Chapter Text
“Remember, if you aren’t here in two hours exactly—“
“—You’ll make us regret it,” Rodya finishes. “We get it, Vergie! Just relax~”
Vergillius, eyes glowing a faint red and glowering in a way that coukd make children weep, is clearly not relaxed. He is, in fact, so not-relaxed that the people lined up at the ticket booth nearby are starting to turn and stare at him. Although they might also be staring at the group as a whole.
Dante (who is definitely being stared at, at the very least) raises their hand and ticks meekly: <<We remember everything you've said, Vergillius. I even wrote it in my PDA. Seriously, it’s all good.>>
Faust clears her throat. “The manager reports that they have written down your instructions, and that they are confident in their ability to follow them.”
<<Hey, don’t put it all on me! Just because I’m the manager doesn't mean you can let me handle it all alone.>>
Vergillius makes a hmm noise. “But Dante is not the only one the instructions apply to. So, among the Sinners, who would care to repeat one of the rules?”
Outis snaps to attention and steps forward. “The first rule was as follows: do not cause an incident requiring the involvement of Limbus as a company. The second—“
“Someone else.”
“Mmm…” Gregor scratches his neck. “I mean, being back here in two hours counts as one of them, ‘ne?”
“Acceptable.”
“Don’t let Dante get killed, kidnapped, coerced, or courted,” says Ishmael.
<<Huh?! Why is courted on that list?!>>
“You can be easily manipulated, Exectuvie Manager. Someone could attempt to earn your favour with overly-affectionate words in order to twist you to serve their own goals.”
<<…Gee. Thanks, Outis. Very noble of you to look out for me like that.>> Ticking noises aren’t the best for conveying sarcasm, but Dante manages.
Outis either does not notice or does not care. “Of course, Executive Manager. Your safety is my top priority.”
Vergillius clears his throat. “Except for the following few hours, in which you have a charge of equal priority. Right?”
Outis opens her mouth as if to protest, then shrinks back. “…Yes, of course. Protecting Charon will be foremost in all of our minds. We will spare no expense- metaphorically- to ensure her wellbeing.”
Vergillius smiles grimly. “Good. Because you all know what will happen to you if any harm befalls her, correct?”
“H.B.C.”
“…Horrors beyond comprehension.”
Unsurprisingly, Ryōshū is the only one who looks even slightly excited by that.
Looking very bored by this whole conversation, Charon tugs on Vergillius’s sleeve. “Verg. Charon wants to go into the fair now.”
His gaze softens momentarily as he looks down at her, then snaps back up to focus on the Sinners. “Fine. You should be competent enough these days to not need the rules anyways. Just… make intelligent decisions.” He sighs like he already knows that's impossible. “Be here in two hours sharp.”
With that, he turns on his heel and walks… somewhere. Unsurprisingly, he hadn't chosen to elaborate on the “errand” he’d been asked to run.
Fortunately, it was one that didn’t require the rest of the bus. And even more fortunately, as they had been driving to their location, Rodya had noticed an advertisement in Meursault’s morning paper for a fall fair only a few blocks from where they had intended to park. And most fortunate of all, before Vergillius could flatly refuse the request, Charon had said she wanted to go.
Now here they are, staring at the brightly- lit gateway through which heaven awaits. Heaven being two hours of fun, relaxation, sugar, and the rare opportunity of non-lethal thrills.
Dante nods decisively. <<Right. Let’s go.>>
The line is moving quickly, so it’s only a few moments before they reach the ticket booth. Outis slaps a hand down on the plywood. “Fourteen tickets, if you please.”
The attendant, currently blowing a massive pink bubble of gum, looks up at the group, then down at their weapons. She pops the bubble with a sharp snap.
“…Weaponry isn’t allowed inside, so you’ll have’ta check it. And no causing trouble. This is a family friendly environment, y’know.” She waves a hand at the sign stapled to the wall, which does indeed show a little drawing of a smiling figure handing over their rapier.
Outis scowls, puffing her chest out in preparation for a quality argument. “How dare you assume we’re nothing but a band of miscreants— we need our weapons to protect the Executive Manager from harm, as specified in our highly normal and legal business contracts—“
“We will willingly check our weapons," Faust interjects. “Here is the card to be charged for the expense.”
Outis hmphs, but hands over her gun. With varying degrees of trepidation, the others follow suit. A massive pile of weaponry is quickly amassed atop the counter.
“How’d you even fit that many weapons on your body?” Rodya asks. Ryōshū only responds with a smile, as she pulls a meat tenderizer out from somewhere and holds it up to the attendant.
Behind them, people have started to grumble.
The attendant sighs and raises a hand. “Okay. Fine. Just stop, you’re holding up the line. If you've got other weapons just don't take them out. Please. Go inside now.”
She waves them in with a harried expression as a few other workers begin figuring out how to move the precariously-tilting stack of weapons.
And so, the LCB department passes through the gated archway into the hallowed realm of Unrestrained Autumn Fun (as the sign atop it proudly proclaims). Outis immediately marches over to Faust. “Was that not an irresponsible decision? Better to remain armed outside the fair, than defenceless against attacks in an environment we’re unfamiliar with.”
Faust shakes her head slightly, forging ahead through towards the thoroughfare. “Your assessment is missing a key variable: Dante’s PDA was not taken. Although revealing our identity usage would most certainly be problematic, it would re-equip us with weapons should an extreme situation occur. Additionally, most of us have at least some skill in hand to hand combat.”
Yi Sang raises a hand.
“I am aware that you do not. At the very least, your body could serve as a shield to protect the manager.”
Outis ponders this, then nods approvingly. “Very well. I will begin making a list of who should be delegated to protection detail, and who would be better served as a meat shield."
Behind them, a cacophony has begun to rise up.
“Were we to indulge in sweets first, our digestion might cause ill to befall us upon our riding of rollercoasters!”
“But chiquita, we haven’t eaten in hours. And what if they run out of the good snacks by the time we get there?”
“I think the games could be fun. I’ve heard that the prizes you can win are made of a material that can just disintegrate into thin air~”
“It’s because they’re made of shit, mate. Simple as that. Trying to win the games doesn't sound half bad, though.”
“As long as we don’t leave Dante alone. Seriously, I don’t think you’re all worrying enough about how prone to injury they are.”
“They’re a big grown up clock, ain’t they? And the worst injury they've ever got was you stabbing them, lass.”
“I’ve apologized, so shut up. And Ricardo would have fully killed them. Whose fault was that, huh?”
“…”
“Before I passed out back when we were fighting Kromer, I saw a whole half of Dante’s body was melted! So that was probably the worst injury they’ve gotten, if I had to guess~”
“And they only survived that because a team arrived with K Corp Ampules, which we don’t have, so—“
“—But forsooth, why can we not merely try a few rides afore we move elsewhere—“
“—They’ve got candy apples too! And—“
“I would quite like to try one of these candied apples. The combination of flavours seems ideal in its sweet simplicity. However, if I may—“
“—Lass, you're acting like none of the rest of us care about Dante. We’re not stupid—“
“T.O.F.”
“That One First— Ryōshū, I don’t think that’s very safe. Look, the screws are rusted through—“
“—Well, don’t act like you’re stupid, then! We're not just here to have fun, we’ve got a mission!”
<<Um, guys?>>
“We could always split into smaller groups, and each go to the area we want. I’m staying far away from the big rides, personally. Don’t want my arm, eh… bugging out.”
“Maybe the kids would find it to be another interesting attraction!"
“I don’t want to be an attraction, bud.”
<<Guys.>>
“—Maybe we can draw lots for who gets to pick, or some such? Anyone got a paper we can use?”
“Only one of these is time-limited, though, and that’s the food! C’mon, please?”
“By the same reasoning, would not the games be considered similarly? For the best prizes may be snatched away before we have even laid eyes upon them—“
“—Stop walking off in different directions! What did I just say about this being a mission—“
“—But the roller of coasters—“
<<GUYS.>>
The party falls silent, all heads turning to Dante… who is frantically looking around.
<<WHERE’S CHARON.>>
Twelve heads (and one clock) begin to swivel about— first checking the immediate area, then searching further afield.
They stand, at present, in the middle of the thoroughfare, multiple paths leading off to other parts of the fair. Flashing lights and the rumble of rollercoasters and the cries of children surround them. Nowhere in the crowd can the desaturated figure of Charon be made out.
Dante’s clock has begun making a noise vaguely akin to a Geiger counter when held up to a boulder made of pure radium. <<One of you was watching her, right? Please tell me one of you knows where she went.>>
A moment of silence (aside from the Geiger counter. And the entire loud fair around them) falls, with no one seeming willing to break it. Then Ishmael points to Outis. “Honestly, I thought you were handling it. Since you’re the one who responded to Vergillius about it.”
A murderous expression glimmers in Outis’s eyes. “I was engaged in discussing strategy at the head of our procession. I am, of course, capable of multitasking, but the charge was placed upon all of us. So by the same logic, why weren’t you watching her?”
“I was trying to keep everyone—“ she gestures pointedly at Don Quixote “—from running off in other directions and abandoning Dante.”
“…An acceptable excuse. What about the rest of you slackers?”
Shockingly, no one seems willing to speak up under the face of her wrath.
Rodya points at Gregor. “Greg, weren’t you talking to her a bit ago?”
“Before we went through the gate, yeah. But since we got in here I've been focusing on keeping my arm away from everyone. I thought I passed her off to Ryōshū, she’s real good with kids.”
“I.T.C.H”
“She says she told you to take over, Dante.”
<<That’s what that meant? I thought I was getting better at translating… I thought you were voting for us to go to the games first…>>
Suddenly, Heathcliff chuckles. “Wait, what’re we worrying for? Every time something like this happens it turns out Tin Man was watching and didn't think to let us know. Bet it’s the same this time, ey?” He elbows Meursault jovially.
All eyes turn to Meursault.
<<Meursault? Please say you know where she went.>>
His face as unmoving as a granite cliff, Meursault raises a piece of paper held in his gauntlet. “I was perusing this map of the fair. There is a corn maze.”
…
“We’re fucked, mates. It’s been nice knowing you.”
Sinclair begins hyperventilating.
Gregor lights a cigarette, ignoring the disapproving looks of a nearby couple. “Me and Outis could give a quick primer on how to deal with torture techniques… but we’d probably be better off all killing ourselves before he can find us.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. These weaklings could never deal with torture, but our deaths would not have any impact, as Vergillius could simply order Dante to revive us.”
Gregor shakes his head. “I meant for Dante to kill themself too.”
“How dare you! The Executive Manager—“ She falls silent, and the two veterans look deep into each other’s eyes for a moment. “…You may be right. I will set a secondary timer for ten minutes before—”
<<We aren’t committing group suicide, guys. This is really bad, obviously. But we just lost her. There's still time to find her. And then Vergillius never has to find out.>>
Hong Lu nods serenely. “Given how excited she was about the fair, she’s probably just gotten a head start on exploring. If we find her it’ll all be fine.”
Ishmael looks over Meursault’s shoulder at the map and grimaces. “We’ve got two hours. Even assuming she stays in the fairground, it’s a big space. We’d have to move fast to cover it all at all, and it’s not impossible that she’d just move around as well and we’d miss her completely.”
Outis sighs. “Miss Faust?”
Faust has had her eyes closed, a slight furrow in her brow as though her head hurts. Now she opens them, makes eye contact with Outis, and nods slowly.
“There is no choice. We will need to split up.”