Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The City was many things. A kaleidoscope of dazzling colors, billboards and neon signs perpetuating a sunless day even with the moon reaching its zenith in the sky. A cretinous hive of villainy and degeneracy where muggers skulked in the shadows and unseen horrors scurried underneath the sewers. A whirlwind of laughter and sobbing, where the blissful Nest eggs lost in their carefree ignorance paid little attention to the Fixers, Syndicate thugs, unlucky victims, and unholy abominations that fought and bled and died just outside of their glossy windows.

The City was beautiful. Violent. Disorderly. And for this one hour, accompanied only by the whir of a small elevator and a series of drunken moans just inches from her ear, the City, to Cecil, was boring.

And thank the Wings for that.

With a small ding, the doors slid open with nary a sound, leaving only the blonde’s belabored huffs as she staggered out of the elevator, her obligated burden weighing her down like several packs of training weights. Her feet trudged down the hotel hallway, flanked by tacky wallpaper accented by gaudy portraits of vacant-faced individuals, a decorative taste appreciated only by those who had recently gone blind. She huffed again and pressed her weight into her toes as she felt the girl clinging to her back stir and tighten her grip, a yawn accompanied by a loud and uncouth burp. Cecil wrinkled her nose, trying not to retch at the heavy stench of alcohol wafting past her face.

“Man you shooooulda seen it, Ceci! Director Mirinae was all ‘maybe you’d have gotten promoted if you didn’t fucking suck so much’ and the entire bar was like ‘ooooooooooooooooooooooh!’ I’ve never seen a Hana Fixer run so fast! I bet the Director’d have given that bitch a good ol punch straight in her pretty little face if she’d tried something funny!”

“Yeah, Mei, I’m sure,” Cecil said contentedly, rolling her shoulders up and carefully checking to make sure the drunken Mei’s arm was still wrapped around the back of her neck before checking her pockets. A small, golden keycard glimmered as its embroidered surface reflected the lights above the girls, the faint but distinctive insignia of a suitcase with two, ruby canes crisscrossing its front like a coat of arms emblazoned in the center. Nemo had, of course, spared no expense in providing the guests of honor in his tournament the most luxurious of accommodations. Provided, of course, that everyone and their grandmother knew who was footing the bill.

Still, a vacation was a vacation, and the rest of Section 2 wouldn’t have let her live it down if both Lowell and Mei left without her. The two stopped just short of the door, Cecil leaning forward slightly to ensure that her starry-eyed friend didn’t slip free from her handhold and slam her head against the wall. Again. The door, a glossy brown finish of some assuredly exotic wood likely plucked from some hidden oasis beyond the Outskirts, opened with nary a groan nor a whine, the blackness of the room quickly dispelled by an immediate, bright flash as each light in the ceiling ignited to greet her. The brief, pale image of a dutiful maid appeared before the two like a specter haunting the world’s most gaudy and overly designed hotel room, curtsying as Cecil hauled Mei through the door, contemplating whether Mei would notice if Cecil left her to sleep at the doorway.

“Welcome, Ms. Cecil and Ms. Mei,” the hologram blissfully greeted them, its ocular receptors clearly oblivious to the dour mood etched across Cecil’s face. “It is currently 00:43. Would you like me to query the available movies for streaming?”

“Dim the lights, Serena,” the Liu Fixer replied curtly, passing through the hologram like it wasn’t even there. “Quit menu until I give the say so.”

The image spluttered and distorted like an image reflected in a rippling pond, the outline of what looked to be a curtsy barely keeping its form as the two made their way further into the room. “As you wish, Ms. Cecil. Ending dialogue.”

With a soft pop, the hologram dissipated, leaving only a vacant hotel room brightly illuminated by the twin lights lining the ceiling and the accompanying duo of lamps flanking each side of a modest, queen-sized bed. On first blush, it appeared that Nemo’s magnanimous generosity continued into the suites provided to even the no name Fixers such as Cecil and Mei, the room easily twice the size of the small, studio apartment that Cecil usually called home. A garishly large flatscreen television, something that would probably consume four months of her normal salary, flickered awake as she dragged the groaning Mei toward the bed, the splash screen of the latest streaming phenomena lingering on its face with its disturbingly blissful grin. The blurry, black and white still of the demented doctor of Emesis Blue tried everything in its power to disturb the weary blonde.

A chill ran down Cecil’s spine as she caught sight of the television in her peripheral vision. A scene of black and white, a stark monochrome. She flinched as she swore, right to her very soul, she heard that distinctive, hellish ding.

Oblivious to the frozen blonde, the bed’s plush mattress consumed Mei whole as she slipped from Cecil’s shoulders and into its gaping maw. Seemingly designed purely to demonstrate the Cane President’s extravagant wealth, linen sheets dyed in the finest ruby were draped over the bed, a welcoming lure to devour its unsuspecting victims whole. Their delicate fabric caused Cecil’s knees to buckle as she stumbled into it, her fleeting memories disappearing like a puff of smoke as a wave of fatigue washed over her. The blonde sighed as she slid the embroidered Liu coat from her shoulders. Her fingers undid the buttons of her black suit one after the other before dipping into the knot of her tie and pulling it loose, tossing the two garments alongside her coat. The buttons of her white dress shirt were next, leaving the girl in only her dress pants and a modest, white bra. Her eyes skirted across the floor until she spied an unassuming suitcase nestled next to one of the many, many wardrobes that seemed excessively unnecessary for a two person suite, its matte black finish emblazoned with the fiery insignia of Liu in the center. Gingerly stepping on the back of her heels, she peeled the shoes from her feet and sauntered over to her suitcase, plopping herself on the ground and undoing the zipper with one, quick flick of her arm. Behind her, she could make out the tired yawn of the black-haired Fixer as she crawled out of the bed, her drunken stupor and immense fatigue threatening to pull her back onto the bed and keep her there for the rest of the night.

“Ceciiiii…” Mei moaned, trying to wipe the sand from her eyes. “C’mon, you said we’d share another drink when we got back.”

“Another drink, Mei?” Cecil quipped, an incredulous smirk plastered over her face. She cocked an eyebrow as she cast a sideways glance at the girl teetering back and forth on the edge of the bed, her eyes locking on the half-naked Cecil and then to her own ruffled, beer-stained suit. Cecil’s attention turned back to her belongings, the quiet room occasionally punctuated by a slurred “fuck” and the faint tug of fabric as Mei struggled to pull her clothes off of her. Cecil thumbed through the myriad of identically folded, neatly pressed dress shirts, humming contentedly as she spied her target and pulled it free from the suitcase. A loose fitting t-shirt dyed in violet, the visage of the indomitable Sieghart, stalwart and noble Operator of the illustrious Turbulence Office, plastered across its front from collar to hip in an elaborate, borderline garish illustration of the Steel Determination clad in his amethyst armor and bearing his signature katana.

I mean of course she was a fan. Who wasn’t a fan of Turbulence Office in the City?

Slipping the shirt on with a single, fluid motion, she pressed the ball of her foot on the toe of her socks one after the other, pulling them off with two quick flicks of her leg before sliding her pants down, quickly replacing them with a modest pair of shorts. She sat back and yawned as she slammed the suitcase shut with the heel of her foot, the lithe and soft carpet beneath her easing her into a dreamy, alluring slumber. Blinking away the exhaustion weighing down her eyelids, she clambered over to the second suitcase, a vibrant and flamboyant crimson with the Liu insignia covered by no less than six different Wing stickers. Even through her bleary vision and drawn out yawns, she could make out the distinct and noticeable bulge in the center. Though as still as a slumbering rock, Cecil’s intuition cautioned her from getting too complacent as she hooked her finger on the zipper and gingerly tugged it close to her.

Naturally, the deluge of clothes that erupted from the suitcase put even the otherworldly EGO of the Library to shame.

Fortunately, the Liu Fixer escaped from her ordeal with little more than an oversized hoodie and a bathing suit crumpled over her face. Plucking the articles of clothing from her face, she gazed upon the devastation with a mixture of irritation and dread, the once pristine and immaculate hotel room now the victim of some impromptu clothing bomb. Of course, Nemo was the one reserving the rooms and Nemo surely would compensate the hotel should the atomic blast of fabric and garments have knocked over anything important.

… Right?

… Lowell totally wouldn’t dock their pay for this, right?

“… Room service is gonna cover this, right?” Mei asked, a brief moment of lucidity crossing her otherwise drunken face.

“I imagine Lowell would get rather pissed if word spread we left a huge mess and expected someone else to clean up after us,” Cecil replied with a sigh, getting up and kicking a small cap into Mei’s already overflowing suitcase. “We’re Liu, after all, not Dieci.”

“Mmmm, you’re gonna help me clean up though, right Ceciiiii?”

Mei’s puppy dog eyes bounced off of Cecil’s unflappable glare. “Why did you even pack all of this garbage, Mei? Why would you even need a hoodie like this?” Cecil’s hand waved up and down the thick, black garment, half an inch thick, the wool concealing no doubt several reinforced fibers and threads that would be able to tank a Thumb bullet, let alone a stray Rat switchblade. “It’s the middle of summer, Mei. Who were you expecting to run into? The maniacs at Azure Blizzard Workshop?” Cecil sighed and tossed the hoodie behind her, listlessly sifting through Mei’s compressed mobile closet. “Come on, help me out here.”

Mei fell back onto the bed with an exhausted plonk, the only movement in her limp body her toes picking at socks and pulling them loose. “C’moooon, Ceci. I got a headaaaaache. I don’t wanna spend all night cleaning your mess uuup.”

“My mess?” Cecil snorted. A balled up skirt sailed in one graceful arc, smacking Mei straight in her face. “Want me to get you some water then?”

“Nnnngh… actually, yeah Ceci…” The Liu Fixer yawned at she snagged the collar of her dress shirt and pulled upward. The fabric crinkled and held fast as she tried in vain to pull the shirt past her chin. Cecil tactfully hid her chuckling smile as she gathered a small pile of Mei’s socks and tossed them into her suitcase, wondering if the girl would remember her dress shirt had buttons. “Water sounds nice, actually…”

“Mmmm, do we have anything in the fridge?” Cecil pondered aloud, turning her attention to the small mini fridge and popping it open. A hodgepodge of bottles and cans was the immediate reply, a series of colors across the spectrum enshrined in crystalline glass and elegantly painted aluminum. She plucked an amber bottle from the side and rolled it between her fingers, the words “Soul-Glad” plastered over the sticker on the front in some old-timey font, likely the marketing scheme of some haughty T Corp schmuck who substituted his business degree for a brain. Still… “Shit, lots of soda and alcohol but… no water.”

“Oooooh, get me one of the beers, Ceci,” Mei drawled, lifting her head weakly up from the plush cushion halfway through consuming her. “Something nice and crisp.”

“You’re gonna feel like shit,” Cecil chided, clicking her tongue before returning the bottle to the fridge and kicking it shut. “Never mind. I think I saw a vending machine on the way. I’ll go get some water.” The Liu Fixer yawned and made her way toward the door, pausing only briefly as her reflection stared back at her through the regal, obscenely large mirror opposite the bathroom’s entrance. Her hairband removed, her hair cascaded down her shoulders and back in an unbridled and disheveled golden waterfall, its brilliant luster matching well with the subdued violet hue of her t-shirt. A couple of nicks and scratches alongside fainter scars ran down her forearms and legs, enough to betray her profession but so few as to retain a type of dainty beauty. She squinted and tilted her foot up, the sapphiric nail polish shimmering in the entryway’s lights. It was an innocent enough bet; Mei’d grabbed a set of complementary red and blue nail polish after an extended stint in Nest O. The winner got to chose what color they got through a simple game of chess.

Unfortunately for Cecil, she learned too late Mei was apparently some Beholder-blessed prodigy back when she was in Section 3.

Right, the water. Her eyes darted back and forth between the mirror and the doorway, wondering if the casual, unkempt appearance of an off-duty Liu Fixer would sully the name of Section 2. She could always throw on one of the Liu capes and dart back to the room if need be. Then again, was it even likely that anyone would still be awake this late? She pursed her lips as she stared back at the pensive girl in the mirror, her toes anxiously digging into the carpet and her fingers pressed into the sides of her chin.

Wait fuck right.

She leapt over to her suitcase, fishing out the neatly folded pair of dress pants she’d put into place. Rummaging hurriedly through its pockets, she quickly procured a small, compact wallet, the black leather matching the stellar black of the Liu Association. She plopped it into the far looser pockets of her shorts before making her way to the room’s entrance. Paying no heed to the reflection that no doubt was ready to paralyze the blonde in indecision once again, she darted through the narrow entrance and back into the hallway, spinning on her heel and briskly walking down the empty corridor.

Well, almost empty. Shit.

Skidding to a stop, she fished her phone out of her pocket, the screen flickering to life with a dull glow and reflecting a pale “1:27” just above one of the many Liu group photos she’d cycled through for backgrounds. She already felt her eyelids drooping staring at the time; not even the most dedicated or work-obsessed Fixers would linger this long past midnight. Unless the Shi were on the prowl, the only people you’d ever expect to run into this late at night would be the most zealous or the most fanatical. The long, white, immaculately polished cloak draped over the sole man in front of her, however, left Cecil with a mix of dread and annoyance. There were few crazy enough to wander around this late at night, and the Index were certainly among those chosen few. Standing as rigid as a wax statue, the Index Proxy lingered in front of the unremarkable hotel door, still save for the faint rise and fall of his chest. Nestled snugly in a small clip on the back of his belt, the steel blade jutted out past the Proxy’s cloak in what was either a poor attempt to conceal the weapon or a tactless display of intimidation. Cecil eyed the man warily. The feeling was far from mutual; her very presence appeared about as unimportant as the row after row of gaudy flower vases that lined the walls.

A Proxy. Long, black hair. A medium-length rectangular whose hilt always rested underneath the man’s palm. If the blonde remembered the myriad debriefing sessions on the Library incident well, this should have been one of those that had fallen to the Library. Esther, was it? The Proselytes alone were already a headache for any Fixer; one second they’d greet you and give you their life savings and the next they would attempt to rip your throat out from the back of your neck, all at the whims of their glorified fortune cookies. Merely approaching a member of the Index was a gamble in it of itself. It didn’t matter if you were a civilian or a fucking Claw; if the Prescripts said something as innocuous as “decapitate the 43rd person that crossed your path this day,” they’d do it in a heartbeat.

If she was thinking clearly, Cecil would’ve gone back for her gear at the room. Hell, maybe she’d just tell Mei to sleep it off and turn in for the night, content in letting the jumpscare of a daunting Index Proxy be enough to ease her to bed. She should have done literally anything else. Absolutely no one would have blamed her for turning right around and just crawling under the covers and telling Mei to suck it up when the headaches and nausea finally came to bite the girl in the ass.

But before she could stop herself, she cleared her throat. The Index Proxy’s eyes flicked over to her. The girl froze, an overwhelming pressure seizing every single muscle and paralyzing her where she stood. Her instincts should have been to cover her neck, to back away quickly, to take one of those overly extravagant paintings hanging on the wall and chuck it at the Proxy in a desperate attempt to draw his attention away from her. Her heartbeat quickened, anticipating a sudden and inexplicable fight for the Fixer’s life, yet her bones may as well have been welded steel.

“… Cecil, was it?” the Proxy asked, giving a curt nod. “Esther. Index Proxy. You were fighting in the tournament earlier today, weren’t you?”

She returned the nod in turn, her faint, professional smile hiding the anxiety crawling underneath her skin. “Yes, I was. Are you in the middle of one of your Prescripts, Proxy?”

“Of course. We must always do as the Prescript wills.” His hand dipped into his cloak, procuring a small slip of paper, barely longer than his index finger. “’To Esther. Stare at Door 1472 and repeat the first 20 digits of pi 3 times. If you are interrupted, greet this person warmly and instead converse with them.’”

“W-Well, that’s a… pretty innocuous request,” Cecil chuckled, feeling a bit more at ease… keyword “a bit.” “I don’t suppose that the Prescript didn’t have some fine print saying to take that person’s left ear or something like that, right?”

“Nothing of that sort, no,” Esther replied. If the Proxy was aware of the dubious reputation surrounding the Index and their utterly random commanders, he did a good job of hiding his discontent… or his smug amusement. “The Prescript simply commands I give my rapt attention to this door, and thus I have done so.”

“Uh… huh,” Cecil rubbed the back of her head, her sheepish smile hiding the second-hand embarrassment beginning to bubble to the surface. Her bare feet skirted across the carpet as she gave a wide berth to the Proxy, lest another Prescript suddenly order him to tear out the tongue of the next blonde girl he lays his eyes upon. “Well, as long as the Index aren’t going to cause any trouble for the citizens of the Nest, the rest of the Associations won’t cause any trouble.” She paused, her face scrunching up in wonder. “… Actually, what are you guys doing here? I thought the Proxies were always busy carrying out Prescripts.”

“You would be correct, Cecil,” the Proxy replied curtly. Yet another Prescript appeared in his hand, as though he was beginning to conjure them from the very ether. “To Esther, Gloria, Hubert, and all Proselytes under their command. Attend the festivities held by Cane Office. The level of participation is left to your discretion. Avoid unnecessary conflict.”

“That’s… a surprisingly tame Prescript,” Cecil admitted, peering over at the small paper. Sure enough, the neat and eloquent handwriting that detailed each and every Prescript were identical to the Proxy’s word. She squinted and brought her face closer, as though she might divine some hidden message from the enigmatic word of the Index’s fabled Prescripts. “Do your Prescripts… normally tell you not to kill others?”

“The Prescript tells us as much or as little as is necessary,” Esther said cooly, returning the Prescript to one of the many hidden pockets underneath his cloak. “The Prescript charges us with the attendance of the Cane President’s little show. It is our duty to carry out this task.”

“I see,” Cecil nodded, pursing her lips in thought. “So if, say, Nemo commanded all of the Index members in attendance to, say, ‘take the entire audience hostage,’ you would…?”

“Do not confuse our attendance for obedience, Cecil,” Esther replied tersely, his eyes narrowed in a faint, irritable glare. “We are here to, at a minimum, observe. If the Prescripts tell us to deviate from our course, then only then will we act.”

Ominous. Cecil tactfully kept her thoughts to herself, choosing not to provoke the ire of an Index Proxy. One alone could clash with one of Section 1’s elite Fixers and come away with their arms and legs still attached; Lowell himself nearly lost his life when confronted with an Index Proxy whose Prescript simply read “Kill the first Liu Fixer you see.” A veteran of the Library and an Index Proxy was way above the weight class Cecil usually got into scuffles with. … Besides, unlike her Liu uniform, this novelty Turbulence Office t-shirt was decidedly not stab-proof. Finally putting herself a fair distance away from the Proxy, she turned on her heel, spying a vending machine just at the next bend.

“A word, Cecil.”

She stopped mid-stride, the authoritative tone of the Proxy’s voice like a chain around her neck. Each muscle in her body tensed up as she cast her gaze back, half-expecting the Proxy’s polished blade to be aimed toward her neck. Indeed, the Proxy discarded his vigil of the hotel door, now a towering, imposing presence that made the girl feel quite small in comparison. Her hand instinctively reached out, her fingers barely cresting the nearby wall. It would be a tight fit, her eyes fixating on the space between Esther and the two walls to either side, but if she dove into a slide on the opposite side of Esther’s swing, she might clear right past him before he could turn and stab her in the back.

Probably.

It was, admittedly, not the best plan. A gruesome image flashed before her eyes of blood spurting from her mouth, her back ripped asunder by five swift strokes carved in the elegant shape of the Index’s aconitum. She could turn and flee, maybe find Chun or Xiao or Lowell or any of the myriad other Associations taking up residence in the hotel currently. There was definitely enough room between her and the Proxy to give herself some breathing room, right?

A cough. Cecil blinked, locking eyes with Esther as the Proxy folded his arms, cocking his eyebrow in confusion. “Are you alright? You appeared to have zoned out.”

“Y-Yeah, just a bit tired,” she said sheepishly, rubbing the back of her head. The Proxy’s blade was decidedly snug in its sheath and not currently jamming itself through the blonde’s ribs, so his intentions were probably cordial. Probably. “Did you need something?”

“My colleagues and I were going to meet up at the pool after this Prescript. Would you be interested in joining us?”

Silence pervaded the empty hall. Cecil slid her fingers behind her wrist and pinched, expecting to wake up in a black hotel room to Mei’s drunken snoring. Naught but the Proxy’s piercing stare, so diametrically opposed to such an innocuous invitation, was there to greet her. She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or to seek medical attention for the Proxy so suffering from a mental break that she simply stood in abject, apparent confusion, her dry throat trying to choke out some type of response to Esther’s otherwise normal and polite request.

“Y-You’re gonna have to run that by me again,” Cecil said finally, wrinkling her nose as if to discern some hidden gas leak. “Did you just invite me to go… swimming with you guys?”

“You don’t have to swim if you’re not interested in that sort of thing,” Esther replied nonchalantly, completely unphased by his request. “Gloria will simply be lounging with the others since she cannot swim.”

“This isn’t, like, part of some elaborate Prescript, is it?” Cecil squinted, trying to catch even the slightest tell in the unflappable Proxy’s expression. “Not gathering every fourth Fixer into the same room so you can shove them down a storm drain?”

“This is part of attending the festivities, so in a way, we are fulfilling the will of the Prescripts.” Esther’s reply was as banal and as emotionless as ever. “But I suspect that was not what you were implying.”

“It’s just… weird hearing this from a Syndicate member, of all people,” Cecil admitted, her bafflement turning to slight embarrassment as felt Esther’s judging eyes boring into her. “Not like we have the most cordial relationship out in the Backstreets or anything.”

“The past is transient to the Prescripts. They care only for what they request from the present.” A subtle twitch. As Cecil’s face lit up in embarrassment, she barely caught the faint smirk hidden underneath the white cape of the Proxy. “Pray tell, did you not bring a bathing suit for the occasion?”

“I, uh… may have been talked into it by my… friend,” she said, her voice a low and defeated murmur. “I wasn’t actually… expecting to get any use out of it, honestly. Thought we’d just be bouncing between the tournament venue and the hotel all week.”

“To my knowledge, Cecil, you aren’t slated for a match until a couple days from now,” Esther pointed out. His analytical gaze now fell on the Liu Fixer, a faint but nonetheless distinct irritation bubbling just underneath her red face as she stood under the unflinching, unbroken vigil of the Proxy. “Besides, as fellow veterans of the Library, I’m sure we share some camaraderie in that regard.”

The Library. Cecil’s toes dug into the carpet, a chill running down her spine as the metallic, unceasing crunch of gears echoed faintly in her memory. The visage of a violet, starry sky turning black haunted her clenched eyes as those deafening gunshots threatened to overwhelm her senses.

“… So, did the Index punish you guys for failing your Prescript to go to the Library?” Cecil asked solemnly, her eyes locking with the Proxy’s.

Esther clicked his tongue then chuckled, his stoic face momentarily splashed with an unfitting display of elation. “The Prescripts asked we only travel to the Library. It never said anything regarding our success.”

Cecil snorted. As was the case with every other Index matter she’d skimmed through, she wasn’t sure if the Index’s outlook was cynical, fatalist, or completely psychotic. Still. Her eyes flicked back to the vending machine at its lonely post, then to Esther. “… Can you give me a minute? Mei – my friend’s still waiting me to get her a drink, then I’ll get dressed.”

The Proxy nodded. He turned his attention back to Door 1472. Stepping forward, he produced a small keycard and slid it into the lock. The door chirped and beeped, its locks disengaging with a silent hum as it creaked open. Cecil’s blank stare would have drawn a laugh from even the most humorless man as Esther turned back to regard her.

“I’ll gather my own things then and see you downstairs,” Esther said.

The scattered and fried thoughts swimming around in Cecil’s head composed themselves for one strangled question. “… Were you staring at your own door for this long?”

“The Prescripts asked that I observe this door,” Esther replied simply, turning to leave. “It just so happened to be mine.”

And with a terse slam, the door shut closed, leaving a befuddled Fixer with a slight headache.

The lush, if gaudy carpet of the hotel floor soon gave way to row upon row of immaculately polished tiles, their cerulean hue awash in wet footprints as the soft murmuring of the hotel pool intermingled with the light conversation permeating the atmosphere. Cecil’s hand tightened around the clasp of her Liu cape, the thick, embroidered fabric the only thing shielding her bare body from prying eyes. Of course it was completely silly to feel embarrassment from being exposed at a pool; that was whole point, but she usually had the indomitable presence of Xiao, Chun, or Lowell drawing attention away from the unremarkably plain Liu Fixer.

Mmm, Lowell. Her fingertips reddened as they pressed into the clasp of the cape, digging the metal into her palm. No star in Liu burned brighter, of course. Seldom did Section 2 get any vacation from the endless requests that had them entrenched in the squalor and muck of the Backstreets, but she still recalled those fleeting moments vividly like they were but yesterday. His elegant form as he emerged from the glistening pool, water cascading down his sparkling face and down his rippling, chiseled abs. His twinkling, unblemished face, accented by the streams of radiant water running down his cheeks and glowing under the rays of an unmarred sun. His smacking lips as he gave a hearty laugh, his voice like nectar to the swooning Fixer’s ears. His lips as they met the lucky Xiao’s as the two embraced in the middle of the pool. Her lips that intertwined with his, drinking in that succulent, heavenly taste.

By the Wings, if she could even have just a fleeting taste, she might die from sheer euphoria…

“Cecil?”

Cecil shrieked – or rather, a startled yelp escaped her throat before she bit down hard on her tongue, stumbling back as she was shaken from her vibrant daydreams. Her mind returned to the expansive hotel pool, a multitude of eyes pinning her down like the omniscient reach of the Beholders. Her face redder than the cape shielding body, she bowed her head and hastily brushed past the inquisitive Index Proxy that had so nonchalantly torn her from her fantasies. Esther cocked an eyebrow as he followed behind. Much like the Liu Fixer, the flowing, white cape of the Index still hung from his shoulders, though while the embroidered, crimson silk was drawn across Cecil’s body and pulled tight like a pair of blinds, the bare and chiseled chest of the veteran Proxy was framed exquisitely by the cloak, while the black pair of swimming trunks seemed uncharacteristically casual by contrast. Were it not for the unsubtle sheath of his blade still jutting out from behind, it might have looked like a pale imitation of one of the Index’s fabled Proxies rather than the real deal.

As the momentary lull gave way to the continued chatter of the attending guests, Cecil bashfully poked her gaze up through her hair draped across her face. Unsurprisingly, the number in attendance was rather sparse, a small but diverse potpourri of Fixers and Syndicate grunts alike that, save but for one collective, traumatizing experience, would otherwise have looked like they were assembled from drawing names from a hat. At the far side of the pool, a familiar face caught Cecil’s attention, the youthful and vibrant Fixer from Liu Section 1 practically cutting through the water with his magnificent form, his black locks sticking to his cheeks while the pool lights and water made his muscles practically glisten. It didn’t particularly surprise her to learn that Chun was still out and about this late. The second figure trailed behind, kicking up far less of a splash with her wide and lithe strokes. Cecil rubbed her eyes for a second before squinting, almost not recognizing Chun’s swimming partner. Clad in a slim and skintight one-piece swimsuit, its black texture accented by viridian trimming that exquisitely followed a figure that belonged more to a J Corp card dealer than a veteran Fixer, the newly promoted Seven Association Section 3 Director seemed almost lackadaisical as she followed behind Chun. Cecil got the impression that Dante wasn’t exerting herself to her fullest, content merely to gauge the limits of the Liu Fixer’s strength. But then again, that was very typical Seven Association behavior.

Off to the side, Cecil’s eyes followed Esther as he neared a small hot tub placed a fair distance away, the faint wisps of steam still billowing from its clear waters. She recognized the first of two partaking in its refreshing waters, pale skin alongside platinum hair that fell down past her neck and dipped underneath the tub’s surface. The file sounded completely absurd when Cecil skimmed through it; a Fixer from Wedge Office who got torn apart by the 8 o’Clock Circus, was hastily retrofitted into a cloned body from one of her co-workers, then proceeded to die in her next job? She still couldn’t wrap her mind around her release from the Library technically being a second lease on life, let alone imagining what it would be like to be on your third. The girl alongside Pameli, much like Esther before, eluded her at first. Bronze skin, faint violet highlights in her brunette hair, a pair of glasses, a voluptuous chest modestly displayed in her two-piece swimsuit. She remembered seeing her on the files for the Thumb. The name was… something. Kat? Kathy? Katriel? It was the third one, right? Kathy sounded stupid.

Rounding off the bizarre entourage of guests was easily their most distinctive. A hulking behemoth that towered over Esther and Chun and… quite frankly anyone else that may have been staying in the hotel. The massive Index cloak that was emblematic of the Proxies covered her entire massive form save for her head, a skinny, cylindrical slab of metal with a single opening cut into its center. A red eye dully glowed in the receptacle, changing into a jovial, green triangle as she greeted the approaching Proxy. “Oh, Esther! You managed to get her to come~! Heeeey Cecil! You looked great in today’s match~!”

“Y-Yeah, thanks…” Cecil said, rubbing the back of her head sheepishly. She was used to praise from some of the other Liu Fixers and even some of the Backstreets denizens, but for an Index Proxy to shower her with such praise was… definitely a new experience. “Gloria, was it? I’m happy to have put on a great show for you.”

“It truly was fantastic~!” the metallic Proxy cheered, bouncing (… was it bouncing? Was this thing capable of bouncing?) up and down like a giddy child. “The only other time I saw something so interesting was watching you gawk aimlessly into space just a few minutes ago~!”

A pained smile flashed across Cecil’s face. She’d missed the part in the dossiers where the Proxies specialized in inflicting emotional damage.

“You gonna stand there all day like some kinda idiot?” a sharp voice caught Cecil’s attention, pulling her out of her embarrassed stasis. An unamused Pameli rested her cheek on her propped-up arm, staring at Cecil like she was some displaced Grade 9 Fixer that had stumbled into an Urban Plague request. “You’re clearly dressed down, so you did come here to dip your toes in the water, right?”

“I mean… yes…” Cecil bit her lip, shying away from the Wedge Fixer’s piercing stare. It was a stupid question; of course she didn’t care. She was just so very… ordinary that pulling the cape away might just disappoint those who may have been interested in the Liu girl’s physique. Hell, even compared to Chun, she might as well have been just another faceless civilian who’d come to share the pool with the illustrious survivors of the enigmatic Library.

But she’d look stupid if she just left the cape on, of course. Act cool, Cecil. She repeated that phrase over and over to herself in her head as she made her way to one of the nearby pool chairs, unhooking the clasp on her cape and letting it drop onto its head. Two pairs of eyes settled on the girl as she bashfully returned to the hot tub, unmet by the blushing Liu Fixer. No longer restrained by her hairband or dissuaded by her cloak, her blonde hair ran freely down her shoulders and settled just above her breasts like a golden waterfall terminating at the entrance of a brilliant canyon. An impressed smile spread over the Thumb Capo’s face while, beside her, the entranced Wedge Fixer’s stare quickly morphed into disdain as her head whipped back and forth between Cecil and Katriel.

“What the hell?” she muttered under her breath, her hand sliding down her own chest. “Did it have to be an exact clone of Pamela’s body? Lucky bastards…”

“Didn’t Oscar tell you it’s rude to stare?” Cecil retorted, vaulting over the edge and sliding herself next to the simmering Wedge Fixer.

“Didn’t-I’m 29, you bitch,” Pameli snarled, flicking a handful of water in Cecil’s face. “He’s our boss, not my dad. What, you think I’m the youngest here?”

The Liu Fixer snorted and wiped her face clean, the piercing spear that was Pameli’s glare parried by Cecil’s fiery gaze. “I’m 30.”

Katriel stuck up her fingers, three on one hand and four on the other.

“… Whatever,” Pameli grumbled, slinking further into the depths of the steamy waters. “This isn’t my body anyway. I just got robbed is all.”

Cecil sighed and giggled as she slunk into the waters herself, her worries and unease evaporating like the simmering water lapping on her shoulders. Her two piece bathing suit was, as Mei liked teasing her for, both incredibly expected and on the cusp of being boring. Dyed a striking crimson, it accentuated the blonde’s fair skin, causing even the aloof and composed Miris to take pause. Of course, this was nothing compared to her fellow Fixers. What Mei lacked in stature or in volume, she more than made up for with her exuberant and boundless energy, a magnetic personality that could wrap the entire Association around her finger. And even Mei was little more than an ember compared to Xiao, her beauty simply beyond words.

But that was that, and this hot tub was heavenly. She yawned and interlocked her fingers before stretching her arms above her head, casting her eyes to the other two. The indignant Pameli was still half-submerged in the steaming tub, lolling about like an overripe potato, leaving only the quiet Katriel. The Thumb Capo’s eyes flicked up as Cecil’s gaze lingered on her and she adjusted her glasses, waving her hand in a circular motion and mouthing some muted annoyance.

“Sorry, am I making you uncomfortable?” Cecil asked, reclining back in the tub.

Katriel tilted her head, furrowing her brow and pursing her lips. The slight flash of irritation flicked across her face, a momentary stint that should have been accompanied by some caustic remark before it faded, leaving the capo to sigh and shake her head.

Now it was Cecil who shared the confusion, leaning in in wonder. “Erm, are you mute or something?”

The capo rolled her eyes before opening her mouth, sharply gesturing at her empty maw. Nothing but darkness could be seen before she brought it closed with a long and unamused puff of air. Cecil leaned back, mentally rummaging through whatever files she could recall of the Syndicate branches. It was common knowledge that the Thumb were strict with their rules and their chain of command; attempting to defy the established structure or directly insulting some higher in rank than you was often grounds for punishment.

“Oh, I think I see…” Cecil said finally, a tinge of embarrassment visible in her pink cheeks.

“What, took you that long to figure out she’s mute?” Pameli sighed, flicking some water at the blushing Liu Fixer. “Yeah, she’s mute because someone took her tongue out.”

“R-Right…” Cecil buried her face in her knees, hoping to ward away Katriel’s unamused glare. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to, ah, bring up any sensitive memories.”

The Thumb Capo shook her head, dismissively waving her hand. She followed with a nonchalant shrug, miming her tongue getting ripped from her mouth with all the levity of a novice street performer. The levity was not reciprocal, the Liu Fixer practically stewing in embarrassment as she sunk lower and lower into the hot tub. There the three sat, the perplexed Katriel cocking an eyebrow as Cecil imitated a wilted stem of broccoli, the Liu Fixer nearly submerged entirely under the crystalline waters.

“So, how’d you die then?”

Cecil perked up, the sudden inquiry jolting her free from her flustered reclusion. The two girls turned to a somber Pameli as she yawned and slouched into her propped up arm, her eyes cloudy and her gaze looking out past the pool and toward the Outskirts far out of sight. She sighed and pulled her knees up, hugging them close to her chest. “It was that one brunette. Short hair, quiet voice, looked like she walked straight outta a K Corp office. Seemed like a bit of a joke that she was trotted out next to Zwei Fixers and Kurokumo grunts.”

She clicked her tongue, her fingernails digging into her shins. “… She apologized when she got me. Shoved that blade of her just clean through my new heart. It was such a joke, such a fucking joke. If I could get my hands on her, I’d strangle her. I dropped my spear and I was trying… so hard to get her throat. I wanted to hold her down and ask her why the fuck she thought she was sorry for killing me.”

The pool grew eerily quiet, save for the soft bubbling of the hot tub and the occasional splashes of the blissfully oblivious Liu Fixer and Seven Director. The shuffle of flip flops and the scraping of metallic feet echoed behind Cecil, yet for some reason they felt like they were a distant memory, a faint dream that she only barely recalled as she drifted in and out of slumber. Once again, she saw that virulent, violet sky, the cogs of some ethereal machine turning and grinding endlessly in the background. She heard the sound of tearing flesh, of shattered steel, of dying cries as Section 2 crumbled around her.

She once again saw Lowell’s face as it turned back to her and smiled, blood dripping from the sides of his mouth as his ragged body dissolved into wisps of light.

“The Patron Librarian of Technological Sciences. Yesod, I think that was his name.” Her voice was barely a whisper, muted with awe and tinged with regret. “More of a monster than a man. He just… they just tore right through us. We could deal with the Blade Lineage, the Rusted Chains, the Disciples of Salah ad-Din, the Laundry of Dreams. We always came out of it beaten, bloody, but we’d always come out of it. Urban Nightmare tasks were basically a chore at that point.”

Her toes curled. Cecil’s head rolled back onto the edge of the tub, her blonde hair splayed out in disheveled, messy strands that clung to her cheeks and listlessly bobbed up and down in the aquamarine waters. She stared up at the crystalline chandeliers and the gaudy moldings that ran across the sides of the ceiling. With every blink, she saw a flash of that violet sky. “… Are all Stars truly as monstrous? Or was the Library just so uniquely… powerful? Imposing?”

“I think the word you’re looking for is fucked up, Cecil,” Pameli finished, chuckling softly. “Urban Plague my ass. There were people wearing Salvador’s skin. Not some weird facsimile or some kinda imitation. No, that was his body. They mirrored him to a tee. It was like someone tore his head off and grafted some rando’s head to it.”

A faint splash. The two Fixers were drawn to the mute capo as she wordlessly mimed the length of a modest sword, just shy of the length of her own arm. She ran a hand through her hair, running her fingers from scalp to tip, before swaying her body back and forth like in a drunken stupor. She seized up suddenly as she gesticulated to her chest, abruptly shoving the imagined blade just below her breasts. Katriel sighed and reclined back in the hot tub, sheepishly shrugging.

“Mmmm,” Cecil nodded, an unspoken comradery shared between the three. Her hand absentmindedly wandered down her back, fingertips brushing past the strap of her swimsuit and gingerly stroking the outline of her spine. It felt firm under her fingers, pleasantly free of the sticky, hot coating of blood spurting from her skin or the jagged blade that had torn right through her. She smacked her lips and shook off the fleeting image of that bleak, violet sky, looking back toward Pameli. “Alright, my turn then. What happened when you woke up?”

“Woke up, huh?” Pameli whistled and cast her head up, lost in thought. “Angela must’ve thought she was some kind of comedian because she dropped me off in the middle of a Sweeper nest. Sweepers. Least she was kind enough to remember to leave me my spear otherwise it’d be some sort of sick joke to drop me off in the middle of the City’s landfill so I could get recycled into paste.”

“So you fought your way out, huh?” Cecil echoed Pameli’s whistle, eyes sparkling in enrapturement. “Damn, that’s pretty badass.”

“Well fortunately she seemed to shit me out during the Night in the Backstreets so it was remarkably empty in there,” Pameli said, beaming with confidence. “What about you, Cecil? Did Miss Director plop you out in an ice cream stand and call it a day?”

“Hah, I wish,” Cecil chuckled, shaking her head. “Same shitty luck as you, ‘cept instead it was a dingy little Ring studio. Was barely awake before they trussed me up and tried to prepare me as a model for one of their little pointillism exhibits.”

“Whooo, the Ring?” Pameli leaned in, fully immersed in Cecil’s off-handed tale. “Well, you’re clearly not a dismembered corpse hanging in pieces from some shabby apartment. How’d you get outta that mess?”

“They were pretty bad at knots,” Cecil said matter-of-factly, accompanying her words with a shrug. “I don’t think they realized who they were dealing with until I smashed the one asshole’s skull in.”

“Funny,” Pameli grinned. “And once the others figured out they were fucking with a Grade 2?”

Cecil crackled her knuckles, reciprocating the Wedge Fixer’s smug grin with her own. “Well, I used to sketch as a kid. Felt kinda nice to try it again after so long.”

“Nice.”

Katriel nodded, giving a thumbs-up.

"Esther, Esther~!" A gleeful voice snagged the trio's attention, the perpetually cheerful Gloria popping her head just above Cecil's. "Ooooh, why don't you tell your story~? It was really funny, wasn't it~?"

"It wasn't anything particularly interesting, Gloria," the Proxy scoffed, turning to lean over the back of the small pool chair he was lounging in, a small doujin teetering back and forth between his fingertips. "There's no need to interrupt their conversation."

"Well, you can't just bring that up and then leave us hanging," Pameli said, snagging the Proxy's attention with a snap of her fingers and a flick of steaming water as he began to return to his book. "C'mon, then. We gave you your free entertainment. Don't wimp out on us now."

"I don't remember ever agreeing to this exchange," Esther said pointedly, a small glimmer of irritation barely visible in his narrowed eyes.

"I didn't see you leaving, now did I?" the Wedge Fixer shot back, crossing her arms and pouting like a girl upset her parents refused to buy her a tub of U Corp’s succulent sea salt ice cream. "What, did you manifest in the girl's bathroom or something?"

Esther sighed and massaged his forehead with two fingers, his once unphased stoicism tinged with a miniscule but nonetheless poignant annoyance. "It was in the Backstreets of one of the eastern Wings, I believe. Some of our fellow proselytes came across me and drew their blades. A Messenger had recently delivered to them a Prescript to slay the 54th person they came across. I happened to be such a person."

"Your own men... tried to kill you?" Cecil blinked, a mixture of abject horror and confusion mixing in her face. Katriel stole a glance, her index finger circling the side of her head as she mouthed the familiar call of a cuckoo clock. "That's... I'm sorry. I can't begin to imagine how it must've felt to-"

"There is nothing to apologize for, Cecil," he cut her off, waving off the blonde's concerns. "We do as the Prescripts ask. If the proselytes were tasked with my death, then it was their solemn duty to do so."

"That's all well and good, but you look pretty alive and breathing where I'm standing," Pameli scoffed, drinking in the incredulity of the tale like a cheap vodka. "What, your little horoscope didn't include instructions for ritualistic seppuku?"

"The Prescripts were silent as to my actions follow the Library," Esther said simply, his voice returning to its calm and measured tone. "I was free to do as I wished. Tell me, Cecil. Would you not raise your blade if some belligerent stranger tried to mug you in the streets?"

"W-Wait." The girl furrowed her brow, cupping her opened mouth with her hand. "So you just cut them down? You didn't try to reason with them?"

"You sound surprised. Are our actions truly so shocking to you?"

"I mean... our guys've had some disagreements, sure. But..." Cecil shook her head, trying to process the absolute madness recited as candidly as a simple trip to a K Corp pharmacy. "Is there no seniority in the Index? You're telling me they didn't seriously skip a beat trying to kill you? Or that you were just... perfectly fine cutting them down?"

"The only thing we share with the sticklers of the Thumb is our unflinching adherence to our cause," the Proxy replied with a shrug. "We care not for titles nor for imagined authority based on our arbitrary length of service to the Prescripts. Save for the Messengers that deliver the word of the Prescript, our actions are dictated by the Prescript, its word guiding us as harmoniously as-"

A sudden splash of water cut off the Proxy, dousing him in an unwelcome splatter of steam. An unamused Katriel lowered her arm, the two Syndicate members sharing a glare that would've given any ordinary Nest egg a heart attack. Cecil's eyes nervously shot between the two, suddenly remembering a passing line in the many files in the Liu database that the Fingers' respect for one another was only ever "begrudgingly."

"Now now, Esther~" Gloria cooed, patting the simmering Proxy on the head with her claw. "The Thumb lady didn't mean it like that~. There's no need to get bent out of shape over a small misunderstanding!"

Cecil breathed a sigh of relief. At least there was someone among the Index with a lick of sense.

"After all, she clearly knows that you'd rip her entrails out and hang her by them if she ever dared to piss you off~!"

Are you fucking kidding me?

Cecil hurriedly turned to her only remaining salvation. Brushing locks of dripping, wet hair from face, Pameli caught the frantic Liu Fixer's gaze and nodded, giving her a thumbs-up and turning to Katriel, clapping her on the shoulder. "You gonna take that crap from those Index shits?"

Every bone in Cecil's body restrained itself from drowning that idiot in the hot tub there and then.

“Relax, you two. The magnanimous Cane President gave us free reign over the hotel’s amenities as a courtesy for our participation in his little escapade. It’s probably not a good idea to test our benefactor’s patience.”

Lighter in tone and practically muted in comparison to Gloria’s and Pameli’s jeers, yet her words were as precise and surgical as the rapier she oft wore at her waist. The two Syndicate officers turned their sights on a smirking Dante as she approached the two, her velvety swimsuit modestly covered by a large, emerald towel. She adjusted the monocle framing her left eye, careful not to leave a single drop of water across its polished, glassy surface, and clicked her tongue, tutting as she stared down two petulant children whose little feelings had gotten hurt. “Besides, I certainly wouldn’t want to be the one who had to report why President Nemo felt the need to rescind some of his perks to the rest of us. I’m sure the Sottocapo would understand, wouldn’t he?”

Katriel wilted like a browning vegetable that’d spent too long in the stew. The Seven Director took no time to admire her work as the Capo sunk deep into the hot tub, greeting the Proxy with a curtsy. “And you, my dear Proxy, must understand causing a fuss would conflict with your Prescript to attend the festivities.”

“The Prescripts said nothing about our attendance being neither amicable nor peaceful,” Esther said curtly, staring down the director nearly a head shorter than him like a wolf sizing up his prey.

“Ah, but if the event were to suffer an unfortunate cancellation due to your reckless actions, would you not be unable to fulfill your Prescript by being unable to attend an event that no longer existed?” she countered, bringing her hand up and rolling her chin along her fingertips, grinning all the while. “Your Prescripts do have a tendency of being rather ambiguous. Would it be wise to bring about more confusion by jeopardizing the event?”

“… Very well,” Esther replied, flicking his eyes toward the book in his hands. Cecil let out a sigh of relief, the tension permeating the air now naught but distant wisps of steam. She rose up and out of the tub, stretching her arms above her head as she approached the Director.

“Director Dante,” she said with a brief curtsy. “Thanks for breaking those two up. I can’t imagine the mess that would’ve happened if an Index Proxy and a Thumb Capo went at each other.”

“There’s no need to worry, Cecil~,” the unphased Gloria chimed in her singsong voice. “Esther’s quite good at cleaning up his messes. There’d barely be a stain on the tiles~!”

“I do not doubt your coworker’s skill, Miss Gloria,” Dante said with a sigh. She briefly shifted her monocle up, the Liu Fixer catching the Director’s eyes rolling before the glare from the lights above hid them from view. “I would ask, though, that all of you refrain from causing any fuss outside of the ring. I already had enough of a heart attack dealing with that Library girl and her unexpected little guardian.”

Cecil pursed her lips, the suffocating atmosphere of the Library suddenly filling the room. Although the enigmatic warrior in pink seemed far less intimidating amidst the dazzling spotlights of the City rather than the otherworldly glow of the Library’s myriad hallways, she’d witnessed enough of the Library’s obscene powers to know that even the faintest shadow could eclipse and blot out the City’s sun. For all they could know, the creature’s perceived failure at Yuna’s hands could be but a ploy to hide Tiphereth’s true potential.

“Has anyone seen that… thing, by the way?” Cecil finally asked. “It can’t have died, right? Tiphereth clearly used its powers during the match.”

“I spoke briefly with Director Mirinae and got access to several of the Library’s and Lobotomy Corporation’s files,” Dante replied, dabbing away a small drop of water running down her cheek with her towel. “I doubt that O-01-04, the Queen of Hatred, could be killed by a lowly Fixer if even Lobotomy Corporation’s own agents were unable to do any permanent damage to it. Chances are it’s simply hidden away or sequestered safely from our prying eyes. Maybe for all we know, she’s hiding in Tiphereth’s head.”

“Hiding in Tiph’s head~,” Gloria’s red eye lit up in an ominous green. “That sounds silly~. Maybe we can cut it open and see if that abnormality is in there~?”

“I did float the idea of transferring Tiphereth to Seven HQ and either interrogating or summarily dissecting her until we could locate the source of O-01-04,” Dante said, shrugging nonchalantly. “Unfortunately, Director Mirinae and her entourage vetoed the idea. They seem to believe that the girl is of no threat to us.”

Cecil bit her lip, noting a subtle drop in the director’s inflection. “So, do you believe that, Director?”

“I believe in the wisdom of my superiors, Ms. Cecil,” she replied pointedly, her distinctive smirk returning. “Whether Tiphereth is truly just the Library’s representative or a ticking time bomb is out of my hands. My only interest now is maintaining the City’s safety.”

What should have been an awkward silence punctuated by the steely grin of the Seven Director was swiftly and thankfully broken by a boisterous, light-hearted laugh. The once smug and unwavering Dante stumbled forward as a hand clamped down on her shoulder and an arm playfully wrapped around her neck, the charming Chun barging between the two. “Hey hey, Cecil! You see how things went with me and Director Dante? She totally didn’t stand a chance, huh?”

“Y-Yeah, you totally showed her,” Cecil said, stifling a laugh. The Seven Director’s legs shook as they scrambled to support the weight of the bulky Liu Fixer, her monocle coming loose and bouncing between her hands as she fumbled to take hold of it. She snatched it as it careened through the air a fourth time, hastily fastening it back into place and narrowing her gaze at the Fixer holding her firmly. Chun’s eyes remained focused on his fellow Liu compatriot, tactfully avoiding the daggers trying to bore their way into his head.

“You certainly were quite a daunting youth, Mr. Chun,” Dante said through gritted teeth, worming herself out of his playful embrace. “Clearly I was no match for you in a one-on-one display of brute strength.”

“I’m quite sure, Director,” he said, sparing a wink and a smirk. “I know the Seven aren’t much in the way of combat. I bet you’d have all sorts of plans laid out if you were trying to be serious, huh?”

“You seem so confident,” she shot back, the glare reflecting off her monocle hiding the devilish glint in her eye. “Is that the self-assured Liu confidence of brazenly charging into all types of fights and expecting it to work out or do you think my strategies are so simple-minded?”

“I don’t know, Director,” he replied in turn with a mocking shrug. “Do you think everyone’s so dense that they’d fall into the simplest pitfalls?”

Ironic that the very same girl that had diffused the simmering tensions between the two Syndicate enforcers now stoked the flames between her and a fellow Fixer. Then again, there was that old saying: “the only people Fixers hate more than Syndicate grunts are other Fixers.” Cecil sighed and, thanking the Wings that it was Chun of all people and not some other Liu Fixer from Section 1 kicking up a fuss, forced a smile on her face. Her giggle may as well have been a stock sound effect hawked by one of those myriad stores in the Backstreets woefully impersonating the fine crafts of the Wings; surely any other Fixer would’ve intuited such a paltry attempt at feigning interest.

Chun was not that kind of Fixer.

“Huh?” Chun’s ears perked up and he spun to meet Cecil. “Oh, yeah, right Cecil! That reminds me, how you holding up? I heard you damn near punched a hole in the infirmary when you woke up.”

“I-I did not ‘punch a hole’ in the infirmary…” Her aggravated retort died in her throat as her eyes tactfully darted away, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “… intentionally, I mean. I just got… surprised is all.”

“Jumpy, are we?” Dante observed, her eyes dressing down the blonde Fixer like she was some specimen splayed out for dissection. “I’d expect better from some of Section 2’s finest. Was there some mishap with the mysterious little collaboration between Cane Office and W Corp regarding the medical assistance given after our cute little spats?”

Cecil shook her head, instinctively clutching her opposite shoulder in a defensive slouch. “No, nothing like that. Just… had a bad dream is all. And, y’know, when I woke up, I saw that one director’s little bodyguard, Roland.”

“Roland?” The sides of Dante’s mouth twisted upward in an enthralled grin as she leaned closer. “The widower of our departed Black Silence, if word from the Hana is to be believed.”

“Ain’t he one of Angela’s patron somethings, too?” Pameli chimed in, eyes sparkling like an inquisitive child. “Wait, so when you said you ‘punched a hole’ or whatever, you mean you-“

“… may have… punched him into the ceiling,” Cecil finished, her voice dying. Her head fell until her dripping hair fully masked her blushing face.

“Nice.”
“Nice.”
“Nice.”
“Nice~.”
“Nice.”

Katriel shot Cecil an approving smile and thumbs-up.

The tension that threatened to suffocate the peculiar gaggle of Fixers and Syndicate grunts alike seemed to dissipate like a foregone dream, replaced by a serene bout of laughter. The blushing Liu Fixer timidly poked her eyes out from through her hair, the spectacle playing out before her weirdly reminiscent of her own coworkers after a grueling expedition to the murky depths of the Backstreets or even out into the forsaken wastes of the Outskirts. By all accounts, the very thought that the Index, the Thumb, the Liu, and the Seven could even reside in the same room together without trying to rip the other’s throat out was more miraculous than even the most sought out Singularities in the Wings’ possession. Yet the Proxy, the Capo, and the Director before her seemed to drink in the hearty revelry without a care in the world, the animosity of the oft cruel and unforgiving City lost for one brief, fleeting moment.

It felt nice. She straightened her back and shared in the laughter herself, the unease and embarrassment all melting away like the faint droplets of water running down her chest. Only the loud clang of the opening doors gave her pause as she raised her arm to wave the newcomer in. Maybe one of the Shi had also received an invitation? Or one of the many small Offices the Library had touched?

“Hmph, what debauchery is this?”

The distinctive, sharp clack of heels against tile shattered the jovial repose as quickly as it began. Neither the recognizable vibrant hues of an Association jacket nor the striking veneer of a Finger cloak adorned the small group that poured through the doors. Black hues of pristinely ironed velvet terminated in pearly white frills, the overly formal attire of a servant that garishly stuck out anywhere that wasn’t deep in the recesses of some disgustingly wealthy mansion. A similar, yet distinctive and quite unwelcome pressure settled in the small pool like a miasma, smothering the fleeting reprieve. Though Esther and Katriel very well may have ripped each other’s throats out without intervention, there was at least the slightest sliver of respect between the two Fingers.

This scorn, however, was void of any warmth.

Eyes slowly drew to the center of the new entourage, the apparent leader sticking out like a gaudy, golden spearhead. Even among Nest eggs his attire was almost offensively flagrant, oversized robes of some obscenely bright violet decorated with an intricate pattern of crisscrossing lacing whose colors haphazardly bounced between the most vibrant reds and the deepest greens. A myriad of golden and silver rings adorned his stubby fingers as he absentmindedly curled his golden beard, looking down on the motley collection of Fixers and Syndicate officers like some vermin that had scurried into the pantry. He paused and, with a gruff and mocking “harumph,” waved over one of the attendants. The female Fixer was but half a head smaller than the towering disaster of ill-fitting monetary indecisions, the maid outfit’s drab and uniform appearance a welcome contrast. Cecil heard of these Fixers from some of the lower sections; Butlers committed to the service of a household or, in some rare instances, to the protection of a piece of property. Some considered it an honor; stable employment among the wealthy elite of the City, freed from the wild, uncertain, and all-too lethal horrors of the world outside those imposing doors.

The opposite was also true, those who thought it lunacy to tie themselves down to a bloodline of ungrateful, delusional yuppies or to live in service of some piece of paper declaring the so-called supposed historical significance of some oversized house. It was of course quite rude and unbecoming to openly state such hostilities to the Butlers who found peace in their new profession and Cecil would never do such a thing, even if it was absolutely true.

“Why exactly is this backalley riffraff taking up space in the pool?” The nobleman’s sneer was low and practically dripping with venom, his auburn eyes looking dowj on the haphazard assembly. His nose wrinkled and the lines across his head and nestled just below his receding hairline multiplied as his attention turned to the two Index Proxies, gagging at the visage of the unsightly blemishes of the Backsteeets. “And… why exactly are these Syndicate scum walking freely in our Nest?”

“Practically oozing charisma there, buddy,” Pameli snorted, her smile widening further as the man’s neck bulged and his face reddened like a ripened tomato. “You make your fortune as a model or an influential speaker? You’d be the prime case study for what not to be when you grow up.”

“You heretical little brat!” one of the Butlers hissed, breaking formation. A small knife shimmered in-between his gloved fingers, its edge sharpened to an immaculate sheen. “The prestige and magnanimity of the D'Alençons far eclipses your worthless and insignificant bloodline.”

A glowering Dante cut off the Butler mid-stride, deftly plucking the knife from his fingers and twirling it around her own before locking it between her middle and forefinger. Her smile radiated that overconfident smugness characteristic of the newly anointed Director, though a venomous glint shone in her hazel eyes. Her cool, chilling tone made the Butler step back, his face awash in sweat. “Now now, there. I’m sure all of us can get along quite well. No need to do something we’ll regret now, hm~?”

A pair of slender fingers dug into the impulsive Butler’s shoulder, pulling the fumbling Fixer back into the throe with a flick of the wrist. The personal attendant to the nobleman swiftly took his place, her dainty smile matching Dante’s in splendor, in grace, and in suffocating hubris. She curtsied as she approached the Director, her velvet heels dancing around the cracks of the tiles as if on instinct. Golden embroidery ran down the laces of her dress and accentuated her cufflinks while a shimmering, shining trio of blade lilies were nestled just below the collar, the fleur-de-lis taken as the heraldry of an ancient and prominent family in Nest F. She absentmindedly ran a finger across the lace headpiece and down her golden locks, as if meticulously seeking and patting down even the smallest stray strand. Her eyes met Dante’s, a sparkling gold to the director’s baseborn brown. “Director Dante, am I not mistaken? Consorting with such vile, uncouth dregs as these Backstreets seems quite unbefitting the meticulous and refined standards of the Seven. Surely you’d agree that these subhumans should clear the way for us, don’t you?”

The Butler’s voice seemed abnormally high-pitched, a spring breeze sharpened to the point where it could cleave entire trees in twain. “I’m not exactly buddy buddy with either the Index or the Thumb,” Dante snorted, adjusting her monocle with a nudge of her finger. “But I’m pretty sure it’s common courtesy not to just kick people out when they’re enjoying the amenities provided for them.”

“Ah, yes, the so-called Library privilege afforded to the rejects that got killed by some metallic abomination and her band of unimposing idiots.” The airquotes accentuating the Butler’s tone caused the Director to grind her teeth. “Tell me, did the City intervene because the so-called Pale Librarian was truly becoming a blight upon our fair metropolis or because the Head was embarrassed so many of its renowned Associations were being eradicated by some walking popcorn machine?”

“Admittedly, it must be quite difficult for a busybody stay-at-home trophy like you to understand the threat a Star of the City can pose,” Dante shot back, levying her smirk as she saw a vein bulge in the Butler’s neck. “I’m sure the dust and dishes that you must deal with every day have dulled your senses. It’s quite a shame that some Fixers feel the need to waste their glory years serving at the beck and call of a bunch of indulgent Nest eggs, or maybe you feel right at home nipping at your master’s heels like some kind of neutered pup?”

The jarring clank of metal shattered the tension pinning Fixer and Syndicate officer alike. A bloodied knife hovered inches away from Dante’s face, held in place by the pilfered knife from the first Butler. A frenzy of activity exploded around the Director and the Butler, their outstretched arms held in gridlock as the blades jerked back and forth, the silvery tip but inches away from Dante’s face. A duo of Butlers flanked the dutiful assailant, daggers unsheathed from the sleeves of their jackets, only to come to a screeching halt mid stride as the twin Liu Fixers rose in support, the water dripping from their bodies boiling away as a fire ignited right underneath their skin. A plethora of frantic and sloppy footsteps echoed behind the Butlers as the flustered nobleman receded into his nest of stalwart Fixers, cold sweat dripping from his brow.

“Y-You harlot!” he spluttered, clutching at a gaudy pendant bouncing up and down from his thick neck. “Attacking Miss Elly in such a vile and repugnant manner! I can have your name stricken from the Associations for this assault!”

“Miss… Elly, was it?” Dante said, tilting her head. A whimsical smile crept across her face. “Director Dante, as your service. I do think it’s a common courtesy to share pleasantries before a kill.”

“It would impugn my service not to reciprocate such kindness,” the Butler replied, her smile carrying all the kindness of a derailing W Corp train. “Lady Elly, Chief Butler of House D'Alençon. And now,”

At a blistering speed, the Chief Butler lurched back, causing the Seven Director to stumble forward as her full weight now met naught by air. Her pupils went wide as they followed the path of her assailant’s dagger, flying back and up to her cheek, adopting the courteous smile of the Chief Butler, before leveling with Dante’s exposed eyes and lunging forth.

“Die.”

A sickening squelch came in reply, the piercing wail of steel piercing through bone and flesh. The Seven Director recoiled back, her heart racing and her breathing quick, as she stared down the bloodied knife mere inches from her widened eye, bits of blood and gore dripping from its tip. Elly, too, stumbled back in astonishment, the knife wrenched free from her fingers as Chun tore his hand away, marveling at the injury like some stray mosquito bite. The Liu Fixer plucked the knife free from his bloodied palm, the slightest twinge of pain rippling across his face, before tossing it back at the gaggle of Butlers, sending one reeling as it clipped her shoulder. Be it from instinct, from a wounded pride, or from genuine rage, a trio of Butlers surged forth from behind Elly, flourishing daggers trailing behind them as they leapt toward the impudent Fixers that so carelessly spat upon the honor of their household. After all, what could a bunch of hapless, disarmed Fixers in swimsuits possibly do against the regal vanguard of House D'Alençon? Perhaps a dismembered arm or a gouged eye would remind such Association dogs not to bark at the hands that fed them.

At least, that’s probably what was running through one of their heads before Chun’s unbloodied fist crashed into their ribs, sending them sailing through the air, toppling pool chair and flowerpot alike before embedding himself in a crater of plaster.

The second Butler, her eyes drawn by the draconic fist of the Liu Fixer, tore her eyes off of Cecil. Out of the peripheral of her vision, she barely caught sight of the blonde as she darted forward, practically shattering the tiles underneath her feet as she leapt forward. The Butler’s arms moved before her mind even had a chance to scream in horror, pulling themselves into a defensive wall as Cecil’s shoulder connected with a small sonic boom. The crunch of bone belied the Butler’s wails as she was sent to the ground, her elbows twisted backward and bone jutting from the mangled flesh.

Two fallen, yet the last of the three Butlers did not for a second even hesitate as he closed the gap with Dante, the Seven Director quickly straightening her posture as the gruesome visage of Chun’s impaled palm gave way to the frenzied eyes of her would-be assailant. The clang of steel as knife met dagger rattled the Butler as Dante parried the blow, his knife arm reeling back as the girl stepped forward and to the side, jockeying for his exposed flank as she kept the knife in a defensive crouch close to her face. He snorted and furrowed his brow, his left arm swinging in an upward diagonal as he aimed to bisect her from hip to should-

And then Dante kneed him in the crotch.

A strangled, pitiful gasp graced the Director’s ears as she watched the man slink to his knees and collapse on his side, his eyes void of life. She twirled the knife around her fingers while nudging the quivering body with her toe, unable to contain a faint, childish giggle as the group bore witness to the man’s soul leaving his body. She turned to Elly, adjusting her monocle and giving a mocking shrug. “Honestly, I have no idea why people don’t do that more often. It’s rather effective.”

“How uncouth,” Elly replied, crossing her arms. “Are all Association mongrels truly so baseless and unrefined that you’d resort to such barbaric methods?”

“Miss Elly, with all due respect, didn’t you just try to stab me in the eye?” Dante motioned to the writhing Butlers on the ground with the same disgust reserved for some imploded trash can ruining her good shoes. “I already have little respect for the people who make it hard for me to do my job, let alone a bunch of gilded pricks with their brooms shoved so far up their asses I can practically hear the wood creaking from your throat every time you speak.”

“You…!” Another dagger materialized in the Chief Butler’s hand, the girl already assuming a predatory crouch with her blazing eyes focusing on Dante’s neck. The Director sighed and stepped back as the two Liu Fixers shuffled in front of her, gently massaging her forehead with her two fingers.

“… And another thing. An unprovoked attack on Association staff within Nest boundaries violates Article IV, Section E of Nest S’s Domestic Security Act and Addendum 17, Paragraph 93 of the Hana Association’s Fixer’s Ethics Code, not to mention the security provisions of Cane Office’s contract for this event guaranteeing the safety of any and all personnel connected with the Library incident. Dante wiped an errant strand of water rolling down her cheek, almost relishing the welling fury of the Chief Butler seethint before her. “I could have your entire band of nitwits here imprisoned for this little stunt of yours.”

“Do you, perhaps, overstate your importance there, Miss Association Director?” the nobleman chimed in, popping his head out of the mass of overprotective Butlers like some kind of golden, chubby gopher. He enunciated every single syllable, looking down on the toddler that had clearly impugned her better. “I’ll have you know that we D'Alençons are favored among the Hana and A Corp. I, Lord Neville D'Alençon, have even curried favor with the regal Lady Elincia of Hana Section 5.”

“Yes, yes, and I have Director Mirinae of Section 3 on speed dial.” Dante snorted, miming a phone with her free hand as she watched the color drain from the nobleman’s face with glee. You seriously want to call up a favor with Director Elincia and see what it’s like to piss off two Hana Directors?”

“I-uh, I mean…” The bluster and bravado that seemed endless deflated just as fast as it appeared, the man slinking back into his group of Butlers. “Clearly this shameful excuse of a recreational facility is wasted on the peasantry. Ever since stepping foot into this room, I’ve felt my very skin crawl being in close proximity to such vile, disgusting rodents.”

Cecil chuckled. “Wow, bit of a low blow to throw your Fixers under the bus like that. But I guess birds of a feather and all that, right?”

“Y-You…!” The nobleman practically burst from his throng of Fixers, fumbling through his gaudy robes with a string of expletives punctuating every frantic tug and pull from his meaty hands. The Liu Fixers traded glances, the incredulity of the rather bizarre and pathetic display causing their smiles to nearly jump right off their faces. Cecil barely had time to stifle a laugh as she turned her attention back to Neville, just in time to catch the gleam of a polished barrel underneath the pool lights.

The gunshot was sudden and deafening, the Wedge Fixer practically leaping out of her skin as she moved to cover her ears. An amused Katriel tilted her head, whistling as she saw the bullet, sleek as gold, nine millimeters across with its tip still glowing a hot orange, caught between Cecil’s fingers, the jovial smile washed away by… not irritation, but more like disappointment.

In a single motion, she rolled the bullet onto her thumb before flicking it back to the agape shooter. With a yelp, the gun went flying as he nursed his purpling fingers, a flurry of Butlers quickly moving to shield him from any further retaliation from the girl who assaulted him in self-defense. The Chief Butler was practically shaking as she moved between the two groups, the bloodlust hidden underneath her eyes more akin to some type of Syndicate brute rather than one of those prancy house Fixers.

“To lay a hand on the Master D'Alençon is…” She forcefully swallowed, clearly trying to hold down a litany of curses even as they tried to press through her teeth. “You… vile, disgusting little bitch. I’ll…”

“Send more of your idiots?” Cecil gestured to the three Butlers on the ground, each crawling back to their comrades in pitiable retreat. “Go on, then.”

Elly’s glare could have frozen the entire Wing thrice over had she possessed even a fraction of the Arbiters’ fabled powers. An unimpressed Cecil crossed her arms and leaned forward, practically goading her to take another shot at her and finish what Angela started. In a herculean effort of self-restraint, Elly spun on her heel and motioned to the other Butlers, slowly urging the group back toward the exit. Like some awkward, lumbering turtle that had stumbled into a dazzling spotlight, it meandered along the wet tiles and stumbled on the chairs, nursing a myriad of bruised egos on its ignoble retreat. The girl cast one parting glance at the Liu Fixer as they departed, drawing her finger along her neck.

Then with a slam, the group was alone once more.

“… She seemed quite unpleasant~,” Gloria chimed, a metallic giggling reverberating in her elongated throat. “I thought I’d have to rip her arms off.”

“Please do not give me more paperwork to deal with,” Dante scoffed, tossing the dagger aside and collapsing into a nearby pool chair, glancing up at the two Liu Fixers. “Thanks, by the by. They were just a bunch of toothless little rodents but I’m not really much a fan of prosthetic eyes.”

“Was rather unbecoming of them to lash out at a Director like that,” Chun said, gingerly running his fingers along the deep gash in his hand. With a beleaguered sigh, he grabbed a small towelette from his bag before slinging it over his shoulder, moving toward the exit. “I’ll take my leave a little early. Dress the wound before it gets infected.”

“Should we inform Director Xiao and Director Lowell of this incident?” Cecil asked, massaging her wrist.

“Pfff, Xiao will ask if I’ve gone soft,” Chun laughed, tightening the towel across his palm. “I’ll live, Cecil. No need to worry the others over this.”

And with a parting wave, Chun too disappeared through the exit. A serene calm once again settled over the pool, the small lapping of waves and splashing of water the only sound amidst a welcome and relieving silence. A muffled cough caught the Director’s attention, the two Fixers turning to address an inquisitive Pameli as she leaned over the edge of the tub, pursing her lips as she locked eyes with Dante. “… So you guys seriously memorized all those rules and laws and stuff just to show up a bunch of stuck-up babysitters?”

An incredulous laugh escaped Dante’s lips before she had the chance to respond. Three blissful chortles were followed by a strained and forced cough as the Director struggled to regain her composure, her pale skin still tinged a faint pink. “Hahaha… I wasn’t aware Oscar recruited a jester. Only the most empty-headed of the Dieci would honestly waste their lives memorizing so many frivolous and pointless laws.”

“Huh,” Pameli tilted her head, a grin spreading across her face. “So you made that shit up, huh?”

“The authority of a Director alone should be enough to put such bullheaded idiots in their place… but I doubt any Arbiters are going to seriously throw a fit over a little white lie.”

“Hmmmm.” Pameli rested her chin in her palms, whistling in admiration. “So what’ll you do if they learn you lied to their faces?”

“I don’t think it’ll really do anything. I don’t think they can read.”

A pleasant laughter complemented the relaxing tranquility as Cecil settled back into the hot tub, yawning as the dull, throbbing pain from the bruises across her forearms melted away in the heated waters. With an inquisitive grin, she caught Dante’s eye with a snap, beckoning Katriel and Pameli over with her other arm. “Hey, Dante, so what was your story?”

“Hm?” Dante reclined in the chair, only one eye open to meet the blonde’s question.

“Y’know, after the whole Library incident. We heard from me and Pameli so fair’s fair.”

The Director chuckled and adjusted her monocle, rolling onto her side and meeting the three girls’ eyes. “I don’t got that interesting a story to be honest. Just woke up in the middle of U Corp is all.”

“U Corp,” Pameli whistled, her eyes growing as wide as stars. “In the middle of that death trap of a lake?”

“The one and only.” Dante shuffled nonchalantly in the chair, cushioning her hair with her arm as a wistfulness overtook her eyes. “Last thing I remember’s that blue-haired nitwit shoving his blade down my throat. Next thing I know, I’m in the middle of a damn boat and there’s a bunch of giant squids surrounding me…”

“And then I grinded them all up~!” Gloria concluded, her robotic eye proudly glowing with a vibrant viridian light.

The Seven Director was the first to applaud, her elusive smugness giving way to genuine wonder. Her legs uncrossed and recrossed again as the Index Proxy’s story rolled around in her head, the girl chewing on her lip as though she’d missed some vital detail that would’ve completed the stunning mental image. “Gotta say, I’d heard a lot about the Proxies but I didn’t expect one to take out an entire legion of N Corp Inquisitors. Those guys are fucking nuts.”

“The Prescripts spoke of her victory,” Esther replied simply, flipping through his book as though his companion’s escapades were little more than a simple walk through the park. “It was a foregone conclusion that she would succeed.”

“You guys really put a lotta emphasis on those hokey slips of paper,” Pameli interjected, poking up from her own chair. A faint, waxy veneer made the Fixer’s skin shine underneath the dimmed lights, remnants of the water she’d been too lazy to fully wipe dry with the towel wrapped snugly under her chest. “If you guys ever got a Prescript saying ‘Rebel against A Corp’ or whatever the hell, you’d just go marching straight in there, wouldn’t you?”

“Well, of course we would~,” Gloria replied cheerfully, her head bobbing up and down in what Cecil could only imagine served as a substitute for some goofy grin. “If the Prescripts call for it, then it can’t be helped~.”

“I honestly can’t tell if your zealotry is impressive or suicidal,” Dante scoffed, cradling her head behind her hands and reclining back in her chair, pulling her legs up. “Wings know I’m happy Lord Index or whatever hasn’t put out a hit on me yet.”

“Ditto,” Cecil commented.
“Third,” Pameli added.

The group shared a laugh, one of many that lit up the eventful nocturnal escapade. Cecil yawned as she reclined in the tub, casting her eyes to the empty space where the Thumb Capo once resided, her wet footsteps still marking her exit. As the water lapped against Cecil’s breasts, a relaxing, blissful warmth filling her body, she felt her eyes flicker. Another yawn escaped her, followed by a protracted groan as fatigue finally caught up to her. Her limbs protested as she wearily rose to her feet, wavering back and forth as her clumsy feet pulled her up and out of the tub. She shivered as the faint wafting of the air ducts above chilled her exposed skin. A faint hum caught the blonde’s attention as she lazily lumbered toward her belongings, the girl acknowledging the stoic Proxy with a glance. “Calling it a night, Cecil?”

“Yeah, it’s getting a little late,” she replied, patting her face dry with a crimson towel emblazoned with the Liu’s fiery insignia. “Mei’s probably fallen asleep watching some cheesy kung-fu flick anyway. Director Lowell’ll have both our heads on a pike if we oversleep.”

“For what?” Pameli snorted, derisively furrowing her brow. “The horrendous City taboo of missing the free breakfast buffet? Last I checked, you weren’t on schedule for tomorrow.”

“Yes, but apparently he and Director Xiao wanted to walk around the Nest for a bit before the matches start. Miris informed Director Xiao of a relatively popular yogurt place just a few blocks down and now both of them want all of us to binge.”

“Oh, that place headed up by those Nest U sailors?” Dante interjected, smacking her lips in delight. “Mmmm, I heard they have some whale oil from some of those elusive little critters that scuttle along Nest U’s seabed. Supposed to give it a tanginess that you can’t get in this part of the City.”

“Tanginess?” Gloria’s head bobbed back and forth as she rolled the idea around in her metallic skull. “Oh, like blood?”

“Iron is a different taste, Gloria,” Esther corrected, lovingly patting his fellow Proxy on the head. “Well, don’t let us keep you, Cecil. Good night.”

“Goodnight~.”
“Yeah, yeah, night.”
“Good night, Ms. Cecil.”

The Liu Fixer nodded and waved, though her own farewells were drowned out by another long and protracted yawn. Her face flushed a faint pink, she stumbled toward the exit, her sleep-induced goodbye thankfully forgotten as Dante turned the group’s attention toward yet another escapade in the infamous District 23 Backstreets. As the doors shuttered closed behind her, the jovial and lively conversation abruptly ceased, leaving the girl with nothing but her breathing and the faint squishing of the carpet underneath her bare feet. The moist towel swayed from side to side from atop Cecil’s shoulders as she made her way down the hallway, her cape slung atop the towel and held fast under her three fingers. She thumbed the elevator button, trying to think of some tune to whistle to chase away the eerie silence of the slumbering hotel. Whether her fatigue-addled brain was locking away even the simplest lullabies from her lips or the encroaching quietude was intentionally trying to muffle any that might dare pierce its suffocating atmosphere, her muggy thoughts were quickly swatted away as the elevator arrived. The chime, ordinarily so faint and so innocuous, might as well have been a shattering window to Cecil.

She stared aimlessly at the opened elevator, as though if she were to open it, the doors would slam shut and the floor would give way to some eldritch esophagus. She rubbed her eyes, stumbled into the elevator, and tapped the button for her floor. The elevator rumbled and stirred as it ascended. Cecil nervously ran the toes of her right foot down her left and up her ankle, the deafening quiet now punctuated by the rumble of the lumbering elevator.

The doors slid open once again, leading to yet another quiet and deserted hallway. Her footsteps were far less messy as she turned right and back down the hallway once again, her gait quickened as she eyed her room toward the very end of the wing. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, bristling as she briskly neared her room.

No matter what she did, she couldn’t shake that faint sensation of unease that seemed to trail her since she left the pool.

An unassuming red “do not disturb” sign hung on the handle of the door, hastily placed there by Cecil on her way out as the last dredges of some overindulgent action scene from Mei’s movie squeezed out of the small crack in the door. As still as the stagnant and quiet air around them, the sign seemed to beckon the blonde Fixer closer. Though unblemished and undisturbed in its solitary perch, it could not hide the acute, but distinctive crack between the door and its frame, the blackened demarcation barely more than a couple of centimeters. Cecil couldn’t tell if it was her footsteps or her own heartbeat pounding in her ears as she barreled forward, slamming the door wide open with her elbow.

Not a single light greeted her as she stood just outside the threshold of their hotel room, only inky shadows chased away by the faint light streaming in from the hallway behind the girl. The once lush carpet now appeared to be a tangle of blackened thorns, the haphazardly scattered clothes now but a series of indistinguishable blobs that stuck out like the harrowing mountain peaks just beyond the Outskirts. Though the elevator and the hallway were deafeningly quiet save for the hum of the lights and the whir of the elevator, the room may as well have been a portal to the vacuum of space.

Seated in the center of the room, framed by the faint, iridescent light behind Cecil, Mei was slumped over, her arms seemingly restrained along the back of the chair. A faint trickle of blood rolled down her forehead and over a makeshift blindfold, a thick piece of a Liu cape shorn off and folded several times before wound tightly around the girl’s head. She appeared to stir as Cecil stood dumbfounded, a pained moan stifled by a thick sock rolled into a ball and shoved in her mouth.

“MEI!”

Porcelain shattered and doors rattled as the Liu Fixer dashed forward, the small sonic boom kicked up in her wake rocking the hotel. Nearly tearing the door from its hinges, she closed the small distance separating her from her restrained friend in but a single bound. She reached her hand out, almost torn between whether to reach for Mei and grab her from her restraints or to pull her tight in a hug and apologize for leaving her alone. A myriad of possibilities ran through her head; a sobbing apology, a warm embrace, a tactical retreat with the girl cradled in her arms, each thought racing through her head like the embers rising from the rage-fueled bonfire lit in her. Above everything else, Cecil relished the idea of finding out who did this to Mei and planting her heel directly through their fucking skull.

So lost in her thoughts she was that Cecil barely noticed the tripwire at her feet until her momentum jerked down at a sharp ninety degrees. Her bloodthirsty delusions, intermixed with concern over Mei’s limp body, shattered as she slammed face first into the carpet, her limbs sprawled out and her fingers just a meter away from the whimpering Mei. Almost instantaneously, the door slammed shut behind her, the faint click of the lock accompanied by the quick ruffling of footsteps all around her. Cecil nary had a chance to react before a plethora of hands grabbed her wrists and forced them back and up. She yelped as a jolt of pain shot through her shoulders, her wrists and palms pressed together in a reverse prayer before loops of sharp wire looped around her arms, lashing them together with a single pull. With another yank, she grunted in pain as her head was pulled up by her hair, the formless shadows encircling their prey with toothy grins. As the dim illumination of a phone screen chased away the darkness surrounding her, Cecil made out the distinctive, ironed fabric of a particularly vindictive Chief Butler, her golden eyes sparkling as she observed her newfound prize.

“Why hello there,” Elly cooed, giggling like a schoolgirl as she flexed her fingers through Cecil’s damp hair. “I hope you enjoyed yourself with your friends. We certainly had fun with yours here.”

“You fucking bitch!” Cecil snarled, pulling free from the hands gripping her shoulders. With a violent fervor, the girl kicked herself up to her feet, surging toward Elly like a rampaging battering ram. “I’ll rip your fucking head off for what you did to Meemmmmph!”

Caught mid-word, the balled up sock artfully snuck through Cecil’s lips and past her teeth, pushing her tongue down as it wormed itself into her mouth. Elly’s smirk only widened as Cecil stumbled back from the impromptu gagging, falling back into the hands of the Butlers crowded around her. They wordlessly pulled her back into their grasp, a series of thin, nearly invisible wire flying free from within their sleeves and past their fingers before falling around the Liu Fixer, neatly pinning her arms to her side before cinching tight. Her thighs and ankles were similarly pressed together before being snugly locked in place. Locked in a reluctant crouch, Cecil tugged and pulled at the hands holding her down, a pressure cooker ready to burst and incinerate everyone around her. Elly clapped her hands together, beaming in triumph as she hooked a finger around one of the wires looped above Cecil’s breasts and pulled her forward.

“Now don’t you look like a good little mutt?” Elly sneered, wrapping another sock around Cecil’s mouth and locking her gag in place. “Association attack dogs should remember to bare their fangs at the Syndicate refuse and Outskirts trash. Turning your teeth on the generous nobility that funds your pretty little operation?”

She knelt down until she was level with the Liu Fixer before flicking Cecil’s forehead. “A muzzle is the least you deserve.”

“Mmmph mmmmre,” Cecil choked through her gag, her searing gaze doing little more than amusing the Chief Butler.

“Sorry, what was that? You need to enunciate, my dear. Were you raised in the streets like that Syndicate garbage you were cavorting with? Oh, was that why you were so buddy-buddy with them?” She pressed her fingers to her lips, barely containing her frivolous giggles

before smashing the back of her fist down on Cecil’s face.

The Liu Fixer hit the ground with a pained moan, much to the laughter of the Butlers around her. A hand dove into her hair and pulled her up, nearly tearing it free from her bloodied scalp. The Chief Butler clicked her tongue as she admired the darkening bruise around Cecil’s swollen eye.

“Ah, now you resemble those disgusting little rats that scurry around in this hotel. Wonderful!”

With a gleeful laugh, the Chief Butler half-led, half-dragged the bound Cecil behind her, propping her up just shy of Mei’s chair. Cecil’s fingers fumbled for the threads holding her wrists taut to no avail, her paltry attempts at discretely slipping free soon turning to enraged flailing as she beheld, to her ever growing chagrin, the weary Mei dragged from her chair and plopped down in the same defeated crouch as the blonde Fixer. With sparkles in her eyes, Elly caressed the moaning Fixer’s head and turned it in Cecil’s direction, drinking in the restrained fury of the girl like the finest ambrosia.

“Awww, your friend’s so sweet, Miss Mei,” she cooed, playfully running her finger across the girl’s face and painting Mei’s pale cheeks red with her blood. “She’s getting all worked up over little ol’ you, a pitiful little shortstack who was practically snoring in her own sick when we stumbled onto her room.

Cecil snorted, imagining for a second she had one of Union Co.’s exclusive bionic replacements that let you shoot lasers from your eyes. Though the fuel from her fiery temper would have been enough to disintegrate concrete with a single touch, her jaw lacked the same mettle to chew through the sock she ground her teeth against. The Chief Butler cackled as she swooped over and snagged Cecil’s hair, pulling the two Liu Fixers close and rubbing their faces together. The girl clamped her eyes shut, tears streaking down her face as her eyes burnt from the blood slipping through her eyelids, her body heating up with embarrassment and frustration as her lips brushed against Mei’s.

“Don’t you two just look adorable together?” Elly continued, every word wrapped in contempt and dripping with venom. Cecil wished, no, begged to slam her fist her fist into the Chief Butler’s face for every single word. Trying to blink away the stinging pain in her one good eye, she sat and watched with disdain as Elly fished out her phone from her pocket, the flashlight causing the Liu Fixer to shy away from the sudden, blinding spotlight.

A snap of Elly’s fingers and Cecil’s respite was short-lived, a pair of hands forcing her back down to her knees and in the flashlight’s blinding path. “Mmmmph!”

“Now, Miss Cecil, I’m sure you’re aware of the benevolence and generosity of the D'Alençons,” Elly said, training the lens of the camera on the girl’s face, capturing the exquisite mixture of anger and humiliation mixing underneath the smeared blood. “All you need to do is grovel like the dog that you are for the benefit of the Lord D'Alençon and you and your drunk little girlfriend here can do whatever it is a bunch of nobody Association dregs do with their spare time.”

“Mmm mmph mmmmmfffmph,” Cecil replied, her eyes narrowing until they resembled the dagger she so very much wanted to plunge into the Chief Butler’s neck. She wasn’t quite sure if the “fuck” in her “go fuck yourself” managed to convey itself in its entirety but, in her defense, she put her all into spitting out her disgust through the thick wad of wool gagging her.

A twinge of irritation flashed across Elly’s face. Cecil smiled briefly, relishing her fleeting victory right before a hand gripped the back of her head and smashed it into the carpet. She winced, her face twisting in pain as she felt her nose crumple from the impact.

“MMMMPH!”

“Is it just the Hana that has any manners among the Head’s glorified attack dogs?” Elly snarled, swatting away the Butlers hovering over Cecil before snagging a tuft of the blonde’s hair and pulling her up from the floor. Blood gushed down her broken nose and caked her mouth, causing the girl to gag as the unpleasant, iron taste seeped into her mouth. “All I want from you is an apology. Is ‘I’m sorry’ simply not something they teach you muscleheads?”

“Mm, mmmph mpm mmmmres,” Cecil answered.

A loud slap echoed in the confined hotel room. Cecil crumpled to the ground again, an even redder spot spreading over her face where Elly’s palm had met its mark. The Chief Butler adjusted her glove before sighing and kicking Cecil over and onto her back. Her left hand disappeared into the sleeves of her dress, returning with a silvery knife gripped between her fingers.

“Maybe you’re a little hard of hearing,” Elly suggested, hoisting Cecil up and dragging the flat of the knife across Cecil’s arm. “What if I carve out your apology into your arm? You can read, can’t you?”

“Mmmph mm?” Cecil tilted her head, her defiant glare daring her to continue. The Chief Butler snorted, the façade of dainty, sophisticated nobility peeled away to reveal the haughty sadism underneath. The knife twisted, its steel turning red as it began to dig into Cecil’s arm. The Liu Fixer squirmed and moaned into her gag, yet her ceaseless glare failed to break away from Elly’s empty eyes.

And as fast as the knife dug into Cecil’s tender flesh, it pulled away, an almost serene calm washing over Elly’s face. Her frustratingly smug grin returned, wide enough that it could have stretched across three faces, as she brought her free hand down and under Cecil’s chin, turning it to the side.

Mei was thrust forward, collapsing between the two of them with an ignoble thud. Elly chuckled as her fingers dug into Mei’s shoulder, pulling her up as the flat of her knife worked its way across Mei’s arm, tapping her shoulder once before slowly inching its way toward her exposed neck.

Cecil’s heart stopped. “MMMMMMFF!”

The blonde Fixer jerked forward with so much desperate vigor that it was a miracle the multitude of Butlers that latched onto her arms and pulled her back down didn’t dislocate her shoulders. Three inches. One inch. Barely centimeters away. The limp Mei became as rigid as a long-dead corpse as the knife drew blood. Cecil shook her head, her disheveled locks catching the blood pooling down her forehead and sticking to her face, as her eyes spoke in lieu of her gagged mouth. The knife paused, the Chief Butler clicking her tongue in delight as she drank in every single second of the girl’s endless despair.

“Good girl,” she cooed, licking her lips in anticipation. She raised her phone again, a faint beep coming from the device as it began recording. “Now beg.”

“Mmm mmmmmnn,” Cecil choked through her gag, trying to avoid the lens documenting the pitiful sight before it.

“Good. Now grovel.”

The Liu Fixer flinched, an actor shoved out last minute to the leering gazes of the most judgmental and pretentious audience in the City. A twinge of annoyance flashed across Elly’s face and the knife pressed against Mei’s neck twisted, a faint trickle of blood running down her skin and dyeing her beloved, emerald Guthix t-shirt a faint crimson.

“MMMMF!”

“I. Said. Grovel.”

The light faded from Cecil’s empty eyes as she slowly lowered herself down, pressing her face against the carpet. Her fingernails dug into her bound palms and her toes curled until each one could snap straight off of her foot, yet still she shrugged off the humiliation, the debasement, the chortles and laughter of the Butlers surrounding her as she buried her ruined nose into the floor, the tears streaming from her clenched eyes beginning to wash away the blood caking her face.

“Mmmmmf.” Her already deflated, defeated voice barely squeaked through her gag, let alone through the strands of the carpet her mouth was pressed against.

“Hmmm, I’m not quite feeling it,” Elly said, pursing her lips as she pondered her next request. “Ah. Why don’t you nod your head if you agree that you’re a mangy little mutt that’s good for nothing but barking at the vermin that contaminate our lovely City.”

Cecil slowly rose her head, her eyes still tactfully avoiding the Chief Butler’s gleeful stare.

“Ah, ah, ah, don’t you dare try to look at me like we’re equals,” she spat, tapping the flat of the knife still pressed against Mei’s skin. “Bury your head in the dirt where it belongs.”

What was left for the girl to do but sink back into the carpet, pulling her head up and down even as the once immaculately soft strands now painted her face with blood and dirt and grime. As her knees buckled and gave away, as a boot pressed against the small of her back and pressed her flat against the floor, as she grunted and cried and wept as she felt her spine burn as the boot twisted and pressed hard into her, she hoped beyond everything else, to every single Wing and Corp and whatever deities she’d read about in passing that when she next opened her eyes, she wouldn’t be met with the sight of Mei’s soulless eyes as the blood gushed from her slit throat. There she lay, wallowing in her own filth and her own despair, the blackness of her clenched eyes still cursed with the mental image of Mei’s bisected corpse as it fell back from the Librarian’s blade, evaporating into nothingness even as the girl smiled and tried to hide away the pain that wracked her body.

Not again. Not ever again. She’d let herself be hung from the ceiling and abused by each and every single one of these pompous elitist Butlers like their own personal punching bag.

Just don’t take another one of her friends away from her.

“Hmmmm, you know, I think that’s good,” Elly said finally. Cecil chanced a glance through the bloodied carpet, watching as the Chief Butler returned the phone to her pocket and pulled the knife cleanly away from Mei’s neck.

Thankfully, at an angle that did not cut deeper into her skin.

Cecil breathed a sigh of relief – as much of a sigh as she could give with her face half-smothered by the carpet. She flexed her fingers once more, trying to grasp at the threads binding her wrists together. Her teeth dug into the wool gagging her as she watched Elly approach one of the spectating Butlers, pressing the knife into his hand.

“Well, that was a fun little distraction,” she said with a bored sigh, addressing the Butler with a snap. “We’ve got quite the gift for Lord D'Alençon. Now, hmmmm, what to do, what to do. Guess we could drag the wench along with us? I doubt anyone would notice two nameless grunts just up and vanishing.”

“It would be rather difficult to transport two hostages across Nest lines, though,” the Butler noted, broadly gesturing to the two girls. “Not to mention that the Liu are quite known for their fiery temper. Having to worry about them causing a stir while in transit might draw some undue attention while we return to the manor.”

“Mmmm, that is true.” She clicked her tongue, pushing the Butler forward. “Alright then. We’ll just take one of them. Kill the dark-haired one.”

Perhaps Elly was fishing for some reaction from the defeated Cecil, hoping to shatter what little pride still remained in her battered, half-naked body. Were she truly only interested in wringing every reaction out of the blonde girl, her single, callous command seemed to hit the Liu Fixer like a lightning bolt. Clasping her hands together and tilting her head in wonder, she watched with unbridled joy as Cecil threw off the hands that held her down and made a beeline toward Elly and Mei, only for her heroic intervention to be immediately sent crashing back to the darkening reality around her as yet another trio of Butlers tackled her to the ground. Elly giggled, her attention enthralled by the desperate thrashings of the girl at her feet. The beautiful choir of Cecil’s muffled screams accompanied the imaginary dirge that rung in the Chief Butler’s ears as she watched Cecil’s eyes shift from rage to panic, from panic to desperation,

From desperation to despair.

It was gorgeous. Exhilarating. Watching the tears stream down her face as she struggled against the threads that held her tight, against the hands that held her down, as her enraged roars devolved into panicked screams, incomprehensible white noise that nonetheless articulated the words that were written clear as day across her bloody face.

“Please. Don’t hurt her. I’m begging you.”

The cheshire grin spread across Elly’s face spoke volumes as she knelt down and cradled Cecil’s head in her hands. As she tilted it upward toward the limp Mei, ensuring their eyes could not miss the silvery knife that drew close to the razor thin gash already cut across her neck. Her lips drifted toward Cecil’s ear, as if to nibble on the exposed cartilage, and she giggled once more. “Don’t look away. I want you to watch.”

She caught herself as another high-pitched, demented laugh readied to loose itself, clearing her throat with a cough. The Butler stopped just short of Mei’s neck, all eyes turning to Elly as the Chief Butler’s nails dug into the sides of Cecil’s head. “Actually, wait. Ungag the one girl. It’s only proper we hear the little puppy’s last words before we put her down.”

A final mercy, maybe? No, the sadistic sparkle in Elly’s golden eyes, barely caught in Cecil’s bleary peripheral vision, said everything the frustrated girl needed to know. Maybe Mei would beg and plead for her life. Maybe she’d curse Cecil for dragging them into this mess. Maybe she’d even throw Cecil under the bus and plead for her own life in exchange for Cecil’s. What was camaraderie or bonds in the face of certain, inescapable death? After all, the worst thing the girl could do in her last moments was simply debase herself like some Rat before being gutted like a fish.

And if Elly was lucky, she’d get to see the soul be torn directly from Cecil’s body after Mei skewers it with her last, desperate pleas in a bargain for her life.

Cradling Cecil’s head in her hands and holding her fast, the two watched in abject horror and blissful anticipation as the Butler approached the bound Liu Fixer. He roughly snagged a tuft of her hair and yanked back, eliciting a pained grunt mirrored only by the desperate wail of the blonde girl as she begged again and again for them to reconsider. Elly licked her lips, watching as the sock was unwound from Mei’s head and the gag spit from her lips, all while the silvery knife dragged the flat of its blade across her exposed, quivering neck. She practically salivated as she saw Mei’s lips pucker and her mouth twist in disgust with a cough, drawing in shallow breaths as she tried to massage her aching jaw. Tightening his grip on Mei’s hair, the Butler leaned in close, pressing the knife against Mei’s cheek. The girl winced, feeling the blade dig into her skin and draw blood once more.

“Alright, you uppity little wench,” he barked, his gruff voice belying a sense of sadistic enjoyment. “I’ll give a whole ten seconds to make your last words memorable. Maybe if Lady Elly finds your pathetic mewing enjoyable, I’ll bestow upon you a whole five extra seconds to beg for your shitty life before I cut your neck open lik-“

The grotesque snapping of crunching bone silenced the jeering and wails that permeated the hotel room. All eyes fell on the Butler and the Fixer, drawn to the myriad of blood droplets that began to pool at their feet. Not a single word was spoken, any thoughts of indignation or astonishment simply swept away by the utterly absurd spectacle playing out before them. The knife clattered to the ground, the hand that once held it spasming and quivering. The wrist connecting it was dyed a deep red, bent and flattened at a grotesque angle as it was firmly held in-between Mei’s teeth.

Finally, a scream. “GGGYAAAAAAAH! YOU, YOU FUCKING WHORE. DID YOU-DID YOU JUST FUCKING BITE ME?”

A tirade of curses and screams spewed from the Butler’s mouth, his cruel and composed front as broken as his mangled wrist. He raised his good hand as though to bash the girl’s head in, only to shy away as Mei sprayed blood directly into his face. Wrenching her head back, Mei screamed to the skies above, “Serena! Full volume! Play ‘vuvuzela compilation, 10 hours!’”

“Now playing… ‘vuvuzela compilation.’”

Recognition flashed in Cecil’s eyes, yet with her arms firmly pressed against her back, she could do little more than bite down on her gag and await the inevitable, horrendous screech that blared from the multitude of speakers that lined the hotel room. Barely a second after the AI’s nonchalant and innocent warning came did the roar of the vuvuzela crash into the room. A wave of continual, unceasing, unending blaring, each mirroring the roar of an enraged dinosaur with all the tact of broken glass raked on chalkboard, boomed from the speakers again and again and again, each cacophonous pulse an earthquake that threatened to bring the entire room down on them. Her eyes clamped shut and her body went rigid as she braced herself for the relentless assault, yet still the pounding headache akin to an ice pick being shoved right into the back of her head was no less forgiving.

The rest of the room, horrifically unprepared for the abuse born from years of Mei’s childish antics, recoiled in horror and agony, cupping their ears far too late to shield themselves from the cacophony of the hellish orchestra. Some collapsed to their knees, clutching their aching head as though a telekinetic hand reached directly through their skull and was trying to pull their brain clean through the bony plates. Others reeled back, clutching onto the bedsheets or the nightstands to support themselves even as their legs wobbled and threatened to give way to the pain shooting from their ears and down their spine. Even the once unflappable Elly now staggered back and fell to her knees, rubbing her temples and cupping her ears as she likely hoped the hellish wail hadn’t ruptured her eardrums. For a brief, excruciating moment, she forgot the Liu Fixer that writhed around at her feet, a bloodshot eye focused on the blindfolded Mei as the girl, whether by chance or by instinct, reciprocated the glare with a smirk.

And then a wild crack added to the chorus of deafening horns as Cecil lurched her legs back, smashing the back of her heels into Elly’s head.

Perhaps the Chief Butler yelled some muted expletive, lost amidst the impervious, deafening shockwaves buffeting the room. Maybe the concussive smash to the back of her head scattered her thoughts to the four corners of the City. Whatever befell the sadistic Butler that had delighted so much in the blonde’s anguish no longer mattered to Cecil as she caught sight of one of her silvery knives slipping free from her grasp, twirling in its descent before embedding itself in the floor. Amidst the howls and screams and the incessant blaring of the devil’s accursed trumpet, not a single one of the Butlers could stop the Liu Fixer from throwing her body forward, sliding her hands just behind the sharpened steel. Her fingers first jolted back as they brushed against its edge before resting on the flat of the blade, quickly worming their way up to its handle and plucking it free from the floor. The girl craned her head back, trying to catch a glimpse of the knife as the blade awkwardly fumbled between her wrists.

“Y-You!”

A dry voice, utterly dripping with vitriol, brought her attention back in front of her, eyes widened as one of the many Butlers, face still twisting in pain as he massaged a bleeding ear, stumbled toward the girl, a pair of twin knives glimmering between his fingers. His manic, frenzied eyes were more than enough to send a shiver down the Liu Fixer’s spine, although admittedly his bloodthirsty scream as he lunged at Cecil’s throat certainly emphasized the lethality of his blow. All at once, Cecil felt her mind empty, the biting pain of the threads wound around her body or the pounding headache born from a multitude of vuvuzelas snapping from her subconscious. A dull, throbbing pain pulsed from her wrists while a rush of air pressed against her face as the knives approached her head.

She threw herself down and pivoted to the right, the knives piercing naught but air as the thrust was just a moment’s too slow to match the girl’s reflexes. In the same action, she wrenched her legs back before kicking forward, the bindings on her thighs and ankles now forming one unified piston that crashed into the impertinent Butler’s pelvis with a sickening crunch. Her fingers tightened and, on instinct, nimbly twirled the knife between her middle and thumb, the numbing pain easing as circulation was restored back to her wrists. She gripped the knife tightly in her right hand, her wrists now afforded a fair degree of movement, and angled the tip toward the wires still holding her forearms and elbows tight.

Another flurry of footsteps. On instinct, she braced herself against the carpet with her left shoulder before spinning about, thrusting herself back with the knife extended in an awkward, blind swing. A soft clang of metal barely managed to pierce the suffocating aria deafening the room as Cecil’s knife was parried with the Butler’s own dagger, a brief respite before Cecil’s legs connected with the Butler’s and sent him tumbling to the ground. She wrenched the dagger back before embedding it back into the ground, hastily squeezing her bound arms into its awaiting blade. The numbness plaguing her arms began to fade as the wires were snipped free – thankfully, with only one blind fumbling into the dagger on the ground, and she quickly pried the dagger loose before swiping upward, cleaving the wires pinning her biceps to her sides before tearing free the strings wound between and around her breasts.

Her attention now focused to her legs. Flanked by a trio of fumbling stomps as the deafened Butlers rushed to suppress their escaping captive, she snipped the first wire digging into her thighs before raising the knife up and lurching it back, the crunching of steel against bone accompanied by a howl almost rivaling that of the crescendoing vuvuzelas. It held fast and, with a gagged curse, she abandoned the trusty blade and rolled to the side, snagging the foot of a Butler as her knives went wide and pulling her down with a quick yank. Cecil rolled onto her stomach, toes digging into the reddening carpet, before pouncing on the fallen Butler, silencing her enraged scream with a swift punch to the face. The sparkle of steel radiated in her peripheral vision and she pried one of the knives free from the unconscious Butler’s hands before throwing her arm wide in a wide arc, parrying the blow aimed at her side. Her arm twisted and the knife spun back around, piercing through the Butler’s triply-reinforced cloth and drawing blood with an astonished yelp. The wounded man staggered back, clawing at the dagger embedded just above his hip as Cecil retrieved the last of the two knives from the fallen Butler. Another snip and her thighs rubbed anxiously against each other, no longer constrained by the thin wires digging into her flesh.

The girl got halfway through the wires securing her shins before she buried her face in her legs, narrowly avoiding a knife aimed at her forehead. She poked her eyes out above her knees to witness yet another of the nefarious Butlers rushing down the half-naked Fixer, twin daggers sported in each hand. The Butler slid across the ground, angling her blades to swing in twin, concerted arcs that would cleanly rip the Liu Fixer’s head in half. Just a foot closer and already her arms began to descend.

A foot too late, however, as Cecil gripped the carpet with her free hand and threw herself forward, intercepting the Butler in her slide. Her gruesome execution, telegraphed and orchestrated to murder the blonde as she straddled the unconscious Butler, was just a hair too short to stop Cecil’s fist from plowing directly into her face. The Butler ricocheted back with a pained yelp, a backwards somersault that terminated at the small mini fridge with an ignoble thud. Cecil exhaled sharply and turned the knife back on herself, cutting the last wires free before turning her attention to Mei.

Still bound and blindfolded, Mei’s uncanny reactions, paired with the maddening choir of the echoing vuvuzelas, were the only things keeping the Liu Fixer from certain death. Even with her arms lashed tightly behind her back and her legs tied together, she nimbly ducked and weaved and squirmed like some type of infuriating, overgrown caterpillar, avoiding knives and fists alike from the dazed and befuddled Butlers still recovering from their earsplitting headaches. Naturally, though, the mere notion that a blindfolded hostage could simply evade the multitude of blows out of sheer instinct was pure lunacy, as the many cuts and bruises down her arms and across her face evidenced. Mei’s luck, too, was far from infinite, a gloved hand shooting out and seizing her neck. The lower half of Mei’s body spasmed and thrashed like a dying man under the hangman’s noose while above she licked her lips and spat, grinning as she elicited a disgusted groan from the grimacing Butler holding her up in the air. The Butler wiped the translucent mucus from her face before pulling her hand back, a dagger sliding into place and leveling its edge at the blindfolded girl’s face.

“You petulant little bitch,” she snarled, aiming her improvised chisel at the disobedient, fleshy marble writhing under her grip. “I’m going to gouge your fucking eyes right out of your sku-“

A painful snapping cut the Butler’s threat short, the sound of several vertebrate breaking beneath Cecil’s shoulder causing the last few words from her throat to evaporate as her body lifelessly collapsed to the ground. Mei’s body slipped from her limp fingers, saved from the ground by Cecil’s timely intervention as she hooked her arm around Mei’s waist. With a quick flick of the knife, the blindfold covering Mei’s eyes fell from her face. The knife slipped around Mei’s back and between her arms, severing the wires holding her arms tight. As her wrists separated, Mei leapt up and wrapped her arms around Cecil’s shoulders, her fingers gliding up her neck before resting on the knotted sock holding Cecil’s gag in place.

“You look ridiculous,” Mei teased, sticking her tongue out. “Why don’t you take my socks out of your mouth?”

Cecil gagged and grimaced as she spat the rolled up sock out of her mouth, painfully aware of an acute, fuzzy taste along her tongue. “Yeah, you’re welcome, Mei.”

“Serena, play Sarajinae.”

The two girls turned to the third voice, oddly distinct and firm even among the ocean of screeching vuvuzelas. The deafening orchestra came to a halt, replaced by the monotone voice of the ever-obedient AI.

“Now playing… ‘Sarajinae.’”

A soothing piano comforted the aching ears of the Liu Fixers, a soft, flowing melody accented by an orchestral undertone. No longer were the blaring horns overpowering the sound of Cecil’s own heartbeat nor hammering her pounding head with their relentless, unceasing screeching. Perhaps, curled up in Mei’s apartment, the blonde girl would have blissfully hummed along to the softspoken ballad from U Corp in-between sips of hot cocoa, the serene vocals in stark contrast to the red-faced Mei as she threw her arms up in the air in exasperation, staring down the bleak scoreboard as her online teammates dragged her exemplary K/D ratio down like an albatross hanging on her neck.

But instead, the relaxing serenade that had suddenly taken U Corp by storm served as a welcome reprieve for the Butlers slowly rising to their feet, their ringing ears and bloodshot eyes refocusing on the two indignant pests that had the sheer audacity not to bow their heads before their betters. Even as Cecil continued to cut Mei free, her eyes swept across their remaining assailants with a mixture of dread and, admittedly, sadistic anticipation, finally settling on the flustered Chief Butler poised at the center, a frazzled, bloodstained tip at the end of a metaphorical spear with a series of knives neatly hanging between her fingers.

“Good taste,” Cecil commented, giving a mocking smile as she tore the wires free from Mei’s ankles. “Kinda unfitting, though. I know a nice dubstep mix that got real popular over in T Corp.”

“Tempting, Miss Cecil,” Elly replied, her fingers massaging what Cecil guessed was a rather aggravating migraine, the white gloves now slick with blood as they did little to address the gaping wound across the side of her head. “However, because of your friend’s rather… inspired taste in music, I’d much rather prefer something more refined and low octane. I’m sure you understand.”

“That’s fair,” Cecil said with a shrug, tossing the knife aside and cracking her knuckles. “I’m going to kill you now.”

“Funny that,” Elly giggled, the knives flourishing in her hands. “I was going to say that too. I suppose some Fixer culture does transcend social boundaries. I’ll make a note of that while laundering your bloodstains out of my dress.”

The gentle ballad of the song, sailing in amidst ocean waves and a demure piano melody, quickly faded into the background as the two Liu Fixers sprung into action. The bruises dotting their limbs and the stinging pain jolting across their bodies, enough to slow the reflexes of even the most experienced Fixers, practically melted away as a rush of jovial, almost childlike adrenaline surged through their veins, eliciting a content, even psychotic giggle from Cecil as she ducked under a flurry of knives, her body twisting as it carried the momentum of her uppercut straight into the unlucky Butler’s face, sending him careening into the ceiling with an explosive pop. Sailing through the air, she spun and drove her heel into the adjacent Butler as she tried to catch the blonde with her twin daggers, the skin and bone of the Butler’s shoulder caving in with an agonized howl as she was sent to the ground, sprawling. Cecil hit the ground and immediately teetered to the left, cartwheeling away from a flurry of daggers before terminating it with a decisive stomp from her foot.

“Nngh!”

She grunted, gritting her teeth in shock and annoyance, as her leg hung in the air, the back of her heel caught against Elly’s dagger. A searing pain ran down her leg as blood dripped from where the biting edge of the Chief Butler’s blade cut through Cecil’s skin and chipped the bone. The Liu Fixer awkwardly flailed and tried to pull herself out of the defensive clash, eyes set on the smirking Elly as her free hand brandished a series of knives and thrust toward Cecil’s unprotected flank.

Her victorious smirk immediately faded as a faint yell, quickly escalating to a strident cry tore through the already struggling vocals of the melodic serenade permeating the room. Yanking her dagger free, Elly jumped back and out of range of Cecil’s legs before quickly falling to the ground, tucking her head into her chest as a screaming Butler hurtled over her and into the wall with a crackling thud.

“Shit,” Mei swore, the improvised projectile doing little more than increasing the already astronomical housekeeping fees Liu Section 2 would almost certainly be billed for this incident. Fortunately, her frustration was remedied succinctly by the two Butlers that rushed her from opposite ends, moving to average their fallen comrade that had been flung headfirst into the adjoining fray. Mei’s eyes swept from one side to the other, catching sight of a wide-eyed, howling man with several knives glimmering between his fingers like some rampaging monster from some cheesy film, the opened, crimson suitcase with several of hers and Cecil’s clothes still hanging from its zipper, and a glowering Butler with a long, silvery dagger masking her face, eyes fixated on Mei’s neck.

The girl darted forward, kicking down and driving the ball of her foot into the side of the suitcase. It popped up obediently, dumping its neatly folded contents onto the ocean of discarded fabric and blood at their feet, before Mei grabbed the bulky suitcase and flung it to the side. A yelp and a thud were the only confirmation Mei could afford as she spun around, ready to meet the man with bloodshot eyes as he already preemptively began swiping his hands like a Sweeper.

Only to be met with a condensed ball of clothing to the face.

“Guh!”

The man staggered back, recoiling from the impact of three pairs of jeans, a bulky winter coat, a handful of t-shirts, and a frilly bra all compressed into a mass the size of a small basketball. Blinking away a series of lights in his vision, he gawked at a black t-shirt neatly impaled across his blades, a fragment of the clothing cannonball coming loose. His eyes rose at the last minute to greet Mei’s fist as she smashed him squarely into the wooden drawer behind him, showering his unconscious body with splinters and an once spotless landline phone.

“… Seriously?” Mei snapped, looking down at the shredded, black fabric hanging from the Butler’s knives. “Come on, I had to custom order that from G Corp, you asshole! Couldn’t you cut up Ceci’s shit instead?”

“I’m right here, you know!” Cecil shot back before tightly gripping the head of an overextended Butler as he pitifully and harmlessly thrust past the girl, spinning him around and directly into the mirror with a loud, ear-splitting shatter.

Mei brushed off the indignant blonde’s retort with a roll of her eyes, her attention returning to the Butler to the left, unsteadily meandering from side to side as she tried unsuccessfully to pry the dagger free from its velvety interior. The Butler grit her teeth and blew errant strands of dark hair from her face as her free hand braced itself against the suitcase, the Butler prepared to yank the blade free and embed it in the meddlesome Liu girl’s throat.

And then Mei swept in and slammed the suitcase shut on her head.

A muffled yelp followed the dull, unceremonious thud of the suitcase, the Butler half-resembling one of those vintage, full body replacements she’d seen wandering about the Outskirts. As another Butler stumbled into her view and readied himself to seize victory where the rest of his clearly incompetent brethren had failed, Mei sighed and looped her arm around the dazed Butler’s waist before sending her flying directly into the impatient new challenger. His triumphant battle cry became a pitiful, dazed gurgle as the edge of the suitcase slammed into his face, sending both tumbling to the ground in a disheveled heap.

What had once been an entourage that encircled the Liu duo several times over now littered the ground, the lush carpet now damp and slick with blood. Cecil’s confidence soared alongside the rising crescendo of the U Corp ballad, spinning out of the way of Elly’s bloodied knife before catching another Butler as he swept at what appeared to be her exposed flank. His eyes widened as he beheld Cecil’s smirk, a dumbfounded despair that the girl all too eagerly delighted in slamming her foot into, sending him careening into the locked hotel door and tearing it from its hinges. She swung her extended leg forward, swearing as Elly deflected it mid-kick with a flick of her arm.

“Absolute incompetents, the lot of them,” Elly swore, darting back as Cecil’s arm chopped at her throat and missed it by mere inches. “If word gets out that such a trivial task was bungled so terribly… the D'Alençons will be the laughingstock of Nest B.”

“You sure you don’t have better things to worry about?” Cecil joked, flicking her hair back before leaping at the seething Chief Butler. “Like us, for instance?”

“Tch,” Elly clicked her tongue, weaving to the side as Cecil sailed harmlessly past her. Her practiced counter, gracefully following along the girl’s trajectory until it would end at her exposed neck, met with a dull clang as a thrown knife parried the lethal maneuver. As her arm bounced back, Elly stepped away from the reach of the recovering Cecil, spying the overconfident Mei with an unconscious Butler in one hand and another knife twirling between her two fingers. “You pummel a couple of grunts and suddenly the dogs have teeth?”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re so much better than the others, I haven’t even been trying, tell me something I haven’t heard,” Mei replied, shrugging nonchalantly before throwing the dagger in concert with Cecil’s fist, the silvery projectile and heavy blow each covering the narrow windows the Chief Butler could think to retreat to. Elly’s eyes narrowed as she felt her heel press against the back of the wall and, brandishing another knife, she met the knife with a throw of her own before falling into a crouch and deflecting Cecil’s blow with her forearm. She winced and shook, the airy, pompous arrogance that perpetually defined her face giving way to a blistering pain as a soft crack could be heard underneath her flowing dress.

And before Cecil could indulge in the blissful aria of the Butler’s fracturing arm, Elly’s free arm lunged and hit the girl squarely in the face.

“Nngh!” Cecil staggered back, spitting blood from her mouth as her already broken nose screamed in agony, practically gushing blood from the flattened nostrils. She gingerly massaged her face, now more purple than pale, before quickly deflecting another punch to her ribs from the infuriated Chief Butler.

“Sh-Shit,” Elly snarled, gritting her teeth as each minute movement of the fingers of her left arm felt like a needle pricking her nerves. “What the hell kind of body augmentations are those? Feels like I just got hit by a fucking bu-“

A flash of emerald flickered in her peripheral vision and the Chief Butler swung instinctively, catching Mei’s knee just moments away from shattering her pelvis. Still riding on the momentum of her initial charge, Mei’s arm lashed out at the girl’s head, crashing with a puff of smoke and cracking drywall. Sweat caked Elly’s face as she tried not to think of the blow that very nearly pulverized her head, shoving the girl off of her with her foot. The wild and brazen Mei seemed completely unperturbed by her bloody knuckles as she charged forward yet again, throwing a second punch at Elly’s head. The faint squish of blood and viscera caught the Chief Butler’s attention and, with an exasperated sigh, she parried the Liu Fixer’s punch with her fractured arm before spinning around and rebuffing the flanking Cecil with a shove from her free hand. “Really, both of you?”

“You jump a drunk girl and someone in a swimsuit and you’re going to talk about fairness?” Cecil shot back, mirroring the irritation on Elly’s face. “Don’t you even start.”

“I simply wished to get your apology,” Elly said plainly, ducking underneath Mei’s fist before jabbing at Cecil’s chest. The blonde swatted it away before sweeping at Elly’s feet with her leg. A clumsy stumble and jump was still an evade as the Chief Butler avoided the blow, her flailing arm grazing Cecil’s shoulder and sending the girl back. The welcomed breathing room was enough for Elly to spin on her heel and meet Mei’s foot with the back of her fist, sending the girl stumbling back before a second jab at her throat, deflected with an enraged snarl from the Liu Fixer, cleared more room for the heaving Chief Butler.

“Apology?” Mei threw her arms out, her face contorting in anger. “You’re in our fucking room and you want us to apologize?”

“Mmm,” Elly bit her lip, tilting her head in mild amusement. “What similar reactions. I see why you two pair up so well.”

“You’re really starting to piss me off,” Mei spat, her eyes practically burning with rage. “Cecil, cut her off. I’m going to Tiěshānkào this bitch so hard I’ll be picking bits of her off of me in the shower for weeks.”

“Couldn’t you have picked a less unappealing mental image, Mei?” Cecil sighed, rolling next to the Chief Butler and raising her fists in an aggressive posture. Her eyes narrowed as she tracked the briefest trace of movement from their beleaguered assailant, each nerve in her body twitching at the slightest opportunity to catch her as the Chief Butler tried to escape the pincer. Yet, once again that gnawing sense of unease seemed to prick at her, causing each individual hair to stand on end. Even as Mei threw herself at Elly, her body a blur of green and red with all the vindictive, murderous intent of a ballistic missile, the Chief Butler stood completely unphased, staring down the frenzied Liu Fixer like a bored Nest Egg at one of their many opulent museums. Were it any other person, at any other time, in any other part of the City, Cecil would’ve taken the inaction as a simple and fatal lapse in attention.

Even so, her voice caught in her throat as she saw the Chief Butler smirk. She stepped back and to the side, a brisk sidestep in but half a second that lured in the bloodthirsty Mei’s charge and sent her careening forward, her arms flailing wildly and her feet digging into the carpet as she tried to halt her advance. She barely caught the silvery threads trailing from Elly’s sleeves, let alone the forceful palm strike that sent Mei tumbling into an astonished Cecil.

“Shit,” Cecil swore, leaping forward and catching Mei before their faces slammed together. “Got you, Mei.”

“We are in accord, Miss Cecil. I do have both of you.”

Goosebumps raced down Cecil’s arms as her eyes shot toward Elly, a victorious smile plastered across her face as she curled her fingers into a fist. No, not goosebumps; she realized all too late as flashes of translucent threads flickered across Mei’s body, as she felt the prickling sensation on the back of her neck and down her arms suddenly intensified to a sharp bite that dug into her skin. Before she could even think to claw at the wires tangled around her, they coiled tightly, awkwardly pinning her arms against her chest and her legs together. Even the confused yelp that would’ve escaped her lips was held back with a cough as she felt a thin wire coil around her neck before constricting like a serpent. Cecil coughed and gagged as her vision dimmed, the room turning into murky shadows occasionally exploding with dull kaleidoscope of colors. With a strangled gasp, she collapsed to the ground with two breathless coughs, one from the harsh stinging of her shoulder against the bloody carpet and one from Mei’s head as it slammed into her side. Drawing in shallow breaths, her fingers frantically clawed at the wires pinning her wrists to her body, prickling harmlessly at the silvery threads. The two girls writhed helplessly on the ground, eyes bulging as their skin, once dyed crimson with blood, now turned a sickly shade of violet. Through the morass of black shadows that began to obscure her vision, Cecil could barely make out the visage of the smirking Chief Butler, a mass of twinkling threads coiled around her fingers.

“Such inelegant brutality,” she scoffed, drawing out each syllable as the faint gurgles of the two, strangled girls underneath the Chief Butler’s heel filled her with ecstasy. “Recklessly charging in like two brazen bulls. Even the simplest of the Receiving Arts would have neatly taken care of both of you; this was honestly a complete waste of my talents.”

“ggo… fuck yourself…” Mei wheezed, her hands limply scratching against her t-shirt in one last, meager bid for her life.

“Mmmm, unsightly plebians to the end.” Elly tutted as she shook her head in mocking disapproval, kneeling down and cradling Cecil’s head in her free arm. “Now, Miss Cecil, recall that earlier, I wanted us to watch as your little friend died.”

“n-nnno…” Cecil coughed, blood dripping from her mouth. Her palms turned and her fingers reached out, as if she could snatch the Chief Butler’s hand and hold it tight. “… i-i-i’m sorry… mei didn’t… just please… don’t…”

“Oh, please understand, Miss Cecil, I’m aware your friend was unaffiliated with our little spat.” Elly knelt down until her eyes were level with Cecil’s, their faces close enough to where she could practically lap up the tears beginning to stream down the blonde’s face. “That’s why I want you to watch.”

Watch. Again.

Why the fuck was she obsessed with forcing her to watch?

She squirmed and thrashed and screamed, yet nothing but a dry, soundless roar came from her lips as she watched Mei’s hands go limp and the light begin to dim from her eyes. With each minute twitch from the Chief Butler’s fingers, she could do nothing but gaze helplessly on her best friend as the rise and fall of her bound chest slowed more and more, the final vestiges of a strangled victim clinging to life with whatever strength still ran in her oxygen-deprived lungs. Cecil took in quick and frantic breaths as her fingers tried to find some type of knot or frazzled end to the wires binding her wrists to her chest, her mind racing and her eyes burning the foregone scene into her head again.

Mei’s shallow gasps as the wire tightened across her neck.

Mei’s body seizing up as the knife dug into her neck.

Mei’s faint, whimsical smile as she disappeared into the light, blood streaming from the gash that shredded through her clothing and tore through her rib cage.

How many times was she going to watch her friend die?

How many fucking times was she going to watch her friends die?!

She clamped her eyes shut, knowing that she could do nothing to stop the gunshots from ringing in her ears one more time. If Xiao and Lowell would wake up to find their lifeless bodies in the hotel room, the least she could do is leave them with a smile. She couldn’t bear for the last thing she saw to be Lowell’s body fading into wisps of glowing dust, torn apart by a flurry of gunshots. The sheer horror and despair that would be etched across her face… Cecil couldn’t bear to subject anyone to that.

And yet the gunshot rang out, clear as day. Cecil’s teeth clamped down and she shook her head, hoping that she’d be dead before she could hear the other seven. Sorry, Mei.

I’m so fucking sorry.

I just.

Fucking.

Can’t believe this happened again.

She gasped, blinking away the tears from her eyes, and took in a huge breath, ready to-

To.

Cecil’s head shot up, each muscle in her body surging with strength as though the breath of fresh air was a K Corp ampule shoved right down her throat. The once biting wires relaxed, providing the girl enough slack to quickly wriggle her arms free before seizing the wire wound around her throat and ripping it in half. Without a second thought, she dove toward Mei and took hold of the already loosening thread around her neck, tearing it apart with a sweep of her arm. The dark-haired girl wheezed and coughed, droplets of blood splashing across a wincing Cecil, before her glassy eyes blinked and focused on the heaving girl hovering over her.

“Hehe… not even… close…” Mei forced a chuckle, her weak, protracted breaths keeping her from entirely fading into unconsciousness.

Cecil reciprocated with an equally awkward smile, an immense relief washing over her. As she pulled the wheezing girl close, the Liu Fixer finally noticed the bloodcurdling, seething howl that, for but a few moments, had faded into the background amidst the downtempo piano melody. Blood and eviscerated gore dripped onto the carpet as a screeching Elly cradled her shoulder, a hole the size of Cecil’s fist punched straight through the reinforced fabric, the skin, and the bone. Her widened, crazed eyes shot toward the door, a maddened glare quite unlike the once composed Chief Butler fully overtaking her visage. There, situated at the shattered doorway, a shadowy figure lounged against the chipped frame, a rifle lowered with a smoking, orange barrel. Tufts of brunette hair stuck out at uneven, disheveled angles, breaking suddenly on her forehead like it had been brusquely brushed away to accommodate her fogged glasses. Adorned in a plain, black t-shirt and some baggy shorts and still wearing her pool flip-flops, the glowering Thumb Capo looked uncharacteristically underdressed for the ordinarily hierarchical sticklers. Whether Katriel held any reservations about presenting herself to some middling Liu grunts, her steely frown betrayed not a single thought other than her utter disdain as she raised the iron sights back up to her eye.

“Damnable… Syndicate rats…” Elly snarled, shooting her gaze back at Cecil. Less of a Fixer and more like some cornered beast, Cecil felt goosebumps run down her arm as their eyes connected, thinking the Chief Butler might just swoop down and chomp her head off in some ghastly display of craven inhumanity. Instinctively she ran her fingers down her arm as she held Mei close, giving a silent prayer that the translucent wires hadn’t suddenly wrapped themselves around their prey once again. “… You, you cavort with Backstreets trash like this. You’re a disgrace to the Hana, a disgrace to our very profession, the sheer gall to think you would entrap me s-“

Another gunshot, rattling the drawers and Cecil’s clenched teeth. Elly whipped around, parrying the second round with a swipe of a newfound dagger procured from her sleeves. She leapt back once and twice and thrice more, nearing the window at the far end of the room. Still nursing the gaping wound that squirted blood with every heartbeat, she loosed a wild, incredulous laugh, throwing her head back like some manic wolf.

“NO. No no no no… the D'Alençon name shall not be besmirched by such a disgraceful, total loss. I shall take my exit, then.” Her eyes fell on Cecil as she rose to her feet, a drooping Mei clinging to her shoulder. “You, you traitorous, shameless harlot. This isn’t over. When I return, not even your precious little Director or your Syndicate thugs will stop me from gutting your friend and serving her up as a stew. I, Elly de Metz, shall make you rue the day you dared slight the immaculate D'Alençon household!”

With a dramatic flourish, the Chief Butler spun, leaping toward the window. Cecil heard Katriel slam the wall in frustration, a flurry of gunshots going wide as she unloaded on the fleeing prey. By virtue, by luck, by sheer frustrated fate, the fleeting Chief Butler was seemingly unphased as she leapt toward the window, practically cackling as she made her retreat, bullets whizzing by and going wide as her exit was all but assured.

Slam.

Silence. The soft rustling of a rifle being slung over a shoulder could barely be made out over the closing measures of the serene Sarajinae. Cecil cast a sheepish glance over to Katriel, her mouth slightly open as the thoughts flooding her mind were practically begging to explode from her mouth. Yet, as she furrowed her brow, she could not seem to think of a single word to describe the scene that played out before them.

Then, the soft creak of skin and cloth screeching against glass. The unconscious Elly slid down the hardened window, bounced off the countertop, and crumpled ignobly to the ground into a tired heap. A faint beep interrupted the fading song, followed by the chipper voice of the absent AI.

“Warning. An attempted break-in was detected. We are pleased to inform you that your K Corp Certified Grade AAA Security prevented the thief from entering through the [WINDOW]. On behalf of K Corp and Cane Office, we are proud to guarantee your utmost safety.”

A faint chortle. Mei stirred and shifted about as her fingers dug into Cecil’s collarbone, faint droplets of blood dripping from her smiling face. “… Thank the Wings she shut the fuck up.”

“Mhm.” Cecil lowered herself to a crouch, slipping her hands underneath Mei’s thighs before piggybacking the weary girl. She turned to Katriel, giving a curt nod. “The, uh, assistance is appreciated. But…”

She paused, cut off by Katriel’s outstretched palm as the Thumb Capo fished through the pockets of her shorts, procuring her phone. With the speed Cecil had only ever seen from B Corp’s illustrious IT Nest Eggs, Katriel’s fingers flew across her phone before the speaker let out a small burst of static.

“You woke me up with your little party,” the phone recited in a dull monotone.

“O-Oh,” Cecil’s face lit up as she rubbed the back of her head, tactfully avoiding the Capo’s piercing stare. “Sorry, they sorta… invited themselves over.”

“Couldn’t have continued your little party downstairs?”

“Didn’t really have a choice in the matter,” Cecil grumbled with a shrug. “You know the types. Pompous, spoiled rich types with a stick up their ass thinking they can just throw their ahn around like it makes up for the small dick.”

“I don’t know… I kinda had fun,” Mei croaked, propping her chin on Cecil’s shoulder and flashing a cheeky grin. “Had a few drinks, saw some movies, a fun as hell workout…”

“I’m pretty sure only I was only around for one of those,” Cecil muttered under her breath.

“C’mon, Ceci…” Mei laughed, nuzzling her cheek against Cecil’s. “This is kinda like last year’s Christmas party. Chun picked a fight with the whole of Section 3, we got all that premium vodka from up north, hell did you forgot that you and Xiao fought it out over who would get to kiss Lo-“

With a dull thud, Mei crashed to the ground, Cecil dusting her hands and addressing the bemused Capo with a nod of her head. “… Sorry about her. The Butlers wrapped a wire around her neck and tried to strangle her. I think that along with the alcohol might have made her misremember some things.”

Katriel’s icy glare spoke volumes. Her eyes swept over the red-faced Cecil, the blood caking her cheeks almost a faded sepia compared to the crimson hue born from her embarrassment, then to the dazed and groaning Mei as she picked herself off the ground and rubbed her aching head, then finally to the unconscious Chief Butler slumped over a table. With wide and careful steps, the Capo maneuvered around the morass of dead and unconscious bodies that littered the disheveled and ruined hotel room, finally looming over the silent Elly. Wordlessly, the Thumb Capo unslung her rifle, its barrel aimed directly at the Chief Butler’s forehead.

Only for a hand to grab the barrel and shove it away.

“Can you… please not?” Cecil grumbled, exasperated. “It’s against protocol to strike down helpless combatants once hostilities have ended.”

“You can’t be serious.” Katriel furrowed her brow, her left hand furiously typing. “Did that blow to your eye actually hit your brain or did I step in too late to stop any permanent damage from you two getting strangled to death?”

“Gotta say, Ceci, I gotta side with ol Syndie here,” Mei added, slinging herself over the nearest bed before collapsing into it.

“Do not call me that again.”

“I mean, like, I guess it was fun to be the damsel in distress in one of the Liu’s semi-annual simulated training courses and all,” Mei continued, oblivious to Katriel’s seething stare as she stared at the ceiling, the girl sprawled on the bed. “But like let’s be real, Ceci. Like fuck her, right? We already killed like half of them; why not add one more?”

“Because, Mei, when the video gets forwarded to the higher ups, I will make sure you have to write up the paperwork explaining why we let a Syndicate member blow the brains out of a civilian right in front of us.”

Silence. An awkward cough. Finally, Mei popped up from the bed, her face caked in nervous sweat. “… Haha, there’s no way that anyone here’d know that she didn’t just die from, like, a suspiciously bullet-sized shoe thrown at her face.”

“Uh-huh…” Cecil threw a glance upward. “Serena, what is Cane Office’s recording policy?”

A beep, then the blissfully simple voice of the AI. “Cane Office reserves any and all right to maintain 24/7 surveillance on any and all rooms it reserves for the benefits of its guests. We on behalf of Cane Office assure you that we will not sell your information. [DISCLAIMER], Cane Office maintains its full discretion to use its recordings however it sees fit.”

“… Fuck,” Mei pressed her face into her bloody palms.

Katriel’s scowl, too, made her thoughts quite apparent. She wrenched the rifle free from Cecil’s hands, pinning her with a glare as she took another step toward the unconscious Elly. Her finger eagerly caressed the waiting trigger, the barrel of the gun resting a few inches off the side of the girl’s face. Both the Thumb Capo and the Liu Fixer locked eyes, the relaxed and laidback slouch of the blonde masking the percussive cacophony of her beating heart. Even as she leaned back on her heels, she held her right arm just a hand’s distance away from her side, enough that it could jerk forward and piston the girl’s fist into Katriel’s face should she train her gun on the Chief Butler. The Thumb Capo, too, held the butt of the rifle up level with her cheek, ready to wheel it back and slam it into Cecil’s head if she tried to intervene.

One second. Five seconds. Fifteen seconds. Mei crossed her legs as her head lazily rolled into her cradling hands, the thick tension giving way to an almost mundane boredom. Finally, Katriel blinked and slung the rifle back over her shoulder, shrugging in resignation.

“Thank you,” Cecil said, collapsing into the bed alongside Mei. She winced, an entire day’s worth of pain shooting up her spine and down her toes as the rushing adrenaline finally dissipated. “Fuck, fuck ow…”

“So, what’s exactly your plan with this bitch here?”

The drab and innocuous query nonetheless pricked at Cecil’s head like an N Corp nail. She rubbed her temples, the awkwardness of the question setting in. “I mean, we could… contact the Zwei or something.”

Katriel crossed her arms, expectantly watching as Cecil fished out her phone from her pocket. With three quick taps, followed by a series of beats, a rather bored voice rang out from the speakers. “Hello. You’ve connected with the local Zwei office of Nest S.”

“Yes, hello.” Cecil said immediately, pressing the phone against her face. “We’d like to report a-“

“Please be advised that it is past our active hours. If this is an emergency, please press ‘0.’ Please be aware that requesting a Zwei deployment past our active hours will include an additional 15% surcharge on top of our additional going ra-“

The phone clicked off with a tap of Cecil’s thumb. The phone fell to the bed, Cecil’s annoyed frown bringing a silent cackle to the Thumb Capo’s face. “You’d think a police force wouldn’t have active working hours.”

“It would be rather suicidal to go out in the middle of a Night in the Backstreets.”

“But we’re in a Nest. Did Cane Office seriously not reserve priority access to the Zwei?”

A faint chime. Then, the blissfully irritating voice of the AI eavesdropping on their conversation. “Cane Office would like to remind you that all non-essential amenities must be paid for at the guest’s expense. Cane Office does not anticipate any security issues to arise during the tournament.”

“Is that so?” Cecil scoffed, chucking a pillow at the ceiling. “Well if Nemo doesn’t want to anticipate me shoving my boot up his ass, his nosy AI will shut up and stop listening in on our conversation.”

Fortunately, it seemed that even this brainless program had the common sense not to test the Liu Fixer’s patience any further. As the final strings of Sarajinae came to a close, both Cecil and Katriel stood over the unconscious Chief Butler, the former biting her forefinger as she mulled over her options.

“So can we shoot her now?” Katriel offered.

“We are not shooting her,” Cecil snapped back, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “Stop asking.”

“Are you telling me a bunch of Grade 2 Fixers from one of the highest echelons of the Liu Association is afraid of a little paperwork?”

“Yes.”
“Yes.”

Katriel blinked incredulously, looking at the two frazzled Liu Fixers like they’d gone mad. “… Are you serious?”

“One time, Chun overestimated the strength behind his signature Flaming Dragon Fist and sent a Stray Dog directly into one of K Corp’s affiliate stores while we were quelling a small incident,” Mei said, her eyes listless and her voice dead. “Section 1 received several notices from K Corp, N Corp, Mirae Insurance, Zwei, Oufi, Seven, we somehow even got harassed by Ranga Workshop because they were supposed to be having a promotional event with K Corp at the time. Chun practically begged Section 2 to help him fill out the requisite paperwork or, to quote him, ‘he’d be trapped in his office for the next month.’”

“He needed a whole other Section. … to fill out paperwork?”

“… It took an entire week to send off the last of the papers.”

Katriel furrowed her brow. Even with poignant, red marks still drawing blood around their necks, the two girls looked more appalled by the oppressive specter of bureaucracy than by their very near suffocation mere minutes ago. Be it through an understanding or a resignation of trying to parse the thought processes of the City’s Fixer system, the Thumb Capo hoisted herself up onto the table, the flip-flops dangling from her toes as she once again gestured to the unconscious Elly. “Well, if we’re not killing her and we’re not having the Zwei take her in, what are we gonna do? Lock up the place and call room service?”

Cecil cupped her mouth, her eyes drifting down the limp body of the Chief Butler, from the blood pooling across her head to the moist, silvery threads that now dangled uselessly from her sleeves like the gory remains of some disemboweled Rat hung from the street lamps. She leapt off the bed, creeping up to Elly’s side and pinching one of the many wires that jutted out from her floofy sleeves. She tugged and tugged and tugged, an endless stream of unending wire spitting out from underneath the Chief Butler’s clothes like one of F Corp’s mythical, entropy-defying toilet rolls.

“… Hey Mei,” Cecil began, a devilish grin spreading across her face. “You said you went sailing in U Corp on vacation once, right?”

“Yeah,” she replied, swinging her legs across the side of the bed. “What’s up, Ceci?”

“How good are you with knots?”

The first thought that crossed Elly’s mind was the deliciously tear-stricken face of the blonde Liu Fixer as she choked the life out from her friend. The second was the pounding headache that radiated from her forehead and down her body, the fleeting image of a solid, glass pane flashing in her mind in a fragmented, embarrassed recollection.

The third was how she’d flay the skin from that Association dog until she was begging for death.

Truthfully, her thoughts were consumed by that damned Liu Fixer that’d been so uppity as to forget her station and insult a noble house far above her standing. Worse, to directly insult her. To lay a finger on her. She’d savor every last sip of tea while she forced Cecil to watch as her stupid friend and that Syndicate bitch dangled from the rooftop from the wires wrapped around their necks, then carve an eloquent apology across her skin until the only thing she knew was how to prostrate herself and beg for forgiveness like a submissive little slut.

And then the fun would truly begin.

So it did take a while for Elly, so enraptured by her delectable daydreams, to finally nurse the aching headache assailing her. Only then did she realize the numbness in her fingers, her eyes widening as she began to thrash about, her arms lashed together and secured behind her with a tight set of wires binding her wrists. She’d have kicked a nearby wall in frustration were her legs not wrapped from thigh to ankle in a multitude of wires. Her wires, to be exact. Her poignant screams, each a series of artful and refined curses that no one from the Backstreets had probably ever heard in their miserable lives, let alone could comprehend, were tragically sealed behind a wad of rolled-up wool, leaving only dribble and spit to leak from the sides of her mouth as her widened, crazed eyes looked for the culprit, met only with inky shadows and the sharp stench of blood.

“Hey, Ceci, I think she’s up.”

With a click, the room flooded with light, revealing the two Fixers and the one Syndicate sharpshooter lounging at near the entryway. Strands of shredded cloth ran across their arms and legs as makeshift tourniquets while the blood that once soaked their bodies was reduced to faint stains of a lightish red. The black eye that once took up half of Cecil’s face was now a more manageable blemish ringing her eye like a bottle of eyeliner had exploded in her face, still unsightly enough that the girl’s smirk brought Elly’s blood to a boil. She looked down, now aware of the chair she was secured in, and violently thrashed against the wooden frame, the wood creaking as it struggled to endure the beating from her bare legs.

Bare legs.

She blinked again, the rage cooling just long enough for her to take stock of the absurd thought. Her flowing, embroidered dress, the mark of a refined and perfect Chief Butler like herself, was absent, leaving her with but the sight of her pale skin, bruised across her chest and stomach, and a garish set of frilled bra and panties. Her face lit up in humiliation and anger, her rage subsuming the realization dawning across her as she loosed a tirade of rampant, incoherent screams, all mercifully muted by the socks wrapped around her head.

“Honestly, we didn’t really want to strip you,” Mei chuckled, dangling the torn and bloodied dress of the Chief Butler from between her fingers. “But, like, actually no seriously what was this?”

With a flick of her wrist, a dagger and a roll of wires dropped from underneath the hem of the dress. Another flick produced two more knives, clattering to the floor with a series of thuds. Another flick, another roll of wires. Mei wrung three more daggers free from the almost infinite space contained underneath the dress before dropping it to the ground, gesturing to the staggering pile of concealed armaments in confusion. “Like how do you move around in this? I’m surprised you didn’t tear an artery or something with all of these knives just… lying around underneath your clothes.”

“Mmm mmmmph mm MMMMFFFF MMF MMPH MMMMFFFFFFFFFFF!”

Perhaps if the wood was less sturdy nor the wires crafted from the bootleg material scraped from the dredges of the Outskirts, the frenzied Chief Butler would have torn herself free from her restraints, so wild and crazed was her sudden and vicious thrashing that she resembled some possessed monster from the Ruins more than a Fixer. Thankfully, Nest hotels requisitioned nothing but the most sturdy and elegant furniture from a plethora of renowned Workshops throughout the City and the personal entourage of mansion-bound Fixers cared even more for the quality of their weapons. Though her eyes were wide and no doubt filled with violent daydreams of wringing Cecil’s neck with her own bare hands, the flailing and thrashing Chief Butler firmly secured to a small chair posed no threat to the three outside of spittle staining their torn clothes and bandaged legs.

Stepping back a bit, Cecil cradled her head in her hands as her eyes skimmed over the dilapidated hotel room. The shattered mirror and drawers would likely catch a hefty fine from Cane Office and Lowell, no matter how generous he was, would absolutely not spring to replace their now dented and crushed luggage bags. On a slightly… less headache-inducing note, Elly shared her rather ignoble captivity with a small handful of Butlers who ‘thankfully’ avoided having their spines snapped by the two girls in the brief scuffle, a string of stripped Butlers either strapped to chairs or weakly squirming about in the beds, their eyes either dim with forlorn despair or sharing the unmitigated rage of their leader. There was little to do about the corpses that lined the floor, a mix of bile, blood, and entrails turning the one lush, crimson carpet into a murky, vile black, but in all likelihood trying to drag them to the lobby would likely cause more questions than answers.

And, well, it didn’t seem like the windows were opening any time soon.

Of course, the fleeting success of the two Fixers soon gave way to a more pressing concern, one that managed to succeed where Elly and her band of ruffians had failed in causing the unflappable smile across Mei’s face to fade. Crestfallen, the girl turned to Cecil, despair practically carved into her frown.

“… So, uh, where are we sleeping?”

Shit. Good question. The blonde rattled her head for answers, faced now with a petty but reasonably concerning quandary. While it certainly wouldn’t hurt either herself or Mei to sleep in a rancid hotel room surrounded by decaying bodies and kept awake by the struggling and writhing Butlers that very well could wriggle free and wrap their restraining wires around her throat, the idea was, unsurprisingly, less than appealing. They could bunk with Chun and Miris… the girl kicked herself, now realizing she’d forgotten to ask them where they were even staying. Knowing Chun, she’d have a better time waking a corpse from a graveyard, and Miris likely shut off his phone before he went to sleep. There was Lowell…

Instinctively, she matted down the bits of bloodied hair sticking up from her scalp and ran a hand across her face, gingerly tracing her swollen eye and crooked nose. Surely, Lowell wouldn’t judge her if she showed up looking like she’d crawled right out of a Sweeper’s den, right? And the smell, too. She raised her arm and gave it a faint sniff, wincing as the combination of blood, pus, and chlorine all came together to form a unique fragrance akin to getting splashed with an entire year’s worth of K Corp sewage. And…

Oh by the Head, what if Xiao was there too?

What if they were still awake too?

Imagine if she saw the two of them together, covered up in their sheets, as she collapsed in their doorway dripping in blood and reeking of death. Cecil could feel her very body shrivel up and die from embarrassment. Maybe sleeping in the hallway was preferrable.

Mei, meanwhile, stifled a laugh, watching as Cecil’s eyes went blank as her face grew pale. She wrapped her arm around Cecil’s shoulder and drew her close before waving over Katriel. “Hey, Kat, you mind if we bunk at your place for the night?”

“What did you just call-.” The monotone voice stopped abruptly as Katriel’s thumb hesitantly hovered over its translucent screen. She hung her head and rolled her eyes, a momentary but rather aggravating argument likely raging in her head. “You two are sleeping on the couch..”

“A whole couch?” Mei cheered, dragging Cecil behind her as she ran up and embraced Katriel. “Damn, you really are a generous bunch, huh?”

Katriel thanked the Wings she did not have a tongue as she didn’t have the patience to type out the thoughts swirling around in her subconscious.

“Doncha worry about anything,” Mei continued, beaming like a radiant sun rising over a dismal and leery night. “Ceci and I’ve slept in worse conditions so the couch is probably fine. Like, when she’s sleepy, it’s like she’s checked her brain in at a K Corp vat and left it there for the weekend. We’ve shared a sleeping bag before when we’ve gone on excursions in the Outskirts and, like, she’d actually kinda clingy when she’s really outta it!”

Cecil smiled. Her body burned, her chest heaved, and both fatigue and pain made her legs protest each step. Her bare feet were slick with blood and made a sickening, squishing noise as the three meandered into the hallway, guided by a Katriel whose solemn expression was trying its hardest not to betray the regret she now bore in even entertaining the chatty Fixer’s suggestion. If Mei wasn’t tugging on her wrist and keeping her close behind, she might’ve actually considered the carpet beneath her toes a good enough mattress.

But if she could hear more of Mei’s voice, maybe she’d bear it for now.

… And she had to admit, it was a bit of fun.

“Like one time she wrapped her legs around my waist and you could just hear her sleeptalking about this one cute boy she liked,” Mei continued, pulling the three together and making a wide, expansive gesture with her hands, eyes practically sparkling like stars. “Something about how he shone brighter than the fiery intensity of a thousand su-“

“Mei, if you don’t shut the fuck up, you’re sleeping on the floor.”