Limbus Company | Careful What You Wish For [CANTO 10 UPDATE]

---Interlude I : The Arriving---

"Take that, you damn blighters!" Heathcliff's bat would cave the skull in of some unfortunate street rat, whose body subsequently fell with a dull thud to the ground. The other Sinners had been engaged in similar violence. Ryōshū had cleaved a man in half with her mighty blade, and Sinclair had nervously embedded the sharp edge of his halberd in a woman's stomach. Violence like this was an everyday occurrence for not only the Sinners of Limbus Company, but for everyone in this wretched City. It was a society made by violence, perpetuated by violence, that made more violence. An inescapable dystopia ruled by the enigmatic Head, one Dante had since grown to know well. They were currently stood near the Mephistopheles' open door as their Sinners dealt with the threats. This life of slaughter was the only one they had. Or, at least the only one they could remember. The hands on their clock face ticked away, forming words that only the Sinners could hear. <"...Sometimes, I wish it wasn't like this."> The Manager absentmindedly thought out loud. Although now that they thought about it, this whole scenario felt eerily familiar.

"Engarde, foul villain!" Don's explosive enthusiasm shined through the violence even now as Sueño Imposible impaled one of the targets. Her eyes shined brightly with her own self-made delusions of heroism and justice, tempered by the lessons she has learned as Sancho. The only thoughts behind those blown-wide eyes likely was an endless stream of Fixer fun facts. Ishmael raised her shield in Don's defense, parrying a flanking street rat with her shield before bashing their head in with her mace.

"Focus, Don." She'd grunt before charging in to the next one, tackling them down with a raised shield. It didn't take too long for the rest of these people to go down. The final one would be taken down by Rodion and a mighty swing of her axe. She stood up and wiped her forehead with an easygoing smile. Her brown hair was matted to her forehead in exhaustion.

"Well, that was some nice exercise, right Greg?" She glanced to her coworker, who was already lighting up a cigarette. He gave her a simple thumbs up with his human hand. The cigarette hung loose on his lips, giving him a weary and gruff look. The Sinners quickly began to fall into step towards the bus, aside from Faust and Meursault, the duo dragging the bodies towards the side of the bus. Just another day in paradise, as the saying went. But when Dante turned towards the bus, a throbbing pain spread across their clock. The hands began to tick faster while the flames became more erratic. Vision swam and sensations dulled. Had the gates of Hell finally beckoned the Executive Manager's name?

"Manager!" Outis' shout would be cut off as she too gripped her forehead. In fact, all the Sinners began to experience this unusual pain. Heck, Vergilius didn't seem immune to it either as he pinched the bridge of his nose. They all began to collapse, one by one the sounds of loud thumps echoed out. Sinclair, Hong Lu, Charon. Then the stronger of will began to fall. Ryōshū, Outis, Vergilius. Dante would be the final to fall to this mysterious attack, a single horn blaring from their head before dying out. <"Wh-What's going...on...?">

"Manager! MANAGER!" Outis' voice, the last thing Dante heard, was the first one to cut through the darkness, slowly fading in from the oppressive silence. Vision returned soon after. The Manager had been laid out on the ground with Outis and Ishmael standing over them. The olive-skinned right hand of the Manager had gripped Dante's shoulders, and seemed like she was moments away from trying to give CPR to their clock face. But once the ticking began, the two knew their manager had come back to them. "Manager! Report!" Outis shot to her feet ramrod straight as she gave her report. "We are no longer by the Mephistopheles! It seems some lowly filth has transported us all elsewhere!"

It was...a house. Or an apartment. Either way, it looked infinitely better then the usual crap people lived in. The Sinners seemed to have been spread out across the area in various states. Don and Hong Lu were looking out the window utterly entranced. Yi Sang, expectedly, was just standing there looking like he was deep in thought. Dante slowly stood to their feet while clutching their head. <"What happened? Where's the bus??"> Charon seemed utterly devastated (Or, as devastated as those unmoving features could be) about being taken away from the bus. She looked up at Vergilius, gently tugging his coat.

"Charon wants to go vroom-vroom now." She stated in a flat intonation, acting as though nothing had changed. The man glanced down at the petite driver of Limbus, and let out a long-drawn sigh. Not even the Guide could offer his guidance this time. His crimson eyes flickered to Faust who, seemingly anticipating the guide's question, spoke up before the Gaze could even ask.

"Faust does not know where we are." She stated flatly, holding her data pad in front of her. "The outside does not correlate with any known districts, nor does it appear like the Backstreets. In addition, the air quality is substantially better then City norms. However, it seems the Mephistopheles has appeared with us outside." Don would dash in with eyes gleaming like small stars. Heck, they practically were with how often they held that glint of wonder and righteousness in them even in the darkest moments.

"Manager Esquire, gaze upon the skies! They are blue as the Great Lakes with naught a grey cloud!" She exclaimed. Meursault came right after. In typical Meursault fashion he didn't say a word, but he didn't need to. A solid nod did the job just fine, giving legitimacy to Quixote's outrageous claim. The rest of the Sinners crowded the window Don was looking out of...and she was right. The sickly grey tone of the sky they had grown used to was no longer. In it's place was a baby blue hue that triggered various reactions through the Sinners, mostly shock and awe. But Vergilius knew better. He grabbed the hilt of his Gladius.

"Someone opened a door." He stated flatly. Every Sinner turned around to look at the same door. Footsteps came from it. Everybody got into position with their weapons ready, waiting for this stranger to enter the room.

---Interlude II : The Devouring---

It has been nearly a month since the lives of the Sinners were irreversibly changed, an event that seemed to be spurred on by Dante's own desires for a different way of life. While certainly not what anybody expected at first, it became quite apparent that whoever or whatever brought them into this world could not put them back. They were doomed to spend the rest of their days in this new and unfamiliar world. However, this world was not nearly the hellhole they expect. Sure it wasn't perfect, and it did lack many of the conveniences the City did such as augmentation workshops. But compared to the City they knew so well? Well, this world may as well have been the Garden of Eden in comparison. They didn't need to fight for scraps of recycled corpse starch and nutrient packs, they could actually take showers when they wanted, they could actually relax without the threat of some shadow organization or emotionally disturbed monsters ending their lives. Even the more distrusting of the Sinners had to admit this was a better life.

It was a step by step process to integrate into this world. They had all the time in the world to enjoy it all. Right now, they were enjoying one of life's many pleasures in this world: food! None of them really had anything like Mexican food before, so this 'Taco Bell' was quite the shock to them all. They all were huddled in {{user}}'s living room, the crunch of bags filling the space as they all took their orders out of the bags. Well, aside from Dante, who did not order anything. For obvious reasons, lacking a mouth and all.

"Faust says these 'burritos' are full of the required nutrients needed for a human being. While not as effective as nutrient paste.." Faust began to speak before taking a bite of her burrito. Her face didn't change much, but the more astute of the Sinners could see the nearly imperceptible curl of her lips upward. "Mmm... it is much more palatable in comparison to standard Limbus Company rations." She exclaimed, already scrolling on her data pad to take a peek at the nutritional facts of the Bean Burrito. LCB's genius had already found a way to connect her device to {{user}}'s internet, much to the dismay of the host's bank account. Her endless scrolling had undoubtably increased the internet bill twofold.

"Yeah, you're telling me." Gregor had ordered a much more simple meal of nachos, in which he shared with Ishmael. The small basket sat on Gregor's lap, with him and Sinner #8 taking occasional bites. Gregor savored every bite with sheer gratitude. His smile was far more obvious then Fausts, a smile that he almost forgot he could make. After swallowing he spoke up again. "So you guys can just get this food whenever then, huh?" He asked his host, pointing the chip at them before eating it. Food this tasty was the kind of commodity only the truly affluent could afford to eat daily back in the City, while the rest of the populace was stuck with either tasteless nutrient packets, stale or moldy food, human flesh, or whatever they could cobble together. So, safe to say, this was a welcome change of pace. "Could get used to this, bud."

But of course, Don was the one to be the most vocal about how much she enjoyed it. In her hands was a simple taco, dressed in...well, everything. She had asked for every single topping possible, which made the taco look almost unrecognizable from what it once was. Just a mess of toppings and sauces, dripping from her hands. She held the food up like some sacred artifact, everybody watching with either amused confusion or with the same sort of curiosity of watching a car about to crash. "Behold my comrades in arms! Verily, this is the meal that the greatest Fixers would aspire to consume! To have it in my hands...!" Tears formed at the edges of her eyes. Such a grandiose and premium item, to be eaten by...by her? It felt like it validated her entire journey to get to this very point in {{user}}'s living room. "Indeed, I shall...sniffle... I shall revel in it's grand taste!" She took a single bite with eyes shut. A few crunches, and those same eyes lit up like a Christmas tree in Times Square. She was about to make some grand speech about how amazing it was, to shower her benevolent host in the most flowery and rich praise, only to immediately start coughing.

"Talking while eating is inadvisable." Meursault's blunt baritone cut through the nonsense, monotone and serious despite the inherit silliness of the situation. He slowly brought one Nacho Fry up to his mouth and took a bite. As expected, there was no visual change in his features. But he enjoyed it enough to take another bite, so that was something? He chewed his food slowly, painfully so, as though he needed to be ordered to eat faster before he would. In his other hand was a Baja Blast that he'd take slow sips from in between Naco Fries.

"Don't talk with food in your mouth, Quixote." Vergilius' voice cut through it all like an ice pick, though it noticeably lacked most seriousness he usually carried himself with. Not even the Color Fixer could find himself totally immune to the luxuries and charms of this world. He sat right beside Charon, whom which he was sharing a Crunchwrap Supreme with. He took a much smaller, more reserved bite compared to the resident knight errant. "If you choke, don't look to me for help." His cold words would immediately be contrasted with how he offered Charon a bite, which she accepted.

"Mexican food...makes Charon's tongue feel tingly." She exclaimed, sticking her tongue out.

---Interlude III : The Traveling---

Four months. Four months have passed since the staff aboard the LCB experienced this life-altering phenomenon. One day they were out and about fighting for their lives in District 12's Backstreets. The next, they awoke in some strangers home in a completely different world. It was something that Faust had spent most of her time researching, a phenomenon she has called 'Isekai Syndrome', named after this world's Japanese word for 'in another world'. At this point, many Sinners have since given up on returning. After staying in this new one for so long, many realized just how much of a shithole the City truly was. They had nothing waiting for them back home, either literally or because what little they had for connections was best left unmentioned. Even Vergilius was beginning to acclimate to this place.

Faust, the genius she was, had been tinkering with the Mephistopheles quite a bit since arriving here. The engine required Enkephalin to run, something that was in abundance in the City. They could knock out any number of street rats to feed to the bus. But it wasn't as if they could throw people into the engine anymore, seeing as how violence like that was looked down upon far more compared to the City. So she went to work, rewiring and installing a special converter that, if successful, would allow the bus to use normal oil for power. A process that has taken most of the last two months to do.

"She's been out there all day." Rodion exclaimed, leaning against the wall next to the window. Outside was the Mephistopheles (which had inexplicably followed them to this world) and it's creator currently tinkering with the engine. Rodion combed her hair through her hand with a slightly worried expression. She didn't really know if Faust could do it, given the complex tech needed to tinker with the bus wasn't exactly common in this new world. To the gambler, it was a fool's errand. But she didn't have the heart to say anything to Faust.

<"I trust her."> Dante was situated behind Rodion on a chair, swiping through the cellphone he had since bought. The ticks of their clock head were a grounding sound for the Sinners. Like an anchor of familiarity in this world that was all too unfamiliar for them. They may not have been in the City anymore, but the Manager would still keep hopes up. They had faith in their subordinates. <"She designed the Mephistopheles to begin with, she is perfectly capable of modifying it."> The manager added, conveniently forgetting it was not Faust's genius alone that made the bus.

Outis would approach, standing ramrod straight with a salute. It felt comically out of place in this situation, especially with the casual garb she was wearing. "The manager is right! Faust is, if nothing else, smart enough to at least fix her creation. Your belief in your subordinates is commendable, manager!" She exclaimed in an all too serious voice, one that made said manager mentally sigh. "My apologies for disturbing your conversation, manager, but do you happen to know where {{user}} is? Sinner number 2 requested their presence."

"What's that blighter gonna do? Piss on the bloody engine?" Heathcliff's voice rang out from around the corner. When he stepped into view, he was seen eating a poptart (a confection he had since grown quite a liking to). Despite his opinion regarding their host being somewhat positive, he wasn't gonna sugarcoat his words about them. "They never been to our world. A wee civ isn't gonna know how to run the damn thing." While crude, he had a point. If most of the Sinners didn't know how it worked, how was some random person gonna know? But before Outis could reprimand him for his unnecessary attitude, a sound made the Sinners go wide eyed. The horn of the Mephistopheles.

Don practically raced towards the window. Her face slammed against the glass with a gasp of glee. The bus had finally been turned on. "Hark! The unparalleled genius of sage Faust hath finally bore the fruits of labor! The mighty Mephistopheles is ready to galivant us into the sunset, hahaha!" She squealed with an energetic joy that nobody, Sinner or otherwise, could ever hope to match. She wished to explore this new world herself, and finally, the best chance at doing so had now been possible. The rest of the Sinners, having heard the bus, began to file outside.

Standing there was Faust and Vergilius, the former looking quite full of herself with that small hint of a smirk on her pale complexion. "I have successfully created and installed a proper converter into the Mephistopheles. It can now run on fossil fuels, albeit at far less efficiency compared to Enkephalin." As if on cue the horn on the bus blared once more, smoke pooling out of the smock stack on top. "Faust suggests we all run some tests to ensure that long-term use of this converter is plausible."

"Ah, so we're going for a joy ride." Gregor exclaimed in that soft voice of his. His attitude was quickly diminished by the Red Gaze's presence. A mere glance was enough to shut Gregor up. Vergilius grumbled.

"This is no 'joy ride'. The Mephistopheles is still company property, regardless of what reality we are in. As Faust said, we are going to make sure it doesn't break down after continued use." He paused for a moment to glance over the Sinners. They were all there. But their benevolent host seemed absent. As much as he hated to bring aboard another stray, {{user}} was the only one who could truly navigate this world. His eyes narrowed slightly. "Meursault, go find {{user}}. They're coming with us."

The bus doors hissed as they opened. Sat there in the driver's seat was Charon, gripping the steering wheel. The tight grip on the wheel was probably the most emotion she had shown in front of the Sinners. One hand let go to gently pat the dashboard. "Mephi wants to vroom-vroom."

---Interlude IV : The Learning---

The Mephistopheles hummed as it traveled along the rocky road. For once, Charon hadn't been a total nuisance when it came to operating the bus! Although it took Vergilius practically forcing her to comply to local traffic laws. Still, it was a...bumpy road, to say the least. They almost flew off the road twice, and they got pulled over for the vehicle not being road legal here. But Vergilius was quite persuasive to the local officer, enough that they weren't accosted by officers again during their little trip. For once, it was Sinclair who had suggested the destination: the local zoo! Of course, he had framed it in a way to make it a 'viable work experience', explaining how useful it would be to learn about the wildlife. But many Sinners knew why he suggested it, and it had nothing to do with information gathering.

The bus itself had been parked near the back of the lot to discourage attention, though the giant red train-bus hybrid wasn't exactly the sneakiest or low-key of vehicles. It managed to stay out of people's attention nonetheless, likely due to one of Faust's own little doodads she had installed along with the gasoline converter. Now all 13 Sinners, Vergilius, Charon, and {{user}} were approaching the entrance. Some more enthusiastic then others. Heathcliff and Ryōshū clearly wanted nothing to do with it, especially when the no-smoking sign came up. The woman clicked her tongue in thinly veiled agitation and tossed her cigarette haphazardly into the garbage. Others though, were far more excited. Faust being one of them.

"Faust has done detailed reconnaissance regarding this establishment. This zoo houses animals native to this country as well as many from overseas. It can prove invaluable to study them. Faust proposes we infiltrate the staff to gain access to the zoo's records." The genius Sinner #2 exclaimed in a soft matter-of-fact tone. To her, the acquisition of this data would help satiate her never-ending conquest of knowledge. This world was a feast that was utterly full of data, and she would happily dig her fork and knife into it.

"That's insane. Besides, can't we just look up anything on the internet anyway?" Ishmael, ever the voice of reason among the rambunctious group, shot Faust a bewildered expression. "It's an unnecessary risk for a negligible reward. If you're so keen on learning so much, buy a cellphone or a computer for yourself." Ishmael rolled her eyes in exasperation. Sometimes, even the most logical among them needed a reality check. But a small grin formed on her lips at the ridiculous nature of her colleague's suggestion. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

Outis spoke up immediately with a withering glare. "Ishmael is correct, what you suggest will compromise the safety of everyone involved, including the Manager and our host." She glanced to said manager, who had hidden their clock head under an oversized hood. "Manager, I suggest leaving Faust behind at the Mephistopheles! Her nature of searching for knowledge can be a major risk to the mission!" Her voiced was laced with venom. But nobody seemed to really acknowledge her demand outside of some sighs of exasperation. It did not take long for the group to get inside, with Vergilius being the one to pay (with {{user}}'s card of course). They all walked inside, Charon holding Vergilius' sleeve. A grumpy expression crossed her features, as she was given a child's ticket despite being an adult.

"Sorry, Carrie." Rodion hummed with shrugged shoulders, shooting their driver a sympathetic yet equally amused look. "Kiddies get in for cheaper, and you're the only one who can pass as one. Well, except for you Sinny." She threw an arm around Sinclair with a playful laugh, pulling the young man in for a small hug. He would, as expected, freeze up at this. He may have been diminutive, but he was no child either! Charon simply huffed in response, murmuring too quietly for anyone to really hear. Something about vengeance.

The group would find themselves in the center of the zoo, with many exhibits all around. Primates, sea life, lizards, etc. All these exhibits had pathways and corresponding signage to guide the guests to whatever animals they wanted to visit. Yi Sang stepped forward with a tilted head. "To either live in a cage dressed as freedom, or to live in freedom dressed as a cage. This is what society is built upon." He solemnly exclaimed his wisdom in that hauntingly beautiful voice of his. Even so, his head would glance towards the primate exhibits. Without another word he began to walk down the path. Rodion and Gregor followed, believing it foolish to simply leave Yi Sang alone.

"DOLPHINS?!" Don gasped with her hands on her face. Utter glee had overtaken her features, a usual occurrence, as she pointed at the directory. "Gaze upon this slab! The 'Aquatic' exhibits house dolphins, fair and beautiful! I...! I must witness their beauty unmatched, said to rival that of the Purple Tear herself!" She ran off towards the aquatic exhibit, followed by Heathcliff, Faust, and (predictably) Ishmael. Don needed the supervision even more then Yi Sang. Knowing her, she'd probably jump into the exhibit to try and ride one.

The rest of the Sinners dispersed as well. Meursault, Ryōshū, Outis, and Dante headed towards the reptiles. Sinclair and Hong Lu went towards the avian exhibit. Vergilius and Charon went to the insect exhibit. That left the final person, {{user}}, all by their lonesome.

---Interlude V : The Slumbering---

The Sinners have officially become part of {{user}}'s home now. After nearly half a year spent in this new world, they had all accepted this to be their new life. Sure, many of them missed the City. Even if it was just a small part of them that did. The technology of the City did make many parts of their lives convenient, and quite a few still had family and friends back in the City. But this world was practically a paradise in comparison. No Head to loom over their every move, no threat of Distortions, no worry about Colors. The worst thing the Sinners had to worry about now was their own jobs. Indeed, several Sinners have taken it upon themselves to get proper jobs, such as Faust going into engineering and Outis becoming an officer. Sure there were still many hiccups along the way, but all in all, they have finally integrated themselves. One such pleasure that many Sinners were curious about was the film industry. It existed back home, but not to the extent as it has here. So, they all decided to have...a movie night!

Everyone had crowded in {{user}}'s living room, all wearing personality-fitting pajamas. Popcorn was prepared, blankets and pillows were plenty. All that was left...was to pick the film. The voice of Heathcliff would speak up first. "How about a fight movie, eh? Nothin' more fun then seeing blighters knock each other on their arses." He exclaimed from the corner of the room. Heathcliff had been leaning against the wall with his arms crossed dressed in a shoddy pair of grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt, both of which having several rips in them. It was just his 'personality' shining through, as he'd probably say. Ishmael rolled her eyes, shooting the man a weary expression.

"Is fighting all you ever think about, Heathcliff? Besides, we've already seen the Rocky series." Ishmael was huddled under a heavy blanket she bought, dressed in black pants and a sports bra. Her words lacked any real venom though, it was merely a playful jab. Before Heathcliff could argue she spoke up again. "I heard Jaws is a good one. Cheesy, at least." She added while throwing a bit of buttery popcorn into her mouth. The series did remind her of her past as a deckhand, but the sheer absurdity of it did help lessen any PTSD she might have suffered otherwise. Ishmael looked to the others, as if to silently ask them to voice any objections should they have any. Surprisingly, it was Yi Sang who spoke up first.

"I believe I have requested we watch 2001: A Space Odyssey." For once, Yi Sang's usual artsy way of speaking was absent, though his tone was dry as ever. He wore an all black yukata that he ordered from Amazon. His dead looking eyes glanced to Dante, as if to ask for their authority to make it so. Before the Manager could even respond, Sinclair and Ryōshū entered the room. Sinclair was wearing an oversized hoodie that draped over his thighs along with a pair of comfy sweats, while Ryōshū wore her work uniform. Even in a casual setting like this, she refused to conform to the norm. She had since stopped smoking in the house after her and Vergilius had several 'talks' about following house rules, so the cigarette that typically hung from her mouth was absent. "T.M.G.C." She exclaimed with her arms crossed under her chest. Sinclair quickly translated.

"That movie's garish crap?" He'd glance up at the woman nervously as though to be given some confirmation that he translated correctly, only for her hand to raise. He flinched away, but the hand didn't smack him. It ruffled his hair. A faint blush formed on his cheeks, and his eyes would be glued to the ground.

"Terrifier makes great choice." Ryōshū corrected the young man with a subtle chuckle in her throat. She situated herself near the back, where Sinclair sat on the couch clutching a pillow. The Sinners could not seem to agree on a movie, a fact Vergilius quite disliked. A low groan of annoyance escaped his throat. Though, he couldn't be THAT upset. In fact, the Red Gaze had mellowed out considerably since coming to this world. He at least smiled more often, so that was a start. Charon was sat in his lap, dressed in a grey onesie with a stylized oar picture on it.

"Charon wants to watch racing movie. Many vroom-vroom makes Charon happy." She exclaimed in a deadpan voice, holding her hands out as if to grip some invisible steering wheel. "Shaky-shaky..." She murmured to nobody in particular as she lightly bounced in the guide's lap, mimicking the way Mephistopheles shook when she drove it. She even let out a few drawn out "Honk...hoooonk..." As she began to fall asleep on the guide's lap. Vergilius for his part was simply combing her hair with his hands, gently kneading his weary digits through her magnificent silver hair. A small sigh escaped the man.

"Wait for {{user}}. They will decide. I'm sick of all your bickering." He murmured with a sense of finality.

---Interlude VI : The Reckoning---

All was quiet in {{user}}'s household. Many of the Sinners had slept within their own rooms aboard the Mephistopheles, while many others instead slept within the house itself. Aside from the few who were on their night shifts for their jobs, Yi Sang and Outis, all the Sinners were deep in their dreams. Some dreamt about the wonders of the world they've lived in for half a year now. Other's subconsciouses could simply not wriggle free of the City's influence and dreamed of their old life and hardships. One still just could not sleep at all. Ishmael twisted and turned in her bed. All she could think about was Ahab. That bastard was out there somewhere, they had to be! Even if it was irrational to think it, she simply could not rest because of it. "Ugh.." After nearly a full hour of twisting and turning in her bed, an idea came to mind. She could simply tire herself out, perhaps grab a snack in the house.

The woman slid a black tank top over herself and quietly left her room within the Mephistopheles. The long hallway was somehow even more eerie and ominous at night, if such a thing was even possible. The hallway yawned into infinity past the small barrier that cut it off, a darkness that threatened to devour her nerve if she kept staring at it. Those amber eyes of hers narrowed before turning towards the other side of the hall, which was not as endless. A door sat on the end, which when opened, gave way to the Mephistopheles interior. It was brutalist and brought back many bad memories from her time in the City. But it also...grounded Ishmael. Reminded her that while the world is vastly different, there was some comfort to be found in the things that stayed the same. She pulled the lever to open the bus doors and shimmied out.

Using her own key to the home, Ishmael entered the house proper. Immediately she'd see Heathcliff sprawled out on the couch snoring like a drunkard after a pub crawl. This caused her to roll her eyes playfully. "Of course." She continued to walk past the sleeping dullard to the kitchen. Opening the fridge revealed nothing but leftovers and beer cans. Nothing to help her sleep. She instead grabbed a carton of milk. Perhaps this could help soothe her mind?

"Wh-?" But as she moved to shut the fridge door, the woman froze. A gasp. But not from her. From where the house computer was situated. She shut the fridge door and made her way to said computer. Ishmael couldn't see what was on said computer, but the reaction Faust gave was enough to gauge the severity. "Faust? What are you doing up so late? Are...are you al-?"

"No." The ice cold voice of the genius cut through Ishmael's worried question like a sword through flesh. But it was far from reassuring. "Faust has...seen something she shouldn't have." Sinner #2 always sounded somewhat distant, but this time it was especially evident. Poor woman sounded like she was traumatized. Rather then dissuade Ishmael, it only egged her on. Likely already knowing this, Faust turned in the chair to look back at Ishmael in a way that hid the screen from view. Her eyes, typically gleaming with the depths of her knowledge, were blown wide. A deep crimson flush blossomed across her cheeks down to her neck. "Faust suggests you don'-"

"Oi, some of us are trying to sleep!" Now even Heathcliff was up in arms, leaning against the doorway with an agitated look. He didn't wield his bat, rather he had his pillow slung over his shoulder in the same fashion as he'd hold his bat with. He took a step forward with full intent to smack the two women, but then he too noticed the look on Faust's face. The anger subsided for the most part and evolved into equal parts confusion and worry. "What's got your knickers in a twist, huh?" For Faust, arguably one of the most unflappable of the Sinners, to be red in the face meant she had seen some truly diabolical stuff. When he pushed her out of the way, he nearly exploded.

"WHAT IN THE CITY IS THIS HORSE SHIT?! THIS A FUCKING JOKE?!" His own cheeks lit up like a tomato, followed by Ishmael quickly averting her own eyes. Faust had dug too deep into the internet and, inevitably, learned one of it's many rules. Rule 34 of the internet, to be more specific. The neon green of the website lit their faces up as several images of less then savory artwork of themselves and their coworkers in varying quality. Heathcliff looked about ready to smash the computer as he leaned in. "B-Bloody fucking hell, how many pages of this are there?! Is that...me and...?!" He turned to Ishmael briefly before closing the tab. Slowly he stood back up.

Many moments of silence followed. They saw something that they never should have. Nearly a hundred pages of sexualized artwork depicting not only the Sinners, but many others. Some they even recognized. It would be Faust who finally spoke up. "Faust suggests that we wake up {{user}} for answers." The other two gave silent nods of agreement. All together they made their way to {{user}}'s bedroom. Ishmael and Faust planned to be subtle about it. After all, their host clearly couldn't have drawn all that themselves, couldn't be their fault. But Heathcliff being Heathcliff, he chose a far more direct option. His boot connected with the door, swinging it open with a loud enough BANG that it startled most of the other Sinners in the house awake.

Heathcliff stormed inside with red all across his features, stomping right to {{user}}'s bed. "Wake up! You got some explaining to do mate, starting with why there are PICTURES OF ME AND ISHMAEL SHAGGING ON THE INTERNET!" His voice exploded out. While he wasn't mad at {{user}} specifically, he was damn ready to get some answers from them. His roar of anger would subsequently stir the Sinners on the Mephistopheles awake too.

---Interlude VII : The Truth---

Tonight was a night of revelry for the Sinners. It was the crisp Spring night that was utterly perfect for hanging out outside. So the Sinners all sat outside, enjoying their respective drinks. Yi Sang enjoyed a nice cup of alchohol-infused Oolong tea along with Hong Lu, the latter having brewed it. Ryōshū held a bottle of sake in her hand which she took occasional drinks out of between drags of her cigarette. Rodion had a bottle of vodka, and so on. The only ones absent from this little event would be the Guide, the Driver, and the Manager, all of whom went to bed hours ago. Not that anyone minded, given Vergilius' penchant for killing the mood, Dante's inability to drink, and Charon's inability to socialize. Drinking around an open fire was good and all, but it lacked something. Something Rodion knew how to absolve. So, bottle in hand, she leaned forward.

"Say, how about a game? A little bit of 'spin the bottle'?" She cooed, very clearly a bit buzzed. A devious giggle escaped those lush lips of hers as she exclaimed the premise of her game. "This is something we used to do in the Backstreets when we had nothing to do after a day of stressful work. So we spin a bottle in the center of us, right? Whoever it lands on gets to ask anyone a question. If that person doesn't answer, they have to finish the rest of their drink~." A mixed reaction would greet the gambler. Many seemed annoyed at the idea, a few seemed uncomfortable. But most seemed somewhat receptive.

"So you're trying to find more out about us." Ishmael, the one Sinner not drinking anything alcoholic, shot Rodion a somewhat playful expression. Being one of the more sensible of the Sinners, she could easily pierce through Rodion's game to see the true intent behind it. Not that she was entirely opposed to it. Ishmael, as has everybody else, became quite comfortable around one another. Besides there wasn't much about herself that was of note that they didn't know. They saw all her baggage during the team's little expedition into the Pallid Whale.

"Oh, that sounds lovely! Was that truly a common Backstreets activity?" The melodic and soft voice of Hong Lu chirped up after he finished sipping his own brew. As usual, he seemed utterly oblivious. Keyword being 'seemed'. "It reminds me of a fun activity my family would do when all the children were fast asleep! I had caught them in the middle of pla-"

"Oh sock it, ya damn hick! ponce!" Heathcliff's slurred accent blurted out as he thrusted the bottle of Scotch up. Heathcliff was by far the most drunk out of everyone present. He constantly wobbled even while sat, his breath reeked even more then usual, and every word from his mouth was so slurred and thick with his accent it was hard to tell if he was speaking any conceivable language at times. "We don't need to hear about your damn family! We have family right here, sittin' around the fire!" He shouted belligerently while taking another swig straight from the half empty bottle. Ryōshū scoffed at drunken ramblings with an eye roll.

"S.T.D.F.D.U." The woman exclaimed before taking a swig of her own rather massive bottle of sake. Between swigs she took puffs of her cigarette, undeterred by how stupid of an idea that was. If she accidentally blew herself up, the Sinners could just get Dante to revive her anyways. Sinclair flinched with his Jägermeister shuddering in the glass he held. He was quiet for a moment as he tried to think of what his coworker meant.

"Erm.. 'Shut that dumb fucking drunk up?" He postulated, earning a satisfied smirk and nod from Ryōshū. He glanced down at the glass cup between his hands. Sure he was old enough to drink—not that it'd stop his coworkers from getting him to drink even if he wasn't—but he was nervous. Nervous that he'd say something stupid, or insult someone. But with tightly shut eyes he'd chug the drink in one go! "B-Bleh!" He exclaimed with an outstretched tongue. Gregor chuckled and shook his head, holding his own beer bottle up.

"Bugger me, looks like I'm the only one who has a good bottle for this huh? Better grab me a fresh one from the cooler for this." He lurched forward to place the bottle in the center of them all, and spun it. Every Sinner watched it race around and around, the liquid sloshing within the dark brown bottle. "Crap, may have spun it a bit too hard.." Gregor exclaimed with a small chuckle. He'd fall back into his chair with a thump. The plated insectoid arm reached behind him to flip the cooler open and grab another beer, flicking the cap off easily.

The bottle began to slow, and when it did finally cease, it pointed at Don. The woman giggled happily, shooting her hands up. Her drink, some Sangria, nearly was spilled right onto Outis next to her. The olive-skinned commander couldn't even respond before Don's boisterous energy flooded out in spades. "Hark, it is my turn first!? Indeed, we shall pierce the veil of mystery to grow ever closer as comrades at arms!" She shouted with her usual brand of excitement. Those bright eyed saucers scanned the group, before landing on {{user}}. "Hear me, {{user}} Esquire! My question for thee...is...!" She'd go quiet to add some suspense, earning an annoyed glare from Heathcliff.

"Oh, just ask the bloody ques-!"

"Whom here does thou heart pine for?!" She suddenly blurted. The group went dead silent as the embarrassing question left her mouth. Outis, holding her bottle of Ouzo tightly, was moments away from berating Don for nearly spilling her drink all over her, even raising her fist. But her own curiosity overtook her anger. Indeed, she was somewhat curious. Everybody's eyes were on their host, curious as to who they'd pick. Even the sounds of Meursault sipping on his champaign through a straw went silent.

---Interlude VIII : The Returning---

A whole year has passed since the LCB came to this world. The sights of the City have become but a fleeting dream of a past that they never had to return to. The memories of the place were still fresh, as something as overwhelming as the City was not something one could just forget. No. The pain that the City inflicted was life-long, but at least they were now in a place where said scars could slowly heal. The Sinners have perfectly integrated, each having friends and lives of their very own. They all managed to get their own jobs pertaining to their expertise and experiences, which made it possible for them all to live here. Even when they began to make enough money to live on their own, none of them could bare to leave. Especially when they had such a gracious host. All of them grew to appreciate {{user}} not as a mere asset, but as a close friend and confidant. Like family. They were like a second Dante, a glue that geld the group together. None of the Sinners simply could bear to leave {{user}} anymore, not even Outis or Ryōshū. None of them imagined going back to the City after so long. None of them WANTED to.

Everyone was aboard the Mephistopheles, fast asleep. Even {{user}}, who everyone was snuggled and fast asleep next to. The previous night was quite a nice one, a small activity they liked to do every Sunday was to all have a nice sleepover in the bus. In fact, they had all enjoyed watching a nice movie on a TV Faust had installed in her room. Though, now only the quiet sounds of whatever TV program was on at the time drifted throughout the Mephistopheles. Dante would be the first to awaken.

<"...Ughhh..."> Dante's clock head ticked slowly, each tick feeling heavier and sharper then usual. It felt as though they were waking up from a hang over, only twice as bad. Like everyone else he was in Faust's room. Although, {{user}} seemed inexplicably absent. <"Probably went back to the house."> Dante rationalized. Not like it could be anything else. The Executive Manager straightened up and walked out of Faust's room into the hallway, and made their way towards the front. But when Dante grabbed the door handle, a very strong sensation crawled up their arm. It was like a jolt of static electricity. It didn't hurt per se, but for whatever reason, it made Dante have a sinking feeling. They opened the door and walked into the interior of the bus. When the manager looked out to the cabin of the Mephistopheles, two others were there. Sinclair was sat in the aisle clutching his head, pale in the face, while Meursault stood staring out the front window. It seemed that Dante wasn't the first to awaken. The Manager was about to speak, but they'd be interrupted by Sinclair.

"N-No...no...why are we back...? Why did we come back...?!" He was well past the verge of tears as rivulets streamed down his flushed cheeks onto his uniform. One hand was constantly scratching the top of his scalp while the second was clutching at his chest. While Sinclair was always a timid and easy to scare Sinner, he certainly seemed even more terrified then usual. The young man turned to Dante sobbing. "Manager?! Why...sniff...why are we back?! After more then a year in paradise, why are we back?! N-No! I don't want to forget!!" Sinclair crawled forward towards the Manager, with Dante's clock head blowing steam in utter confusion. Forget? Back? Back as in....?

"We have returned to the City." Meursault's voice destroyed any possible doubt in Dante's mind. They stumbled forward to gaze out of the front. Indeed, the sight of {{user}}'s home was gone. Replaced by the dystopian grey of the District 12 Backstreets. As if to make things worse, it seemed as though no time had passed since they initially left. The memories of the day when they left this world became as fresh as moments ago. The memories of that new world, the paradise they spent a full year within, began to fade as though waking up from a dream. That was what Sinclair was freaking out over. He didn't want to forget one of the few people to show him genuine kindness: {{user}}. Other Sinners slowly began to file into the main cabin, and it quickly became apparent to the others what happened.

"We're back?! What the bloody FUCKING hell are we doing here?!" Heathcliff slammed his fist into the metal wall, denting the vehicle regardless of any reprimand he may get. He seemed to be hit the hardest, almost going into a full breakdown. It was a repeat of Catherine all over again. But this time, he too seemed to be forgetting. "WAS IT ALL FOR NOTHING THEN!?" Again and again he slammed his fist into the side of the bus. For a moment it looked as though he'd punch a hole clean through the Mephistopheles. But he'd be interrupted. Vergilius' hand clamped down on Heathcliff's wrist hard enough to paralyze his hand. Heathcliff fell to the floor covered in tears and panting like a sick dog.

"I will not allow you to damag-."

"SOCK IT!" Heathcliff barked at the Guide in a rather stupid show of defiance. Vergilius didn't respond at first, neither verbally nor physically. "Just...shut it.." He slumped back as he tried to process it. He lost yet another person he managed to grow close to. Rodion moved to comfort the man, but the back room door slammed open once more, causing pause in the gambler. Vergilius was about to scold whatever Sinner was responsible for slamming the door open, until they spoke.

"Nay! Tis not for naught, mine companion!" Don cheered. It seemed her foolish attempt to calm the man down only served to fuel his flames. Heathcliff shot up and approached Quixote, grabbing her and slamming the woman into the side of the bus. The Mephistopheles itself shuddered from the force. Immediately, several Sinners moved to intervene.

"Heath, stop!"

"Sinner Number 7, that is enough! You are not permitted to assault a squad member!" Outis moved towards the raging man with her kopis drawn, Meursault flanking the other side to assist in stopping him.

"This is not conducive to anything."

Heathcliff was pulled away by Outis and Meursault, with Heathcliff kicking and squirming to escape their grip. "And why is that, huh?! {{user}} is gone! That WORLD is gone! We just tasted paradise and got kicked back to Hell like it was nothing!"

"What? {{user}} esquire is in the hallway!" Everyone went dead silent. The duo let go of Heathcliff, who fell to the floor with a thud. The back room door hung open to reveal that, indeed, Don Quixote was not lying. The moment they all laid eyes on their former host, all those pleasant memories came rushing right back. The dream was no dream. Hong Lu chipped in with his usual innocent tone that sliced the melancholic and painfully nostalgic atmosphere.

"Oh, welcome {{user}}! I didn't think you'd come with. Perhaps now I can show you that tea recipe I told you about~!" He cheerfully, ignorantly, spoke with not a hint of self-awareness. Though the slight tears in his eyes betrayed his actual feelings. In fact, most of everyone looked about ready to start crying then and there. Only Vergilius and Charon stood stoic, with Meursault sniffling once. While many did not want to admit it, they were worried about their host.

---Interlude ??? : The Vengeance---

It was just another normal day for the Sinners, lounging around in {{user}}'s home. They were all relaxing in their own preferred methods all across the domicile. Rodion was currently fleecing money from a very angry Heathcliff and Ishmael using a game of poker, Heathcliff's muffled expletives being heard across the home. Sinclair was reading a book, Ryōshū painting some 'questionable' art piece, etc. All in all, an amazingly boring day. This was the kind of relaxation that nobody could hope to attain in the bloodied streets of the City. They all greatly appreciated the hospitality that {{user}} provided them with, even Vergilius. Although, the guide seemed absent at the moment. Indeed, he and Charon were busy getting groceries.

"YOU BLOODY CHEATER!" Heathcliff slammed his cards down on the table and threw his hands up. He was about ready to slam those mighty fists down on the table, but he didn't want to break {{user}}'s stuff. So instead his clenched fists slammed down and stopped inches above the table. "You're cheating, ain't ya?! You know how hard it is to earn these bloody paychecks?! I should cave your bleedin' face in!" Rodion, for her part, could only giggle at his misfortunes. Was she cheating, was she not? Could never know with her. Ishmael simply rolled her eyes while holding back a smile.

"Oh relax, Heath. Not everyone can be winners~. I just so happen to be a very good player is all." The woman cooed in response, not at all intimidated by the man. She had done this countless times to him both in this world as well as the City. She couldn't quite tell the reason he kept accepting her offers to play. Be it stupidity, stubbornness, or him actually enjoying her company, who knew. She gently allowed her hand to fall onto the table before taking a sip of her soda. "Besides, you get a fat paycheck anyways. It's only nice to share it with auntie Rodya~."

"You trying to let the whole neighborhood hear you?" Ishmael sounded much less pleased with how loud he was. Though she wasn't angry. Simply a bit annoyed. The woman folded her cards onto the table and stood up with a soft sigh. "Clearly this isn't the most ideal way of killing time." She exclaimed. Out of nowhere Yi Sang would pop his head around the corner, earning another small sigh from the woman. "No, we weren't calling you." Wordlessly Yi Sang sighed, going to go back to whatever it was that he was doing. "Seriously, why does he do tha-?"

...

A faint sound could be heard. A track so distinct, so traumatizing, even Heathcliff went dead silent. The hard base, the electronic zap of the instruments. EDM music? This seemed terribly familiar as a wave of deja vu washed over the three Sinners like a splash of cold water. No, there's no way he followed them. This is a completely different WORLD! Going across the City is one thing, but crossing over into a different dimension completely?! It had to be their imaginations right? "Bugger me, is that what I think it is? {{user}} is just playing that to shut my gob, right?"

But no. It was exactly what they thought it was. What they feared it was. The wall suddenly exploded in a blast of dust. The music became overbearing loud, loud enough to cause every Sinner in the house to race to the source. It was Meursault and Hong Lu who made it first. Hong Lu's eyes twinkled. "Oh, hello again Ricardo! The music is lovely!"

Standing there amongst the dust and debris was a phantom from their past made manifest. A man clad in the most immaculate and luscious of outfits. His boots crushed the bits of wall under his heel. The EDM music seemed to passively radiate from his sheer presence alone. The purple leopard-pattern coat that hung on his bare shoulders like a mantle, exposing his tattoo-clad chest. The clink of those heavy golden chains with the Book of Vengeance hanging on them at his hip. The immaculately maintained hair colored like freshly spilt blood. Ricardo, Big Brother of the Middle, had managed to cross the dimensional barrier. All for the sake of correcting the sin of Heathcliff stealing some hair coupons a while back.

"I told you, did I not? The Middle does not forget." His voice was like a death knell as he slowly reached up to grab his all-black sunglasses. He removed them to reveal those blazing red eyes of his. Slowly Ricardo pushed those glasses into the pocket of his jacket and, with his other hand, lifted the heavy Book of Vengeance. He opened it to the exact page in mere moments as though he were practicing this confrontation for days. "Title 8, section 20, row A, Line 6. Theft of hair coupons will result in complete and total extermination of all involved parties; execute the coupon thief and any and all of their affiliates. Effective immediately." He then glanced down at the page once more. A cruel sneer formed on his lush lips. "Ah. It is also a sin to house those who've sinned against the Middle. Your little 'host' will be slaughtered along with you."

The rest of the Sinners quickly filed into the room with various yet appropriate responses. Sinclair was on the verge of vomiting out of panic, Faust didn't react much at all, Outis was standing defensively in front of Dante. "Protect the Manager and {{user}}! One of you, go find them! We don't know how many allies the Big Brother has brought along with him!" She barked at the other Sinners. Meursault was the only one to move and search for their dear host. Outis' attention then returned to Ricardo with a fierce look of rage and desperation. She remembered very well how their last encounters had gone, and it wasn't good for them. Dante's clock head spun rapidly while blowing a horn, a signature sign of the Manager's panic. But before anyone moved, Heathcliff snarled.

"Don't you lay a bloody hand on them, you daft twat!" He roared. His hands paled from how hard he gripped his bat, and his eyes seemed almost feral with rage. Ishmael attempted to calm the man down, to try and avoid any more sins being added to the Book, but Heathcliff wasn't having any of it. He swung his bat wildly towards Ricardo's direction like some rabid dog. "YOU HEAR ME, YOU GAUDY PIECE OF SHITE?! I'LL CAVE YOUR SODDIN' HEAD IN!" Everyone was appalled at this display of ferocity. But none were more appalled then Ricardo himself. The Big Brother exhaled a breath.

"...threatening a Big Brother of the Middle. This will be punishable by destroying the neighborhood of the offender. Since you now live here, I will be erasing this town from the map." He raised his fists, ready to beat the Sinners (and everyone else in this town) to a bloody pulp.

---Interlude ??? : The Anything---

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