Fifth Sin: Performance Past And Present (Pt. 1)-

--- Mercer ---

“And here I was thinking you forgot about me.” Clockwork’s voice rasped through the air.

“Come on, Clocky you don’t give yourself enough credit. Your performances are unforgettable.” He assured the man-thing even if he couldn’t see it anywhere.

“Ha-ha!” The eldritch playwright’s voice boomed. “Your praise… is appreciated.”

“And deserved.” He nodded, looking around for Clockwork’s ‘body’. “I know we’ve got a fair few hours before the fog rolls in but I wanted to check and see if anything has changed since I last saw you. See if we can’t narrow down where this thing is nesting.”

“Hmm… let me think…” Clockwork told him, meaning something less along the lines of ‘remembering recent events’ and more ‘briefly go over my domain’. “Ah-ha! I believe I’ve found something!”

A light on the side of the theater flickered on, revealing Clockwork’s inhumanly proportioned body as turned away before waving for him to follow. “This way please…”

Knowing that Clockwork could see things he couldn't, he followed the puppet deeper into the theater, instinctively ignoring the way the halls twisted and turned in patterns that had his internal map doubling back over itself.

“As the true saint of the way, I’m sure you’re aware of the theater’s more modern modifications?” Clockwork inquired as he spun and began walking backwards. Or rather his torso faced Mercer while his legs continued to walk forwards.

“Not sure I’d call them modern, given how they were added before my time, but yeah.” He nodded, looking over movie and play posters from decades ago lining the wall. “Way back when -during the ‘Saint’s Way’ days- the stage theater was the main draw but when things started falling apart the owner bought out the two failed stores next to the theater and converted them into movie theaters in the hopes of recouping his losses without losing the stage itself. Not that that saved this place.”

“Very good!” The playwright applauded before spinning back to the normal orientations, “Your knowledge anyway, it’s a shame that old William couldn’t keep this place afloat. Sadly, humans cannot live on but a prayer and a dream…”

“Maybe,” He shrugged, wondering if the theater’s new owner could survive on just those things, “but we wouldn’t have met if he hadn’t gotten desperate.”

“True!” Clockwork laughed. “And I’d like to think I’ve done the man proud. After all, the theater is more alive than ever before!”

“In more ways than one.” He agreed, watching the way some of the shadows twisted and danced as if they were alive.

“Quite right, quite right…” The puppet agreed, his limbs seemingly going limp before bonelessly flopping against a door and gracelessly shoving it open. “Still! There is a point to all of this…”

“Eh, there’s no point to anything beyond the point of doing it.” He argued, pretending not to have noticed Clockwork’s mistake as he followed into the room lined with several shelves full of film reels and an old school movie projector set up in the center. “And if it’s point enough to do it, then clearly it’s point enough. Period.”

Stolen story; please report.

“Semantics! Even though you are of course correct.” Clockwork nodded, his limbs regaining traction as they began moving in something tangentially human. “What I meant however was how, mind and matter are interchangeable so long as the performance is believable! And believability is determined by the actor’s connection to their audience! An audience we sadly lack…”

He processed that for a moment as Clockwork dramatically collapsed into a nearby chair. And for that moment he felt the faint tingling in his brain that told him he was treading on something as… insightful as it was dangerous before what the dramatic playwright was saying finally clicked. “The Bleed ‘s infected your theater despite being outside of it.”

“Correct, my darlingly deductive detective!” Clockwork clapped, before letting his head fall. “It’s such an annoyance…”

“Alright, and I’m guessing because of that infection, removing the Bleed will just double down its presence here.” He sighed, wishing he wasn’t wearing his helmet so that he could massage his temples. (Because it’s always one more complication after another…)

“Something like that…” The eldritch playwright confirmed as he climbed out of his seat. “Which is why instead you shall perform upon my stage! With your performance we shall cast out all who dare claim that our art is undeserving of the spotlight! A spotlight you can use to follow rats back to their nest.”

“Right, burn the infection out and track it down to its source.” He summarized for himself before crossing his arms. “That doesn’t really tell me which ‘stage’ you want me to perform on though, because I figure if they were infesting this cinema they’d be a little more visible.”

“Ah, forgive me! You’re so quick sometimes I forget your vision is impaired.” Clockwork apologized, before making his way over to a shelf full of film reels. “Each of these represents a stage, more than one of which has been infested.”

“So we play the reels and it’ll set the stage.” He guessed, knowing how Madness spaces like the theater tended to work.

“Correct again old friend!” Clockwork laughed, before pulling three reels free and setting them on the table. “Given how you’re the artist I’ll let you set the stage. Just know each time you clear one of these reels the remaining vermin will flee to their next nest, twisting it as their power grows.”

“Right, well… letting me set the stage doesn’t really help me when I don’t know what each of these reels represents.” He couldn’t help but point out despite having a fairly clear understanding of what each reel was based on the way it made him feel.

“Don’t you know?” Clockwork asked him with no small amount of amusement. “The best stories write themselves! What’s on each reel changes person to person. I won’t know the twist until you do.”

“Of course you don’t.” He grumbled, knowing that there was no getting out of Clockwork’s eccentricities this time. (Sometimes it’s just better to just roll with the Madness rather than fighting it.)

He looked the reels over, this time noticing that each of them had a name on the side, one that despite not being in any language he recognized, was one that he could easily understand as they read themselves into his mind. (I really hate that I can read these…)

There was a cruel irony to the three reels that he was sure completely flew over Clockwork’s inhuman head, especially if, like the eldritch playwright said, they were as much based on him as the reels themselves. (Which explains why I know what each of these is going to throw at me…)

Knowing that he wasn’t going to get out of this he tapped the reels. “Load them up in this order.”

“Oh, I can already tell, this will be one hell of a performance.”

With that, the world went dark.