Chapter Text
The City was a miserable place, wasn’t it?
It was a basic Fixer’s motto not to get too attached to your coworkers, or anyone for that matter. Because the City was a cruel place who didn’t care about the power of love, or justice, or anything of the sort.
Friends and family could die in all sorts of ways. It wasn’t bad luck, it was simply a fact of life living in the Backstreets, far from the safe graces of a Wing. There would be no funeral, only a passing moment of silence when you finally met your inevitable end, and if you were lucky, maybe a few tears shed.
The pair of Fixers weren’t unaware of all of this. They had experienced the worst of the city, from the Smoke War to laboratory experimentation. They had nearly died several times over, even in each other’s arms. They remembered that motto many times, and long ago had pledged their hearts to never falter when witnessing the death of a friend.
…What a miserable pledge that was, just like the City it came from.
To never love or hate, to never seek vengeance, to never cry, nor scream in delight…it was a motto molded by the backstreets, to create machines mimicking humans, only obsessed with the next job and nothing more.
Where was the joy? The love? All that motto ensured was a world that was as grey and desolate as everyone made it out to be, as dull as the concrete that lined the streets.
Yes, the City was miserable and dark, capable of tearing one’s heart out if they left it unguarded. But the people within it contained an equal capacity for warmth and joy, a capacity for love often repressed and rotted from years of misery and slaughter.
He remembered the first time she punched him in the back of the head so hard he thought his skull had fractured. Though Charles’ Office had long since dissolved, the memories of those times still brought warmth to his cheeks.
She remembered the first time he took off his mask to reveal the man underneath the facade. It took her almost dying to a Second Kindred, but seeing him so worried for her was a priceless memory.
The both of them remembered his words when he first proposed to her.
“If everything in my life was a trial for me to meet you… then it was worth it.”
She’d almost laughed in his face for that cheesy pickup line, but instead she graciously accepted. Because his furiously blushing face was enough for her.
It was far from a perfect union. There were times when they argued, times when he would be sleeping on the couch instead of in their bed, but it was happy. A reprieve and an escape from the city’s grasp.
Wasn’t that what everyone wanted, at the end of the day?
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“Yo, Olivier! Haven’t seen you in a while.”
“You too, Roland. It’s a shame we can’t meet under better circumstances, but I’ve got a favor to ask of you.”
“Just me? What about Angelica?”
“Angelica…it’s probably overkill. Two Grade-Ones is probably overkill already, but-”
“I know how you are. Always the prepared one.”
“This is standard for a Fixer…I’m more surprised you haven’t ended up dead with how little you care for battle preparations and intelligence gathering.”
“Had a good granny, I suppose.”
“I suppose. Well, I’ll wait for you to settle things with your wife. I won’t take it personally if you decline, considering-”
“Don’t worry about it. She’ll understand.”
Roland sighed as he turned back to face the love of his life. She was obviously pouting, listening to the conversation from around the corner.
“Angelica…”
“Hmph. You know we were supposed to try for a kid tonight…”
“Sorry. Duty calls, you know?”
“And it’s Fixer work. He’s Hana now, isn’t he? Shouldn’t he have a new team to handle things?”
“There’s nobody he trusts as much as me. That just means this is gonna be a pretty high-end job if he’s looking for me so urgently. Good pay.”
“Where is it, anyway?”
“District 25. Probably gonna have to take a Warp train for it.”
“I remember that place. Cold as hell, but there was some delicious pajeon too.”
“Is food all you think about?”
“What can I say? You’re a great househusband.”
“...So can I go?”
“If you bring some of their pajeon back.”
“Of course, your majesty. I’ll be back as soon as possible. And…thanks for letting me do this.”
“I know how few friends you have, you unsocial bastard. Can’t have you losing one more.”
With a smile, Roland grabbed his trusty Durandal leaning against the wall. Angelica had offered to keep it in her Gloves, but he liked looking back at how far he’d come, from an insolent youth in the Smoke War to a soon-to-be father.
This blade had come with him a long way. Now it was time for one more job.
“You ready, partner?”
“Always.”
The two men prepared to enter the Streets of Music…
But were interrupted by a discordant melody, ringing through their ears.
“What the hell is that thing?”
“Tch…doesn't look like anything that Hana's catalogued.”
Even for the city, it looked like an apocalypse. The pair of fixers watched silhouettes of people lifted from the ground, before being crumpled like pieces of paper into music notes.
“...We should probably bring Angelica.”
“You’re seriously going to fight that thing? You don’t even know what it does! I need to report this to Hana and organize a strike team-”
“Look, this apartment was expensive as hell, you know! Angelica insisted on it because being in the streets of music was ‘romantic’ or some shit, and I’m not going to let one punk ruin all of that!”
“This isn’t about money, Roland, this is about your lives and your family! Who cares about-”
“Can you two stop acting like such… men? Me and Roland will handle this damn lousy pianist, and you can clean up the aftermath. Sounds good?”
“Angelica…”
It had been a while since he saw her in her full Fixer gear. The sight took his breath away, as it always did. Olivier, on the other hand, simply rolled his eyes at her brazen confidence.
“This isn’t like the Second Kindred. For all we know, this could topple the entirety of District 9, and maybe even I Corp along with it.”
“So?”
“...Fine. Do whatever. I hope I won’t have to bury my best friend and his wife tonight.”
“Seeya, Olivier.”
“Goodbye, Roland.”
Dashing off towards the Hana Association’s Southern Branch building, the pair of fixers casually stretched their limbs.
“Are you ready, Roland?”
“On your count, Angelica.”
Weapons in hand, the two strolled towards the lousy pianist, a grimace on their faces from the discordant melodies.
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“Roland? Roland, talk to me. Can you hear me? Roland!”
“Tch… fuckin’ bastard… at least it’s over.”
“Keep breathing. Please. Don’t die. We were going to start a family together, it can’t end like this…”
“...Heh. You remember with the Second Kindred? This is just like that time…”
“This isn’t the time for jokes!!! Keep your eyes open, please!”
She watched his eyes flicker between consciousness and unconsciousness, living and dead. It tore her heart apart to see the love of her life on the verge of succumbing to the city’s cold.
“I’ll…find who’s responsible for this, Roland. I’ll find them, and… kill every last one of them. Because that’s what you’d do for me, right? Ahahaha…”
She had learned to cope with pain at a young age.
Watching her brother being ruthlessly tortured by various experimenters left her heart frozen and desolate.
That’s that, and this is this… why should I burden myself with the lives of others, the people I’ve killed, the relationships I’ve torn apart, if they would do the same to me without a second’s hesitation?
Just in case…just in case, things went wrong, I made him promise. To not blame himself for my death. What a fool I was, to believe that it would be that simple, that a promise could undo the decades of blackened ferocity, repressed fury in my heart.
I will watch him die because of my arrogance.
I will just become like every other citizen of the City, uncaring, emotionless, repressed, and dull.
Am I sobbing for him? Or am I sobbing for myself, for the realization that I was never above the will of the City, that every act of defiance led to this moment, for me to become nothing more than a machine fueled by hatred and wrath?
I will have nothing but my sorrow.
I will want nothing more.
It has always been with me, waiting, festering, never faltering.
But why should I begrudge such a patient sorrow?
When my soul has been reduced to nothing but a hollow mass,
What else do I deserve, and what else do I have?
O sorrow, I realize it now, above all, you are the companion of all.
An eternal guardian, sentry and avenger,
A force for the wronged and the righteous, the damned and the deserving.
And I know that you, above all others, will be seated aside me,
On the day that I find myself in my last, agonizing moments,
So that you might claim my heart, as sight and sound fades.
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“Hello there, kid with a white-hot heart.”
“Iori…I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. The kiddo’s not dead yet, anyway.”
“You don’t have to comfort me. I know. And if you get any closer, I don’t think I can stop myself from…”
“What a shame. Because I have an offer you can’t possibly refuse~”