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"Maurice, Krill is dead weight, an albatross whose petty schemes have driven you to hide in the muck like a common criminal. But you're not common, you're exceptional. Free yourself of him and see this for yourself."
The voice booms overhead as the Baroness's breaking hallway fades into view - the elevator out a bleak yellow compared to the blue purple haze what indicated death below.
"You know, Momo, this may have been effective... I don't know, maybe twenty years ago?" Krill jabs, leaning forwards. Mo takes this as his sign to run, waiting for the subtle tap on his back, indicating when to jump over the Baroness's gaps in the floor. It's a smooth transition, and Mo flawlessly hops up to the cracked and shattered floor the elevator door sits on top of. Krill adjusts his hold on his gun, and Mo snorts in response, the uneasy swirl of this dimension casting an ominous glow.
"Like I said. Maybe if I were twenty years younger, it would've hurt." Krill continues as Mo easily waddles towards the elevator's open door. "But I would hope we've been through enough that you know I would never think to betray you."
Mo makes that huff sound - not quite a laugh - as Krill risks leaning over to peck Mo's cheek. A small form of sweetness before they get into the ritual, not uncommon of Krill. Mo struts into the creaking elevator, stopping inside and pausing. Usually, it'd be a moment and then they're back to the fray...
... but the elevator doesn't close.
Mo bristles at the fact nothing's happened, balling his paws into fists and raising his nose in the air. Krill automatically starts checking around - something isn't right about this. He remains firmly settled on Mo's back, scanning the small, cramped elevator.
"You two are quick to catch on."
The Doorman's voice reaches them before he appears, back straight and arms folded behind his back. Krill aims his gun for the Doorman on sight - he's never really liked this guy, even if the Mimosas were worth the Doorman's uncanny nature.
"There's no need for hostility. Why not have a chat?"
Krill's eyes narrow. Mo remains poised - one fist to the ground, the other up, ready to move away from a possible threat. They're both on such high alert...
"I thought the Rite of Fairness before the ritual made it clear this sort of thing wasn't allowed." Krill growls with a frown, sparing a moment to look away from the Doorman to check to his sides. Mo's growling under him, clearly about as pleased as he is.
"Ah, but the Patrons won't mind if I experimented, no?"
Krill doesn't answer - honestly, he's not sure how this will muck the Patron's plans if they're both out of the way like this. If the Doorman's here with them, theoretically, that should at least make things even. In theory doesn't mean in practice, though.
"Well. Even if they didn't, they don't get a say here." The Doorman's lips curl into a smile and Mo bears his teeth in return.
The Doorman's on his home turf, now - and he makes full use of it. The elevator expands, putting distance between the Doorman and Mo and Krill. It rattles, like it's unused to such a stretch, but the dimension bends to the Doorman's whims with ease. Mo reaches down to keep his balance, which is exactly when the Doorman strikes.
A hand reaches from a door unseen, grabbing Krill by the neck and yanking him through.
Krill gasps, scratching and flailing as he tries to hook his leg around Mo's chain and pry the hand off of him. Mo flips up and around, as fast as he can manage, to swipe blindly at the offender - his nose couldn't pick that up, and Krill was too busy trying to account for everything that he missed its appearance. It's the Doorman, for all they know that door appeared right as soon as it was needed - but all the same, it grips tighter. Mo swipes again, clawing the white paint off the door holds Krill, swiping to grab Krill's leg. The tug of war lasts for only a moment, before a second door appears, swiftly smashing Mo in the back of his head. It causes Mo to falter just long enough to let go, allowing the hand around Krill's throat to carry him through the door.
Mo reaches for nothing, and whips his head back in the direction of the Doorman.
"Oh? What ails you, Maurice?" The Doorman asks, voice full of mocking pity. "Why don't you tell me what's wrong?"
Mo growls, and charges in the direction of the Doorman's voice. Mo barrels forwards with reckless abandon, teeth bared as he rushes Doorman with everything he has. He can't smell Krill anywhere, and knowing he's in danger means Mo needs to act fast.
"There's no need for that." The room extends, preventing Mo from reaching his target - Mo's barely out of reach to swipe the Doorman's head off. "But unruly guests aren't welcome. I know just the place for you to calm down."
The floor drops under Mo, and he yelps, reaching for anything to stop his fall. The Doorman merely hovers in the air as the floor disappears, Krill now in his outstretched arm, hand closing around his throat.
"MOMO!"
Krill shrieks, struggling to pull away from Doorman's grip. He reaches out, squirming. "What did you do to him!? What have you done-!"
Doorman merely snaps his fingers on his free hand, the scene flipping to one of the Baroness's various rooms. Krill is set in one of the chairs, doors appearing with the same gloved hands and red sleeves to keep him from moving. The plush seat and sturdy wood do nothing to comfort Krill as he struggles anyway, yanking his arms away from the bonds to no avail. The Doorman peers at him, soft smile on his face.
"Now. As you said, my comments weren't working..." The Doorman adjusts his glove. "So I clearly need to take a different approach. What is it? Separation? Death? Infidelity? Betrayal? There has to be a point where you break apart."
Krill grits his teeth.
"I won't tell you anything."
The Doorman leans forwards, his face far too close and eyes far too blue.
"You will."
---
... Mo isn't sure how long he's been out, but it feels like too long. He scrambles to his feet, the familiar weight of Krill no longer there setting off every alarm in his head. Where -
The Doorman.
With a renewed sense of anger, Mo quickly tilts his head up. If he can just find Krill's scent, or even the Doorman's, he might...
Aha!
The blurry darkness of the room matters not, and Mo digs the tips of his claws into the floor. It feels like concrete, and if he can get underground, maybe he can tell where he is...
But the ground doesn't part. It stubbornly refuses to bend under his claws, and it won't break apart, even with a quick strike.
The room is completely dark, and Mo reaches out to see if he can't find a wall. it smells like he was dropped into the basement of the Baroness, where all the storage and corpses are left to hide, but the pool of smells isn't giving him any answers. Cautious steps, he has to hurry, but he'll be no good to rescuing Krill if he's dead or hurt.
His paws find the railing of a doorway, and maybe, Mo's found a way out. The stairs are wooden and creaking, but hold as he reaches the top, allowing Mo to shove at what he assumes is a door. Rather than risk the knob, Mo rears back and shoulder shoves, attempting to stress test it.
Surprisingly, the door pops open, revealing a much more lit hallway. Mo can't make out too many details - red carpets, yellow and brown walls, light fixtures, other doors - but his suspicion about the basement is correct. He lumbers out of the door, and he glances both ways.
...! Krill!
He can smell Krill, very faintly - he just has to find the right door.
"Ah, so you found your way out." The Doorman's voice greets and Mo growls.
"There is no need for hostility. I simply want to know what makes you so devout." There's still no visual sign of the Doorman, and Mo feels his fur stand on end. "Since you insist on wallowing in the muck with him..."
Mo tenses. There's a putrid smell, one similar to the sewers, and Mo starts to back away from the Baroness's basement.
"You have until the muck swallows the hallway, since you'll drown. If you break up with him, I'll let you go. Otherwise..." the voice trails off.
Mo growls, but he has to act fast.
He starts by taking off to the left, running on all fours to try and find a hint of a scent of Krill. The doors each have their own overpowering smell, and there's so many...
He stops shorts, sniffing one of the doors, but his stomach churns at the thought of what Krill could be dealing with.
He can't assume the Doorman made it easy.
Mo slows down, and the smell of Krill finally reaches his nose. The muck's already started to coat the hallway's floor. Mo stumbles to the door, the white paint revealing a shining door number that's too blurry to read.
He hesitantly opens the door. Doorman couldn't have made this easy, right?
---
The hands have yet to let go. They chain Krill to the chair, digging into his skin.
Krill stares hard at the floor, at the Doorman's shoes. His breath is heavy, and his hair hangs over his face.
"And he still chose you?" The Doorman mocks, a false shock to his voice. "After being so irredeemable? He must know, hm?"
Krill doesn't respond.
"Oh, oh! He doesn't. Is that it? He doesn't know who you were before he found you, does he?" The Doorman continues to taunt, and Krill continues to ignore him, staring hard at the floor.
"Maurice doesn't know about the fear? The homelessness? The struggle to remove the ache and pain. The willingness to do anything to get a litt-"
"SHUT IT." Krill snarls, teeth bared as he finally looks up.
"Did I touch a nerve?" The Doorman smiles and Krill grits his teeth.
"I don't need you digging in there." Krill's voice is cold, so cold. "But it doesn't matter."
"I think it does." The Doorman wags his finger. "I was starting to wonder if the only way you'd hate each other is if I melted you together."
Krill feels his blood go ice cold. "What?"
"Think of it like... Sinclair, but less visually appealing." It goes implied that Mo and Krill were never visually appealing to begin with.
"Whatever you're scheming... it won't work. Leave us alone."
The Doorman's coy smile remains.
"Now why would I do that?"
---
Upon opening the door, the broken body of some form of bird falls out into the muck. Mo doesn't hesitate, lifting it up to inspect. There's... something... off about it; if he squeezes the chest, there's something wrong. If Mo had the vision, he may have been able identify the bird as an albatross - but there's no time. Mo hastily drags his claws down the bird's chest, forcing the item out.
It's... a wooden box?
Beyond frustrated already, Mo goes to leave the albatross and the box behind, only to hear it click. Mo squints.
He can hear something, from the Doorman, almost like an intercom. It's some form of bullshit, but Mo's long past the desire to listen to this bellboy shit stain. If he wants to prattle, he can do it to no one. Mo ditches both the box completely, and the bird, to the building muck. It's at his knees now...
If he knows the Doorman, this - and the box - are here to waste his time.
Krill is in danger.
Rather than let himself be distracted, Mo steps into the room the Albatross fell out of - and finds a storage closet. There's nothing of interest, nothing that will help, but..
Mo tests the grounds, boring his claws into the floor.
Bingo.
Mo starts digging, easily shoving away dirt to make himself a tunnel, muck and grime be damned. The hole fills almost as soon as he starts digging, but Mo refuses to back down and simply starts digging elsewhere, displacing the grim long enough to burrow straight down. If he can just get under ground...! It seems for all the Doorman's tricks, he's forgotten to make this particular room mole proof. Mo almost hesitates - what if he accounted for this, and it's a trap?
No. He can't give into fear. He has to find Krill and fast. With the muck far more manageable, Mo leaps and bores into the dirt once more, breaking through and clawing at breakneck speed. He just has to keep track on the smell of Krill.
---
Krill winces as hands once again trap around his neck, intent to kill.
"If I remove one of you, then that will certainly break you, no? Since this isn't getting anywhere." The Doorman jeers. "After all, why would Maurice not stop and listen if he already knew?"
"Maybe he doesn't care." Krill manages, gasping as Doorman shakes him against the chair.
Krill can feel it through his boots, the faintest rumble of the floor.
"Mortals care solely on the actions of the past." The Doorman remarks, his brow furrowing for the first time this entire back and forth. "Why wouldn't he?"
"You would have to know we're not all the same." The Doorman's slowly losing his grip, and Krill's brows furrow in return. "Have you really not been watching?"
"... You're stalling."
"Why would I? What is there to stall for?"
The Doorman's expression goes blank, his hands still around Krill's neck as the rumbling gets louder, and louder.
Krill would sigh in relief of he could.
BAM!
Mo pops out of the ground as fast as he can, clawing the tile to get out of his hole. He barrels for Krill and the Doorman, running on all fours.
The Doorman blinks back into being, and perks at the noise. He swiftly turns away from Krill and-
C R U N C H
Mo's fist makes direct contact with the Doorman's face, sending him flying across the room. He hits the wall with a loud THUD, and slides down onto his back.
"Momo!" Krill automatically lights up as Mo shoves his claws into the Doorman's restraints, causing the hands to let go and retreat. Krill tackles into Mo's chest, throwing his arms around Mo for a brief moment of thankfulness.
Krill climbs back up to his spot - and unholsters his gun.
"We're checking out, now." Krill says, perched on Mo's shoulder as he takes aim - and pops the Doorman in the head with two firm shots from his gun. Krill winces as blue viscera erupts from the Doorman's now missing head.
"And we'll shut the door on the way out."
The Baroness finally gives way, accepting this as its own checkout, and spits Mo and Krill out into the middle of Broadway, under the bridge.
"He tried everything. My past, talking about killing us or fusing us... I'm just glad you showed up when you did." Krill explains as Mo begins to run back to the Hidden King's base. The entire thing left them both really badly off.
They forgo the zipline and run back to the walker - where Pocket's finished clearing the troopers.
"Mo! Krill! Are you two alright?"
"Long story, kid. We're gonna head back first, get ourselves set up, then we'll help push."
Pocket hesitates.
"We'll tell you after the ritual." Krill reassures, and Mo finally hops up for the zipline.
Pocket nods, watching them leave, then turns to follow the wave of troops - only to catch a pair of bright blue eyes watching them from across the lane. Pocket feels their stomach drop, but clutches the case.
---
Mo's feet finally touch the base and Krill's never been more thankful for a patron who can stitch you back together. Mo stretches, and Krill fusses with their items.
"... You know, Momo..."
Mo perks up.
"... I'll be honest with you - the Mimosas aren't worth it anymore."
Mo's face creeps into a smile, and he makes a huffy laugh at the jab. Krill smiles back, affectionately rubbing the side of Mo's head.
Soon enough, they'll go help Pocket, and after that, maybe retirement - and there, they can find some better mimosas, as part of their retirement.