An expectant silence fell on the pair as they waited for the approaching figure to show themselves. Amber light pooled in through the arched doorway as a bearded man stepped through, carrying a lantern.
“Hey!” Sally beamed. “Can you let me out, please?”
The man stepped closer, his brow furrowed and confusion on his face. He looked near middle-aged, and was dressed in chain-mail with a dirtied white tabard covering most of his torso. He paused halfway through the room and lifted his light source up to get a better look at her.
“What are you? One of His fiends?”
She pulled a face. “Not sure I like the way you capitalized that. I’m a Player. Are you a Player as well?” If so, he was the oldest one she had ever seen. Must be different rules here.
“I am. But you do not look like a Player, and we haven’t had anyone new for months. You are a trick.”
“Am not. I’m here to help you fight against 'Him'.”
She had agreed with Chuck that it was best not to clue in potential worlds that she was there to eventually absorb them. Even if her intentions were for the best and she would be saving their lives, not only would there be people that rejected the notion, but in the case she actually died it would leave people stranded and hopeless. Certainly put a serious coat over the whole venture.
“I will let the Baron know a Monster is here purporting to be our savior. He will decide your fate in due course.” The man shook his head sadly, and he lowered the lantern.
“Do not turn your back on me, pal.” Sally bared her sharp teeth. “I do not like being caged up.”
He didn’t respond, his tired eyes lingering on her briefly as he then turned to leave.
[Chain] shot out, striking him in the back and yanking him towards the zombie. As he slammed against the bars, the lantern clattering to the floor; she held his head back against the metal cage with his chin while her other hand gripped at his throat.
“Say, what’s your name, pal?” she hissed in his ear.
He gulped. “Claude.”
“Oh, as in ‘the nice zombie woman clawed my throat out’?”
“N-no.”
She sighed. “Go tell the Baron I seek an audience. Let me out or I’ll find a way out. I’m going to be very grumpy… and hungry, if I have to do it myself. Nod if you understand.”
Claude squirmed against her grip, attempting to nod.
“Good.” She let him go and he stumbled away.
His hand went up to rub at his assailed throat and he furrowed his brow as he watched the zombie flip a dagger up and down repeatedly. Down at his side, the sheathe for his blade stared back, empty.
Sally grinned to herself as she watched the man scurry away. So few Players and she could have easily started eating through them. A dagger was a good start—something familiar—but hopefully once she’d received her due freedom she could take better stock of what this world asked of her.
“Did you see that?” Archie asked from beside her. “Damnable reprobate gave me nary a gaze to acknowledge my existence.”
She raised an eyebrow at the cat. “Can people actually see you? I don’t need them thinking I’m even crazier than I actually am.”
“The truth is clouded by the unknown, and I do not wish to risk erring by jumping to conclusions.”
With a narrowed glare, she exhaled deeply. When they had said Archie would be different based on the world, she had expected minor mood changes, not an entirely unforgiveable personality alteration. Maybe clicking the earring again would put him away.
Her hand wavered, considering it.
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Dent leaned back in his chair. “Got the confirmation back from Archie. They’ve arrived safely.” He turned his eyes over to the Architect. “Hells, Chuck. You’re sweating like crazy.”
“Ah?” He looked over at the swordsman. “Oh, yeah. A little more nervous about this one.”
“How come? All the numbers are coming back as green as spring grass.”
Chuck sighed and brought out a cloth to wipe his face. “I know. A troubled world with actual Players is just a step up in terms of stakes? No… not only stakes, but responsibility…”
The swordsman gave him a wry smile. “They’d die without our intervention, correct?”
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“Statistically as close to one hundred percent as possible.”
“Then let them be mad if they want to. At least they’ll be alive to be pissed at you, right?”
The Architect nodded. “Out of the target worlds, this one feels like ‘meddling’ even if it’s done with good intentions. Still, we knew what we were getting into when we drew all this up.”
“Having a heart and doubts doesn’t mean you’re in the wrong, just means you haven’t lost sight of yourself. Of course, you have me here to bully you into behaving as well.” Dent grinned. “Theo has been in the waiting room since Sally got here. How long do you want to leave it?”
Chuck sighed. “He isn’t going to get bored and into mischief, is he?”
“No. I threw out a bag of rice across the waiting room floor, so he should be busy for an hour or so.”
“Perfect. A couple of hours would be nice. Let me cool down, see if Sally can establish Chat connection before we proceed?” He raised an eyebrow at the swordsman.
“As you command.”
----------------------------------------
Edward sat in darkness. Curtains closed over the windows, he was glued to the couch in his house and glaring with glowing blue eyes at the corkboard hastily screwed to the side wall. He felt guilty for not sending Theo off with more than a casual dismissal. But the mystery was consuming him. Lack of sleep, and he hadn’t eaten in… a while.
A loud knock at the front door drew his eyes briefly away from the wall. He wasn’t expecting guests.
“It’s Humphrey,” the voice of the Death Knight called out.
Exhaling through his nose, the demon’s expression dulled. “It’s open.”
Daylight flooded the living room, causing him to wince, just before it was eclipsed by the plated figure walking sidewards to enter the house. Door closed, Humphrey looked between him and the wall.
“Ah. They were correct, then.”
Edward rolled his eyes. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
The Death Knight rubbed his chin, the sound of metal scraping together not doing much for the demon’s fragile mind. “First off, you’re doing this all wrong.”
“What do you mean?” He slumped back on the couch, ready to give up the ghost already.
Humphrey stepped over to open the curtains, casting burning light across the corkboard. “Well. At present, you only have one thing pinned to the wall. A piece of paper with a question mark on it.” He reached out and pulled it down.
“Hey, that’s important.”
“Really?” The Death Knight grinned. “Why not clue me in, and I can help you with this mystery?”
Edward pulled a face. Having the Head of Security as an ally would make it a lot easier to dig up information and actually progress things. That also made it something official, which felt gross. The fact that it had something to do with the Outsiders made it a conflict of interest… but he was tired.
Eventually, he sighed. “Fine. You must swear an oath to me, though.”
Humphrey narrowed his empty eye sockets. “I’m listening.”
“You accept this as Humphrey, the Outsider, and not as a pawn of the System. No escalation, we keep this on the down-low and solve it ourselves. If it’s nothing, it’s nothing.”
“And if it’s more than nothing?”
“Well…” the demon grinned. “Then we fix things, just as the Outsiders always do.”
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Sally spun the dagger around between her fingers. “Should have asked Claude to give me the sheathe, since he wasn’t using it. Beats walking around looking like I want to stab someone.”
“Do you not want to stab someone?” Archie tilted his head.
“Shame you’re intangible,” she ignored him, “as you can fit through the bars. I’m about two minutes away from trying to bust the lock.”
“Diplomacy requires patience, Sally.”
She grunted. “Diplomacy requires a knife between the ribs. My STAR is locked and there’s no lore to ignore. I am… bored.”
Perhaps one of the most dangerous things now in the System. A zombie with idle hands. Every minute spent wasting away in here was another minute not back at Sanctuary, being happy around her friends and family. Time theft wasn’t really punishable by death, but she could maybe be swayed by violence. Perhaps too easily.
The sound of boots across stone came from down the passageway. More than just Claude, if she was any judge.
“Funny if this was an execution squad, and they doomed themselves by sending me back.” She grinned down at the cat, who didn’t seem to share the humor of the situation.
Claude was indeed the first back into the room, now armed with a crossbow. Two others accompanied him. A female figure in full plate, including a helmet that covered her face. Sword in one hand, the other holding a shield embossed with the depiction of a grumpy-looking lion. The other was a man, scars running across his face. One eye blind, and dark brown hair shaved short. There was a bow and quiver on his back, but a sword was currently in his hands.
“A Player that looks like a Monster,” he said. “You were right to be cautious, Claude. And you are sure she can be trusted?”
“She had the opportunity to kill me, but did not.”
“Hey!” She waved at the newcomers. “My name is Sally, I forgot to properly introduce myself. I easily forget my manners when being detained against my will.”
“Virgil,” the scarred man said. “And this is Poppy, although she is not much for talking.”
The armored figure nodded.
Virgil put his sword away in his scabbard and crossed his arms. “The way you described her, Claude, I am surprised. She is nothing but a waif, and undead as well?”
“A zombie.” Sally nodded. “I come from a different System where I was split between Player and Monster. I’m something of a problem fixer, you could say.”
The three exchanged glances before Virgil spoke once more.
“As intrigued as I am, we are only here to take you to the Baron. It is he who will hear you out and decide your fate. Can I trust that you will not attempt to attack us or flee?”
“Virgil,” Claude hissed. “It is protocol to handcuff new Players, and she has stolen my knife.”
Sally grinned, her red eyes bright in the gloom of her cage. “I keep the knife, and no restraints. I’ll only get violent if you get violent with me. Oh, can I have the sheath, though? I’d rather not look like I have murderous intent.”
Claude scowled at her, before a nudge from Poppy had him unclasping it from his belt. He handed it over begrudgingly, to which the zombie gave him a brief curtsy before attaching it to her own belt.
“You’ll soon see why we are so… defensive,” Virgil apologized. “Despite your appearance I do not believe you are a pawn of Him, as his reach does not extend this far.”
“Yet,” Claude muttered, before receiving another sharp nudge from the plated woman.
“Odd question,” Sally said, a nervous smile on her face as Virgil unclasped a ring of keys from his belt. “…but can you see my cat familiar?”
Their eyes moved to the bottom of the prison cell, as if only just noticing Archie was even present. Some slight confusion and intrigue washed over their faces, freezing them all in place. Aside from one.
Sword in hand, Poppy power-walked over to the bars.