismas’s rage threw himself forward upon the Knight, plugging a delicious point blank shot directly into its gut. A lucky blow brought the large knight to its knees quickly before the foes could react. The Knight simply clutched its fist and dared anyone Else to come at it. Paracelsus responded by chucking a vial of herbs, chemicals, and what could only be accurately described as whatever was in that needle box that you always see in doctors offices that they put the syringes in when they’re done giving you shots. Needless to say, the vial of pure biohazard was able to fell the knight quickly, but a stray glass shard slicing into the neck of the monster brought it down instantly.

Paracelsus: “Holy shit! I’ve never seen something fall so quickly to my concoctions!”

Alhazred: “Must’ve been a weak knight or a lucky shot.”

The Drummer spun around its sticks, drumming an invigorating tune to The Soldier, who dashed past the corpse of his fallen comrade and slashing at the occultist. Alhazred was struck, bleeding,

Alhazred: “Aaaugh! Damn you, you unworthy cur!”

Alhazred channeled the power of the cursed skull in his grasp, slamming the soldier with a curse that made the undead trooper more vulnerable to the pains of the world. Pains that Dismas’s Grapeshot Blast brought to the bastard’s attention, putting multiple pea sized holes into the thing. The Soldier stumbled, leaning on his sword. He primed for another slash, but Paracelsus let fly another vial, this time not being so lucky as to kill it instantly, but the blight now coursing through its veins would kill it quickly. The Drummer looked at the soldier, and began to retreat back to the watch tower…only to find the way blocked by a strange wooden door that would not open. With the only way to salvation barred, The Drummer turned around fast enough only to get smashed in the face by eldritch tentacles coming from thin air, slamming him into the door. The Soldier prepared to make a move, but the fast acting blight rotted away the last of his vitality, and so They fell to the ground, their organs bubbling away out of the holes, like a watering can.

The Soldier looked on as the enemy prepared to descend upon him. No way out, no retreat, no offensive…there was only one thing left to do now. Channeling the forces within the drum he held, The Drummer played the few notes that came to his mind, offering one final spiteful chunk of energy to the Iron Crown…the notes that resonated within his rotted skull were not that of soldier hymns or marching orders as the revenant expected, but a new song, new orders from on high…it felt freeing almost, playing what was ordered. Not needing to think. Not needing to live, just…play.

As the harsh drumming rang out, The Drummer was consumed in a violent burst of dark energy, their existence fueling The Spreading Stain….Death Before Dishonor. The party that bore witness to that only had a few seconds to process the horrifically touching moment, when the door suddenly swung open, and more wretched hands popped out of it! Paracelsus and Alhazared were grabbed while Dismas opened fire on the hands that dared to grab his party members, only to be gripped himself and pulled into the darkness that lay within with the others…

This time however, after the door slammed shut, 2 grotesque Cherubs would hurriedly head back up the path, excited to share what they had seen with their boss. A new tool to defeat the light! How wonderful! Surely they would be promoted for this, perhaps to a Herald, or maybe an Evangelist! Whatever the case, the Cherubs raced back to the Oblivion’s Ingress, calling for an urgent meeting with the boss. As they felt the crackle of the Stain’s power transporting them, they couldn’t help but dance with glee. After all, what else could that door be if not another tool in the unholy research of the great being that made them? The mastermind of the world, controller of the Iron Crown, The man who fused himself with the very laws of the world…

 

Notes:

Sorry for taking so long with this one! Hopefully the next chapter will be out a bit sooner!

Also, holy 300+ hits Ancestor! Thank you all so much for reading!

Chapter 11: Summa Cruel Laude

Summary:

Sunny. Poor Poor Sunny. A moment of weakness lead to a mistake that haunts him even to this day. Everywhere he looks he can only see reminders of the past that he strung up away. His only respite is The great Dream that he uses to keep his memories locked up, denying himself the closure of facing his failures.

With that being said, at-least he’s not as bad as the nut job that brought about the actual fucking apocalypse by trying to become a god to change an unfair world.

Changes and Failiures, paid for in blood.

They had always called him mad. 

His Family…His Peers…His Faculty…

All of them. They called him mad. They did not understand what he understood, no one did. His eternal torment, to know so much about the world and yet be unable to share it’s knowledge…or so he thought, until one day, he met The Academic. From the first day of university, his tuition earned by odd jobs worked on the dozen, the two were bound together by a formal handshake, and golden looks on their faces. The Academic’s lessons were more than simple mental regurgitation, they required thought and reason…challenges that gave The Scholar a sense of joy from outwitting and completing…but perhaps even more satisfying was seeing the pauses the professor took when his insightful questions came to the floor of the auditorium. Two kindred spirits.

They would meet after class had ended, on weekends and when time permitted. The two became close colleagues quickly…and began working together in private. At first it was on a strictly professional student and teacher basis, but that quickly developed into a far more genuine friendship. The two took routine trips together, exploring the world and all its glories. The Farmhands and their rich stories (and even richer tasting produce!), The Fishermen and their salty ramblings about far off lands, The Soldiers and the tales of battle and brutality…and the people in The City, a never ending sprawl of lives, tales, and Hope…Hope…

The two soon found their kinship extended beyond the realms of standardized testing and basic curriculum…they were both deeply fascinated and exploratory with the world of The Occult. Soon, that became the proprietor of their work. Discovering the hidden lines within the world’s rules itself, searching every word and letter for information regarding strange patterns that were right there…if you had the gual to look. The Academic provided a helping hand and the resources…and The Scholar provided a keen, otherworldly eye for well…the otherworldly.

It was you who found the cypher, scribbled hastily in the decaying margins of some long forgotten tome. Scribbled... in blood. Whether by providence or happenstance, we stumbled upon the mark of some strange power invoked the world over, reflected in cultures predating mankind itself. A semicircle, radiating five points of power - a symbol hidden deep in the iconography of every ancient empire. 

The Iron Crown ...enigmatic, and ubiquitous .

Bah. And still he spoke, attempting to assuage his work…like he always had. When the Scholar found this discovery, his world began to open…think of what it would mean for him and His professor! This could change the way we thought of the world as we know it!…But The Academic only gave him a wary look.

Your vociferous calls to bring our findings before the faculty were dangerously premature. Given the gaps in our understanding, doing so would risk ridicule, or worse, robbery. I took no pleasure in asserting my seniority - stifling your protestations with a strict mandate of absolute secrecy. You acquiesced, but your plaintive susurrations betrayed a burgeoning resentment.

“Dangerously Premature” Hah! Would he rather they grow old and moldy, and have some other upshot outshine them with their own work?! Nay, The professor was a coward. He couldn’t think beyond his wooden desk and meager wages. The world owed him so much more, how could he hold back from this?!…And then the fire…that…goddamn fire …

The blaze began in the east wing of the Great Library. Within hours, the entirety of our effort lay in a smoldering, ashen heap. I braced against your rancorous buffeting, avowing a certain hesitant relief at our freedom from that mocking sigil. The uncanny arrival of the letter, however, heralded a new, pernicious phase of our investigation …

Oh yes…the letter. The one saving grace of this ash heap of a journey. Delivered to them with that powerful symbol as a stamp, as a local ancestral benefactor of the county invited them, along with a handful of like minded individuals, to his great manor on the coast. It was there that the studious pair gazed in wonder at the work being done. Salted shapes being drawn on the ground, rites and runes being chanted and painted…real, tangible efforts to their work! Yes! This had been the chance they had been looking for! The Scholar dived headfirst into the long nights of ritualistic work, while the Cowardly Academic would frequently retreat to the luxurious room or bath chambers the enigmatic host reserved for them. On the final night, The Scholar and The Academic discussed the work nearing completion, and by tomorrow, their efforts would surely bring fruit! Oh how tomorrow could not come fast enou-

At my insistence, we retired to our room, where I countered your excitement by clearly outlining the vulnerability of our position. Reason prevailed, and we elected to block the door with a large dresser.

… hmph. Perhaps the one thing The Academic’s caution actually provided for. If not for his idea, The Scholar would have never been able to witness what came next…the very precipice of oblivion…the spark in the weighty gloom of the world…

We awoke to an empty house. The garroted bodies of the attendees lay around the basement dais, each prostrate along a point of the Crown; our host conspicuously absent. I could scarcely countenance such obscenity, but you were transfixed, eyes ablaze with inspiration. The failed ritual would become your obsession - from that pivotal moment, you were blind to all else.

It was beautiful. The very sight of it brought an unnatural tear to the eye. It was so close, the energy teeming within that Dias just waiting to burst out!…But something had gone wrong. Something was missing, something…. Something…. The Scholar would miss enrollment in the fall, retreating to his home to continue his work without the stifling suffocation of the Academic…which made the professor coming to his home an odd luxury. A new pair of hands…a new minon to assist with his work. Surely, the two would learn of the Iron Crown’s ways, and become what they should have been years ago!…But The Academic’s resolve faltered, and soon it became painfully clear that his purpose wasn’t to assist…it was to sabotage! To poison! To… dissuade him once again from his goals!…and he had nearly fallen for it this time. Cheeky Cheeky…but he was not as dumb as the professor must have thought…soon, the ritual was nearly complete…he just needed one…last…sacrifice…..

… Eureka!

Unable to suffer your unprincipled overreach any longer, I made ready to depart; imploring you to rejoin me in more wholesome pursuits. Instead, you babbled of impossible measurements, ushering me down into the bolted cellar. In the dim light, I recoiled at the preparations you had made. Four bodies, laid out along the lateral points of the Crown. As the dagger's blade revealed itself through my chest, I understood I was to be the fifth.

And from that moment onwards, the Scholar was born anew. Washed in the blood of his mentor and friend, his soul was finally ready for the great and powerful gift of the Iron Crown…that sat so neatly upon his head…sure the terrible thing attempted to fry his mind with visions of pure horror and madness, but The Scholar cared not, for he was immortal…and with immortality came… Power! UNLIMITED POWER!

A precise arrangement, the sacrifice of conscience, the abandonment of self, the Iron Crown had found its king. Upon your furrowed brow, the mathematics of our existence, the geometry of the cosmos - an ephemeral equation wholly expressed in negative space. To invoke its power was to refactor the most fundamental underpinnings of our fragile dimension, to imprint one's mind upon reality itself...What world could be born of a mind so sharpened by appetence? The wind blew sour, the oceans roiled. The earth shuddered at the coming change. Mankind became a mockery - his newly horrid outlines a twisted tribute to the shape of your flaws. Newborn horrors, spawn of the crown, imprinted with your insatiable, reaching hunger. The earth spun on a strange and terrifying new axis and everywhere...unbridled consequence.

As the Scholar learned first hand that rapturous night, sometimes, sacrifices must be made…the Scholar chuckled darkly as he slowly rose from his throne of malformed flesh and bone, stepping down into the cold snow of The Mountain, the building blocks of the world itself forming a great ziggurat, a fitting church for their new Lord.

Here, at the nexus of ruin, loathing poured forth from the darkest recesses of your mind. Your failures took form, and the world bowed in honor of your great wretchedness. The stain of your bankruptcy frayed the very fabric of our dimension.

???: “Hmhmhm..Indeed it did…the world did bow. The forces of the crown did pour forth…and I would do it all over again in a heartbeat, for the world is better for it!”

The Man looks upon the haunting visage of his Academic…now no longer dead nor alive, he roams the land, attempting to taunt and dissuade The Man from his work…like always.

???: “You understand nothing of my will, professor, and you never shall…after all, how could a mortal like you ever hope to grasp the inner machinations of a god?”

The Hateful God laughed triumphantly over his forlornly professor, when two of his minions burst in, bubbling and gurgling excitedly.

Cherub: “Boss! Boss! Boss!”

The Hateful God’s view fell upon the intruders, glaring at them with a look that would kill any mortal creature dead on the spot.

Hateful God: “What is it, minions? Do you not understand the disrespect of bursting into my chambers uninvited?! Speak!”

Cherub: “The cultists in the Sprawl…What they said was true! They did find Something cool!”

The Hateful God: “What could they have possibly found? Another odd looking charred skull like the past 50 damned times?! Consider this your one chance to leave without wasting my time… ”

The Cherubs shivered with nerves, but one resumed speaking.

Cherub: “It’s a m-magic door! One that does not burn, nor react to any magic or force! We saw it grab three heroes of the light and take them away into the darkness when it appeared in The Tangle! Another artifact for your lab mayhaps?”

The hateful god took pause, flayed mouth twisting into an amused grin. If his mindless minions knew anything, it was his love of experimentation. He considered simply rending the malformed babes into raw flesh once again as punishment for their intrusion…but the more merciful part of his maligned soul won out.

Hateful God: “...Hm…Interesting…Very well. You may bring it to the chapel, and I will look at it when I’m done with my daily arguing with this cowardly Oaf…Good job with your patrolling, Cherubs.”

Cherub: “Yes boss! Thank you boss! We’ll get right on it b-“

The Hateful God: “Oh, and the next time you enter my chambers without knocking, I will rend your flesh from your worthless bodies and use them as chum for the Leviathan! NOW BEGONE!”

The two beasts scrambled back down, preparing the hunt to bring the Wooden Door to the center of the unholy place of worship. The Hateful God shook his head, but a cruel smirk betrayed his underlying curiousity. A door that could not break nor burn, appears in different places, and drags off his enemies into the eternal darkness? How Fascinating….

 

For every hero that falls to the dark, another will-

The Hateful God: “Oh shut up, old man.”

The “Old Man” in question looked sadly at the Hateful God, and faded away, returning to the work of his own. Why he was allowed to leave he did not know, but it made his work possible, so that was good. The Academic sighed, walking back into the decrepit brownstone that was the sanctuary of The Flame. Another crashed coach, another failure. The Being within slammed his fist with anger, clearly upset.

???: “I FUCKING…Graaagh! I was this close to getting that trophy for the mountain! This. Close. But Nooooo! We just HAD to get 5 HAZARDOUS ROUTES IN A ROW! And no scouting either! No scouting! When I had the stagecoach gear that SPECIFICALLY GAVE ME SCOUTING CHANCE! AND THEN THE HELION GOES NUTS AND DIES ON HER FIRST DEATH’S DOOR CHECK AAAAAAAGH!”

The Being frustratedly flopped into a nearby chair, having exhausted his stamina on his rage, sagging into it. The Academic simply sat down in front of them, offering a firm, yet kind hand on the leg.

Academic: “You could not foresee this occurring, The lands are getting crueler by the day…But you are closer than ever before to your goals! You’ve already destroyed the Focused Fault, now lies your Ambition…Your progress may be slowing, but look at all you have done! The world is heal-“

???: “No it’s not…It…Its not healing, and that’s the problem.”

Academic: “Perhaps not as fast as we had hoped, but-“

???: “They’re gone, you know.”

The Academic blinked.

Academic: “Who?”

???: “Sarmenti, Damian, Dismas, Paraly- Paracelsus and Alhazred. I can’t feel them anymore, I can’t commune with them either, they’re gone.”

The Academic’s eyes widened slightly.

Academic: “I…Are you certain about this? Maybe they have not reformed quite yet by the crossroads.”

???: “They should have formed back by now…at this rate I may not even have enough heroes to launch expeditions to the mountain with, and what then? And furthermore, why are they gone- how are they gone? When…When I took the mantle of The Flame I thought we had a deal. We would save the world, fix my mistakes…burn away with the iron crown at the end…and in return, the heroes would live, and Death would overlook certain travesties. Has she reneged on our deal?”

Academic: “She has no reason to. The souls of the monsters that now plague this world would have surely satisfied any lost profits from the heroes…You never did like Economics, did you?”

The Being laughed mirthlessly at The Academic’s humor.

???: “That I did not, Academic, That I did not…”

The Academic gave a half renewed smile. He thought for a moment, then spoke aloud,

Academic: “The Hateful God mentioned a new artifact his minions discovered. A strange door. One in the Tangle that was reportedly found in the Sprawl.”

The Being paused, mind calculating…and reaching a conclusion.

???: “Hold on…that’s where the heroes began disappearing. Sarmenti and Damian in the Sprawl, and the other three in the Tangle…this door. If it was found at both locations, perhaps it could explain the disappearances!”

Academic: “Perhaps…the little minion did mention it supposedly “dragging off” the heroes.”

The Being leaped from his seat, eyes wild with excitement.

???: “Wait what?! Then…Then we must hurry! We shall prepare the coach once more, we can bring in a random team, it doesn’t matter…Baldwin! Call Baldwin! He’s always been good with dealing with the cultists! A-And Junia! She’s more connected to The Light than I am, she’ll be a tremendous help!”

The Academic began once again to prepare for the journey ahead as The Protégé psyched himself up to once again head out into the undone world, in search of the heroes that no longer were a part of it. Mounting The ever burning Flame onto the coach, he rode out, aiming to discover the truth of what strange forces now influenced this world.

The world…of the Darkest Dungeon.

 

Chapter 12: The Sharpshot, The Warlock, and The Surgeon

Summary:

So a Highwayman, an Occultist, and a Plague Doctor all wake up in a new time…

Featuring more Faraway Police shenanigans…and a single very tired police Chief.

Dismas, was contemplating.

He signed up for the protection racket that Reynald had accompanied him with such a long time ago. A simple job. Protect the Heir, help with a few missions, then get paid and go home. It was supposed to be simple. But noooo . Reynauld got into some hot water with him stealing some priceless artifacts and so the two got set into what was indentured servitude in all but name. The Heir wasn’t bad per say, but he could’ve been a lot better. Heroes getting sent left and right into the pitiful mires of the estate, the lucky ones getting dissected or torn apart. The unlucky ones were the ones who came back, their minds shattered upon glimpsing the horrors of the world. At first The Heir made efforts to care for them, but at some point in the campaign to cleanse the lands of the Dark influence, they simply became sunk costs, and the better option would be to let them go, opening up some room in the roster…but not Reynauld and Dismas. Not the knight and the gun. Oh sure there were some rather bad hardships, not the least of which being Reynauld straight up dying protecting Dismas, and then by some twisted mockery of fate, just as Dismas recovered and resolved to move on from this tragic loss of his friend, the bastard just came back! Resurrected from the cold dark ground by some blue moon planets align bullshit! And this happened not once, but twice . TWICE ! And the second time, oh Light damn it all, the second time . 

Dismas still remembered the gentle smile on Reynauld's face as they faced the sprawling horror that lay beneath the deepest depths of the world. He was prepared for this, a calm serenity having laid upon him while the Ancestor taunted and rended them without mercy, power fueled by the cosmic energies the Heart Of Darkness. He gave a gentle smile, a curt nod, then rushed forward at the ever beating horror his eyes shut in acceptance…and his resolve was met by the infinite power of the world. Come Unto Your Maker , he distinctly remembered hearing right before Reynauld was crushed to death in an instant by a mass of screaming tentacles. No saving throw, no final moment of valor, just death…Dismas’s mind splintered at the sight of such wholesale annihilation, and upon doing so, unleashed his fury at the thing, filling it with lead from his prized pistol. This would be assisted by Sarmenti’s wicked Finale, a setup that weakened the beast enough for Dismas to make morbid gains with his assault….at the cost of The Jester being the next victim of the horrible tentacle crush, but that was no matter. Reynauld had given his life, Dismas would take The Beast’s life in return…and as The Heart Of The World slumped over, pitifully wheezing as it looked up at the smoothbore flintlock that was pointed at it, Dismas fired, splattering its Eldritch brains across the cosmos. And everything went white….and soon he found himself in a new hell, an endless expanse of Black flames and of blue glows. He walked for what seemed like an eternity, until he, like the others, found his newest employment at the Crossroads. He at first was overjoyed, seeing the others alive and well…but this came at a price, paid twofold. 

The others that were there with him in the void seemed to have…lost their memories of the Estate. Sure they may have remembered a moment or adversary or two, but nothing more, nowhere near the level Dismas knew anyhow…save for Sarmenti At Least, and even he barely remembered his last dance with the Heart…and that quickly allowed the other problem to come to the forefront. Reynauld was gone . And not just in the sense that he was dead, No one remembered him. No one mourned him. There was nothing to mourn, it was as if he never existed, every mark made upon the world erased in an instant, save for Dismas’s memories of him. He quickly found himself ostracized from the others when he attempted to make mention of his forgotten friend, so he was forced to put the joyous memories of The Knight aside, and so, Dismas pressed on with the new work he found himself conscripted into, traveling through the world on a quest to plug the source of the spreading stain. This wasn’t at all helped by his mysterious benefactors being even more enigmatic than the damn Heir. The Academic, as he called himself, took the role of The Ancestor’s depraved whisperings, but with a more professional and kind tone, that inspired, rather than unnerved. 

But The…Um…The Protégé, as he was known would reside within a small separated chamber of the coach they rode on every journey, not being seen by his heroes…and the one time someone did try to take a peek, they refused to mention what they had seen, and forgotten all about it the next day. Dismas didn’t care too much though. They paid well, provided lodgings, and were willing to assist with more…personal aspects of the hero’s failings. Their past had a nasty habit of coming to the front of their minds, and for Dismas, that was the memory of his escape from prison, his suffering at the hands of his freedom, taking his last job…and an irrepressible failure that haunted him to this day, despite his attempts to make peace with it. With that being said however, Dismas specifically recollected they failed to put getting dragged off to hell again in the job description…

…what was he talking about again? Oh right, waking up after getting dragged off to hell…yeah, that must’ve been it.

Dismas: “…urgghh…”

Dismas winced as his eyes opened to find himself laying on a cold, dusty surface. It felt as tough as stone, but one continuous surface, like wood. He looked up to find a harsh light glowing above him. Was this it? Was he finally dying for real and entering the next world?…No, No, It was simply a strange source of white light that swung idly in the breeze…breeze? Dismas slowly sat up, and found himself looking outwards of a large building, a work in progress as the lack of windows, walls, and general public presence would hint at. He looked around, only to find more of the same, with some odd tools laying around the unfinished architecture. He reached into his holster and felt his prized pistol and knife still there…thank Light. He slowly stood up, feeling the solid surface beneath his feet, and walked out to the edge, getting a view of the surrounding area. There was the sea to the right of him, woods to the left, and to the front,  a small-ish hamlet…no, town was the better term. Unlike the Hamlet it was actually full of light, and life…strange lights that flickered with no flame and flowed with no magic, but light nonetheless. The sun was still hidden, the stars out. Dismas was…quite frankly enraptured by the view, walking closer to it, failing to notice the unsolid ground under his feet suddenly breaking away. He stumbled for a moment, nearly sending himself falling onto the certainly not cushiony ground far below , when an eldritch tentacle grabbed him by the waist and dragged him back, sending him into a nearby wooden table that fell over, scattering metal tools all over. Dismas’s eyes went wild, until they rested upon Alhazred, who was looking very smugly at the highwayman. The Occultist put on a fake pout, lacing his voice with sarcastic concern.

Alhazred: “Trying to kill yourself so soon? And we’ve only just woken up.”

Dismas: “Oh piss off .”

Dismas flung a half-grateful middle finger in the occultist’s direction as he got back up, trying to keep his breathing under control after that near death experience.

Alhazred: “So Gunman, you happen to have any clue as to where in the devil we are?”

Dismas: “Nope. I’ve never seen a place like this before, not even before the spreading stain. Maybe an unmarked city?”

Alhazred: “Perhaps…well it certainly glows unnaturally, but not in a bad way.”

Dismas: “And the air doesn’t reek of fire and rot.”

Alhazred: “The night is calm and free of horrors.”

Dismas: “I don’t see any monsters.”

Alhazred: “I don’t see the mountain…”

Dismas and Alhazred took a long look at each other…and Alhazred grinned.

Alhazred: “Perhaps we are free? Free from the corrupted world at long last?”

Dismas: “Or we are bleeding on the ground dead and experiencing our first glimpse of heaven.”

Alhazred: “Now that’s impossible. You’re here.”

Dismas snorted.

Dismas: “Touché, but same goes for you.”

Alhazred: “Hmph, guess we agree on that…now where is Paracelsus? She should be here with us, correct?”

Dismas: “I figured maybe she was with you? Or she might be on another floor?”

Alhazred was about to start searching, when the two of them heard a hostile noise above them. It sounded like creaking, as if something was about to break.

Alhazred: “Move!”

Suddenly, a jackhammer would find itself freefalling from the worn ceiling, crashing into the floor where Dismas and Alhazred stood just a second prior. The heavy chunk of machinery would break through the floor, and end up on the floor beneath them, falling to the side with a THUNK.

Dismas: “Jesus…”

Alhazred: “Hah…Well, At Least the world trying to kill us is apparently still a constant!”

Alhazred let out a breathy, shaky laugh.

Dismas: “We need to get to ground, before some other Light forsaken thing gets to us first.”

Dismas motioned to a staircase, heading to it…only to find it unfinished.

Dismas: “ Oh for fucks sake.”

Alhazred: “Ah, well, isn’t that just wonderful .”

Alhazred gazed around him, and spotted a platform, suspended by a thin yet sturdy rope like material.

Alhazred: “There! A lift of some sort!”

The two headed over, watching it sway loosely in the breeze. Dismas winced apprehensively…heights…why did it have to be heights ?

Dismas: “…That does not look stable.”

Alhazred: “Well it’s either that, or we stay up here and starve to death”

Dismas: “There’s gotta be some other way down, right? They wouldn’t…y’know…abandon this place without a good escape plan.”

Alhazred: “Well, while you look around for the slow way down, I’m going to descend into the calm world below! See ya!”

Dismas: “Have fun breaking your neck.”

And with that, Alhazred hopped onto the lift…and began to plummet down, as with no counterweight to hold it steady, it was little more effective than jumping onto a skateboard and riding it off a cliff. Dismas noticed the rope that was uncoiling at breakneck speeds, and gripped onto it, being pulled forward by the rope’s friction. The rope burns he sustained could be dealt with later as he planted his feet to the ground and pulled back with all his strength. The rope slowed, and Alhazred would bash into the bottom of the wooden lift,breaking through and falling…about 20 more feet to the ground, landing on the bottom with a Thud. Dismas let go, whipping his hands around to try and get the burning sensation to fade as he looked down. He noticed the Occultist, dazed and bruised, writhing and moaning on the ground.

Dismas: “ Told you so! ”

Alhazred: “SILENCE YOURSELF!”

Dismas cackled at Alhazred’s misfortunes, and eventually came to a yellow pipe with an opening leading inwards. Seeing no better options, Dismas slowly made his way down into it, eventually popping out at a trash dump, filled with various construction materials such as concrete, steel, and wood. The Highwayman hopped out, going over to the Occultist, who was channeling his energies into the cursed skull he held with him. His wounds began to heal, albeit at the cost of a bloody nose that formed. He really needed to work on making the Wyrd Reconstruction stop bleeding his patients.

Dismas: “So. How did the ground-“

Alhazred: “Dismas I swear on the black beast itself I will hang you by a noose if you start your drivel!”

Dismas chuckled, helping the salty Occultist to their feet.

Dismas: “Ahh…What would you do without me?”

Alhazred: “I…! Need I remind you of your near terminal velocity encounter if not for the fact I saved you?!”

Dismas: “Ahh yes, my hero. Should I be swooning now or something? Is that what they call it: Swooning?”

Alhazred gave Dismas a held back punch in the arm as the gunman snorted smugly.

Dismas: “Alright. We know where the town is, let’s head over there, see if we can’t find Paracelsus, then we can work on getting the hell out of here.”

Alhazred: “Grrr…Atleast we are in agreement with that…”

Dismas: “That makes two things we agree on now. And we’re just getting started…heh.”

The two prepared to head out to the small town off the coast.

---

Paracelsus would be slowly regaining her senses as she woke up, Her head splitting and spinning akin to how it used to after nights of cramming in university. She had honors classes to enroll in damn it! And after her grand project was burnt to ash in the infamous west wing fire (which she had absolutely positively nothing to do with she can assure you) she was forced to rely on other methods such as tests and quizzes to ensure her success. But that was besides the point…that degree in biology only served her well enough to form her own path. She was lying on something cold, smooth yet hard, like stone…she began to groggily open her blurred vision, and get up, reaching around and feeling something sturdy, a table perhaps…she sat upon it, rubbing her eyes to figure where she was…and was surprised to find iron bars in front of her. Prison?! Held captive by unknown forces. She went to the bars to try and open the door, and felt a twinge of panic when it failed to do so…she called out, confused, alone, and scared.

Paracelsus: “Hello?! Is anybody there?!…Hello?!”

By the Light she felt like one of those cliched characters in those horror novels she read! She waited with bated breath for help to come, and it did…in the form of a very confused looking officer with their weapon drawn.

???: “DOWN ON THE GROUND! NOW!”

Paracelsus: “eep!”

The Plague doctor fell to the floor as the guard opened the cell, gun trained on the intruder…as another officer came in, gun drawn as well.

???2: “What-What-What, What’s going on?!”

???: “I caught this one trying to break in!”

Paracelsus: “I did no such thing, officer! I woke up here, I swear!”

???: “Bullshit! Do you know where you are ma’am?! You’re in prison! Are you telling me you randomly woke up in a prison ?!”

Paracelsus: “Yes!”

The first guard scoffed nastily, while the second guard sighed.

???2: “Alright, cuff her and take her to the interrogation room. I’ll check the video feeds to see what’s going on. Oh and, Maxwell. Watch yourself. You already got a chewing out by the boss ‘cause of your temper. Also, we’re not a prison. We’re a Police Station. Last time you got that mixed up we had Gino’s delivered to the correctional facility.”

Maxwell scoffed and hauled Paracelsus to the interrogation room. Paracelsus struggled, but she was helpless. Oh how horrible her fate would be! How devilish the torture she was about to have inflicted upon her! Oh the pain! The sorrow! The…table and chairs?

Yeah sure enough there was just some chair and a table. Paracelsus was sat into one seat, and her hands cuffed and bound to the table. Maxwell shot her a look and simply left her there, to remain while the other officer went to review “video feeds”. Feeds?…As in…for livestock? What does that have to do with anything? And why does everything look so strange? And why are her cuffs metal?! And how did she end up here?! She had so many questions, and was getting answers to precisely none of them, as she heard a door open on the other side of the reflective wall, and muffled, confused voices emanated from them…a few minutes passed, and eventually the less rabid cop came in, clearly looking confused.

Policeman: “…Okay. Can you tell us all you remember before you woke up he-“

Paracelsus: “I-I didn’t do anything bad, I swear!”

Policeman: “No one is saying you did, Miss. We’re just confused how you came here is all.”

Paracelsus: “So am I! One second I’m with my friends Dismas and Alhazred, and the next we run into a few knights in The Tangle, and then we came across this door, and it sprouted hands that dragged us into the dark, and now here I wake up!”

The Policeman took a few seconds, opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, smiling the same way a teacher would smile at a kindergartener.

Policeman: “I see. I think I understand the situation Miss. If you’ll excuse me.”

The Policeman stepped out, and closed the door…or half did so, as it failed to latch, opening slightly, allowing the audio in the hall to leak out.

Policeman: “Okay. So she’s either definitely on something, or has some sort of brain delusion, but that doesn’t explain how she just popped in here randomly. I’m going to call for the Faraway Hospital, they’ll be able to treat her there…How long until the chief gets here?”

Maxwell: “Said he’d be here in 30.”

Policeman: “So 15. Gotcha.”

The two snickered as they went about making preparations…and Paracelsus was panicking. They were going to send her away to a sanitarium! She had seen them during her studies in biology, and that was the last place she ever wanted to be. She needed to escape, and quickly! She reached over to the satchel the foolish officers failed to remove from her person, and rummaged through them, grabbing a vial marked with a crude drawing of a very melted skull. Popping the cork and pouring the concoction onto the cuffs, she grinned as the smell of melting metal began to fill the air. Within minutes, the cuffs were melted, and the chain was snapped off, leaving the shackles on her wrists. She stood up, scalpel drawn and snuck out of the open chamber door. Peering around every corner, she slowly hunted for the exit to this place, ducking under desks and filing cabinets alike to remain stealthy. She neared the reception area and prepared to make a break for it, when a car pulled up to the front, and a haggled old man was briskly talking with 2 unknown colleagues.

Chief: “…So then I told them to drop the knife, and it cut the donut straight in half, got jelly all over da place.”

The man entered, and the two guards from earlier, ran out, eager to meet this man.

Maxwell: “Chief! Chief! Oh it’s good to see you. We’ve got a-“

Chief: “Yeah yeah, random lady appeared somehow let’s check the tapes and see what we got, eh?”

The men continued on, and Paracelsus made a break for it. She rushed towards the clear doors at the front of the station that lead to freedom…only to bash straight into the glass walls, and crumple to the ground like a small toddler. The “Pull” sign on the door,only now coming to view…Fantastic. The men heard the resulting comically loud thunk sound, and went to investigate, drawing their weapons and aiming them at Paracelsus, who raised her hands meekly, stunned from such a high velocity door impact. 3 minutes of resistance-less struggling later, and she was sat down in the main office while the chief and the guards went over the camera feed, which sure enough revealed Paracelsus just popping into existence in the jail cell…and falling off the ramshackle cell bed onto the floor with a less than satisfactory Smack.

Chief: “…What the fuck?”

Policeman: “You think the feed is broken?”

Chief: “Nah Nah Nah we had that inspected just last Tuesday, Guy said it was all good.”

Maxwell: “Then how did she break in?”

The Chief turned around to face Paracelsus, raising a quizzical eyebrow.

Chief: “You said you’ve got no clue how you got here, right Miss?”

Paracelsus nodded.

Chief: “And what’s your name?”

Paracelsus: “Um…P-Paracelsus?”

Chief: “Mhm. Hey Jeremy, go look up that in the database.”

The other police officer, Jeremy, went to go do that. The Chief sat down, speaking in a calmer tone. This lady wasn’t a threat, he could feel it. If anything, she was terrified.

Chief: “You’re not from Long Island I take it?”

Paracelsus: “Long…Island?”

Chief: “Do you know where you are right now, miss?”

The Plague Doctor shook her head.

Chief: “You’re in the Faraway New York police station, Miss Paracelsus.”

Paracelsus: “New York?”

Chief: “Yeah. New York. Big apple. Concrete jungle, yknow?”

Paracelsus: “Jungle?…Like The Tangle?”

Chief: “The what?”

Maxwell’s face dropped, and groaned.

Maxwell: “Oh for fucks sake not another one of these shit heads. She’s talking like those other two bozos just the other day!”

Chief: “Wait which Bozos? The trash guys?”

The Chief stood up to talk about the recent mishaps with Maxwell, leaving Paracelsus unattended. This would prove to be a lapse of judgment, as she took this opportunity of non-observation to grab a nearby open case file and began to read over it, particularly intrigued by the medical reports. Hmm…fascinating. The recent victim appeared to have died via blunt force trauma to the chest. It was marked as a murder, but the situation was clearly not that. The way the body was found, the markings on the hands, and the object’s (a comically large sack of rice) position relative to the victim indicated the poor man had simply slipped and fell, resulting in-

Maxwell: “Hey!”

The case file would be rudely snatched out of Paracelsus’s hands.

Maxwell: “That case file is private FPD property! You try that stunt again and I’ll have you arrested for-“

Paracelsus: “Why is this marked as a murder case?”

…

Maxwell: “What?”

Paracelsus: “Well, that man died of a freak accident with the bag of rice did he not? You can see it the way the bones are broken. From what I can see of the autopsy report the bones broke unevenly, meaning something uneven struck his body. The man fell, the rice bag hit him, he pushed it off, then died. Unless there’s something missing from the case file I didn’t see?”

The Chief and Maxwell stood in confusion for a few seconds, went over the case file again, trying to find evidence to refute this claim…and came up short. Paracelsus’s description fit the situation to a T. They had been trying to figure out how the man died for almost a week, and now they had an answer in the span of 30 seconds. 

Chief: “Miss, are you a forensic expert?”

Paracelsus: “No. But I did graduate from Darkest University as a Physiology major, with a Minor in Herbology and Biology…and I also took an extra curricular in glass working, if that helps.”

The Chief's mind began to turn. An expert in Biology, with a knack for understanding crime scenes…if she turned out to be right…

Chief: “Max, Send the report of this guy to NYPDHQ. If they confirm the story as being legit, it’ll put us back in the running for that grant money!”

Truth be told, and truth be evident, the Faraway police force was an underfunded clusterfuck of experiments and horrid financial management. Being, well, Far away from the main city also meant that funds meant for the small town somehow always found their way back into the main city’s police checks. Their forces were little more than slightly advanced beat cops, who had a reputation for unsatisfactory performances. It’s why things like the Hooligang were able to run amuck, unchecked in their debauchery. But with grant money, they could begin to rebuild…or Atleast patch up some of the worst leaks in the break room. Max moved quickly to ring up the main office, and The Chief sat down again.

Chief: “Yknow…if your theory turns out to be true, then maybe we could uh…work on something together. A case file I’ve had eating at my brain the last few weeks.”

Paracelsus: “I…well…First I would need to find my friends. Make sure they’re okay. They came with me, and if they’re hurt-“

Chief: “Uh…You mean um…Sar…uhh…Sarmonti?”

Paracelsus’s eyes spiked open at hearing that name.

Paracelsus: “Sarmenti is here too?! Where?!”

Chief: “We got no clue, but he’s been seen skulking around the neighborhood, along with that rotten zombie guy he’s with.”

Damian and Sarmenti are here as well…that was rather great news! With the 5 of them together, there was no doubt they could get home if they worked together! Paracelsus nodded, holding out a gloved hand.

Paracelsus: “I will work with you, if you help me find my friends.”

The Chief returned the shake. The pact was struck.

Paracelsus: “And what about Dismas and Alhazred? How are they?”

Chief: “Who?”

Paracelsus: “Dismas and Alhazred. My other friends.”

Maxwell: “Never heard of ‘em.”

Paracelsus: “Well, they must have come with me through that doorway, as we all got dragged in together. Are you sure they didn’t appear here?”

Chief: “The only ones in this police station before you popped in were Max and Jeremy. No one else, not even any drunk tank folks.”

Paracelsus nervously sighed, wondering where her friends were if not here?

---

Dismas and Alhazred were currently not having the best of times. First, they get dragged into a nightmare portal. Then they escape the dilapidated construction site with barely their lives, and now they’re currently attempting to figure out where on Lights green earth they were! Fortunately, there was plenty of thick forest to hide away in, allowing themselves to discuss in relative privacy about their situation. The sun was starting to fill the night sky with orange beams of day time, meaning their time to talk was fleeting. They needed a plan, and they agreed upon step one being “Find out more about this town”

Dismas: “You ever heard of a place called “Faraway”?”

Alhazred: “No, but in relation to you, it’s where I’m most comfortable.”

Dismas took a second to think on that, and shot the cheeky occultist a death glare.

Alhazred: “No but seriously, I’ve never heard of this place. A safe haven from the spreading stain? How curious.”

Dismas: “I dunno…something about this place seems…off. Not right, somehow.”

Alhazred looked around, and pointed to a slightly overgrown sign

“THE VILLAGE OF FARAWAY WELCOMES YOU!”

Dismas and Alhazred snuck over, and stared at the sign for a good couple of seconds.

Dismas: “Rich town here, considering the sign size.”

Alhazred: “And it’s not out of wood or stone, but some other material. Same with the road’s we’ve been walking along. And those machines at the work site.”

Dismas: “And those metal boxes with wheels they’ve got lined around the place.”

Alhazred used his supreme occult magic to brush away the rest of the plants that grew around the sign, confirming a damning factoid to the two interlopers.

“Sign donated in 1999 by The Greater Faraway Taxpayers Civic Association”

Dismas and Alhazred read the text slowly, eyes repeatedly scanning over the number. 1999. A year…a year that was 399 years ahead of their own. This dawning revelation brought upon it a culture shock the likes of which have never been experienced before, and the resulting mental whiplash of such a huge reveal could only be adequately described in the next few words that exited from Dismas’s rugged mouth.

Dismas: “What, And I cannot possibly stress this enough, the fuck?”

 

Chapter 13: Revelations (REWRITTEN EDITION)

Summary:

Bad boys bad boys, whatcha gonna do, whatcha gonna do when they come for you?

Now with hopefully 20% less dogshit writing!

Two Days Left.

The sun rose once again over the sleepy town of Faraway, the golden rays cast upon roof, branch, and street alike. A new day, a new dawn, ripe with summer opportunities…which was being thoroughly demonstrated as the police chief excitedly sauntered into work, doing a merry jig in the process, gaze and presence wild with ambitious jubilation.

Chief: “Ohohoho it is a good day for the Faraway police department! Woo!”

Paracelsus awoke bleary-eyed from her after-interrogation rest, having managed to convince the faculty members within the police station to allow her to rest at a desk in the main office. While it was much more comfortable in some aspects, she had primarily intended to use it to research more on this place she found herself in before succumbing to her body’s demands for rest. She blinked, groaning at the loud intrusive chattering.

Paracelsus: “Nnmgh-wha…Oh…Yawn…Mmorning, Chief.”

Chief: “Paracelsus, you my friend are an absolute genius!”

Paracelsus stood up, snaking her fingers under her bird-like mask to rub the sleep from her eyes. Like many times before, she had fallen asleep with it on…and, like many times before, she was regretting it, as her face was coated in sweat and breath condensation. Eugh. The chief, in his prideful jubilation, attempted to put his hand on her shoulder, though he quickly retracted it once she flinched back. They may be Allies, but she is not that familiar with this man.

Chief: “So, I submitted your theory on the case we talked about last night. Honestly I wasn’t expecting anything too major, but lo and behold, everyone, and I do mean everyone else missed the rice bag! That would’ve been a major embarrassment for the entire NYPD if not for your eyes! “Exemplary Performance” they said in the case review Exemplary! Fucking! Performance! ”

…Uncomfortable connotations about the word “Exemplar” aside, Paracelsus couldn’t help but grin under her mask at yet another success to add to her already prestigious record. If only that bastard of a professor could see her now!

Chief: “Now, if we happen to have any luck left in this damn town, that display of case solving will help us get those grants, and then…well we can just shoot for the damn moon if that happens! Now, about that previous case-“

And, as if sensing that there was some joy in the office that needed intervention, in came Maxwell, looking rather exhausted and irritable. His body going through the motions to pour and down himself a cup of coffee, his eyes falling upon Paracelsus and the Chief.

Maxwell: “Oh…she’s still here. Huh.”

Chief: “Yep! Say hello to the lass who saved our ass with that analysis! Now, about that other c-“

The coffee machine beeped angrily as the Chief grabbed a file.

Maxwell: “Oh…for the love of FUCK!”

The Chief, in a hilariously misguided attempt at good natured teasing, smirked.

Chief: “Let me guess: You forgot to change the water and the damn thing overheated.”

Maxwell: “Bullshit, I know I refilled the water! It’s what I’ve been doing for the past three weeks because, no one else seems to do it!”

The chief turned around and glowered defensively.

Chief: “Oh no no no no no, you don’t get to just blame this on me! I’ve seen you ignore it!”

Maxwell: “Then why didn’t you fill it?!”

Chief: “Because, the last one to use it, fills it! It’s how it works! It’s how it’s worked for the past 20 years!”

Maxwell: “Then why am I the one who always has to fill it even when it’s not my turn?!”

And thus the two began to argue about the virtues of coffee making. While that was happening, Paracelsus’s interest at the file waving about in the mood swinging Chief’s hand faded like a dying ember…and noticed that another, separate file was peeking out of a conspicuous drawer. Paracelsus grabbed hold, and began reading.

FARAWAY POLICE DEPARTMENT

 

CASE FILE NUMBER 143-37246-49503

 

CONTENTS OF FOLDER: FORENSIC HISTORY

 

Forensic history?! By the Light, Paracelsus had struck gold! Quickly the good doctor popped open the file…and was greeted with a gruesome sight that sent a slight shiver down her experienced spine. It was a photograph of a crime scene, or well, several photos of said crime scene, showing a woman-no…a girl , hanging from a tall tree by a thickly tied jump rope…Yeesh. The autopsy report was…missing? “No autopsy due to religious exemptions.”…Ugh. Boring…Still, these photos provided plenty of angles to look at the scene from. Paracelsus looked closely, then read on…the psychiatric reports described how this victim’s suicide was completely unforseen, that she seemed of healthy stable mind, and that this was a massive tragedy to the Suzuki family. Tragic is right…especially when the idiots got the police report wrong! Not to worry, just a simple correction should set things straight with the bumbling idiots who were about to start debating on the proper way of filling the damn pot.

Paracelsus: “ Why is this labeled as a suicide? ”

The action between the two arguing cops froze like time itself had ceased function. As he turned around, The Chief’s face held confusion…which quickly turned to horror as he saw what she was looking at. His immediate reaction to whip the file out of her hands and scream at her would take a back seat to the utter confusion he felt at her questioning.

Chief: “…I beg your pardon?”

Paracelsus: “Why is this labeled as a suicide?”

The Chief sighed, sitting down. He was going to have to explain this very carefully, very delicately. Such a matter had always been a touchy subject that required the finesse of a surgeon to talk about.

Chief: “Okay…so, there was this girl-“

Paracelsus: “Mari Suzuki, Birthday March 1st, Age 15, Sister to Sunny Suzuki, Died 4 years ago, Normal student with unreported Perfectionism and Emotional issues, yeah I get it.”

The Chief frowned at Paracelsus deciding that “Finesse” would be spelt with a jackhammer today.

Chief: “…You read rather fast.”

Paracelsus: “I don’t need to read slow.”

Chief: “…Well…yeah that’s about it I suppose. Poor kid evidently had emotional issues no one noticed until after the deed was done…the most tragic event in the town's history right there. Her brother, her friends, devastated…worst part about it is that she hung herself right on the day of the recital, right before she was due to perf-“

Paracelsus: “What are you talking about?”

Paracelsus’s voice showed hints of condescension that forced The Chief’s brow into a crumple as a scowl took over. That memory deserved to be held in the highest of respects!

Chief: “What do you mean what am I talking about ?! The kid fucking hung herself right before the big town recital!”

Paracelsus, getting vivid flashbacks of her stubborn lung condition ridden teacher, prepared her rebuttal.

Paracelsus: “That! That’s what I’m talking about! Why do you say she hung herself? !”

Chief: “I-Wh-Th-I…Look at the photos! Do you not see one dead teenager blowing in the wind?!”

Paracelsus: “Well obviously, but it’s clear she didn’t kill herself!”

The Chief’s face would glowing red hot with rage, as such wild accusations were thrown, as his voice suddenly got very quiet. This case was one of the biggest stains the Faraway Police Department had, and despite her successes, he was this close to simply throwing out Paracelsus onto the street.

Chief: “Paracelsus. What the hell are you talking about? ”

Paracelsus: “Simple. Someone else strung her up . Probably a linching of some kind if I had to guess.”

The room suddenly went as dead quiet as Mari herself. The Chief looked at Paracelsus, absolutely gobsmacked by such an insane conclusion she just presented…she must be mad, or mental or something!

Chief: “……Paracelsus, this better not be some kind of a game you're trying to pull on me. Why don’t…you know what? Why don’t you show me how you drew up that conclusion, yeah?”

Paracelsus: “Alright.”

Paracelsus brought out exhibit A: The Wide Shot. A photo taken from roughly a few feet away, showing the yard, the toy box, and a shot of the ghost girl herself, along with the tree she swung from.

Paracelsus: “Okay. From this image alone I can see Atleast two things that imply a lynching.”

Chief: “How? I don’t see anything-“

Paracelsus: “That’s cause you’re looking in the wrong places. You’re focused on the fact there’s a dead child hanging in the breeze. I’d like to first divert your attention to the tree branch where the rope was looped around.”

Chief: “What about it?”

Paracelsus pointed to the branch where the jump rope supported itself.

Paracelsus: “Well, you probably haven’t noticed that where the rope meets the tree, there’s a bunch of wood that’s been shaved off. Now, when you hang something, such as yourself, it’s a straight drop down. Yknow, because you’re pulling down on the rope. That would produce some force, yes, but not the right kind to do this. However, if you were pulling something, using the tree to hoist it up, then the thick rope combined with the weight of the body and the strength required to lift it would cause the tree to get rope burned from the friction, thus cutting into it like so.”

Chief: “I…”

The Chief thought of a retort to that, but failed to find one in time for Paracelsus’s next trick.

Paracelsus: “Second, I’d like to direct your attention to the socks Mari is wearing…is…is there a better Angle in…here…ah!”

Paracelsus plucks out a separate photograph, Exhibit B, which held another angle, from the side, taken to get more accurate measurements in view.

Paracelsus: “Now, look at the socks. The dirt in the yard looks a bit muddled, as if it had rained or dewed as of late. Since no shoes were found in the scene, we can assume that this whole thing took place while she was wearing socks…but notice how she has no mud on her soles ?”

The Chief had to squint a bit to see…but yeah, those sock bottoms were as clean as ever.

Paracelsus: “However, if you look closely, you’ll notice that there is mud, but on the back of the socks. The fact that there is mud on the back but not on the bottom would indicate that she didn’t walk to her hanging demise, but was instead dragged there.”

The Chief held for a moment, and was somehow able to produce a shred of denial from an observation of his own. A smug look entered his eyes, if but for a second.

Chief: “Well, if she had been dragged, where are the drag marks then? Shouldn’t she have left some in the mud?”

Paracelsus: “Perhaps at one point, but that was erased by the treasure chest when it was dragged over.”

Paracelsus pointed to the toy chest, and the long suffocating trail it left behind on its way to underneath the great tree. The Chief blinked…a reasonable answer to a question he was sure would dismantle this crackpot theory that sounded less and less illogical by the second…

Chief: “…Okay, Okay…but why?”

Paracelsus: “What do you mean why?”

Chief: “If everything you said was true, then what’s the motive? Who did it, and why?”

Paracelsus: “Well I don’t know that! That’s your guy’s department! Probably has something to do with those bruises she has all over her body. Maybe she was kidnapped? Did she have a hurtful husband? Or father perhaps?”

The Chief opened his mouth again to speak…but silenced it as his blood began to run as cold as ice…he looked over the bruises again, the gears in his mind turning and turning…

Chief: “…Wait. Those bruises…they…they’re not discolorations from the elements…no no, they’re fracture injuries…”

Paracelsus: “Are you sure?”

Chief: “Positive. I remember seeing dozens of cases like this back when Faraway first opened up a biking program for a summer. I remember some of the kids cracking their legs and arms on the pavement…tumbling over like tumbleweeds after trying to impress their friends, cause they’d do unique tricks and then fall over off the bike…the worst ones coming from those who tried to…do tricks down the… the stairs… ”

The Chief looked up, staring into the recesses of his mind…and threw himself up out of his chair with manic abandon.

Chief: “ OH FUCK!”

The Chief suddenly charged past Maxwell, spilling lukewarm coffee all over them, rushing towards the front doors, gesturing wildly for Paracelsus to follow him.

Chief: “I have an idea! I think I know what happened! ”

Paracelsus grinned as she donned her mask to follow. She did seem to have a knack for proving people wrong.

---

The Chief was currently going very much beyond the safe speed limits for this small town, sirens blaring, smelling blood in the water. Paracelsus was more focused however on marveling at the interior of the coffee soaked donut crumb filled car.

Paracelsus: “What in the Light?! How-How is this possible? How does this move without horses? Is this magic?”

Chief: “I knew something was off about that case, I knew it I knew it! But I couldn’t touch it because of all the TrAuMa it had attached to it! Bunch of shit if you ask me!”

The Chief made a sharp turn onto the Arterial road, and began to drive down it, the sun leaking in through the trees. The road was empty, save for the odd passerby car or delivery truck hauling furniture.

Chief: “…god…If I’m right on this, and god I hope I’m not right on this, but if I am…then we’ll have done it. We wouldn’t just be getting those grants, they’d be fanning at our feet! The biggest cold case, solved at last! Haha!”

Paracelsus shared in his laughter, albeit much more nervously.

Chief: “They’ll see, they’ll all see you hear me!? They put me in this damn town because I was a “Loose Cannon” or some shit like that! Well GUESS WHAT!”

The Chief rolled down the window, and screamed to the heavens, eyes looking away from the mostly empty road, with only a bus driving a little behind him.

Chief: “I'M COMING BACK BABY! THEY'RE GONNA REGRET THE DAY THEY FIRED-“

The Chief’s eyes fell back onto the road…just in time to see the dead ghost girl who was going to resurrect his career, right there in the flesh, dressed in the same ghastly garb she died in, hair stringy and matted, neck crooked in a horrid fashion, standing there in the middle of the road, glaring into the very depths of Paracelsus and The Chief’s soul.

Chief: “- SHIT!!! ”

The Chief desperately attempted to swerve to the right to avoid crashing into the living dead girl…and sent the car screaming into a ditch in the process. Paracelsus didn’t even have time to scream before the car made impact, and everything suddenly went black. Mari’s ghost form staring at the wreckage for a few moments longer before vanishing into the ethereal.

The Greyhound bus behind them slammed on the brakes, causing it to skid in the road for a few tense seconds before screeching to a halt. The passengers inside wondered what the hell had just happened, as they ran to the side and front windows to see what had caused the police car to veer off like that…save for one stalwart passenger, who was barreling out the bus itself onto the highway to see if he had seen what he thought he saw…but alas…the girl in the road was gone…the ache in Hero’s soul pained, as the only thing that exited his lips was the name of the best thing that was ever ripped away from him in a sea of confusion and madness and heartache…the one he promised to take away from all this, the one he promised to be with forever…the one he just couldn’t seem to let go of, haunting him once again.

Hero: “… mari…?”

The bus, so clearly headed on its intended destination, had now stopped.

Notes:

Haha I died again!

…oops.

Chapter 14: You’ll Be Here Soon.

Summary:

Paracelsus gets into a minor situation, and a likely hero steps in to save her...but something else wicked this way comes.

Sarmenti awoke from a newfound dreamless sleep with a start, sickle at the ready and a hair’s breadth from slicing Damian’s throat from end to end…although knowing the sick bastard he’d probably enjoy that a great deal too much. Speaking of the Living dead ghoul, he appeared to be a bit drained, a touch worse for ware. Exhausted, by his standards, the evidence of peak performance absent from his demeanor, replaced with begrudging locomotion. Sarmenti looked to the sky for a second, noticing the sun being off center from the apex. It was either early morning, or later afternoon…that is, if time was, and still is, a meaningful concept.

Damian: “Shit!… Damn it Jingles , I was starting to believe you would never awaken.”

Sarmenti: “ …uuuggghhhggghh .”

Sarmenti sat up, somehow managing to barely remember the events of last night. The spider, the crowd, the venom, all a cacophonous blur of battle and bloodshed. And yet, upon taking closer inspection of his physical being, most of his wounds did not persist unto his awakening, as an examination of his own hand would show no bites, nor any typical scorching of the veins. Sarmenti would look to Damian, cocking his head.

Sarmenti: “How…How did I-“

Damian: “I…fffound you half unconscious in the woods when I got bored of waiting, dragged you here and smelled some kinda odd toxin inside of ya…was able to patch you up and take the poison for my own but…oughhhh…”

Sarmenti rose over as Damian clutched the side of the ground. He looked pale, weak even.

Damian: “I’ve got no clue what venom entered your veins, but it…sure as hell isn’t working well with mine!”

Sarmenti: “From…from what I remember of last night, I was assaulted by some sort of shade-born spider after he ambushed me and threw me into…some sort of arena for the amusement of thousands of smaller spiders.”

Damian: “……A sane person would call you nuts. Luckily for you I’m decidedly not sane.”

Damian gave a crooked grin, then winced.

Damian: “mgnh…Light damn it all, I’m weak in this state. If death comes for me now-“

Sarmenti: “She won’t. You know her rules.”

Damian: “She has no rules! She has no mercy, no forgiveness! Every second I breathe I’ve clawed from her cold grasp!”

That was not true. Death did have rules, mainly two Damian and Sarmenti managed to scrape together after numerous encounters with the pale rider: 1): Death would only go after the heroes if Damian was with them, as her feud was with him, (The Scholar and Her had some kind of arrangement, from what Sarmenti heard) ,and 2): Death could only appear in places of great tragedy and anguish. For the chaotic world of the apocalypse, the various combat encounters would fulfill the aforementioned tragedy and anguish in ample portions, but in this time, the church was just as primed to fill the needs of her summoning…an odd factoid to ruminate upon later, once the two recovered from their exertions.

Sarmenti: “…erm, Speaking of death…where…where did everyone go? They…the kids were all at the church-“

Damian: “Were they? Hmhm. I uh, saw some pale blonde kid walking somewhere, but I didn’t think that’d be too concerning. Though I do admit I’ve been curious as t-“

CRASH!

The conversation was cut short by a horrid sound echoing from the far distance, the sounds of glass shattering and metal screeching permeated the air. Sarmenti sat up, the nauseous feeling taking another turn on the (ever crammed) back burner of Sarmenti’s psyche. He was prepared to head over to the garish nose, when he heard another sound that made his skin crawl: That Laughter.

It was a short, but brief, triumphant affair, echoing from the surrounding woodlands, and just hearing it would cause Sarmenti to damn near trip on an errant root backing up from the now vulnerable appearing trees.

Damian: “Jingles? You alright?”

Sarmenti: “Did-Did you not hear that damnable chortling?!”

Damian: “…No?”

Sarmenti seethed another sigh through his teeth as the weight of being jolted to attention called to the forefront some rather exhaustive physical feelings…He was starting to lose it, this he knew well. He could feel himself teetering on the brink, facing the very precipice of oblivion’s inky grasp. It wouldn’t be long now before he melted down, or worse, suffered a cursed Affliction. Surely this would not be helped by the fact he hadn’t slept properly in…2-3 days? Has it been 2-3 days? Felt like years. Felt like seconds. Time bleeding into itself, like a melody that won’t stop playing. Like a record that keeps skipping, like-

Damain: “ Sarmenti ?”

Sarmenti blinked roughly, exiting the meditative space staring he was engaged in, slapping himself in an attempt to shake the cobwebs out of his head. What he wouldn’t kill for a relaxing moment at the oasis. No such luxuries here though, I’m afraid.

Sarmenti: “Fine, I’m fine, I’m fine.”

Damian: “Oh cut the shit, You are evidently not fine. And that’s coming from someone who’s very evidently not fine . Look, you should go out into the town, see if you can’t find the kids, I’m gonna go out and see what that loud noise was.”

Sarmenti: “In your feeble state, you wouldn’t-“

Damian: “I’m alright, just some mere indigestion. You, on the other hand, look about as stable as our benefactor’s door after the Academic bursted in. I’ll be fine. You find the kids, and fucking…I don’t know- look I’m just as confused as you are okay?! All I know is that I’m going to investigate the crash, and you are going to not freak out the kids by going instead of me. Alright?”

Sarmenti stood agape for a moment, held in shock by the sudden command Damain had taken. Well better for someone to take charge than the two of them standing about like idiots. Jester nodded as Damian went off, and so did he.

---

Paracelsus was not having a good time.

The last thing she could remember was watching that psycho police chief guy scream about something, before seeing a dead woman on the road, then screeching, then screaming, and then…here.

Paracelsus would find herself…erm...Where is here anyhow? She opened her eyes to find…starlight? No. Not quite . The stars were wrong, and not in the usual “Eldritch Horror Fuckywucky” kind of wrong. The stars in the sky looked…drawn? Drawn. Scribbled, etched like a child with pencil…or a very bored plague doctor listening to her professor cover topics she knew thrice over. Paracelsus rose up, looking around her to find herself next to a bench. Her brain would fire up, immediately soaking in details: The ground beneath her, hard, yet smooth. Blue. Pale blue. The trees around here were a vibrant pink, the wood blue, brighter than the ground she was on. She was in some sort of resting area, that much was obvious. She stood up, attempting to get a clearer look of the landscape, noting a large metallic spire, with a light upon it, right next to the rest station. A watch tower perhaps? To her front was a cliff, which stood proudly over a small fenced area, containing a forgotten picnic, with discarded wrappers and bottles littering the area. To her right was yet another section of cliff that had a ladder. Paracelsus began to climb down, and was greeted by a small assortment of those wheeled contraptions she rode around in with the cop before…she ended here.

Was she dead? Had she moved into the next life? Was death due to pop up to guide her to her eternal resting place?…

Paracelsus: “Pfft. Nope. Can’t even think that with a straight face.”

With an amused chuckle, Paracelsus made her way to the picnic blanket, brushing her hand against the cotton surface, before moving onward. She noticed a strange building- no, scratch that, an odd collection of buildings, just up ahead. It would be then at that moment Paracelsus would notice an oddity: There was no one here. No signs of life, no music nor activity just…ambience. The wind blowing in a refreshing manner. Paracelsus would ascend the numerous stone steps carved into the nearby mountain face, before ending up in front of the top home here, a moon shaped house. It looked..avant-Garde? Futuristic? Colorful?…shit-It-It looks like shit.

Paracelsus sighed as she let herself into this odd looking residence. Expecting some sort of equally garish interior, only to find herself at an oddly pleasing sight. Another wooden set of stairs, finely varnished railings separating the steps from a beautiful view of the drawn stars. Paracelsus would stare in wonder for a moment, transfixed on its sudden beauty when this close to it…tearing herself from it would be a near Herculean task, but a task she was forced to do. She continued up the steps to the upper floor, where she stood..gobsmacked, mouth forming into a wide eyed grin, just barely stopping short of squeeing in joy.

Paracelsus: “Oh come on! ”

Paracelsus laughed triumphantly as a downright dazzling array of untainted planets and stars hovered listlessly in the void that served as the backdrop of this bedroom. Planets not seen or heard of before by herself! Planets that appear to be…incorruptible! Safe havens from the infinite reach of the eldritch! It was a breathtaking sight, one that made Paracelsus feel insignificantly small, yet as powerful as a god, an observer into a full universe beyond her scope and comprehension…which is when the rational tugging at her brain slowed her excitement to a halt.

Paracelsus: “…How… How do I know this exists ?”

Paracelsus frowned, sitting on the starship bed for a moment to ponder this. How does she know about these planets? How does she know what these planets are, despite never seeing them before? And furthermore, why is everything oddly colored? And where is everyone?…..oh. Oh light damn it all.

Paracelsus: “Radiance and Damnation…I’m dreaming. I…I must’ve been knocked unconscious by whatever…happened….Light Damn it! The one kind thing the universe throws me and it’s all in my head. Ugh!”

Paracelsus groaned as she cradled her head, slamming her hand on the wooden table…which left a very nasty crack in it. The Plague doctor’s eyes went wide as she noticed her mark on the table…which turned quickly into manic fury as her hand remained unharmed, unhurt, invincible!

Paracelsus: “Yes! Of course I can smash a thick wooden table in Twain with my fists, anything is possible in a dream! Gaugh!”

Paracelsus would smash into the table again to hasten it’s destruction, and was met with instead some sort of black fluid beginning to seep from the wood.

Paracelsus: “The…hell?”

The Black Liquid would boil and seep into itself and the table, before it consumed the entire table, leaving a table sized hole in the world. A very rip in reality, a tunnel it seemed. Paracelsus eyed it suspiciously, before shrugging, succumbing to her curiosity, and sticking her hand into it, then her head, then her body.

The dark void she now found herself within was…unsettling, to say the least. It wasn’t quite hostile yet it certainly didn’t feel friendly. It was akin to a faculty office, you were sent there for one of two reasons: Awards, and Punishments for the most severe infractions. She pulled out her scalpel, arming herself in case anything came at her. She continued forward into the abyss, when she heard…something? No. Some one speaking. It sounded female, like a little girl- no…older. 13-15 perhaps? No older than 16.

???: “It…worked! It worked! Holy crap it-it actually worked! Hahaha! Yes! Yesyesyesyesyesyesyesyes! Woohoo!”

Paracelsus crouched down, getting as stealthy as possible. Audrey was always the glint in the dark expert of these things, but Paracelsus picked up a pointer or two from her thanks to a lucrative trade deal involving a game of darts and some noxious concoctions. Slinking through the shadows, The Plague Doctor snuck forward, peeking around a corner to find two figures speaking. One was the odd girl voice’s progenitor: what looked like a mass of stars given feminine form, like a small school girl, complete with dress. The other one however, was in the form of a small boy, definitely 11-12. His skin was as pale as porcelain, hair black and tattered, wearing naught but a tank top, some shorts, and black socks. In his hand, a knife twirled disinterestedly.

???: “I-I can’t believe it, I still can’t believe it, it worked! For just that second I was there ! I was in the world! I could see into it, I could feel it ! I was… physical ! Granted I uh…took her shape for some reason but that doesn’t matter, I did it! ”

The Starlit child danced around with the paler one gleefully, laughing merrily all the while. There was no hint of malice or cruelty in her voice, just genuine exaltation.

???: “I think we’re almost ready, just need a little more time! I-I know the jester gave me a bit of worry, but I think…I think I could use them to our advantage. Have…Oooh! We could have them join us! Join in the dream! Yes, I’m a genius! Haha! Yeah, yeahyeahyeah that would work!”

The Jester? Sarmenti?! These people must have seen Sarmenti, No other clown in the world could earn the prestigious title of The Jester quite like him. That does it, Paracelsus needs to reunite with her friends, posthaste! Dismas, Alhazred, Sarmenti, She was coming for them!…Just as soon as she woke up. Which is something she’d like to do now…okay… now…. okay…. n

Paracelsus would find herself suddenly assaulted by a barrage of void pitched black tendrils, covering her mouth and wrapping around her body, dragging her into the depths away from all of reality as her muffled screams fell upon deaf ears. She felt excruciating pain rapidly flow through her cells and atoms, as pressure drowned her from all sides. The last thing she thought she would ever see was the outline of a child, male, odd hair, with white piercing eyes, glaring into her very soul, with a raspy voice that held wisdom and veneration within its every young sounding word.

 

WAKE. UP.

---

Paracelsus awoke with a gasp, and a horrid cough as she came to from her small diversion into coma land. She groaned as her entire body ached and cracked with raw, painful agony. She gazed about to find herself in the car, still very much crashed. She was okay, thank the light, little in the way of serious injuries, nothing that couldn’t be treated with some rest and some of her meds. The Chief however was in a much worse state, having been knocked out cold, his head having collided with the front dashboard, leaving an unpleasant splatter of blood on it. He was still breathing, if only by inches. Paracelsus attempted to exit the non-functioning vehicle, but found herself pinned in the wreckage! She couldn’t move, not far anyhow. Wedged in like a tinned delicacy. She started to breathe faster now, shallower. She began to panic. She needed to evacuate this death trap immediately! And there was one way she realized she could do so!

Paracelsus: “HEEEEEELP! HEEEEEEEEEEELP!”

Paracelsus expected no answer, or worse, the snapping jaws of mutts and mutants…so imagine her surprise when Light threw her a bone for once and someone human actually came! They were…tall. Slightly tan, hair dirty brown. Young adult. White teeth. And panicked .

Hero: “Hey-Hey-Hey! Are you…Ohhh god, hang on…I-I’m a doctor, just…ah…”

Paracelsus: “I’m pinned, and the chief is out cold, you need to get us out of this-“

And another shuffling, this time from the trees and-

Damian: “Paracelsus?!”

Paracelsus: “ Damian?! ”

Hero: “ what”

Damian rushed over, trying to open the door…and grunted when it would do no such thing.

Damian: “Urgh! Light damn it all, the venom enfeebles me!”

Hero: “Wait-Wait venom?! Are you bit, what bit you-“

Damian: “You! Get over here, we need to get this door open!”

Hero rushed over, trying to calm down.

Hero: “Okay. Uh, Paracelsus, your name? We’re gonna get you out, okay?”

Damian: “Of course we are. We just need to open the door-“

Hero: “No! Don’t do that! We don’t know if she’s been punctured by any metal yet, opening the door could make this situation much worse.”

Damian: “Do you have any better options?”

Hero: “I…Okay. Okay. Just like class, just like the exam…First step: Examine the patient.”

Hero would brush away the broken glass, leaning in to see the car’s interior. Paracelsus had not been impaled by the door or any of the metal, but it had warped and bent so that her leg was stuck.

Hero: “Shit! Uh, her-her leg is stuck! We-We need to wait for the fire department to get here…bus driver should have called 911 by now…”

Paracelsus: “I don’t think the Chief is going to have that long. We need to get him out so he can breathe, the metal is suffocating him.”

Hero: “I…sshhhhit your right, fuck, uhhh…okay. Okay, I’m going to try and get him out…against all the safety lessons at college regarding potential neck injuries…”

Hero went to the other side of the car, motioning Damian to follow him, only to step in something that made his eyes widen horridly, something that made a small Sploosh! Sound

Hero: “Wait-Wait-Wait that’s gas! That’s gas!”

Damian: “What, What, why is that-“

Paracelsus: “A combustion agent! That must be how these things move! This whole area is a Light Damned time bomb!”

Paracelsus started to breathe heavily again, trying to wiggle out. Hero and Damian managed to pry the door open on the Chief’s side.

Hero: “Damian, I’ve got the head, you’ve got the body. Lift up and out, keep him straight! On three, okay? One. Two. Three! ”

The two souls lifted the unconscious Chief out of the car, and laid him down on the grass a good distance from the car…and said car then shifted, metal now pushing down the gas pedal, causing one of the wheels to spin rapidly and the engine to roar out.

Hero: “Fuckfuckfuckfuck, why did it turn on!?”

Damian: “We need to get her out, NOW!”

Damian would rush back in, and grabbed Paracelsus by the underarms, planting his legs on the side of the car. He pulled and pulled as Paracelsus desperately tried to wiggle free. Hero went to the other side of the car, and reached through the window to push from the back. Paracelsus would yell in pain as the jagged metal tore into her leg, but it eventually acquiesced, releasing her and sending her tumbling forward into the grass. The Sirens of police and medical team became faintly audib-

Hero: “ RUN!!!! ”

The trio scrambled away from the car in different directions as the slow moving trail of oil reached the wheel, quickly igniting from friction and causing a chain reaction that resulted in the entire vehicle being engulfed in flames in less than a second, the force knocking The three prone and sending fire around itself like a sprinkler from hell…but they had escaped. Paracelsus and The Chief would live another day.

---

The ambulance team would of course race over, immediately taking care of The Unconscious Chief, and Hero would join them…in patient care? Or Atleast patient transport. Fair enough one would suppose. The Man seemed to have some sort of medical know how. Paracelsus would be excited, if not for the constant interrogation of the medical staff that emerged from the ambulance like a portal to a medical documentation. She was looked over, given a blanket, given fluids via Lukewarm canteens made out of a strangely flexible clear material. It was the most comfortable she had been in days, but there was no time for rest, Sarmenti was in danger…probably! The Plague Doctor would head over to Damian, who avoided the doctors like they themselves were the plague.

Damian: “Hey Paracel.”

Paracelsus: “Hey Dami. You alright?”

Damian: “Mngh…doing alright. You?”

Paracelsus: “Doing fine…So uh…this place, huh?”

Damian: “Yep. Clean. Clear. Free of the stain.”

Paracelsus: “It’s odd, isn’t it? Full of strange contraptions and the like. Is…is this truly the future?”

Damian: “Yep.”

Paracelsus unequipped her mask, feeling the fresh air on her face.

Paracelsus: “Ahhh!…that’s nice….so uh…Is Sarmenti with you?”

Damian: “In general, yes. Right now? No. I sent him to go talk with the teens we’ve been staying with.”

Paracelsus nodded, looking up at the sky. The sun was starting to bathe the area in golden hues.

Paracelsus: “Well, before i woke up in the car I…had the strangest dream. I was in this place, looked like a children’s drawing.”

Damian perked up.

Paracelsus: “And I entered this dark void of a place, and there was this little girl who was laughing about some sort of plan, and her plans to “include Sarmenti” and-“

Damain: “Hold on. Did you say “Laughing?”

Paracelsus: “I…Yes?”

Damian froze…and forced himself up, speedily powerwalking back into the woods.

Paracelsus: “Wait, what- where are you going?!”

Damain: “I need to find Sarmenti, and I need to do it now! He mentioned some kind of laughing only he could hear! Whatever you saw in that dream might’ve been more than a work of fiction!”

Paracelsus gasped, slipped her mask back on, and followed worriedly...

 

...and she worried with good reason, as unbeknownst to them, Sarmenti was in grave danger.

Notes:

Hi so uh...its been a while hasnt it?

new year, new Keys, and all that. i got a new job, i adopted 2 cats, and overall life's been busy since 10-18-2023!

But i think im back! i think i can start working on this fic again. ive got the urge to write, and trust me, these next ones are gonna be preeeeeeeetty juicy!

...if i make them that is. Whoopsie!!!

Chapter 15: Tokidoki hontou ni netai.

Summary:

Help me Mr jingles I’m drowmbing

…Well, while that whole mess with exploding cars and acute medical application was occurring, Sarmenti was hauling his drained and sleep deprived body through the woods, seeking for the children that had been his and Damian’s company for the past few days. They were at the church…Sarmenti thought anyways. What he could think, anyways. His mind was clouded, synapses barely able to fire off thanks to the severe lack of restful sleep he was afforded. But, if he slept, that thing would be able to reach him, and so he remained barely conscious…by the light that bench looked comfortable, that tree perfect for napping, even the cold hard ground seemed to call to him like a siren song of death. Sarmenti grit his teeth, feeling himself weakening. He needed something strong…That Orange Joe drink. That hellish concoction that Kel gave him, that seemed to work, that’s what he needed. He would ask about it when he saw Kel.

Sarmenti would go to the church. Service was not in session at the moment, so the priest within was cleaning up for the next service. He turned his head and smiled as Sarmenti wandered in, although his joyful expression fell slightly when he saw his condition.

Preacher: “Sir, are you alright?”

Sarmenti: “Oh, yes, I-I’m fine, yes I’m fine. Er…damn it all what..was his name…errrr….sssssSunny! Yes, Is-Is Sunny, here?”

The Preacher shook his head. Sarmenti spoke less like a human and more like a broken clock held together with tree sap and prayer.

Preacher: “No he is not, but perhaps that is for the best. Thanks to your earlier performance, they were able to escape the judgment of the community, for now anyways.”

Sarmenti: “I see. Well, do you know where they could have gone?”

Preacher: “I do not know. I have seen some of the other hooligans driving around, but I haven’t seen Sunny or Kel.”

Sarmenti: “Very well. Thank you…father?”

Preacher: “You are welcome, and before you go, might I recommend getting some rest? You look rather exhausted, if you don’t mind me saying.”

The Preacher gave a kind smile, nodding as Sarmenti hastily exited the church at that. Sarmenti’s guessed he would have to survey this whole damn town to find the kids. So much ground, so many places…damnation, the mental fog in his brain was getting thicker, harder to think, harder to concentrate, harder to keep his eyes open…he would love to take the Preacher’s offer, but alas he could not! If only he had a moment to relax, to rest, to

 

Close

Your

Eyes

Sarmenti swung his head around so fast it made a gentle popping noise as the pain of pure whiplash surged through him, brandishing his knife in a swift motion towards his back. Nothing. The voice speaking to him just now had no source, no direction, it just was. Sarmenti’s breath quickened, heart racing after that jumpscare. He trembled subtly as he got the idea to head to the park…Orange Joe, by the dear light, he needed Orange Joe! Sarmenti would dash to the park, thankfully remembering the general direction Kel ran off to when he returned with the elixir of Orange Joe. A big, cold dispensary hummed gently, as a variety of buttons labeled with colorful pictures sat illuminated. Sarmenti pressed the button matching the Joe’s logo…and nothing happened. He pressed it again, nothing. Again, nothing! 

Sarmenti: “Come on…Come on!”

Sarmenti huffed as he looked around the front of the machine for any sort of step he was missing, and found a small finger sized slot at the bottom. He pushed back the flap, and felt the familiar feeling of coins rubbing on his fingers. Two large coins…Currency! Sarmenti looked for anything else, spotting a smaller slot about the size of the coin. Sarmenti put one in, then pressed the button. The Machine rumbled for a second as the tinned beverage popped out. The Jester’s eyes shot wide as he lunged for the thing, resisting the urge to cackle maniacally as he cracked it open and guzzled the contents within. He reveled and basked in the terrible taste that sent waves of nausea and energy through his body, coughing as the fizz popped on his tongue. Yes. Good! Good! Energy! Awareness! Cognitive function resumed at last! And now, the hunt for the children could truly begin…or it could if not for the sounds of police sirens echoing from down the lane. Sarmenti ducked into some of the bushes by the trees, a stalking ground he was beginning to grow comfortable with. This gave him a moment to think…and groaned.

Sarmenti: “This feeling of pain the Orange Joe provides…It’s keeping me awake, alert…is-is this how Damian feels? Perhaps he has more sense in him than I gave him credit for. Hm.”

Sarmenti would creep in the woods more, looking for anything out of place when he heard a commotion coming from the hiding spot. The hooligan’s base camp. Sarmenti crept over in order to figure what was going on…and there he saw them.

Kel and Omori, the dynamic duo, facing off against Aubrey and the rest of the hooligans. That blonde haired child was there, cowering in the background, looking more like a damsel in distress than a child…Stress of 6. Not good, not terrible. Sunny’s stress had surprisingly decreased, going down to an 8 from yesterday’s 9. Again, not good, not terrible. Aubrey though…something about her seemed off. Her stress was sitting at a cool 4, but there was something else, some other energy radiating off of her. A violent energy, a vengeful energy, a resentful aura that burned brightly like flames lapping up kindling…

Aubrey gripped her bat, readying herself and the rest of the hooligans. Threats of a lesson being delivered were spat out like chewed tobacco, Kel braced himself for combat, putting himself between Sunny and the Crowd. Kel would defiantly throw his basketball at Aubrey. She ducked her head, resulting in the orange sphere making a satisfying thud against The Maverick’s face. Aubrey would slug Kel in the gut, dropping him, before Angel would rush over and perform some sort of drop kick maneuver, forcing Kel to the prone position, to the satisfaction of Vance and Kim. The Hooligans would turn their attention to Sunny, Aubrey sporting a wicked smile as they approached menacingly. Sunny would take a few steps back, reaching into his pocket and…wait what the hell is tha-

KSHHHHHHHHT!

Ah. And now the pained screaming of teenagers filled the air, scaring off the gathering crowd of birds into the skies. Wonderful!

Kim: “WHAT THE HELL IS THIS? PEPPER SPRAY?! SERIOUSLY?!?!?”

Vance: “Augh! That stings! Gah!”

Angel: “MY EYEEEEES!!!!!!!!”

Aubrey was thankfully able to block most of the blast with her hair and her arm, with only a scant few drops ending up on her eyes. Still, it was enough to make the group scatter, with half of the teens rushing to the pond to splash water on their scorched corneas, the other half fleeing off to the forest, with Charlie nearly trampling over Sarmenti, who remained hidden in the bushes.

Aubrey: “You guys are the worst…!”

Sunny went over to Kel, helping him to his feet. Kel was rather sore, and slightly winded after the 1-2 wombo combo he was dealt, but he’ll be okay, kids heal fast. Kim and Angel had recovered from the pepper spray assault. Angel would hastily go to his scooter, followed by Kim, although Kim took a look back. Aubrey was visibly shaking with anger, rage boiling beneath the surface of her skin so harshly her face began to turn red.

Kim: “Uh…Aubs? You…You wanna come with us?”

Aubrey: “……”

Kim: “…Okaythenillseeyouaroundbye!”

And with that, Kim scooted for her life away from the soon to be murder scene. Aubrey trembled harder, stress rising by the second. 5. Then 6, Then 7, Then 8, Then to 9 aaaaaand-

Aubrey: “AAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Meltdown! A complete and utter loss of the senses, dragged into the antediluvian instincts of the mind, fractured and twisted into pure torments. Aubrey rose to her knees, and shouted all manner of curses, profanities, and other not nice things at Kel and Sunny, especially Sunny…like…really hyper focusing on Sunny for some reason.

Aubrey: “And where were you, Sunny? Where the fuck were you when Mari died, huh?!”

That comment brought Sunny’s stress back up to 9. Ouch, That must’ve cut deep. Kel opened to interject, when she stormed over to Basil, shouting accusations and more swears at the blonde, who trembled in terror as he was backed up to the pier that extended out to the pond. She turned around, trying desperately to compose herself, to cease humiliating herself further, when Basil approached her from the back, trying to put a hand on her shoulder.

Basil: “a-aubrey, I-“

Aubrey: “DONT FUCKING TOUCH ME!!”

Aubrey would shove Basil, hard. Hard enough to send him stumbling back off the pier, where he quickly sank like a stone. Aubrey took a step back as Kel and Sunny ran over to the dock.

Kel: “Aubrey are you crazy?! Basil doesn’t know how to swim!”

Kel would grab Aubrey by the shoulders as Sunny stared at the water…and then broke into a sprint, rushing past the two, ignoring every drop of instinct in his body that told him to avoid the pond like the plague, and dove in, right as his stress passed the threshold of 10. Sarmenti rushed out of the bushes to tell sunny to stop, but it was too late, he was already gone.

Kel: “Clown guy!? Wh-What are you doing here?!”

Sarmenti: “I came to find you and Sunny! What the heck is going on?!”

Kel: “Aubrey pushed Basil into the lake, and Sunny dove after him!”

Sarmenti: “Oh well Sunny can save Basil, right? He can swim…right?”

Kel: “…I dunno!”

Kel and Aubrey stared at the water like dear in the headlights, trying to make heads or tails of the black void that the water’s surface held. Sarmenti groaned loudly, approaching the dock. He tightened his blade sheath and set his guitar to the side. He stood to the edge of the pond, attempting to clear the exhaustion from his mind. He prepared to dive in,feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Sarmenti: “Well, I’ve never been one for heroics, but I can give it a shot…TALLY HO-“

 

Sploosh…

 

Cold.

Dark.

Refreshing.

Sarmenti opened his eyes. The water was a touch murky, but not nearly as bad as the many times he had been pulled under the water by the Leviathan in his travels. Sarmenti swam in the pond’s depths, searching for the two children. Basil was easy to find, as his struggling disturbed the water enough to track him. Sarmenti would dive under Basil’s shoulder, rising to the surface with them, bringing them to shore where Kel and Aubrey awaited. Sarmenti could hear Basil coughing as Kel brought him up, but he had no time for that. Another deep breath and down Sarmenti was. Sunny was much harder to find. No movement, no bubbles, nothing to indicate a presence.

Sarmenti swam harder, deeper than before. Exhaustion gripped him violently as the action of motion became agonizing. His lungs began to itch as the oxygen within them depleted. He searched further, pushing his bodily needs to the side and then, out of the corner of his eye, down close to the bottom, a shine. That spray can he took out, it’s metallic material glinting in the dark like a gold coin. Sarmenti rushed down to grab Sunny, who had fallen into some sort of murky trance. Another Meltdown. The effects for a Meltdown were different from person to person, so while Aubrey it was blind rage, for Sunny it must be going Catatonic…The water around them grew darker and darker, whispers audible, muffled under the waves. Sarmenti’s lungs burned, begging for release now. Sarmenti would be forced to oblige as he blew out his nose to let the bad air inside him out, kicking his legs to propel himself and Sunny closer and Closer to the water’s surface. He helped Sunny to the dock, where Kel reached over to pluck him out, and Sarmenti’s would follow soon…except that he couldn’t. 

Something had grabbed onto his leg! A shadowy, murky strand of sea vegetation appeared from the bottom of the pond, gripping Sarmenti and threatening to drag him down into the deep dark depths of a watery grave. Sarmenti’s eyes shot wide as he reached for his dagger, yelling as he desperately attempted to slice and hack away at the floral appendages that started to swarm around him. A drowned voice came from the depths, as those eyes that dotted that shadow born spider from last night came into view from the center of the Kelp cluster.

Dreaaaamerrrr…?

 

The waterlogged vocalizations became laced with confusion. Uncertainty. Something didn’t make sense to the beast, which provided the confusion Sarmenti needed to kick and struggle and slice against the beast’s bonds, desperately trying to fight the urge to suck in a breath which would surely cause him to drown. He blindly stabbed with every fiber of his being as his motions became heavier and blended into each other…and eventually, a blind strike would cause one of the kelp bindings to relinquish its grasp as the cluster called out in a furious voice.

???: “no…This was not your test…This was not your fate…!”

Sarmenti would use the last of his strength to kick his legs and pull himself up the dock, stabbing his dagger into the wood as he gasped fluid laced breaths of air, coughing them out just as fast. Oh sweet light, air, heavenly air rushing into his scorched lungs! He pulled his mask up just enough to allow the water trapped within to escape, as he heard a familiar set of rotting footsteps rushing over.

Damian: “Sarmenti!!”

Damian slid down the docks, probably appreciating the splinters he got in the process, as he dragged Sarmenti fully out of the water, leaving the sleep deprived Jester to flop down onto the wooden surface. His breaths came out weak, vision spinning rapidly, knife clattering out of his hand.

Damian: “Ey, Sarmenti, Stay with me, okay? Stay with me. You alright?”

Sarmenti: “…n-no…”

Damian: “Sarmenti?! Stay awake, Stay awake damn it!…”

Sarmenti’s head flopped to the side as he moaned in soreness and pain, seeing familiar figures of his friends appear in the distance as Damian’s cries grew distant. The past few days had caught up to him at last, and no amount of Orange Joe could save him from his fate. His sight blurred and darkened as he felt the cold embrace of exhaustion consume him. He couldn’t speak, he couldn’t think, he couldn’t resist…

 

All he could do was Close His Eyes…

 

Chapter 16: Into The Further You Go.

Summary:

Sarment encounters a ghoulish sight, and then LETS GO GAMBLING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

aw dang it

Sarmenti had “awoken” once again in the persistent light damned nightmare known as Headspace. What fun. He winced as he raised his head, bracing mentally for the realization to settle in…and once it did, he groaned annoyedly.

Sarmenti: “Aaand I’m back in the fucking dream again . Great! Brilliant! Absolutely fantastic!”

Sarmenti huffed as he sat up, finding himself sitting on the rainbow pulsating stump. He looked around for the usual visual suspects to get his bearings, only to find thick white fog flanking him on all sides. Sarmenti frowned as he attempted to walk through the mist only to end up back at the crossroads. Most of the roads out of this conjunction were blanketed with the thick white smog, save for the one to the north. With no other way forward, The Jester walked on. There was a beach, pale yellow sand coating the ground. Sarmenti’s feet sank slightly as he stepped onto it, pleasingly so. The sand’s temperature was just right. Not too wet, not too dry. There was another dock, similar to the one at the pond. The one he…uh… presumably was laying on in the real world. Sarmenti squinted as he saw a figure in the distance, off in the fog. He went to the edge of the dock to look over the water, only to find out that it wasn’t nearly as deep as it appeared, being only enough to cover his ankles and just barely. He would turn to head back to try and explore some more, only to take pause as that girl, Mari, would walk in through the mist. She walked past Sarmenti, into the water….wait no, not into the water, onto the water, stepping onto its surface like glass because of course she did, why wouldn’t she walk onto the water like it was a solid surface, why would anything make sense?!… Anyhow, She would take a few steps out then turn around, smiling at The Jester. 

Mari: “The water’s safe, trust me.”

Sarmenti took a cautious step out, and snorted amusedly at his foot only going ankle deep into the water, washing off any loose crumbs of sand that clung to his shoes. He would walk along it, beckoned by Mari.

Sarmenti: “…So, if I may ask, what’s all…this about? The fog and everything, I mean.”

Mari: “It’s making sure the others go where they need to go, so this is the only way forward for now. Normally you have to swim through it, but uh…I guess the tide’s low enough you can just wade through it.”

Sarmenti: “Certainly doesn’t look shallow.”

Mari: “Well, looks can be deceiving.”

Mari said that with a sad, knowing smile. Sarmenti would comment on it, but that could wait for another day. For now, Sarmenti needed to wake up, immediately.

Sarmenti: “So…I…Okay, I am sorry about this rude interruption, but I need to wake up and leave this place as soon as possible-“

Mari: “Yeahhhhh, I’m afraid that’s not gonna happen.”

Sarmenti stopped, scowling. 

Sarmenti: “ I beg your pardon? ”

Mari turned around, giving a concerned frown while she crossed her arms.

Mari: “You haven’t slept much, have you? Over the past few days? And you’ve been running around, doing everything…You’re not just asleep, you’re out cold. You’re not gonna wake up until your body has had time to recover.”

Sarmenti let an amused snort ring out. He already has his escape plan, he just needs to say the magic words.

Sarmenti: “Oh? Is that so? Well in that case…maybe I should talk to Sunny who lives in Faraway about the fact that his sister is dead!”

…Sarmenti waited smugly for the world to react violently to his trespasses, as it had done previously…except it didn’t. The only “Violent” thing was Mari giving him a disappointed look.

Mari: “… really dude? ”

Sarmenti: “I…wh…normally I would get swarmed by those black things or something like that, and you’d vanish or…I…erm…”

Mari: “This place has some odd rules. We won’t have much farther to walk, don’t worry. If you’re stuck here, might as well enjoy it!”

Sarmenti sighed frustratedly as he continued walking with her. He had so many questions, but couldn’t find quite the words to use them…so he used what he had: Bluntness.

Sarmenti: “Alright in that case, you know you’re dead, right?”

Mari: “… … yep.”

Sarmenti: “So you’re a ghost?”

Mari: “In a way I guess.”

Sarmenti: “But you’re in Sunny’s mind.”

Mari: “Yep.”

Sarmenti: “… why??”

Mari: “It’s a very… very long story. One I can’t quite talk about here, in the Dreamspace.”

Sarmenti: “Hmph…I think I know why. ”

Sarmenti shuddered at the thought of that Dream lady coming to him again…she was nearly able to reach into reality and knock him comatose, he couldn’t fathom what she could do to a dream entity that stepped out of line. The two continued their walk in the water, before they reached a curtain. A wide curtain, swaying gently in the wind.

Mari: “…Hrm...I've been here a few times, but it never gets easier. For me, or for him.”

Sarmenti: “What is that?”

Mari: “It’s a window.”

Sarmenti: “Well I know that Sherlock, but what is it a window to?”

Mari: “ On. ”

Sarmenti: “…. oh dear.”

Sarmenti shuddered slightly as his tired brain realized the connotations. This wasn’t any old window. This was it. The big one. The one way,, the long road, the final destination… Death’s Door .

Sarmenti: “So, if you were to go through that, would you…er…move on?”

Mari: “If I did, I probably would, but I can’t move on. Not yet. I’m too invested in all this, haha!”

Mari chuckled sweetly.

Mari: “I’ve gotta make sure Sunny is okay before I leave. I can’t just…yknow…leave my brother like that! I mean, he’s locked himself up in his room and hid away in this place for the past few years, that’s not exactly a sign of good mental health… which is understandable .”

Sarmenti and Mari stared at the window. The breeze flowing through it picked up lightly…and then picked up some more…and picked up some more. The curtains within began to flap more vigorously as the scene behind the curtains went from pure white to a more pale gray, akin to storm clouds. Mari raised a curious eyebrow.

Mari: “Well I’ve never seen it do this before. I wonder what’s causing th-“

And at that precise moment, a familiar bony hand tightly gripped onto the windows edge, hoisting a familiarly decrepit Pale Lady through the gap. She threw the curtains back beside her as she locked hollow eye sockets with Sarmenti. Her chest was still raw and cracked from Sarmenti’s Finale strike at the church.

Sarmenti: “ That’s probably why…!”

Death: “Sarmenti…I… curse the light, I do not have much time, we must go…You must go back to your original timeline…you cannot fathom to understand what your actions have caused…”

Sarmenti: “What actions? What are you talking about?”

Death: “You have interfered with the natural order of this era! Your…mgh…presence, and the presence of others from your time are beginning to have dire consequences on the natural flow of existence in this time…Already you have shunted the path of consciousness and events off its correct axis!”

Sarmenti: “…I beg your pard-“

Death: “ You are an outlier! A chronologically displaced soul interfering with plots and powers beyond your comprehension!…but I offer you…mercy, Sarmenti.”

Death held her scythe to the side, holding out a skeletal hand towards The Jester.

Death: “Come with me, Sarmenti. I…I will give you the rest you desire. No more fighting, no more exhaustion, just sleep…just peace…”

Sarmenti: “…If I say no I presume you will fight me to the death for this? A fight, need I remind you, I won last time?”

Death growled, clearly not enjoying that statement.

Death: “ You are alone , Sarmenti…and you have no magic to your name.”

Sarmenti reached for his back to grab his lute to prove death wrong…only to find it absent.

Sarmenti: “Wait-What-Wh-Wh-Wh-Where is it? Where is Solo?!”

Mari: “Did you have it on you when you passed out?”

Sarmenti: “…..No, I had to set it aside to save Sunny and Basil …urgh!”

Sarmenti mentally kicked himself for that. Death rattled again. She was…in pain it seems?

Death: “Come with me, Sarmenti, please, before it is too late. There is no further need for pain or bloodshed…Let us…Let us leave this world behind, and hope it can right its own path before…”

There was a rumbling that came from the water. It began to darken as the whispers of the world echoed around them.

Mari: “The heck?”

Death: “Oh no…”

Sarmenti: “The fuck? ”

In a sudden motion, the kelp strands from earlier would burst violently from the ocean, surrounding the trio in an instant. The strands would congeal together, before as quick as a cobra, striking at Death and ensnaring her in underwater foliage, dragging her quickly into the depths.

Sarmenti: “Woah!…By the…You said these waters were safe!”

Mari: “I-I thought so!…Well they’re safe for us At Least!…I hope…!?”

There was a violent struggle below the surface, flashes of half light flickering in the deep as Death fought. Her scythe gleamed as it sliced and hacked away at the kelp fronds despite the never ending number of them. A mighty roar came from the beast in the water, before a sharp, painful yelp rang out…all fell silent, before Death was thrown out of the water like a rock, arcing through the air less than gracefully, then falling to the water’s surface and landing on it with a painful sounding crunch. Various bits and bobs of kelp floated to the surface, including the eye of the beast, which stared ahead judgmentally into infinity. Death wheezed and groaned as she retreated her broken and further damaged body towards the window, wounded and exhausted from just her combat with Something in The Water.

Death: “ggggh…hhhh. .”

Death stumbled back, forced to use her scythe as a support. Sarmenti’s eyes went wide. For as often as Death and the party have clashed, the wounds given to her were superficial for the most part, only able to banish her when she deemed the fight no longer worth the effort. This was the first Sarmenti had ever seen Death hurting .

Death: “Sarmenti… this is not over. If you… must stay in this timeline…despite my protests…then…by light’s name you…nngh…you…don’t….don’t…

Death clutched the side of the window, staring deep into Sarmenti’s soul as she heaved her rattly breath.

Death: “ Do not…let The Dreamer’s blood…be spilt…!”

Death wheezed as she climbed over the window, disappearing into the cold unknown beyond it. Sarmenti shook a bit as the area warmed back up, the kelp fronds sinking back below the dark water’s surface, the scene before the window turning back to its pure white as if the previous transgression never occurred. Course correction.

Sarmenti: “Well that was quite odd. I’ve never seen her appear in a dream before.”

Mari: “…”

Sarmenti: “Mari? Are you alright?”

Mari would walk forward, towards the window, sighing as she looked to the false sky above them.

Mari: “It is almost time. I can feel it, Sunny’s getting tired…poor guy, with all he’s been through today. Dealing with The Hooligans, nearly drowning, all the things he’s been doing for the town, he’s probably all tuckered out…”

The water began to grow more choppy, waves churning to form in the ocean. Mari turned around back towards Sarmenti, smiling as warmly as she could muster. Something about her seemed off as she held her back to the window. A flicker of Something else beyond the veneer of a pastel colored sister, more than just a mere figment of dream, as if Something was reaching from beyond…

Mari: “Go to the Last Resort. You’ll be able to do more there than in the other parts of this world. More without the interference of The Dream. You’ll probably find something useful…maybe you’ll make friends… perhaps you could even help us …?”

Sarmenti: “Wait, us ? Who’s us-“

Mari: “ See ya, Sarmenti!”

And with that non-answer, Mari vanished back into her position at the dock. Omori would be here soon, so Sarmenti had to hurry. Last Resort, Last Resort…where in the Light could that be? Where to even go? He was in the middle of the ocean for Light’s sake! Sarmenti would take a chance, continuing to wade through the slowly deepening ocean he found himself in, in the direction Mari was leading him before they stopped at the window. It would be a long walk, and the waves would only get rougher…There! Off in the distance, a whirlpool of some kind. A tiny one, the size of a human person. Sarmenti would walk over to it, sigh wearily, plunging into it for lack of better options…into the darker than darkness of the water’s grasp.

---

Sarmenti would find himself at the bottom of this never ending sea. He expected himself to be drowning, or at the very least, floating like a dead man but…no. Gravity and Oxygen were both working just fine here, As evidenced by the long black road that was in front of him, blocked by a thin gate, operated by a burly looking…gator person. Hm. Not wanting to get his face mauled by yet another APEX PREDATOR , Sarmenti would walk in the other direction, finding a yellow car adorned with checkerboard patterns. The Gator guy inside seemed much more friendly, speaking with a peculiar accent.

“Ey Clown guy! You wanna head somewhere cool?”

Sarmenti: “…I will have you know I’m a Je- “

“Damn that’s craaaaaaaaaaaazy now do you wanna hear me out? Dis taxi here runs over to the Last Resort , best place in all of the sea! Trust me, Guy like you? Could do some damage with that drip. Get all da dames in the world goin’ after ya!”

The Last Resort! That’s where Mari mentioned…perhaps The Jester could spare a few moments there, see what all this hubbub was about.

Sarmenti: “Very well then. Let us ride..”

“Das da kinda talk I like hearin’! Woohoo!”

The Taxi peeled off across the endless highway, the vast distance allowing for some conversation to take place.

“So uh, yous new here or somethin’?”

Sarmenti: “You could say that, yes. I’m…merely enjoying the sights.”

“Ahhhh, Yous a tourist then? Haha…not many a dose coming here no more. Shit, only the regulars comin’ in, wastin’ their hard earned clams, all kindsa crap.”

Sarmenti: “This resort is a gambling hall I assume?”

“Ohhh is more den dat my friend! It’s a hotel, an auditorium, a restaurant, an arcade, da whole shebang! You’ll find more stuff ta do dere than ya could find anywhere else in dis wacky world of ours!”

The Driver pointed off to the distance. A wrecked ship with lights coming out of it shone brightly.

“Das it right dere, and it’s even bigger on da inside then on the outside!”

The Driver sped up before eventually pulling to the building, stopping on the grass.

“Eyyy! Would ya look at dat: I didn’t even crash dat time!”

…Sarmenti would nod, hastily exiting the car before his dream life was ended by a stray collision. As he walked towards the building, he saw one of the children he saw from the forest earlier…em… Kel , his name was? The child stood glumly before noticing Sarmenti, perking up.

Kel: “Yo! Welcome to the Last Resort, just up ahead!”

Sarmenti: “Oh!…Hello, erm…Kel, is it?”

Kel tilted his head curiously.

Kel: “Yeah, that’s my name! I’m working for this place as an uhhhh…greeter person! I’m waiting for my friend to come so we can have fun!…Or I would, if not for those crummy contracts we got tricked into signing.”

Kel grumbled, Sarmenti’s voice falling into a half false concern.

Sarmenti: “Oh no! You were tricked into signing contracts? That must be horrible!”

Kel: “Yeah, it is! But don’t worry, once OMORI gets here, we can work together to get out of them!”

Sarmenti: “Ahhh, I see I see…hmm. Hey, Kel. Why don’t you come with me instead?”

Kel: “You? Uhhh…why?”

Sarmenti: “Maybe I could help you break the contracts! I’m an uh…”Official Lawyer Clown” from the err…Contract Cracking Committee.”

Anyone smarter than a handful of rocks would be able to see through that lie. Thankfully, Kel had lost his rocks back at the ladder.

Kel: “Wow! Really?! Okay, uh, sure! I'll come with ya, Omori will be here soon I bet!”

Sarmenti grinned as he walked inside with Kel at his front. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust from the darkness of the sea to the brightness of the Resort. Lots of noise. Lots and lots of noise. Mainly the sounds of casino games being played and lost, and Clams being exchanged from guest to house. At the front, a few more gator men stood at post, one of them scowling as Kel came back in.

“Oi. Wasn’t yous supposed ta be outside guidin’ da guests into here? Whatcha doin’ in here?”

Kel: “Oh uh…I’m with my new partner. He’s an Official Lawyer Clown!”

The gator guys stared at Sarmenti…only to break down into uproarious laughter.

“Hahaahahahaa! Good god dats funny, hehehehe! Oh…Oh dats-dats good, dats good…”

The gator guy approached Sarmenti, a smug look in his eye.

“Well then Mr “Lawyer Clown”, what’s your business here?”

Sarmenti: “I’m here to conduct some routine er…”Buisness”. You understand, right?”

“Nah. I don’t. Why don’t ya enlighten me a bit, yeah?”

The Gators began to approach with malicious intent. Sarmenti sighed.

Sarmenti: “Very well then gentlemen. Let’s take this outside.”

“Yeah…why don’t we?”

The Gator goons walked along with Sarmenti, going ahead of him to walk outside, itching for a fight. Unfortunately, upon passing the threshold of the door, Sarmenti would kick them square in the back, before closing the door and locking it. The gators fruitlessly began banging on the door in protest.

“Ey! That’s no fair. You get out here and take ya lumps ya shmuck!”

Sarmenti whistled innocently as he walked away from the door, internally chuckling.

Sarmenti: “I cannot even fathom that that worked. Welp. Time to see what this place can off…fer.”

Sarmenti would look around for a handful of seconds, only to find Kel. At the slots.

Sarmenti: “ So long as it’s not my coin being gambled away…Atleast he’ll be distracted while I go on.”

Sarmenti would go on the prowl, staying as low as one could in a jester suit with jingling bells. He would continue onwards, before reaching an elevator. Sarmenti stepped in, looked at the buttons. The fifth floor was disabled, with a slot next to it for some sort of unlocking mechanism. A Key Card, it seems.

Sarmenti: “ How many floors does this place have…?”

Well, Sarmenti would start with Floor 2, and work his way up, hoping to find the other children. With any luck, he could be out of here before that pale faced thing known as Omori showed up…

---

Luck was not on his side.

Sarmenti groaned as he stumbled back into the elevator. It had been half an hour, though it felt like 27 lifetimes, and he finally found what he was looking for, a “Cool Key Card”. He…may have pilfered it from some unfortunate soul who left it in their drawer. Eh, they’re just fragments of dream, who cares? Sarmenti’s wonder at this place was quickly turning sour, like a cheap beer left in the sun for too long. The Jester slotted in the card, it beeped, the button was pressed, and off he went.

He would arrive at a fancy hallway, lined with paintings and photos of…sharks. Ignoring that, Sarmenti proceeded onwards, where he would bear visage of two more gator guys, and this…small thing.

“Well well well! Look who we have here!”

Sarmenti: “Hi, yes, I have a very important meeting with the-“

“Oh yeah, suuuuure you do. Everyone has some big meeting with the boss. Sorry to burst your bubble, but I can’t just let anyone in Willy-Nilly!”

Sarmenti: “Well if you were to just contac-“

“Sorry, boss’s orders! He wants no disturbances, no interruptions, nope, nada, zippo! We have a big Tofu fundraiser for tonight! And I’m not gonna let anyone do any disturbing!”

Sarmenti: “I…Surely, we could work someth-“

“The boss made me the head security officer for a reason! He wanted someone strong, someone hard headed, someone willing to make the big decisions!”

Sarmenti’s eye twitched behind his mask.

Sarmenti: “Please…I am begging you here, just let me throu-“

The two gator guys on the small one’s sides stepped up.

“Oh yeah? And what if BERLY and us don’t let ya in, hm? Whatcha gonna do?”

…

Sarmenti: “ to hell with this. ”

Sarmenti let fly a right hook directly into the gator guy’s sternum, staggering them. The second guy lunged forward, but Sarmenti deftly dodged out of the way, responding with an elbow to the back of the head. The still reeling first gator guy would receive a kick to the chest that sent them sprawling back, falling comically into the red velvet barrier that quickly entangled them. The second guard would recover just in time for Sarmenti to kick the back of their leg, knocking them off balance enough for The Jester to slam their head into a nearby flower pot hard enough to shatter it. He then calmly went over to the tangled up guard, and cold cocked them in the snout, causing enough pain to send them into unconsciousness. Sarmenti glared at the small child known as Berly.

Sarmenti: “One word of this to any security, and I will be most unhappy. ”

Berly, fearing for his tiny life, meekly stepped aside to let Sarmenti pass, just as a small set of footsteps echoed down the hall. Er, make that two. Kel was dragging along that pale skinned ghost child…right on time to see Sarmenti standing in the crime scene.

Kel: “Woah! What the heck happened?! Omori just came over to help us out!”

Sarmenti: “The guards aaaaassaulted me, and I acted in self defense.”

Kel: “Woah...Do all contract breaking lawyer clowns know how to kick butt like that?”

Sarmenti: “…Sure. Let’s go with that.”

Kel: “Then I wanna be a contract breaking lawyer clown too! C’mon OMORI, let’s get rid of these crummy contracts!”

Kel rushed ahead past the door. Omori strode forward, looking at the gator guys for nary a moment. They went over to Berly and spoke to them, in some strange sort of communication Sarmenti could not process. Omori then turned around, looked at The Jester for a moment with those beady black eyes…and nodded towards the door, offering a hand that Sarmenti took. Omori’s fingers felt cool as they intertwined with The Jester’s, a childish gesture of friendship.

Sarmenti: “… This has been an odd turn of events… ”

Notes:

shits been rough sorry for the delay guys