Chapter Text
Blood wasn’t the most unfamiliar thing to Clara when it came to things to dirty her clothes.
In fact she’s had much worse, blood is surprisingly easy to remove even out of pristine white cloth.
No, what bothered her was the way it was slightly sticky.
It reminded her of jam, but blood on its own wasn’t sweet enough to reach that title unless you added some sugar and other ingredients with a good stir and an overnight rest in the fridge if you really wanted it to taste refreshing on some toast in the morning.
How annoying this was, having something that can be a bit sticky when still drying was a pain. Her hammer was so big that with the red fluid her handle might get caught on her coat and mess up her rhythm, that would be embarrassing enough for Clara to consider quitting on the spot!!! A true catastrophe!!! Fumbling in front of her coworkers on day one!!! She might as well get brutally stabbed to death and not get up.
Thoroughly relieved she didn’t get a new reason to duck into a hole and never crawl out again yet still mildly agitated, Clara followed the others back into the bus. She didn’t mind following others but they were starting to get slower and slower so it was making her consider stepping on their feet to get the point across but that’d be too rude.
Thunk, thunk, thunk, thunk, the sounds of people boarding the bus and the huff of air it let out was already becoming familiar. The door sliding shut and the soft sound of people walking over the metal floor more interesting than anything else on the bus, of course that is until a voice cuts through the fragile silence barely in place among the basically strangers.
“Give me a second.”
Ishmael had walked up to Faust, her tone a tad harsher than one would expect from a person asking for a work.
Faust’s expression changed not even the slightest.
“What is it?”
“I joined this company because I was told that I’ll be able to advance my career without slowing down.”
Ishmael’s brows scrunched, her grip on her mace tightening the slightest amount. Yet not slight enough for Clara to miss the motion.
“But right now..? It’s nothing but meaningless violence, like we’re Rats or something.”
“I object to this meaninglessness!”
Don Quixote stepped forward, hand over her chest while the other held her ridiculous jousting lance pointed upwards.
“Those were evildoers who attacked us!”
Clara rested her hand on Don Quixote’s shoulder.
“No, let her talk, meaningless battles can make me fall behind on my sleep quota, you know?”
“Oh~ there’s a quota for something like that?”
Rodion was suddenly very intrigued, visibly at the very least. It wasn’t hard to tell she and the others were eavesdropping since the start. The art of subtlety is dead in this group.
Before Clara could reply, Ishmael continued shushing them.
“Please just- be quiet for a moment.”
Ishmael sighed, turning back all her focus onto Faust.
“…Anyway, if all we’re gonna do is beat up people under orders like thugs, I’ll have to consider changing jobs sooner or later.”
“Haven’t you read the contract?”
Faust made a slight gesture, her head cocking to the side just the slightest bit.
“… Resignation is not permitted.”
Ishmael only squinted at Faust though.
“… Do you think the contract has any sway if it’s based on lies?”
“Of course it does.”
Faust hesitated for not a second.
“There were no lies to it.”
“…”
Ishmael’s eyes widened, just the smallest bit as she likely processed.
“Huh?”
“You don’t think Mephistopheles was built as a mere means of transportation, did you?”
If Faust was trying to make the others feel stupid then it was starting to work on Clara at the very least.
Charon joins the conversation saying no more than a single sentence.
“Mephi is always hungry.”
And yet it’s more than enough to stir Clara’s interest.
“It keeps crying.”
<The bus gets hungry?>
Dante’s ticking was slow, almost as if to mimic the sound of someone truly puzzled.
“When the bus ‘ingests’ fuel, it yields a by-product. Using that you can grow more powerful.”
Faust turned to the most tired looking of all the sinners.
“I’m sure Yi Sang knows this well. When all possibilities are drawn from the mirror…”
He finished her sentence for her.
“There is no limit to growth.”
His voice was extraordinarily calm and final, when no other spoke over him one had to realize he wasn’t as quiet as expected.
“Is the self in the mirror my reflection, or another being entirely.”
Clara turned to the reflection of herself in the window.
She doesn’t know what she was expecting but she looks no different from before ignoring the red splotches on her clothes.
Maybe after that spiel she expected Klaas to pull a trick on her or to delusion a past version of herself. But… no. Just her. Like it’ll always be.
She repressed a sigh, though her lapse in attention got Faust, Ishmael and Dante to check something at the engine of the bus outside.
She’ll suppose she’ll just learn later, if it’s something important someone will probably fill her in.
Speaking of something important, it’s not important per se but Don Quixote still stood next to her looking rather upset if her frown wasn’t just a case of resting bitch face.
As a lone social sacrifice, Clara decides to do the responsible thing and strike up a conversation.
“What's the long face for? Were you offended?”
That might’ve sounded condescending…
“…”
Don Quixote took another moment to frown about being brushed aside before a smile spread onto her face, so very bright.
“Ah! Of course not, fair maiden!” What.
“I was simply lamenting that mine coworkers care not for justice as passionately as myself. But thou must worry not for my mood! As a most honorable follower of the code which fixers abide by and mine mood shall not be sullied by something this meager!”
Augh… Clara might need a dictionary in the near future if she is to understand this creature fluently.
Even so…
“Fkuh- Fahaha! Well as long as you aren’t upset, I guess it doesn’t matter too much then.”
How amusing! Hopefully it’ll stay that way and not get too boring.
Ishmael came walking in with Dante and Faust once more, her arm with her shield on it raised to her mouth as much as it could with the big disc.
“I see… This is what that was about.”
Wow. So explanatory of what just happened.
“There’s no need to get impatient, Ishmael.”
Faust turned to the big window at the front of the bus.
“As we go onward, you’ll naturally…”
She trailed off, Vergilius finished her sentence for her.
“You’ll naturally take on more important tasks than beating the life out of random crooks.”
His eyes squinted, eyes knitting together slightly as he looked into the ginger’s direction.
“I know you’re eager to achieve your goals. . . But do try to be patient.”
As if virtues matter in this blasted place but sure.
“…Tch.”
Ishmael seems to have no retort ready, Faust on the other hand did have more to say.
“Since this works by whisking out one of our limitless possibilities from the mirrored world, it’ll have overwritten a part of our memories.”
Uhm? What lore did Clara just miss?
“You’ll get used to it in no time.”
“Whoa, hang on. . . That sounds a bit dangerous don’t it?”
Rodion took a step forward, smile straining at the edges. If this was a comic book Clara imagines she’d be drawn with little sweat curves on her face.
“What if I’m no longer my old self by the end?”
Vergilius started to look like ignoring his own instructions about patience, Faust proved to be a paragon of calm.
“Don’t mistake yourself for the ship of Theseus.”
Heh? What’s that?
“While it’s true that you borrow the identities and memories, the system is designed to ensure that you don’t lose control over your own existence.”
Yi Sang sighed softly.
“Different though your reflection may be, it is bound to vanish when you walk away from the mirror.”
He looked at the window next to his seat, as if he expected to see something more than himself.
“. . . How our capability grows…”
Faust turned to Dante.
“Ultimately depends on you, manager Dante.”
<Me?>
“It is up to you to place the most efficient figment of possibility on us at the right times.”
Outis’ body language was stiff and gave naught away about how she felt. Yet her addition to the conversation showed signs of interest.
“I believe that’s what you call a metamorphosis.”
But maybe it’s also to feel smarter in some way.
Faust gave a slight nod.
“Yes, I suppose it’s a form of transformation.”
<It’s reversible though, so I don’t think calling it metamorphosis is most accurate.>
Dante thought, they tapped their fingers methodically one after the other on the side of their clock head.
<it would be easier to compare it to a reversible reaction like in chemistry.>
Outis crossed her arms and gave a firm nod.
“Right you are executive manager, my own inability to come up with a more proper description of the process shames me greatly and I truly appreciate your ability and lack of hesitance to correct us upon these grave mistakes.”
Ryoshu blew some smoke out of her mouth, Sinclair making an attempt to hold in his breath in front of her.
“B.L.”
Boys love? Wait no… that makes no sense.
Rodion chuckled, her smile having grown less strained.
“Golly, where’d you learn big words like that?”
“I picked it up.”
Outis replied, focusing on this in favor of Ryoshu’s comment that meant… something Clara didn’t bother to decipher.
“My prior profession required meeting people with various occupations.”
"Verwandlung, huh…”
Clara couldn’t tell if Gregor was muttering to himself or asking a question.
Either way, it didn’t matter since Vergilius took the metaphorical steering wheel of the conversation again.
“Done chatting?”
Not that it’ll be much of a conversation going forth considering those two words used together.
“Let’s make the way first. You’ll spend more time together than you’d ever ask for, so keep that conversation for later.”
“Huh? More of those twits appeared?”
Heathcliff gripped his bat a bit tighter, instead of a scowl a smile spread over his face.
“Guess the Rats here really like to get their faces smashed in. I’m not complaining.”
“Haha~ for someone who’s not complaining, you’re not making much of an effort to leave the bus.”
Hong Lu commented, Clara thought it more a comment than a taunt as he was leaving the bus but she doubts Heathcliff saw it that way as well.
Nevertheless she evinced the ancient rule of ‘not my problem’ and made sure to be neither directly in front of behind the two in line. Just to be safe.
As fun as this whole forest escapade seemed, she was standing on sturdier ground now. How pleasant! Sturdier ground meant better swings which meant dealing with the enemy faster.
Dante walked forth with their new designated crew, they tapped something on their PDA system and… Ishmael switched appearance?
Maybe this is what they were talking about?
Embarrassing, she’s missed something important.
Ah well, she’ll just have to pretend she knows what future conversations are about!
Well the main group was facing the funny rats up front that left her to give tickets leading right to the graveyard to the other rats that popped up and tried to pounce, free loot.
“Soldiers!”
Outis’ voice boomed on the sidelines, pointing her weapon at approaching rats who took a step or two back at her gaze.
“It is our mission to keep the executive manager safe even if we are not under direct orders, let us rise up and round about these squabbling fools for the executive manager to execute.”
“Verily!”
Don Quixote took a wide stand, preparing her lance for jousting.
“Us villainy heroes must useth our abilities to strike down these villains!”
“What are you-”
Outis couldn’t say much more before Don Quixote already rushed towards the poor retreating Rats.
Not wanting to fall behind Outis dashed after her, Heathcliff showed no patience at all following close behind, which ended up drawing the rest of the benched sinners to partake in atrocities.
It reminded Clara of dominoes, but it didn’t matter if this ended up going a bit faster right?
Clara leaned back a little before setting off, making sure to stay behind Sinclair.
This proved to be a bad idea, when Sinclair clashed right in front of her she did not possess half the brain to slow down.
Which caused all three to topple over, with the instincts she didn’t have to hit the breaks Clara managed to roll off.
“Kyege… Sorry Sinclair.”
Clara flashed the little German boy a grin before running off to find an unoccupied enemy.
It didn’t prove too hard because whichever Rat that got involved in the free for all that ended up being the ‘backup’ group slamming themselves into enemies were stunned into confusion.
Disorganisation helps!
Clara rushed up to the first slightly panicked Rat she saw and spun to cause the most damage possible, the Rat met her eye briefly.
“Wink!”
Sparkle!
Not that the corpse underneath her hammer was sparkly.
Or that she could even wink anymore.
Clara turned around and tried to run to the closest Rat possible, though before she could even grace them an arm was launched through their skull.
She looked left and right then picked up the arm and waved it into the direction it was flung from.
“Heya! You dropped this!”
Ryoshu who was standing beside a mushy this-was-once-a-body pile of gore slowly turned to Clara.
Clara threw the arm into her direction and bolted to find another poor Rat to pancake before they suffered the fate Ryoshu would curse upon them.
Haha! No! Nope! No! Hell no!
Well that was an interesting experience.
Clara waited in front of the bus seeing everyone get knit back together by Dante.
Actually, she questioned how Dante was doing it. It seemed they panicked and did it on instinct then almost passed out.
She asked if they needed someone to lean on, but they shook their head and commented that only one person died.
She’s concerned how quickly they’ve gotten into that mindset, should she make a list of potential conversation topics to bring up if they concern her enough?
Nevermind that, back to the scene.
Clara was currently watching everyone’s wounds get stitched up before they headed inside. The best way she could really describe what just happened was a really unhinged and gory version of a bar fight happening outside.
She’s pretty sure the injuries she obtained are all from friendly fire, lesson learned. Don’t trust your stupid new coworkers with your safety. They’re the most immediate threat to it.
Speaking of immediate threats, she’d rather not have Vergilius get impatient and punt them all to hell.
She has the distinct feeling she’s already visited hell, in fact it felt like her mind was getting clearer the closer she got to death. But that’s probably just how death works right? She’ll ask Klaas about it later.
Someone who didn’t seem very clearheaded though was Sinclair, Clara couldn’t help but think he looked like a sad stickbug in a desert.
Without thinking about it too hard, she’d already made it over to his side.
“How’s ya mind holding up kid?”
Clara conveniently ignored their similar ages. She reserves the right to call him kid. She’s tall. She gets to do that.
Sinclair jumped slightly from Clara’s voice, she intentionally tried not to touch him for that very reason but he seemed spooked either way.
“Ah uhm, I’m fine, it’s fine. Hahaha. . .”
“. . .”
Clara had to fight for her life to keep her smile on her face.
“I give you a solid four out of ten as your acting score- but seriously, you’re looking a bit pale.”
Clara raised her hand, hovering it over his shoulder. He took a step away.
“No, it's fine. I’ll uh. Get used to it.”
He practically rushed back to the bus, almost as if Sinclair was burned by Clara’s presence and was trying to escape.
Haha! He must just be nervous, this wasn’t the best introduction to the job. Especially since one couldn’t just quit or something.
It’s not because of her. . . It’s NOT because of her, right? Well. There’s no way to know yet sooo…
Better to put a pin in that and get on the bus.
The door shut behind her and the engine hummed to life again.
She had to question how everyone got on the bus before her, maybe she was just a bit slow?
“Road’s clear.”
Charon announced very helpfully.
“But Verg, Mephi could’ve run them over just fine.”
Huh?
<…Huh?>
Thank you Dante.
<What did I fight for, then?>
Nevermind Dante. You didn’t fight shit.
“Calm yourself Dante.”
Vergilius replied, despite supposedly being unable to hear the clock headed person.
“It’s not fair to ask a toddler to run when it has yet to take its first steps.”
Rodion leaned over Clara’s shoulder, whispering.
“How much do you want to bet Vergilius can understand them?”
Clara fought the urge to cackle.
“None, I’m too broke to gamble.”
“No one is ever too broke to gamble.”
“Then call me no one.”
“Okay no one, how much do you want to bet?”
“A grain of sand.”
“Boo.”
Clara suddenly got the feeling she was getting a horrible side eye from Vergilius.
“Furthermore. . . Dante. As manager it’s your job to ‘manage’ your staff.”
Clara decidedly looked away from Vergilius.
“And I. . . Am the guide. I decide where we go and how we arrived there. Do you get it?”
<How am I supposed to not question a stranger who can’t even hear me?>
Dante tensed up slightly, ticking quickening ever so slightly.
A moment of silence.
“I heard ticking, so what did they say. Ms Faust?”
Dangit. She should’ve taken the bet.
Faust stared him right back into the eyes.
“Nothing much.”
No hesitation.
“Some verbose agreement that was. A nod should be enough to let me know that you approve, Danteh.”
Vergilius took a few steps towards Charon.
Charon hummed slightly.
“Now, Mephi, off we go. Woohoo.”
“How’re you feeling, Charon?”
“Extreme. Excitement. About to walk on air, reports Charon.”
“…Good.”
<So, where are we going?>
Faust was kind enough to properly translate the question this time.
“Vergilius, they’d like to know the destination.”
“Sigh. . .”
Clara couldn’t tell if Vergilius sighed or just said the word sigh. A weird thing to mishear.
“I believe I told you that already, Dante.”
<But just where are we going?>
Dante put extra emphasis on the word ‘where’ but gained no answer.
“I believe you have already gotten your answer, Dante.”
Faust closed her eyes.
“Might Faust suggest confirming today’s close of business for the sinners, we are not expected to reach our destination until the late morning of tomorrow.”
<Oh, I can do that… How?>
Clara would also like to know how, mostly because she’s starting to feel like her body’s gonna fall asleep at any moment if she’s left standing for much longer.
“Simply state the confirmation.”
Faust stared at Dante as if they had eyes to peer into.
“I will handle the rest.”
<Oh. Uhm. I confirm the close of business for today? . . For the sinners?>
Could’ve used more confidence, Clara gave a polite applause anyways. At least two others joined her, sarcastic or not.
Faust took over.
“Thank you kindly. Starting now, you all will be given a maximum of twelve hours to partake in sleep and rest; the duration is subject to change. Good night.”
The sinners all headed to the hallway without much chatter, not that Clara expected a lot of conversation yet.
That required familiarity and that wasn’t a luxury they currently had.
It didn’t matter a lot! They’d have time, plenty of time and she trusts that she can fulfill her purpose within that time!
Heathcliff had gone through the same door her room was supposed to be behind. Her hand twisted around the doorknob, despite knowing she’d enter the room she only briefly chucked her two items into earlier it was still unnerving that the possibility of entering another sinners room was… possible.
She twisted the doorknob. No agitated sounds of an actual living person.
She shook off the unnatural nervousness, walking in and closing the door behind her.
The room looked the same as the one she’d gotten a glance of hours ago.
Even the chilly temperature of the room was identical.
The room was made out of wood instead of metal plating, like her first one. It felt almost nostalgic, there was a bookcase next to a desk. A closet. A fireplace with two rapiers hanging above it, one was a well maintained silver weapon. Pristine and almost glittering. The other was barely sharp, hilt rusted in the slightest from carelessness, unsheathed. Its original cover was lost long ago.
The two comfortable things in the room to sit on were the bed and a beanbag shoved into a corner next to a mystery door Clara didn’t care to open.
By all means this room should’ve been cozy, yet the way the wood in the fireplace was replaced with a glass mimicry of fire and all the books and papers were replaced with sand along with some floor boards looking to be rotting? It felt detached, cold?
Actually. It was literally cold and the blue hue of lights didn’t help.
Clara sighed softly, she’d have to try her luck with a broom later.
With a few swift steps she was close enough to the bed to throw her body onto the mattress.
Her eyes shut closed.
She thought about what happened up till now.
She died.
Her head was clear.
She woke up.
Her job started.
She fought.
She got hurt.
Her manager rewound something to undo the damage.
Her coworkers are either scary or scared.
It’s complicated.
How should she feel about this?
She lamented upon it, she lamented upon it with such focus she had not realized she had fallen asleep once more.
Somewhere in the distance, you hear my voice calling you over. You Ignore me.