Chapter Text
He’s running before his mind notices he’s moved, how the woman’s cries and pleas grow sharper, clearer than before. Beneath her voice he can make out hints of a man’s voice, sharp but slightly slurred.
His chest heaves with the sudden change of pace, his legs ache as he continues to run closer to them, but it doesn’t matter, he barely feels it over the adrenaline roaring in his ears, shouting about how he has to help her. He must. (Underneath something grows, incomprehensible to him, sparked alight at the first echo of the woman’s cries. Fire, bright and shimmering begins to grow, transforming from an ember into a flicker of a flame, redcarmineorangegreenblue.)
“Just get in the car!” The man demands as he gets nearer. Now he can see the faint outline of the man looking down at the woman he’s gripping onto beneath the shine of a streetlight. Her hair covers her expression from him, but he can imagine the fear that covers it with the sound of her desperation.
The man uses his grip on her arms to push her harshly back into the window of a black car as she flinches, choking as she tries to respond. “Stop it!” She gets out, choked with tears as she writhes, desperate to escape.
He pushes himself further, ignoring his lungs begging for a break as he runs closer and closer to their fight.
“How dare you cross me!” The man snarls, leaning down into the woman’s face, rage twisting his mouth further into a sneer.
“No! Please,” she whimpers, shaking her head.
“Don’t give me that shit!”
He finally skids to a halt, the sound of his shoes hidden underneath the man’s shout.
“Please, I won’t tell anyone about this if you let me go. I need to get home,” she promises. He can see the tears, staining her cheeks, bright and vivid underneath the streetlight, matching the darkening purple-red bruises on her arms, peaking out as she writhes in the man’s grip.
“You think you can threaten me?” He laughs in her face, pushing himself closer into her space even as she ducks her head away from his, “you think anyone would believe you? You think you’re worth causing me trouble, huh?”
“No…I just want to go home,” the woman cries out as he gets his feet to move again, fear and determination unglue them with the need to do something, anything to help her. “My husband will be worried if I don’t get back soon….he’ll. He’ll call the police.”
He laughs in her face, smug with derision and condescension. “Heh, he can call the cops if he wants. They’re my bitches, they’ll never take him seriously.”
Something catches the man’s eye as he turns his head, light fracturing on his glasses, revealing scowling red eyes. “Huh, it seems someone did call the cops. Get in the car, now!” He orders, trying in vain to grab the door handle behind her, blocked by the woman's reinvigorated writhing. “incompetent fools like you should just shut your mouths and listen as I steer this country.”
“…What’re you looking at, kid? This ain’t a show, get lost,” the man says over his shoulder at him, lazily as if he doesn’t have a woman held tight against a car. As if he can move past the way she looks petrified.
The man snorts, spinning away from the woman as the man notices him glued to his spot. The man stumbles over to him, with a condescending laugh, the stench of sake filling his senses as the man speaks, “see this is because you’re all so damn slow. You all need people like me to show you how to do everything. Do I need to show you how to get lost, kid?”
The world fades away, leaving behind the echoes of the woman’s desperation and the man’s drunken snarls. It slips just as the man trips, falling to the ground in a heap of angered humiliation, red eyes revealed as his glasses shatter around him.
It shifts, leaving him behind, eyes wide and fearful as reality settles in once the man pushes himself up to his feet and over to him, pointing in his face, spitting out words of promised retaliation and vengeance.
“Damn brat, I’ll sue.”
It's begun.
Clotho’s spun threads finally weave themselves together, her loom transforming them into a tapestry made of rich, velvety blues in between silk tendrils of burning crimson interweaving itself with the spans of the rainbow. (Shades of greying pale pinks darkening into vibrant rhododendron blooms bejeweled by silvery blue droplets of water dripping from storming electric yellows. Icy blues frosted over with white complement hues of pale, flowering violets and lilac, vibrant as they bloom inside a rich evergreen forest, bark and age-worn rocks scattered with verdant moss. They clash against the acidic, limey greens of midnight escapades, bright against the dark hues of heavy clouds stealing the bright blue skies of midday. They bleed into the bright scarlet hues of smeared poppies.) Intertwined, woven slowly and carefully into the spider silk string are threads of blue halite and twinned violets twisting with bright, gleaming gold.
It all vanishes, falling from the thrums and constraints of humanity down into the abyss. It’s endless, filled with water-colours of blues and teals, inky purples melding with night skies, choked with shining stars. It’s alight with the sounds of languages, distorted and long forgotten, and forms shaded, divine forms, vague outlines in the ethereal light of a blue, deceptively common butterfly resting on a circular white platform, its large wings flapping gently as it surveys the area.
Before long, it stretches, taking flight and rising high above the abyss into areas washed with sage and lapping indigos.
It flies further away, reaching back into the constraints of humanity; reaching a city torched with the anonymity of nightfall, neon signs bruising the darkened sky with endless buildings consuming the insomniac metropolis. It beckons souls to get lost, enter the endless streets and to discover the carnage of pleasures. (Gluttony and Lust, Sloth and Greed watch, humming with delight and possessive wrought rage at the tendrils slipping into the city, trying to lure their souls away. They’ve sunk their claws into the city’s marrow, hidden through centuries of whispers and forgotten claims forged when the snake taunted and tempted Eve into concupiscence, into tasting the forbidden fruit and freeing them into the world. Anger and Pride bare their teeth in challenge, daring IT to steal any of them.)
The butterfly flies past it all, venturing further until it reaches the Heart of the city.
It can feel him, hidden somewhere as he bides his time; unknowing of the game beginning; opening with the fallen pawn…It can feel his heart beating underneath his veneer of apathy and pride he adorns, another wall hidden underneath his cloying mask of kindness and beauty, a rose hiding its thorns with bright, verdant leaves and even brighter petals.
It flies away from his apartment, ducking into the labyrinth of back alleys, twisting and turning until it reaches its destination. It flies into a gaping alley enveloped in sapphire mist, tendrils out as if beckoning for company.
It reveals an arched door in shades of royal, velvety blues engraved with gold filigree vined around panels of stained glass, soldered into frames of swarming butterflies. They’re in shades of canary yellow, blooming violet and an iridescent blue, a twin to the form that flies closer before it slips into the crack of the door. It falls into an endless void of blues that stutter before it slowly shapes into an expansive room filled with blue-toned carpet, aged with a greying hexagonal pattern, and a small couch.
The butterfly’s speed slows, overwhelmed as it takes in the room. It flutters down to a grand piano in sapphire jewel tones, and its wings droop, almost sad as it takes in the haze of echoing memories of times almost forgotten. (“Persona, come!” A girl’s voice shouts, running the wall of the room to a boy who rolls his eyes as she rushes closer, brushing his shoulders with a teasing grin.
It shifts, quickening as lightning strikes the room, finding each of them as wind swirls, becoming stronger as they all fall unconscious. The scene becomes a golden butterfly flying across worlds, twisting and turning, becoming a man who turns to face them. A mask covers his face, everything hidden underneath a bone-white mask, its only colour a violet butterfly wing that covers the left eye.
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They rush into the room. Their attention catches, shifting between the frightened nurse and the four zombies trying to stumble closer to her. The zombies turn to them, mouths opening as they groan out. “͞F-F͝re̵s͘h ͟m̀e͢at͜…͠m̡e͟àt ͟i̢s ́h́e͞e͞e͝eer̡e!̢”)
It falls into an endless void of blues that stutter before it slowly shapes into an expansive room filled with blue-toned carpet, aged with a greying hexagonal pattern, and a small couch.
The butterfly’s speed slows, overwhelmed as it takes in the room. It flutters down to a grand piano in sapphire jewel tones, and its wings droop, almost sad as it takes in the haze of echoing memories of times almost forgotten.
The room morphs, memories slipping away like a rushing river. It erodes, stark black streaking the rich blue carpet. The furniture stays, adding a canvas, paint streaking it halfway with forgotten scenes and memories. The butterfly flies closer, wings reaching out to the painted boy. His expression seems wrathful, reaching out to a man as if about to punch him. (“My name is Eikichi Mishina! E̶̙̝̱̭̠͎̬͕̻̠͊̊̅̉̏̿͆̚Î̴̮̦̻͎̜̚K̵̨͉̠͑̋̈́͜I̷͈̪̓̂͊̂̉̏̑͗̕̕͜͜C̶̺͈̫̜̙̹̃͝Ḥ̸̡̛͕̱̬͖̜̩̒̋̏̏͐͘Í̷̧̡̙̗͉͕͍͚͂̓̓̍̿̓̎͘͝ ̶̜̮͎̬̗̟̅̅̐̏́̆͘͘̕͝Ḿ̵̱̻̳̙̜̒̀I̵̭̺̠̳̲͍̺̠͓͛̆̎͑̈́̓͜S̸̻͚͎͔̭͕̭͕̈́̚͜Ḫ̸̨̨̺̾́̔̀͂͐̍̌̓Ì̶̛̠̳͈̦̥̺̹̠͇̓͗̏̉͗N̵̢̜̖̳̯̯͖̝̳̟̊̑̂̾̒͑̋̚͘A̵̩̟̘̽͑̋̿̄̈́͒͋̕!̶̧̖̲͍̼̹͔͕̝͌͆͛͌!̸̧̡̯͍̞̪̟͗̓̀̅̀͊̚͜ͅ “
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A woman appears right as she falls to the ground. She glows with an ethereal light, the metallic plates making up her body brightening the red hearts scattered across her body. Beyond the silver and red, she’s covered in white fuzz and black fabric. On her back, pink feathery wings beat as she glares down at Eikichi, facing the being floating behind him as she notches a golden arrow into her heart-shaped bow at it. “I am È̵́͢r̵̷͝͠o̶͘͘͢s̸̵̀͟! My golden arrows kindle love’s flame…I shall be your strength, my other self.”
The two boys stare in shock as the girl collapses, exhaustion revealing itself. “Ho–How can you use it too!?” The blue-haired boy demands as the other boy grows hazy, a masculine voice echoing in his mind.
“Fear not. Take my hand.”
The voice reveals a golden man, made up of yellowing and bronze metals that make up its body. It wears a dark bright green vest with bronzing metal covering it, transforming into spikes that cover its joints, releasing fire. Over its face, it wears a bronze mask with squared spikes surrounding it with bright, yellow light that glints from its eye-sockets.
“I am thou…Thou art I… From the sea of thy soul, I cometh…The bearer of inferno that burns away impurity, V͟͠u̵̶l͢͠͝c̶̀͜͠á̶̶n̶͠͝u̴͞͞s̡͢͠.
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The scene shifts, grief and rage darkening the colours found before.
“What is…this feeling?” A man questions as he stares up at the bag-headed figure. He can tell the man is grinning somehow, taunting and elated as he waits, gun held high. He holds the shadowed form beside him back, waiting for something.
Before the figure can say anything else, an entity transforms out of the air, revealing a humanoid cat in a black Victorian suit. The cat’s paws and claws stick out of the suit’s legs, pointed as his yellow eyes glare at the bag-headed man. I am Helios…bearing the ancient sun. I am the one who violates the night! I shall become your loyal chariot!!”
He twists, scratching at the shadowed figure with a layer of fire before he vanishes.
The shadowed figure brushes it off, moving to strike at the girl beside him. She groans, falling to the ground as its strike hits. “I can’t take it anymore!” As the shadowed figure moves to strike again, another deity appears, morphing into a feminine figure in silver with a bright red mask, matching her jumpsuit covered in silver padding. She brandishes her whip, moving in front of the girl. “I am Callisto...the one known as the most beautiful of the nymphs...one who is weary of romance. I shall show you true love.”
She lashes out with her whip, sending a boulder crashing down onto the shadow. She vanishes even as the figure continues to fight, setting his sights on the girl behind her.
The last girl ducks her head, missing its swipe as her head spikes with pain before a final figure emerges.
She wears a bright magenta and black kimono with matching striped leggings, flashed underneath the sharp flair of her kimono. Beneath the leggings, she has spiked socks that lower into ruby ballerina flats, matching the bright shine of her metal-made hair she wields like a pair of daggers.
“I am thou...Thou art I…I cometh from the sea of thy heart…I am the brilliant mother, M̡͜͟a̷̸̢i̵͞à̶͜͠..."
She chimes, shoving her hands forward, creating a spinning tower climbing itself over the shadow before it bursts, fading away with the shadowed figure.
It transforms once more, walls brightening into blues with a golden frame for the back wall. Behind the frame, the butterfly can make out the image of a distant green-tinged room, long forgotten as a hoax with the towering frame that hovers beneath hidden in its shadow. Inside, the couch is once more in the middle of the room surrounded by four doors, two covered in drapes of blue. Across the couch rest twin chairs, woven into the shapes of lyres.
The one on the left forms a traditional lyre, twined with silver forming its strings, while the other slopes into a gentle heart with strings of gold.
The butterfly flutters around, reaching the couch. A feeling echoes around the room, laden with the sounds of memories and grief. (Green spreads across the sky, turning sickly as the moon turns a bright, burning green.
A boy picks up the fallen gun in tandem with the girl beside him as she raises her sword. Their eyes are steady, locked onto the grotesque figure thrilling to strike.
They have to save themselves. They have to save her.
(A younger boy flickers behind their eyes. His eyes are glowing as he grins, watching them. “Go on…you two have decided.)
The boy grins, small and mischievous, as he aims the gun at his head. “Per…so…na…”
His eyes turn a bright burning blue, matching the bullet shot through his head as he drops the gun.
The girl drops her sword, stealing it as instinct drives her. She skates back to her spot as she does the same, and they’re both consumed in burning blue energy.
“I am thou…Thou art I…” A masculine voice starts, energy fading to reveal the figure of a silver-haired entity with glowing red eyes and a robotic body.
On his back, he wears a lyre made of bright silver glinting with the green hues of the moon. “From the sea of thy soul, I cometh. I am Orpheus, master of strings.”
A feminine voice continues, giggling as she speaks. “I am thou, thou art I…I am E͝u̢r̴̀͝y̵͟͢d̷́i̸̢ć̵̡e̴̢͠, wife of Orpheus and daughter of Apollo.”
Eurydice reveals herself, a shining form of golden metal glinting with amber eyes. Her body resembles Orpheus’, metal shaped into limbs and a torso, a heart-shaped lyre against her back. Eurydice’s hands rest above her, twisted as if she’s about to dance.
The two stand tall, glaring at the shadow before they stumble, gripping their heads as they stumble around. (The boy appears again, eyes glinting.)
Their companion watches, petrified and struck still as she watches.
Orpheus and Eurydice follow the motions of their other selves, stumbling and groaning before they let out twin screams of pain as arms pop out of their torsos, light growing, becoming brighter as the entities’ forms twist and shift.
Eurydice and Orpheus vanish as towering black forms emerge victorious.
The forms have ginormous wings surrounding them like shields decorated with mosaics of a hidden figure.
Chains rattle with their shifting movements before they soon shake it off, moving into defensive positions before they both let out staggering roars, supernatural blue radiating with the sounds.
The figures growl again, pulling out their swords as they strike in tandem. The boy’s goes right as the girl’s goes left, blocking the shadow as they tear it apart until it dissipates into acidic, black goo.)
The room shifts once more, shrinking into the shape of a limousine with lines of royal blue shaping its interior. Drapes hold in its rectangular windows, shimmering with the soft bioluminescent lights lined in the roof.
A bar nestles against the back seat, facing the shrunken table centred in the automobile. The memories hidden in the room shine with fondness and fear, like a bird trapped in a cage, singing joyful tunes discordant with its sorrowful tones. (The room is dark, rain pounding against the walls as he waits, tiredly watching the tv’s black screen.
Time ticks by until the clock strikes. A soft glow emanates from the tv, static skittering around with shadows of shapes resembling a girl, her curls crashing around.
“I am thou…Thou art I…”
“Thou art the one…who opens the door…”
He stumbles as the voice strikes. His head pounds with pain as the voice continues until something bursts and he collapses to the ground. He heaves, pain receding as he forces himself up, something calling out to him.
He moves to the tv, before he presses his finger against its screen, silver rippling with his movement
He jumps back, shaking his head before he creeps closer again. He lifts his hand, pressing his palm flat against the screen. It lights up again, and his hand shifts, sinking into it, pulling him closer.
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A body hangs from the antenna, her face stoned into fear as her dull eyes look up, unseeing with her fright.
The butterfly flies around the room, moving as it shifts, forcing away the mirage of a limousine to an expansive room made of mahogany walls and royal blue carpeting. A bar lines one wall, ebony wood eerie with the blue lights scattered between the bar stools. Rows of colourful bottles teeter on the shelves lined behind the bar.
Against the opposite wall, the grand piano from earlier rests, sheet music scattered along. A wooden stage, stained with indigo, is a few feet away. Its microphone gleams in the yellowing lights surrounding the stage, waiting for its singer to return.
In the middle of the room lies another table, crafted from shades of azure; on it rests a book made of tan leather imprinted with a seven-pointed star, with a jumble of tarot cards resting across the rest of its surface.
The butterfly flutters closer, catching sight of the Fool swinging its luggage as the Justice almost glares back at the butterfly with its otherworldly yellow eyes. The jumbled tarot cards are all reversed, buried over one another, making them unreadable.
It goes to look closer before a rumble starts, rattling the chairs surrounding the table. It echoes, becoming louder as the glass bottles clatter in their spots; the butterfly seems to jump as it quickly flies away, hiding against the bottles.
The rumbling slowly quiets as something steps into the room. Red mist follows its steps, hiding it from sight until it reaches the table, sliding into the chair facing the back wall. Large eyes peer down at the cards scattered across before it focuses on the Fool, pinching the card between long, spindly fingers.
A grin twists its shadowed features as it waves its hand in a lazy arc, rumbles filling the room as it transforms, tearing away the speakeasy and moulding it into a prison. It shrinks, becoming more circular as the wood morphs into bricks of stone that soon resemble nine olden prison cells, equipped with wooden bed frames attached to the walls and toilets that splash with the sound of water drops falling into them.
The blue hues slowly dissipate, leaving behind only the carpet now decaled with leafy golden embroidery and a cursive v that fills the middle and a mist shrouding the stone floors. It melds with the shades of crimson falling from the ceiling, creating tones of fuchsia that blur its face from the butterfly’s perch in the light above it, melting into the shadows formed by the yellowing light.
A grin twists its shaded features as it waves its hand in a lazy arc. Rumbling fills the room once more as it transforms, tearing away the warm speakeasy and moulding it into a prison.
It shrinks, becoming circular as wood morphs into bricks of stone that soon form nine worn prison cells, equipped with wooden bed frames attached to the walls and toilets splashing with water that drips down into them.
The blue slowly dissipates, leaving behind only a carpet decorated with leafy golden embroidery and a cursive v that fills the middle. A mist shrouds the stone floors, melding with the shades of scarlet falling from the ceiling, creating tones of fuchsia that blur its face from the butterfly perched in the low bars of a cell.
In place of the customary couch now lies a desk, with its hands tapping against the newly shuffled cards as it gazes around. “It seems our game has finally begun. How will his Trickster fare with this move, I wonder?” Its voice is dark, amused and smug as it gazes around, reclining back into its chair.
The butterfly takes its chances, falling into shards of crystal as it continues to stay distracted with its arrogance.
The world morphs, time quickens as days run over one another before it stops. Everything stills.
The jail becomes a bright, noisy city coming into view with a start. It dives through, running into a towering building lit with neon tones. It slides through the floors until it finds its target.
Its target is a person, wreaking havoc as they run amok across the bright beams hanging from the ceiling. They stir strings of panic for those below as their eyes search endlessly for him and the cause of their building alarm.
He grins, amused as he allows their eyes to catch glimpses of his shadowed trench coat.
His grin sharpens at the sight of three men in black suits rushing into the room, their eyes covered by sunglasses as they search for their target—for him.
He finally leaps, jumping onto a hanging light, lit with the bright beams from the stage light behind it, revealing him to everyone as all their eyes snap up to him.
“Hey, up there!”
“What’s going on!?”
“Why is he here!?”
“What’s he holding!?”
His amusement brightens as he catches wisps of their panicked murmurs at the sight of him and his briefcase, before he waves, feeding the ripples of discord.
He quickly jumps away, vanishing back into the shadows.
He can feel his heart racing, adrenaline and eagerness surging through him as he hides on a beam, waiting for a signal.
He doesn’t have to wait long as voices soon fill his ears, speaking over one another.
“Good. Now get running!” A boyish voice demands.
“This is our only chance!” Another voice, sharper but no less calming even in the worst of situations, adds.
“Stay calm, everyone, it’s going to plan. Joker, you can get away now,” a softer voice orders as he nods, searching for the best route as a final voice cuts in.
“We’ll retrieve the briefcase on our end.” A final voice adds, her voice is firm, halting everyone’s chatter as they refocus.
“...suspects..not..confirmed..hold..your..positions…” The choppy radioed instructions make him tense before he forces himself to brush it off.
“Hm, what was that?” She asks, confused, picking up the muffled, choppy instructions.
Joker stops, waiting at the edge of the beam before the sharp, boyish voice from earlier orders, “don’t worry about it. Just concentrate on getting away.”
He nods, running across the hanging panels and chandelier. The voice continues, turning lighter as Joker scales down a sign to the other set of panels. “But I have to say, showing yourself above that crowd was an excellent move. Nice work as always, Joker.”
“I bet Skull couldn’t pull it off that smoothly.” Her voice is a soft tease, imbued with the chime of her laughter as Skull sputters in exaggerated offense.
“Aww, I think Skull’s jealous,” another girl teases. Her voice is warm and soothing, running with her amusement as the first girl cheers and Skull groans.
Joker can sense the eye roll Skull shoots them, even as far apart as they are, as he grumbles. “Aegis, come on! I could’ve easily done that!”
“You could not, you have no sense for aesthetics!” A warm baritone refutes as the girls’ cheering and snickering rises, along with the sound of the others’ laughter.
His heart beats, distracted from their situation as he listens to them. His bonds thrum, warming him as Skull whines.
“Not you too, Fox.”
Joker’s forced away from his fondness and their playful banter as enemies spot him from a balcony. “There he is! Get him!”
Joker sarcastically waves, watching their irritation and rage as he escapes to the light beams opposite him. “Okay, the enemy’s focus is on him now. The rest of us can slip away,” Joker sighs in relief as the group makes sounds of agreement.
“Everyone, remember where we’re meeting up?” Her voice is a soft, pleasant chime, like the petals of an oleander.
“No worries, I can guide all of you.” The navigator reassures, launching into directions that drift through him as he lands onto a neon sign. He lifts himself onto the balcony above, reaching the middle before enemies burst in, cutting him off as they rush to surround the area.
“Stop right there!”
Two block him, running in front of him to block his escape.
He can feel another behind him, trying to sneak attack him before he flips. It startles, bucking as he lands on its shoulders.
It continues to shake and shift, but he tightens his grip around its neck, his hands drifting with the movement as he grips onto the mouth of its mask, tearing it off with a squelch.
Joker shoves it away, landing on his feet as it swirls into a puddle of reds and black that ripple across the floor, shaping into a ginormous hybrid creature, towering above him with a huff of smoke.
It’s a mosaic of animal parts. It has the legs of a horse with a darkened blue scorpion tail adorned with golden bands. Its tail lazily rocks back and forth as it waits to strike. Red-black veins crawl across it, reaching up across its bottom half as they move in ascending swirls, fading away as they reach further.
Its upper half is a matching stormy blue, with blackened eclipsing circles that disappear into the remains of its ruined suit.
The puzzle finishes with the head of a blackened bull with bright red eyes, swimming with outrage as it huffs and growls. Its ivory horns have matching golden bands that also surround the neck of its collar, underneath the darkened teals of a ruined jacket.
It strikes first, creating a towering inferno from beneath Joker’s feet, that he resists, leaving behind only a few reddened burns.
The navigator cheers on as he rips off his own mask. His body thrums with power as endless possibilities light up with the summoning of the entity brushing behind him with the sound of rustling wings.
“Eiga!”
Joker’s tongue coats with the feeling of the malevolent energy, thick and heady before it strikes, lashing at the enemy as the entity behind him cackles, the chill of a midnight walk.
Joker dubs it a sacrificial pyrekeeper as it unleashes another burst of flames that he narrowly avoids. He can feel their heat, skittering across him as he rushes in with his knife, striking its chest before he jumps back, hands switching the blade for a gun that he quickly shoots, dazing it.
“Critical hit! One more Joker!” The navigator cheers before he strikes once more, dissipating it.
“Good, you defeated them with ease,” the boyish voice compliments before the navigator cuts in, her voice sharp with warnings. “There’s more of them. Be careful and make wise decisions, Joker.”
“Everyone else, head to your positions! Use route B!” Joker can make out as shadows burst in, merging into more enemies.
One jumps high above, its baton held to the ceiling, buzzing with shocks of electricity.
Joker misses its vicious strike with a flip, leaping onto the pillar behind himself before he climbs up to the upper balcony.
“Joker, behind you! Go through that door!” The navigator exclaims as he bursts through, rushing up to the upper cells. “You should be able to get out that way! Hurry!”
“Dude, can he even hear us? He hasn’t responded once,” Skull questions.
“Don’t worry about it, I’m picking up everyone’s voices and locations. Just go, Joker!”
He hums a vague agreement, turning left and darting down the stairs before making a right.
“Tch! We got away from a bunch of those men in black, but there’s still loads more of them,” Skull complains.
Aegis groans her own agreement, murmuring a swear Joker misses as he dives into the shadows of a vandalized trashcan. An enemy runs outside the window, its head jerking around searching for him.
“Where’d they go? Dammit!” It groans before tapping on its watch and barking out, “I can’t confirm the intruder’s location.”
“Shit. Up ahead, Joker!” He nods, darting between the shadows of the trash cans, watching another enemy speak into his watch. “You’ll need to make an escape when you have an opening. Otherwise, you’re never getting away.”
Joker nods, humming along as he watches the enemy from his hiding spot. “Are you sure the intruder came in this way?”
Joker gets an opening as the agent sprints out the door he just walked in, allowing him to slip up the staircase into the next hall.
“Enemy up ahead, Joker. Stick to the shadows as much as possible.” He rolls his eyes at the order in her voice, but listens, creeping into the room as his gaze darts over the enemy meters away from him, its attention consumed on its phone.
“Is everything okay? The security levels are going to rise if you take too much time,” the boy from earlier questions, his voice laden with worry and a lurking of something hiding like a snake in a bush.
“I know, I know. I’m trying to find another route,” the navigator responds, her voice thickening with distraction. He can sense the eye roll she gives as her typing becomes louder, “... just hang on.”
He grins at the sound of her cackling laughter before she speaks, “this is perfect! Joker, look up!” He does as she asks, relaxing his eyes as eerie blue lights up a hook. “Use that thing and fly around it.”
Joker pulls out his grappling hook, tossing it above as he waits for the enemy to turn. He tugs, flying over it with a grin as the air whistles in his ears.
He flips onto the metal walkway, red-violet splashing underneath his feet. “All right, now go straight from there!”
Joker follows into the large room before the navigator’s voice turns shaky and shrill as she tries to warn him. “Joker, stop! There’s an enemy right by you!”
He flinches back, bumping into enemies appearing behind him. The enemies enclose him from every side, their weapons raised and ready to strike. “Even you can’t take on this many by yourself!”
Her voice twists, crackling with a sigh and soft, happy cheer as footsteps echo around. They become louder as the enemies’ supernatural yellow eyes search for their source.
They reveal a girl.
Like him, she wears a mask covering the upper half of her face, pale robin blue egg highlighting the bright white lace curling over top it. Pearls and tiny iridescent gems shimmer against the lace as they form delicate roses curling over the blood red of her hair. Unlike his, however, silver ribbons shine like moonbeams as they peek from the mask's sides before they cascade up into the waterfall of her hair.
She wears a fitted leotard in sea foam green with a lacey neckline made of a dark blue that flows down into a soft circular skirt, dyed in shades of deep purples blending with even darker reds and blues. It contrasts with her corset-like belt made of soft, sunny yellow lace linked with a silver chain welded into roses and violets that clinks with every step she takes. It-she reminds him of the night sky transitioning from day to night with the bright stars of the countryside.
Over her leotard,, she wears a floor length jacket, inverting his own colouring. The creamy white fabric creates a soothing background for the gilded embroidery covering it with a sea foam green ribbon holding it up.
Underneath her cloak, he can see the silvery ribbons twining around her legs, connected to her white flats.
She pauses in the centre of the room, assessing the scene and him with quiet intensity.
“Looks like you could use some help,” she says, her voice steady but with an undercurrent of challenge, matching the smirk tugging at her lips. It brightens his own against his will. He can feel it softening at the sound of her mixing with the undercurrents of lessons and days spent with those closest to both of them.
Her eyes soon dart to him, rubies turning into a warm red-rose gaze, soft with her affection. It soothes him, his shoulders losing their tense posture as his fear finally evaporates. Like the others’ banter and chatter, she’s a balm to the typhoon surrounding them.
The tension hums, thickening as their enemies exchange wary glances and murmurs that quickly swell, becoming a crescendo of animosity.
She darts her eyes around the enemies surrounding him, strategies shining in her eyes before her hand moves to her rapier, slipping it free with a delicate flourish, its blade gleaming.
She jabs it, throwing it high into the air for a moment, allowing it to pirouette through the air—once, twice—before she catches its hilt.
She nods to him, her eyes darting away for a second before she lifts her rapier high and releases it, transforming it into a deadly triple turn that whistles past Joker’s ear as he jerks his head to the left.
It strikes its mark, impaling the shadow behind him as it staggers, collapsing to its knees, black ooze seeping.
For a heartbeat, the air flounders with their enemies’ disbelief at the sound of the enemy’s knees roughly hitting the concrete. But the hesitation is brief.
Snapping free from their stupor, the rest charge, a relentless tide intent on drowning and defeating Joker’s partner.
Each attempt of theirs at encircling her thwarts with graceful evasions—she twists and weaves, bending and spinning away; her movements form a deadly defense.
One enemy attempts to catch her, lunging forward with its baton aimed at her head. She responds with a bright smile, tilting her head up as her hair sways with the motion like red ribbons caught in the wind.
Balancing on one leg, she tips backwards, allowing the baton to graze the air above her, missing its mark as she uses their enemy’s surprise to draw her rifle, firing at its chest.
Wasting no time, she pivots away. Her body coils like a spring as she cartwheels in the opposite direction towards another.
Using her momentum, she back handsprings into a flip above another foe, twisting midair to rotate her rifle at the shadow below. The shot echoes loudly in the silent room as the enemy disintegrates into swirling red and black, and she lands with feline grace into a crouch.
Her gaze flicks back up to Joker as she stands, concern bright in her eyes as she looks him over, searching for injuries. He nods, squeezing her hand as she comes closer, a silent reassurance that he’s unharmed.
She nods in agreeance, her mouth twisting before she turns to the felled enemy behind him. Striding towards it, she plants her heel against its chest, kicking backward as her blade pulls free with a slick sound.
He grins as she twists, spinning back to his side as she lifts her hand, catching the rapier in mid-air. “You’ve been spending too much time with Panther,” he teases quietly as she rolls her eyes with a blush staining her cheeks.
“Focus, Senpai,” she chides as he nods with a grin.
He slides into a defensive position away from the towering shadows trying to close in as they watch the two of them with narrowed eyes.
“Let’s do this, Senpai!” she calls, her voice clear and determined as Joker lifts his hand to his mask.
“Brave blade!” He calls, watching as it strikes the red vulture.
“Persona!” She follows up, tearing her own mask off.
He covers his eyes as the area darkens, shadows piercing behind his eyes as bright blinding lights strike the sword-wielding leopards, the thuds of them falling to the floor.
Joker pulls out his gun, waiting for his partner to do the same as they circle shadows staring up at them with burning rage. “Let’s finish this!” He commands, jumping into a mad dash as they strike. Trails of crimson and pale, canary blue consume the room as the shadows vanish from their all-out-attack.
“That seems to be the last of them?” She says, eyes searching even as they both relax their defensive positions.
“For now, enemy backups headed your way! You need to book it now,” the navigator warns them.
“Are you going to be alright?” She whispers, eyes filling with worry even as she pulls her rapier back into its defensive position, posture straightening.
He nods, unable to verbally reassure her, instead reaching out and gripping her hand. He’s unsure it works, but she pulls back, her hand falling away from his before he can ask.
“Please go. I’ll make it harder for them to find you so that you can escape.”
He frowns, wanting to stall, but she stops him, pushing him back into the stairwell. “We have a plan, remember?” Joker reluctantly nods at her reminder.
“By the way, you still owe me that promise after this!” She calls out, her voice a sharp contrast between stern and giggling as she escapes onto the upper metal rail.
He smiles one last time at the sound before he forces himself to focus, vanishing up the stairwell.
The fluorescent lights are his companions, faintly buzzing as he ducks into the shadows they morph, allowing him to hide and melt into the darkness covering doorways.
and urgent orders being called out by enemies as he rests underneath the window for a second. “Find him! Now!”
If one of them just stepped out, their game of cat and mouse would likely end. The irony is a small reprieve even as adrenaline fuels him, allowing him to sprint through stairwells and hallways as the faint sound of thudding footsteps gains speed, creeping closer.
He finally bursts through the last door, staring helplessly at the ending balcony. “Something wrong?” The navigator’s voice echoes, concerned as he continues to stare, “the exit should be up ahead.”
“Through there,” he replies sceptically, gesturing around himself.
She sighs, exasperation covering her hidden fondness. “That’s just how it is. After that commotion, the bottom floor is completely closed off. Can you make it?”
“Over there!” A voice shouting cuts off his retort as he turns to see three men pointing their guns at him, slowly inching closer. “There’s nowhere to run!”
Joker can hear the navigator’s breath catch, can see how she’s probably rushing through solutions even as his eyes catch on the window hidden in his peripheral vision. He turns back to the men with his hands raised in a mockery of surrender.
Joker allows the men to creep closer as he subtly steps back an inch, foot hidden as it rises to the wall and his hands lower, one reaching out to the balcony hidden by the flares of his coat.
As the men reach the halfway point to him, he pushes himself up onto the beam, running across it until he’s hanging beneath the glittering stained glass window.
Joker looks back at the enemies, their eyes silent daggers as they glare at him underneath their sunglasses. “See ya,” he taunts, shooting them a two-fingered salute as he propels himself into the window with his grappling hook.
The adrenaline pumps through him, leaving only the sound of his heart rapidly pumping at the echoing crash of the glass shattering with his force.
His heart pounds at the echoing crash of the glass shattering with his force and the distant sounds of shock and alarm coming from the bottom floor leave him manically grinning as he soars through the air, looking up at the bright moon.
“What a showoff,” the navigator mocks.
“You’re so reckless. You know that?” Her voice is a fond castigation, his own warmth and fondness rising as he falls closer to the ground.
Joker tugs his body into a roll as air rushes through his ears, going silent as he lands on the hard concrete and jumps to his feet.
He steps back as a burst of lights flashes on, leaving spots of black blinking in his eyes. Joker can hear the fear and anxiety that rises in the navigator’s voice as he stares helplessly at the bloodthirsty grin on the head police officer’s face.
“Capture him!”
Moments later, he’s left lying and gasping on the ground as the head police officer strides to him. “You have your teammate to thank for this. You got sold out.” It’s the last thing Joker hears as the world goes dark and he falls limp.
At least everyone else had gotten to safety.
Joker struggles to clearly remember what happened afterwards, only left with shards of memories that flash out to him.
He can remember startling awake as they forced him back into his school uniform, before they forced him to stand as they took his mugshots, the bright flash of the camera and his eyes squinting in response, their whispers and snickering.
The feeling of a fist connecting with his face, legs forcing themselves into his ribs; thrashing and panicking, tongue too heavy to plead or beg as someone tightly gripped his arm, forcing something into him with a needle even as he tried to flinch or duck away. The dark glee on their faces as they shoved him forward, and the confusion that began to rise in him as his heartbeat quickened, beating faster and faster like a rapid drum.
He wakes again later, shivering, his mouth dry and his thoughts scattering as he tries to figure out where he is.
…He can feel his hands, tied behind his back onto the chair with metal digging into them, and droplets of water running down his body. Distantly, underneath the rapid sound of his heart, Joker can hear the murmur of voices and the soft echo of quiet, nearly silent footsteps growing closer to him.
“Guess the drug was too strong,” the voice is seeped in malice as it gives its next order, “wake him up.”
The feeling of more freezing water startles him, forcing his eyes open. The water drenching his clothing further makes his shivering worse, teeth chattering as he tries to focus on the officers.
“No dozing off,” he orders as Joker struggles, shifting around, weakly messing with hands and bindings, trying to free himself. “You still don’t get it, do you?” He mocks before kicking Joker’s chair, sending it and Joker crashing to the ground. “Give it up! You’re not going anywhere.”
Joker coughs, curling into a ball around his burning ribs as the officer steps closer, glaring down at him. “Cooperate, or do you want another shot?” He rhetorically asks, forcing Joker onto his back with his boot before he pushes down, sending searing pain through Joker as it presses down on his aching ribs.
His breath is shaky as he stays silent, eyes drifting away from the officers, hazily watching the camera blinking in a silent pattern. (Why does it make him nervous? There’s something he’s forgetting, but his thoughts scatter as he tries to focus on the camera.)
One…Two…Three…One…Two….Three…One…Two…Three…
“What about the camera?” The officer grips his hair, forcing Joker to tilt his head up as his eyes squint against the dim lights that surround the officer. “Do you think it can be used as video evidence?”
Joker stays silent, tongue heavy and laden with confusion and pain even as the officer glares down at him, anger hiding delight. “Answer me.”
“Of course not…” Joker finally gets out, gritting his teeth as he fights against the block in his throat.
“Good, you’re not that dumb,” he pulls Joker closer, forcing his upper body off the ground, “which means we can take as much time as we need.” The officer adds, slamming Joker’s head and body back into the concrete; Joker’s eyes flutter, desperately trying in vain to stay awake as he drifts away from the cell. (He needs to focus. He’s here for a reason, but it’s becoming harder and harder for him to remember through the searing pain that consumes him and the confusion that permeates his brain.)
“Obstruction of justice, blackmail, defamation, possession of weapons… manslaughter too, talk about the works. To think that all these crimes were committed by a punk like this and you seemed to be enjoying every second of it.”
He had been…enjoying it?
“You should know your place,” he finishes before nodding to another officer.
Joker flinches as the officer walks closer. He tries in vain to shuffle away from the man, but it’s fruitless as he walks around Joker, removing the metal cuffs. Another officer walks closer with a clipboard that the head officer takes with a menacing grin shot at Joker.
He rubs his reddened and aching wrists, half of his attention focusing on the head officer as he strides closer, pushing the clipboard at him. “This is a confession. You’re going to sign your name on the dotted line.”
He shoves a pen into Joker’s hand as Joker bites down on his tongue, holding in the groan of pain that wants to escape him at the feeling. “Don’t expect to walk out of here in one piece. We’re going to make you understand that one must take full responsibility for their actions.” He warns as he steps slightly away from Joker.
Joker is thankful for the punishing silence that controls his throat as he hides the instinctive retort longing to fall out, damn the consequences of such an action. Instead, Akira tightens his grip on the pen and quickly signs.
The sharp clack of heels against the stone floors echoes through the hallway, turning heads she ignores as she strides forward with unrelenting purpose, anger boiling underneath her mask of indifference. The officer and detective stationed at the interrogation room door stiffen, posture shifting to guarded as she stops in front of them.
“Excuse me, but this area’s off—” the detective begins, his tone firm even as he falters at the sight of her maroon eyes glaring down into him, cutting into him like ice.
“Niijima, Public Prosecutor’s Office,” she cuts off, flashing her id with feigned boredom.
The detective frowns under his sunglasses. “The Prosecutor’s Office? What business do you do here?”
“Step aside,” Niijima snaps, her tone a sharp, heated contrast to her icy glare. “It’s urgent. There’s something I need to confirm with the suspect.”
“Niijima-san, I believe this case is no longer in your jurisdiction,” he says as Niijima’s glare deepens. “Besides-”
Before the conversation escalates, another agent hurries over, his expression harried.
“Prosecutor Niijima Sae?” he asked breathlessly.
“Yes,” she replied curtly.
“I just got off the phone with your director,” he said, annoyance creeping into his tone. “Hurry and get it over with. To be frank, you’re being an inconvenience.”
Niijima’s jaw tightens for a second, teeth grinding as she suppresses the argument bubbling at the back of her throat. This may not be her jurisdiction anymore, but she had devoted months of her life to this case. (Sleepless nights lost to figuring out the pieces, missed meals, her deteriorating relationship with her sister. When would it be enough for them?)
The suspect had evaded her endlessly for nearly a year, and yet at the precipice of unveiling the truth, they were dismissing her as a nuisance?
Her phone buzzes in her pocket, breaking her rising anger.
“I thought I told you to stand by,” her director sighs.
She bites back her frustration, her voice forcing itself into measured calm with the presence of the detectives and officer. “I’m supposed to be responsible for this case, and yet I’m not even being allowed an interrogation?”
“I’m calling because I knew you would bring it up.”
“I won’t be convinced of anything until I see the suspect myself,” she sharply rebukes, her tone leaving no room for debate. “This is still my case.”
He sighs again, accepting his defeat. “Good luck to you, then. I won’t be expecting much though.”
She ends the call without acknowledgement, steeling herself. She hasn’t become a prosecutor, let alone one of the best in his office, without a willingness to go digging, even if it seems hopeless.
“Ah, Prosecutor Niijima, I forgot to mention something important.” The older detective interjects, his tone suddenly conciliatory. “Your time in there will be limited. For your own safety, of course.”
She shoots him a withering look, moving to walk past him. She will be getting her answers with or without their help, damn any time limits.
“It’s for your own sake,” he continues to press, hands coming up in surrender to placate her. “His methods are unknown after all. We don’t even know if it’s safe to meet and speak with him.”
“I’ll take my chances,” she deadpans, brushing past as the officer at the door scrambles out of her way.
She pushes the door open and freezes.
A boy.
A teenage boy sits in the interrogation chair, his head bowed as he hides away from the harsh fluorescent lights. Her sharp gaze searches the bruises marring his face, his wrists rubbed raw, and the way he shivers, how he’s soaked. Fury flares hot and sudden in her chest at the sight.
How could they do this? Do this to a child, no less?
He looks barely any older than Makoto, if he even is.
(Where is the law-abiding nature of cops? When did justice become so blurred with punishment?)
She forces herself to breathe, locking the burning anger down to deal with later as she clears her throat, “...I didn’t expect it would be you,” she states, her voice hard but tinged with disbelief.
He grins softly, offering her a small wave even as his eyes seem to cloud over, blurring as they watch her.
“You’ll be answering my questions this time,” Sae states, but the words falter as something glints, shining with the lights on the ground.
A syringe.
Her anger surges tenfold.
They drugged him? What the hell were they thinking? (Where is the justice?)
“Those bastards…” she mutters under her breath, before raising her voice. “Can you hear me? You’ve been through a lot, it seems. Listen carefully—anything can happen here, and I can’t stop them… That’s why I need you to answer me honestly. What was your objective? Why cause such a major incident? I didn’t think it was a prank from the get-go, but I couldn’t build a case for prosecution without knowing the method.”
His lips curl faintly into a wider grin, an echo of the devil may care grin the notorious Joker had worn before it fades, exhaustion settling back in.
“Of course, you couldn’t,” he says, his voice quiet but steady. “What do you want to know?”
“I need to know everything,” Sae corrects, leaning forward. “This is my case, and I won’t let it slip away. Start at the very beginning—how did you learn about that world? How is it possible to steal someone’s heart? I want the full truth.”
────────────
Akira’s gaze falls back down to the table, trying desperately to focus even as the silence stretches on unbearably long.
He startles as the room darkens, and a butterfly, made of teals and blues melding together, flits into the room, its delicate wings shimmering otherworldly as it floats closer to him. Soft piano music seems to echo all around him, the high sounds of someone singing. It’s comforting and familiar, a balm against the haze that desperately tries to drag him under.
A voice—gentle yet commanding—chimes in his mind.
You are held captive, a prisoner to a fate that has been sealed in advance. This is truly an unjust game, your chances of winning are almost none.
But if my voice is reaching you, there may yet be a possibility open to you. I beg of you, overcome this game and save the world…
The key to victory lies in the memories of your bonds, the truth that you and your friends grasped.
Everything began that day when the game was set half a year ago. For the sake of the world’s future… and yours, you must remember…
Remember and fight, Trickster, Fate demands nothing less.
The butterfly perches lightly on his shoulder for a heartbeat, before taking its flight. Its message lingers in the air like a promise, like a deal.
Akira lifts his head again, his resolve hardening.
He has to do this.
“It began almost a year ago,” he starts. “I was coming home late from class…”