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Chapter 9: Tristes Tropiques
24 scenes, 2,400 lines
1. Unshakable Justice
83 lines
Cowards, mutineers, traitors!
You've made your choices; now you'll learn the consequences.
Zeno never forgives!
Attention! Ready, aim—
Fire!
A shame you had to see all that.
Our Second Lieutenant Lopera is a crack shot. I trained her to be nothing less. Yet, no soldier of Zeno would take pride in an execution.
The burden falls on me. This was my fault, my negligence.
The soldiers collapse, their limp bodies falling among the weeds.
Their blood stains the soil.
She hunted down these traitors herself.
The soldiers leave in formation amid the clearing smoke as the medics arrive to examine the deceased one by one.
Lopera hands the rifle to the attendant, removes her gloves, and turns to face Admiral Igor. He stands in the shaded colonnade, away from the blazing sun of São Paulo.
Orders completed, Admiral.
A rare smile flashes across the admiral's face.
He nods, a glimmer of approval for his adopted daughter in his eyes.
Well done, dismissed.
Lopera salutes before following the soldiers away from the execution grounds.
There have been too many accidents—an unacceptable rate.
The admiral's face shows discomfort. The recent soldier desertions, like the leaked footage, have exposed the embarrassing state of the Zeno army.
What reason could you have to kill your own men?
Not our men. Not any longer. They mutinied and killed their superior officer.
So they got what they deserved, then.
Lieutenant Moldir is investigating still. We will find out who else was involved.
The Apostles Brotherhood is back. We suspect they may have even infiltrated our base.
We've also received intel indicating Manus Vindictae's presence in São Paulo.
Manus Vindictae?
I'm not entirely surprised. Intelligence suggests they are closely associated with the Apostles Brotherhood.
What I hadn't expected is that they would drop their "Order of Enlightenment" guise so soon.
But Arcana is dead.
There is no room for doubt. No one, nothing, could survive a vacuum bomb.
It was the admiral's personal order to annihilate that once formidable woman. Destruction rained from the sky, and once the dust settled, it was clear that she had been utterly obliterated.
The sun glistens in the pooling blood of the executed traitors.
Hm ...
Sweat gathers on her forehead.
You will become used to the tropical sun in São Paulo.
...
The early summer heat here is overwhelming.
I, too, find myself thinking back to those times.
It should never have been a battleground.
Our business here is concluded. Timekeeper, Lieutenant Lilya, let us continue inside.
Do you really need me in there, Captain? Otherwise, I'd like to hang out here for a bit.
She gulps down some sweet liquor, but it provides little succor. It lacks the frosty flavor of the north.
This drink is lethargic, but it's all the base has to offer.
In São Paulo, soda is cheap, but rum is cheaper—and in near endless supply.
I'll check on Sotheby. See you both later, bye!
Dismissed, soldier, but I caution you, much has been abandoned here. Remember our rules and keep to within the guarded areas.
A simple office. Military papers litter the walls and shelves, and a phone sits on a side table. A few dice are scattered casually on the desk.
There may be a person of interest to us nearby, a writer for the UTTU Magazine, said to be a blind woman named Urd. Her works seemed to be published after every era the "Storm" has affected.
It could be this is only an alias, a pen name used by a new person each time, or—
Or could she really have crossed the "Storm" eight times?
And, somehow, the "Storm" has never affected her?
Ms. Barbara provided us with some information.
She said the latest piece was sent from a Veterans' Residence in São Paulo.
I understand they have a doctor working there, a blind woman. If so, she would match our intelligence on this mysterious UTTU writer. You should seek her out.
You are fortunate to have come now, Timekeeper. Carlos, the late commander here, was something of a pain to work with. An idiot. Maybe this is why his own men rose up and killed him.
He turns away.
...!
We've already dispensed with most of them.
Those men you just had executed?
Yes. Lopera raided one of their locations. Manus Vindictae will not be so happy to hear that, I think.
She was, I'm told, excessive in her work, a "loose cannon," but I am pleased with her results.
He seems to hold Lopera in high regard.
Cold, ruthless, decisive—qualities that don't quite match her sweet face and fiery orange hair.
Admiral, with you in charge here now, I thought I might ask a favor.
She needs to familiarize herself with the local area, transportation, and intelligence.
Things may become quite complicated during our visit to São Paulo. I wonder if I might request Zeno spare some manpower to assist us.
Our situation is more dire than expected. I will see what can be done, Timekeeper. But, no promises.
The seventeen towers and twenty-two courtyards of the base were once all fully patrolled, but now most of them are abandoned.
Lieutenant Moldir will provision you with everything you need.
And Lopera, she knows São Paulo well. You may take her with you, as a guide.
The admiral has offered all the assistance he can spare. He sighs at the state of the base.
Now, Timekeeper, there is also something you might do for me.
He seems resigned. Zeno is just like this dilapidated base, a weakened shadow of its former self.
As long as it's within my power, Admiral.
I see that you have one of ours with you, Lieutenant Lilya—I ask that she serve us for the duration of your mission here. She is a fine instructor, and Zeno is in need of help training our latest recruits.
I'll speak with her and see what she thinks.
Thank you.
I should return to my work. Your comrades should be waiting for you in the meeting room with Lieutenant Moldir.
2. A New Photo of an Old Friend
106 linesUnder the shadow of the colonnade, the orange-headed girl absentmindedly kicks at the ground, sipping a cold drink.
She watches as a beetle scurries across the courtyard, disappearing into a patch of weeds.
What are you doing out here alone?
She dips under the shadow of the colonnade, the sun streaming in behind her.
The orange-headed girl raises her hand to block the glaring sunlight as she tries to make out the woman's face.
Mm? Molly!
It's her "sister," Moldir. They grew up together under the watchful eye of their adoptive father.
She tosses her drink aside, her face lighting up like a puppy wagging its tail as she runs toward her sister.
Heh, at ease, soldier—You've really been building some strength, haven't you?
She pats her sister's head as she hugs her tightly.
And you're sprouting up like a weed.
And you, looks like they've been feeding you well.
"Returning the favor," she slips her hand under her sister's shirt and pinches her soft belly.
Just a little prank.
How long will you be staying this time?
Not long. Father plans to leave soon.
He was furious when he heard about the defections. He ordered that he be brought here immediately.
As the admiral's most trusted lieutenant and child, she has accompanied him to the São Paulo base.
Perhaps you might leave with us when the new C.O. arrives.
She seems hesitant.
Only the admiral decides who stays and who goes—whether it be her, Lopera, or anyone else.
Really? But ... I don't know. Things are going well for me here, Molly. I enjoy being near the Veterans' Residence.
Then I'm happy for you. The wisdom of elders is worth its weight in gold.
She looks around, but Admiral Igor is nowhere to be seen.
He's still with the Timekeeper, in his office.
Um, n-no, I came to, um, weed. The grounds have gotten so messy since the shutdown.
Weeding. A ridiculous excuse. Who would bother to traipse through all these desolate courtyards just to pull a few plants?
This has always been one of her difficulties. Her face may be steely, but her glowing red ears always give away the truth.
Alright, no more joking. We should get to the meeting room. Our Foundation guests are waiting. I would like to get back before they realize I've slipped away.
Alright, but while we go, let me tell you about the prisoner we captured during our raid.
And a strange little ship in a bottle ...
Amid the grass, a hummingbird watches the two as they walk away, talking and laughing together. It turns its gaze toward the tower in the south of the base.
The room is simple, sturdy, and clean. A military room through and through.
Sotheby and Lilya are idly looking around the reception room.
Photographs of veterans are proudly hung on the wall. They're arranged in chronological order.
Mm, 1968.
The soldiers look grim. They avert their eyes from the camera, a hollow look within them. It was a victory without flowers or honor.
Izmir. I've never heard of it. I wonder if they have any Abang-Akus there?
In one photograph, soldiers stand in formation under a row of date palms. They gaze off into the glimmering coastline.
Rio de Janeiro. Among the soldiers, she spots a face that is all too familiar.
Mr. Karson?!
She jumps up, trying to get ahold of the wooden frame.
Mr. Karson disappeared in the "Storm" of 1929.
Oh, you have friends in Rio?
Lilya takes the photo off the wall.
I can't believe it! That simply must be Mr. Karson!
She would never mistake him.
He looks livelier than before. His hair is darker and wilder, but his features are unmistakably those of her dear butler.
But the "Storm" ... I saw him ... He dissolved.
Mr. Karson? What, you mean this old geezer in the photo? What are you talking about?
Sotheby nods her head fervently.
Why, this must be Mr. Karson!
There's no two men in the world that could look so alike! Could it be a doppelganger or an evil twin? But then, surely Mr. Karson would have mentioned a twin brother—even an evil one.
The nose ... and his eyes ... Though he's not wearing his glasses, but I know those wrinkles.
Sotheby continues to talk to herself. The man in the photo looks just like Mr. Karson, save for the smile on his face.
The stern old butler would never smile like that.
Like a potion in a bottle, a thousand and one questions bubble up in her mind.
She almost presses her nose against the dusty glass of the picture frame as she tries to make out every detail.
Maybe then, Mr. Karson could still be ...
The dust has gotten into her nose.
*sneezes*
Admiral Igor strides into the room.
Where is Lieutenant Moldir?
He looks around. Moldir was supposed to be welcoming their new guests.
Sir. Timekeeper.
Lilya immediately straightens up, saluting the admiral.
Ms. Vertin! Come and look!
Sotheby waves at her, the photograph clutched in her hand.
Mr. Karson could still be alive!
Huh?!
Still alive?! The Mr. Karson who vanished before their eyes in the "Storm" of 1929?
I guess Sotheby saw someone familiar in one of these veterans' photos. You know this Karson guy?
Look, look!
...!
How could it be? Mr. Karson was erased by the "Storm" of 1929.
He does bear a striking resemblance to Mr. Karson, if my memory serves me right.
Yet here he is, in a photo dated 1986.
The admiral strides over and examines the photo.
Oh, '86. We lost many good soldiers to the Amazon that year. But some battled through, survived.
This man is one of the latter.
You are saying that you've met this man before?
He looks remarkably similar to a friend of ours who was lost in the "Storm" in 1929.
In fact, Admiral. They appear to be nearly identical. It's almost unthinkable.
I must say Mr. Karson would never dress like that. But I'm certain this is him!
Just looking at him brings back memories of her dear old butler.
That is fascinating.
Do you know if this man is still alive?
I couldn't say, doubtful he would be in our service anymore. But you may find him at the Veterans' Residence in São Paulo.
São Paulo, the Veterans' Residence. Like items washed to the shore, secrets and answers gather there, waiting for the birds to carry them away.
Hi, everyone!
Thank you for your pa-tience.
The two of them are met with a cold look from the admiral.
...
Sir ...
3. The Minotaur
99 linesLieutenant Moldir, about time. What was it? Did you stop for a picnic?
A scalding comment.
Moldir was supposed to be taking care of Ms. Sotheby. It seems she has abandoned her duties.
Admiral, I ...
Save your excuses.
Yes, sir!
It was my fault, Admiral. I ran into her on our way here. It's been a while since we last saw each other.
As her father glares at her, she quickly realizes that her attempt to cover for her sister is only making things worse.
Your performance on the training ground earlier was most impressive, Ms. Lopera.
She breaks the awkward silence.
Allow me to introduce my team. This is Ms. Sotheby.
Sotheby smiles and curtsies.
And this is Lieutenant Lilya.
She gives a brief salute.
How's it going? I was previously assigned to HQ.
It seems your assignment here has done little for your discipline, Lopera.
The admiral stands with his hands behind his back. He examines his undisciplined daughter, a grim look on his face.
You have new orders. I am assigning you to accompany the Timekeeper and her team to São Paulo for the duration of their mission.
Lopera nods, but Lilya still has questions.
Me and Lopera? That's a whole lot of firepower. What are we expecting during this mission?
Oh! Sorry, Lilya. I haven't had the chance to speak with you privately. The Admiral asked if you could stay on site to help with training their new recruits.
What do you think? You can do as you wish.
Training up some new blood, eh? Well, as long as you think you can handle things without me, I can stick around to lend a hand. It'll be just like the good old days back at the academy.
She knows that this isn't a request but an order.
Thank you, Lieutenant.
He nods and smiles in thanks. His smile fades as he turns to his youngest daughter.
As for you, Lopera ...
Please show our guests to their rooms, and try not to over-exert yourself.
Orders have been given to everyone present.
Lieutenant Lilya, stay for a moment.
Lieutenant Moldir will bring some documents shortly; they should prove useful for your assignment.
Moldir, briefly out of the admiral's sight, shrugs helplessly as her orders start to pile up.
Lilya gives her a knowing smile. It's always like this. It's just part of the job.
Now, I have other business to attend to. If you'll excuse me.
He turns and leaves, his imposing figure soon disappearing from sight.
Lopera exhales a long breath, snaps her fingers, and smiles as she heads toward the door. She turns to her guests.
Come on, let's go. I'll show you around. But stay close. This base can be a bit of a labyrinth. It's only missing a bloodthirsty minotaur lurking its halls. Well, I haven't seen him yet, anyways.
The base here has been understaffed for some time; whole sections are deserted—it can be dangerous. We don't usually allow guests to move about freely.
Well, who am I kidding? We don't have any guests in the first place. Who'd come here for a visit?
"Scenic views of dead gardens and overgrown brush. In the spring we have vine-tripping competitions, and in the summer you can be part of our complementary bug buffet!"
Even the farmers back home had it better than this.
She leads the way, chewing on a piece of wolf's-tail grass.
Before Zeno moved in, this was the fort of some Lisbon aristocrat.
The shadows of the old continent are everywhere here, the ghosts of the 18th century still clinging to every mark on the marble columns.
There's only one place fully off-limits here: that tower.
She points to a tower in the distance.
Styled after Andalusian architecture, it stands ominously under the scorching sun, looming over the base with an eerie intensity.
What's in there?
Sotheby's imagination is running wild again.
Imbued with the strength of an ox, the wits of a man, and the wings and fiery breath of a dragon!
Miss, this is a Zeno base, not some chimera's nest.
Besides, if there were any monsters in there, I would have heard them by now.
Were those the Admiral's exact words? That nobody is allowed "inside" the tower?
Yeah, that was what he said: "Under no circumstances is anyone to be allowed inside."
Then a quick peek around wouldn't exactly violate the letter of that order.
Ms. Vertin, are you thinking what I'm thinking?
Is there treasure inside the tower?
Let me say this again: There are no monsters in that tower.
And I am under orders to escort you directly to your rooms.
She blinks. Clearly, curiosity isn't only in the hearts of these new guests.
But if we were to, say, walk a bit too close, and "accidentally" provoke some nearby critters ...
Mischievous critters often wander into the courtyards, and these ones have appeared just in time.
Oh! How terrible! It seems trouble has found us!
They gave me quite a start! Thankfully, they were easy to handle.
We can't let them run off. Who knows what damage they could do?
Lopera chases after the fleeing critters, who just so happen to be heading in the direction of the tower.
It is nothing more than a coincidence.
The half-hour-long game of "tag" finally comes to an end.
Now where could they have gone?
She searches for the colorful critters, a serious look on her face. In her concentration, she bumps into a wooden door flanked by lemon trees.
It may well be possible they fled into the tower.
The door stands at the base of the tower.
Is this the entrance?
Timekeeper!
Clearly, this door is not supposed to be opened.
My father, the admiral, he won't be happy with this.
The sight of it is tantalizing. Just a touch, and it will swing open, revealing all the mysteries within.
But why? Is there something hidden inside?
Claw marks line the wall, and blood stains the door—rabbit blood, bull blood, unblessed lamb blood.
The wind stirs the lemon trees, filling the air with the faint scent of bay and myrtle.
There's an arcane array on the door.
Is it to stop us from entering, or to keep what's inside from coming out?
The arcane array looks ancient. It has weakened with time.
She traces the markings with her fingertips. The blood flakes off, breaking a small gap in the array.
I have no idea. We're soldiers, we "follow orders, no questions." As my father would say.
With all the flooding we've had, they probably shoved everything they wanted to keep safe and dry in there.
Lopera!
Moldir rushes from behind, putting an end to their little "accidental" adventure.
You get lost on your way to the guest rooms, Pera? You know better than to be here.
Your ship will be leaving early tomorrow morning. Please return to your rooms and get some rest.
This is a military base, not an amusement park. Please, do not wander about, especially near restricted areas.
My apologies, Lieutenant. Perhaps you could point us in the right direction?
She steals one more look at the tower as they leave. The fruits on the lemon trees are plump and juicy. The old beast-blood array appears dark in the sunlight.
The wooden door creaks open a little, allowing an insect to fly in through the gap.
The seal ... it's gone.
Inside the tower, the sole prisoner has been quietly listening to their conversation: There's a ship leaving tomorrow morning.
As the footsteps trail off, she gently pushes the door. The seal is indeed gone. She's free.
4. Riptide
103 linesA journey always starts with a farewell.
Here, put this on, Pera. It will allow me to track you should anything happen.
She fastens a small button to her sister's collar.
This button connects the two of them tightly. With this, they will always be able to find each other, no matter where they are.
They kiss on both cheeks.
You'll remember to bring Father a souvenir this time, yes?
And promise me you'll be careful. I do not wish for our Pera to "buy the farm" just yet.
Don't worry about me, Molly. Worry about them.
I'll kill them all, if I have to. Every last one.
She makes sure to emphasize the totality of her determination.
Alright, alright, enough blabbering. Do you two always share these little heart-to-hearts whenever you leave? I got nothing to say 'cept "bye."
Or is the tortoise suddenly not so worried about its speed?
The ship signals its imminent departure.
Sotheby, do we have everything?
Naturally! Ms. Sotheby is always ready to travel!
The ship is boarding now. After it departs, I will spend some time gathering intel on Mr. Duncan.
Thank you.
We should be able to find him in the flesh once we get to town. Duncan and I go way back, hahaha!
And I'll introduce you to another friend. She lives in a bottle.
I'd be delighted to meet your friends.
We should be going now.
Lilya, I've told Admiral Igor that he can rely on you for further assistance as necessary. Is that alright with you?
Having seen off their guests, Lieutenant Moldir returns to the admiral's office to report an incident from the previous night.
Admiral, a prisoner has gone missing from the tower.
She lowers her head as she awkwardly delivers her report.
We'll make sure it's kept under wraps.
The seal was broken, and we're still investigating who might have been involved.
I did encounter the Timekeeper, Ms. Sotheby, and Lopera near the Tower yesterday. Still, I see no reason to suspect them.
They were the only people she saw near the tower yesterday.
...
The Timekeeper doesn't have any incentive, and Lopera—No, she wouldn't be involved.
Until last night, the tower held a single unlucky prisoner—a lamb to the slaughter, a stalk of wheat in autumn. But now she has gotten away.
Find the prisoner, but don't attempt recapture. Let's see who she's been in touch with.
Understood.
Lieutenant, this was a failure that must not be repeated.
He grits his teeth as he stares at the map before him. Zeno shouldn't be like this.
The ship departs, and before long, a dozen rowboats have surrounded it.
Oh, look at those strange cowboys! What are they doing with those hooks? Are they trying to hitch a ride?
Yes, they will use those hooks to grab onto the side of the ship and moor their boats to ours.
Just as she said, the boats throw their hooks, latch onto the ship, and a number of people clamber aboard.
They're traders hawking homemade trinkets. Lopera politely declines them all.
Take this, Timekeeper.
What's this?
Just a map, in case we get separated.
The map is marked with at least three "safe routes."
This will show you the way from the harbor to the Veterans' Residence. Though, it can't show you the safest way. For that, you'll need me.
But what am I saying? São Paulo is perfectly safe! That's what the politicians say anyways, never mind the talk of gangs, cartels, and greedy multinational corporations—pure slander.
Thank you for the warning, and the map. Let's hope I won't find any occasion to use it.
I hope so, too. Well, we have a long cruise ahead. I'll leave you to your business. See you.
She waves goodbye, making her way through the energetic traders and to the other side of the deck.
The traders scamper around like little mice. Having made their sales, they're now scrambling to get a plate of food from the chef.
So, the kitchen even prepares food for them.
No line-cutting! You, boy, back to your place!
Queue up, or there will be no dinner for you tonight!
The chef taps his metal spoon, sending the boy back to his place in the queue.
The boy sneakily grabs a few flatbreads, tucks them under his shirt, and scurries away.
Ah!
He bumps into Sotheby, crashing to the floor along with his "stolen goods."
Ei, out of my way!
He stuffs the bread under his shirt again before running off. As he passes, Sotheby notices a glint of an arcane skill in his eyes.
He runs like a child enchanted by the Rattenfanger as he bolts toward a corner of the cabin.
Ms. Vertin? Did you notice that boy? Wasn't he awfully strange?
You're right. Come on, let's go see what he's up to.
A woman hides in the shadows.
Her face is familiar, but she wears an entirely new outfit.
Is it really her? The lady at Tuesday's Motel?
It's you!
The bread-stealing child is gone.
Instead, Ms. Kimberly is curled up in the corner, stuffing bread into her mouth with both hands.
She stops and looks up, surprise in her eyes.
Mm?! Oh, Vertin?
How—What are you doing here?
I was about to ask you the very same question.
The farewell at Tuesday's Motel last month wasn't exactly pleasant.
But she looks starved now.
Is this a new friend, Vertin? A pleasure to meet you!
Sotheby approaches, but Kimberly looks terrified. She freezes, a sticky lump of dough dropping from the corner of her mouth.
Please, take this.
She offers her a chocolate bar. After a moment's hesitation, Kimberly swallows, grabs the bar, and shoves it into her mouth.
Th-Thank you ...
She licks her fingers clean like a ravenous child.
Have you found what you lost since we last met?
...
Her face falls. It appears not.
Perhaps I could help.
Thank you, but I would prefer to do this on my own.
I was the one who lost it, and I will be the one to get it back.
She's unwilling to cooperate, but there's no hostility.
A strange and contradictory figure, an arcanist who seems to be on the verge of reformation.
This ship is headed to São Paulo. Is that where you're heading as well? Would you like to accompany us?
São Paulo? I don't ...
It's the ship's only destination. Where else could she go?
There isn't anything for me there. Only a pit of misery and pain. There's no more dancing, no feasts or banquets. No—
Her eyes dart away.
"There's nothing there."
No, I would rather we simply part ways here, Ms. Vertin! Farewell, and pleasant journeys—I'm indebted to you for your kindness.
Ah, and your friend here ... Aren't you just a sweetheart? Oh, I could just gobble you up for tea!
She reaches out and pinches Sotheby's cheek.
Ah! Madam, please. You ... This simply isn't proper or ladylike.
Kimberly smiles, as if she has shed the baggage of their previous encounter, and disappears into the crowd.
There's an old legend told in the desert peninsula: encountering a demon is always a sign of bad things to come.
5. Waterway to Hell
101 linesThe wind blows through Lopera's hair.
The tourists gather at the ship's edge, watching the locals in small boats approaching the cruise ship.
A few treats to buy their worship. And they call it "kindness." How undignified, to be reduced to begging for scraps like a dog.
The children on the boats wave their hands and shout in an attempt to attract the tourists' attention.
The crew and onboard priest have packed supplies for the tourists to buy and throw to the impoverished children—all part of the tour experience.
Dignity doesn't count for much in the face of hunger.
The stranger nods, though he doesn't seem to completely agree.
Yet no man can live by bread alone.
And yet none can live without it.
You're a clever girl, Miss. But I hear from your accent you are no local. So, what brings you to São Paulo? Business, right? I have some business myself in the favelas.
Colombia, sir, and no, only a visit. To the São Paulo Veterans' Residence. It's a safe place. If you find yourself in trouble, you should seek it out.
Oh, is it now? Thank you. You're very kind to offer.
Lopera idly tosses a small die up in the air and catches it in her hand again.
The stranger's eyes follow the die as it traces its path.
Care for a game of dice, little lady?
What's the bet?
She glances at the black suitcase by the stranger's feet.
Well, let us bet against the goodness in one another.
Let us say that the loser will cover the cost of all the food given to all the little vendors today,
in the winner's name, of course.
A generous gamble for a conscience that knocks on heaven's door.
That's no small wager, sir. Still, I appreciate a good game.
The stranger smiles as he watches Lopera drop the die on the table and shake it in the wooden cup.
High-low then? Who goes first?
Ladies first.
Low.
Let's make it more interesting. Six. If it rolls anything else, you win.
She shakes the cup again, the die unevenly tumbling around inside.
Do you mind?
I lost, just as was meant to be. So then, I am to be the vehicle of grace today.
Might I have your name, Miss? So that all may know the name, which is to be sung in paradise today.
Carlotta Lopez Rivera. But it is "Lopera" should you ask after me.
Lopera. Lopera of São Paulo.
The defeated stranger picks up the die. He notices something in its design and cracks a smile.
He places it in Lopera's hand.
That's an interesting die you have there.
Do as I say! All of you!
Look, Vertin! There are some more "river cowboys" over there!
I'm afraid they seem more like river pirates.
Stay back, Sotheby!
What do you want?
Where's the captain? We're changing destinations. This ship will be docking in the favela now.
Or we'll blow it all to bits!
He flicks a lighter and lights the fuse of an explosive. He's panicked. Clearly, he's afraid of something.
Get out of the way!!
Lopera has already drawn her guns.
But the crowd is panicking. She can't get a clear shot.
Hold your fire, Lopera!
There are oil drums on board!
Lopera notices the oil drums stacked behind the crowd. A single mistake could turn the whole ship into tomorrow's headline in the São Paulo papers.
Ah, slimy rats.
She holsters her guns and charges forward with her bare fists.
Lopera grapples with the thug before wrestling him to the ground and punching him repeatedly in the nose.
She tears the explosives off the pirate's body, but in that brief moment, the thug manages to pull one of her guns from its holster.
Lopera!
The fight halts, the thug's trembling hand pointing the gun at Lopera. The oil drums are just a few steps away.
Either we go to the favela, or to the bottom of the river, clear? Make your call!
The favela ... Are you with the Apostles Brotherhood?
...?!
They forced you into doing this, didn't they?
"Hijack the ship and bring it to us." Is that right?
Too bad for you. This ship won't be making any unplanned detours today.
The pirate's eyes widen as he freezes in place, only his legs trembling.
Lopera hit the mark, but the thug's reaction is extreme.
His finger tightens on the trigger as his teeth chatter nervously.
...
The bullet flies past her shoulder, instead piercing an oil drum behind her.
Blaze-busters?
A blinding flash of light and a wave of heat hit them as the ship is quickly engulfed in flames.
The ship lurches violently as the blast tears through the vessel, and water starts flooding into the hull.
Oh, my God!!!
Lifeboats! Get to the lifeboats now!
God help us! This is hell!
Panic breaks out as the ship starts to split in half.
More explosions follow.
There's no sign of Ms. Kimberly in the crowd.
Hold the railings! Stay on the deck!
Lopera shouts from the water as she clings to a piece of floating wood. She gasps for air as she bobs up and down in the water.
Chairs, benches, and sailing gear disappear as the ship sinks further and further into the depths of the river.
Sotheby clutches the guardrail tightly, but the ship is almost vertical and sinking fast.
Let go, Sotheby! You need to jump now! Join Lopera!
Screams fill the air as the tourists cling on for dear life, watching their friends and family hurtle toward the river.
Like overripe oranges, one by one, they lose their grip and plunge into the depths.
Vertin!
Flames lick the guardrails, melting the ship's cheap materials. The explosions ring in her ears.
Sotheby closes her eyes and flings herself toward Lopera.
Lucky for her, Lopera quickly grabs her hand and pulls her onto the wooden plank.
Somebody, please get her! She's still ...
"She" is still on the ship.
With one final explosion, the ship is obliterated entirely.
The river swallows everything.
...
The sunlight ripples on the surface, growing farther and farther away.
Whose hand is that?
Can't have you dying here.
*sigh* Why do we keep meeting in these awkward situations?
Consider my debt paid.
6. Tender Pretender
117 lines
The Brotherhood just took a beating from Zeno. If they're caught up with their own trouble, then we might have a golden opportunity to turn the people against them.
We can't lose anyone else to their lies.
The old man next to him casts his fishing line. The bobber floats quietly on the river's surface. Across the river, a water anaconda eyes the two men beneath the shadow of a snakewood tree.
What do you say? Wanna talk about plans?
The old man doesn't speak. Instead, he removes his sunglasses and pushes a cup toward his friend.
Here. Drink up.
Thanks. Listen, as much as I enjoy being out here all day ... We've got to take action now. The sooner, the better, don't you think?
The young man takes the glass and downs it in one gulp, as his friend suggested.
Haha, hold your horses, young Galeno!
Let me explain—say, I throw a punch at you now, really hit you good, what next?
Maybe you'll storm off at first, but then, you round up your cousins, maybe grab that Tommy gun you borrowed from Colonel Tiago.
The old man laughs, mimicking shooting with his hands.
Hahahaha! I'm not gonna harm you, kid. And if I ever do, remember that old Duncan must have his reasons and he'd never harm a friend intentionally.
What is all that supposed to mean?
Ha, I'm rambling. I mean, true enough that Lopera hit them hard, and we both know that the Brotherhood will aim to settle that score, and they won't wait long. But if we don't play this smart, it'll only cause them to lash out more.
Still, we do have to consider one thing: those who chose to follow them never come back.
No, they don't.
So, let's seize the day, grab opportunity by the horns, and maybe we stop losing more of our friends to those bastards. Right now, seems to me that Zeno is our best bet.
The young man considers this proposition.
That just might work, old man. With the Brotherhood falling apart, Zeno will start to look pretty good to folks here.
Ah, but not so fast, kid! We need a little patience. Let the line out a little first.
If you fail to prepare, you're prepared to fail.
The bobber twitches.
Got it! Excellent!
The old man jumps to his feet, reeling his fishing rod and fighting the unseen enemy in the water.
Aw! Don't think you could get away from me!
The fishing line plunges down into the river, the rod bending into a crescent.
Ah! You like to wrestle, huh? Alright, let's see who gets the upper hand!
Old Duncan is not about to lose a battle to—
A fish! Hahahaha!
It's a giant puffpuff fish, larger than any he's seen before.
Wow! Do you see the size of its belly?! It's huge!
What looks like a large green cake is floating inside its translucent belly.
Haha, what a deal! Catch one, get one free! How generous, Mother River.
Alright, jokes aside, Galeno. Come on, help me get her out.
Old Duncan pulls out a knife and slices open the fish's belly.
His catch bursts like a balloon, releasing air, water, and … a girl.
This has got to be the strangest thing you've ever fished out from the river!
Another castaway floats downstream.
Duncan, Duncan!
Across the river, the water anaconda locks onto its target, slipping into the water and swimming toward her.
Duncan, look! She's got an anaconda chasing after her!
The water anaconda zigzags toward its prey.
I saw it. Don't you worry.
Old Duncan sets the soaked girl down before lifting a blowpipe and aiming at the snake.
*whoosh*
The dart strikes, quickly draining the anaconda of its strength. It sinks to the riverbed like a coil of old rope.
He grabs a nearby vine and throws it into the water. Lopera grabs it and pulls herself toward the shore.
Thank goodness you were here to grab me.
She clambers onto the shore, shakes the water from her hair, and sits leaning back on her hands, breathing heavily.
But what are you doing all the way out here?
I was wondering the same thing about you, girl. Seems like a strange place for a swim. I suppose you wouldn't know anything about the girl we just fished out over there?
He points to the little girl who rolled out of the fish's belly.
Sotheby!
She's still breathing. The air trapped in the fish's belly must have saved her life.
Lopera crawls over to her companion and smacks her back, helping her spit out the water in her lungs.
Hey, can you hear me?
Easy now, Lopera! We just cut her out of that fish's belly.
Sotheby coughs out the water in her lungs as she regains consciousness.
You're a veritable Jonah, aren't you?
Mm ... Hmm?
A familiar face appears in her blurred vision.
I-I dreamt of a very, very big fish.
And I was in its belly. It was as wide as the sky. I couldn't breathe.
A terribly strange dream, Mr. Karson.
She's awake!
Mr. Karson?!
This is him. The man from the photograph is standing before her. She freezes.
You ... How ...
The water slowly clears from her vision. The face before her is both familiar and strange.
She knows it, yet she doesn't.
There's a little dirt on me. Here, and on the collar, too. Oh, goodness.
Why am I here? I ... What ...
"Mr. Karson" kneels beside her. But he's wearing some very odd clothes.
Could it really be you, Mr. Karson?
Karson? You must be mistaken, little lady. My name is Duncan. I'm a friend of Lopera.
That's right. Sotheby, this is Duncan from the Veterans' Residence. We've known each other for a long time.
You must be confusing him with someone else.
Now, up on your feet, little lady.
He takes her arm and pulls her out of the mud.
Pardon me, little lady. We tend to be very straightforward here in the favela.
It's quite alright. Only—No, no, no, I just don't understand! You look exactly like Mr. Karson; how could you be anyone else?
Except for your attire, and those shoes ...
Her butler would never dress like this, sockless with patched-up clothing.
She notices the liquid swirling in his cup.
And the liquor?
No, her butler would never drink in front of the lady of the house.
Sotheby decides to take a bold guess. She jumps up and nervously grabs Mr. Duncan's shirt.
Oh, pardon me, little miss. Are you not comfortable with us drinking? Galeno, put the cup away for me, please.
No, I only meant ... Mr. Karson, it truly seems as though you've forgotten everything! Oh, but I'm being terribly unladylike.
She rambles incoherently.
This behavior is totally against The Lady's Code of Conduct, yet "Mr. Karson" remains utterly unfazed.
Still, you-you don't seem to mind at all.
Growing increasingly confused, Sotheby lowers her head, still clutching the hem of "Mr. Karson's" shirt.
I must be a dead-ringer for this guy to have gotten you all flustered, little miss. Seems like you cared very deeply for this Mr. Karson?
Yes, I did. So, then, you really aren't him?
Sorry to disappoint, little lady. But I'm flattered by the resemblance. Maybe I can be your friend too. In fact, feel free to call me Karson—why not? A rose by any other name, eh?
The old man hooks his pinky with Sotheby's and presses his thumb firmly against hers.
Mr. Karson ...
I know how hard it can be. I lost my wife, and my comrade-in-arms. I even managed to lose his daughter, after I promised to take care of her.
She'd have been just about your age.
I'm rambling again. I suppose what I'm saying is, I know what it feels like to lose someone you love.
She looks lost, unsure of what to think, but she still holds onto the old man's hand, seemingly making a small promise with him.
Looking around, Sotheby realizes someone important is missing.
Oh, no. But what about Ms. Vertin! We've lost her! Where could she be now? We must find her!
Slow down. We need to think things through first. Those knuckleheads blew up the entire ship.
Which means our comms belong to the caimans now.
Everything's in disarray. There's no way to contact the Timekeeper. They don't even know if she's alive.
Not to worry. I've been through worse! Back in '82, on the Rio Negro ... Oh, before I go rambling on again ...
Let's head back to the city! Come on now. Trust good old Duncan.
Sorry, I mean Karson! Trust Karson to lead the way!
7. False Accusations
134 linesA man in black lifts a fallen statue.
I've never wanted to put São Paulo through this chaos.
He shields the faint flame in his hand, reigniting the candles one by one.
Order, peace, unity—those are my purposes.
Much has been wagered here, Marcando, much. Now, it has been lost.
Your Reverence, it was Zeno. Those animals! We'll make them pay for what they did!
Is that why you've decided to grace us with your presence, Your Reverence?
There is a lot to do if we're going to recover the ground, we—I've lost, Your Reverence. And there's something more, a new doctor down at the Veterans' Residence.
Some blind woman. I would not bother you with it, Lord Santos. Except that she's been helping people in the favela and it is swaying them towards Zeno.
Then this doctor is with Zeno?
She must be. She's always at the Veterans' Residence—spends most of the day with those old war dogs.
His expression is tense as he mops the sweat from his forehead.
A doctor gaining the trust of the people in the favela? She'd make quite the prize, wouldn't you say, Marcando?
A much more valuable bargaining chip to Zeno than a few deserters.
Marcando understands perfectly. In São Paulo, kidnappings are as common as bread.
You will see this task through, Marcando. But before that ...
We need to pay a visit to the favela. I've brought us some new blood.
See? Just like this. Wrap the wire around it—better do it twice—and align the red and black, slowly.
He delicately connects the copper wires and the current buzzes to life.
Unbelievable!
It's science, kids. Nothing unbelievable about it.
All fixed, he hands the communicator back to Lopera.
I don't know how to thank you, Duncan!
She straightens the antenna, adjusts the channel, and hurriedly contacts the base to report the situation.
Admiral, Lopera just called in.
Put her through.
Lopera, it's me. What happened?
Our ship was sunk. Ms. Sotheby and I washed ashore near the favelas.
As for the Timekeeper, she went overboard. We lost sight of her in the commotion. Her current status is unknown.
...?!
The admiral remains expressionless. He raises a finger, signaling Moldir to inquire further.
We'll send people to find her and escort her to the Veterans' Residence.
Additionally, Lieutenant, I have some fresh recruits eager to enroll with Zeno. But they will need the admiral's assurances that their families will be under our protection.
Moldir looks at the admiral.
He nods in agreement.
They have it. What's their ETA?
They'll leave at once.
Leave the matter to me, Moldir. I will send someone to take care of this.
Moldir falls silent as she looks at her aging father, concern in her eyes.
Silence spreads between father and daughter as the admiral focuses on the dice in his hand.
What did the admiral say?
He agreed!
Did you hear that? Zeno will protect us!
Good news indeed. The young man claps his hands in excitement.
But just as the celebration starts, it is cut abruptly short.
I have no doubt. They were working for the Brotherhood.
The Apostles Brotherhood? They've bounced back quicker than I'd hoped.
Still, we'll need to be cautious. Figure out just what they're after.
That guy looks familiar.
It's the stranger she met on the ship—he's walking among the Brotherhood.
That's him! He was on the ship with me.
He walks toward the crowd, passing out food and other useful items to those he passes.
The Brotherhood has experienced a setback, yes—as all great causes do! But we will rise again, for we serve the one true purpose.
Hear me now, brothers and sisters, fellow arcanists!
Our days of anguish and deprivation are over. The Sufferer will walk among us once more, and we will bask in THEIR divine grace.
The day of triumph draws near. Soon, our wagers will pay off. All will reap what we have sown! You only need stand with us.
And take THEIR blessings. In return for this, THEY ask only for your unwavering allegiance.
He pulls paper bills from his suitcase and throws them into the crowd.
Yet the crowd remains still in their confusion.
My brothers and sisters. Speak. What do you seek?
No one answers him.
Sir, please, we only want to see our family again.
Since they've joined the Brotherhood, we've had no word. We haven't seen or heard from them at all.
Nothing is more important than family.
Ah, but you will see them again soon. I tell you that they are even now faithfully serving our kind in a new land of prosperity.
They're in Ushuaia, in Antarctica, in all places where the past and the future converge.
There will be no more poverty! No more hatred! No more chaos! We shall reclaim what's rightfully ours!
Remember this: Humans are vile and sinful creatures. They tortured our men and women, leaving our children to cry in hunger and desperation.
But they've already played their hand, all their reason, their science, and their despicable organizations. They raised these rotten edifices to weaken us and leech off of our misfortunes, to blind us from our true purpose.
But no longer! Soon, their games will be over, and every injustice and oppression they've held over our people will be returned tenfold! All that they've built will crumble down over their heads!
The crowd whispers in hushed tones, afraid to speak any louder.
Hiding nearby, Duncan quietly leans over to Lopera and whispers a few words before handing her a rabbit patch.
Tell me, my fellow brothers and sisters, what is evil?
No one answers. The murmurs of the crowd quickly fade, creating a heady silence. A few crows fly low overhead.
Evil is the absence of good.
And to find what is good ...
... is to follow our path!
The High One has promised us strength and glory!
Two followers carry a box, emanating a sinister aura over to him.
He opens it, revealing the blessings of the Sufferer for all to see.
Come with me!
He throws open his arms as he calls out once more, taking a step back in humble reverence to the Sufferer's glory.
That's a Manus's mask!
In that nightmare back in 1929, disaster struck because of the people who wore these masks. The memory is still vivid in Sotheby's mind.
Sorrow will weaken you, and fear may seize your hearts!
Instead, let faith be your guide! Those who take that leap shall find themselves lifted up upon the Apostles' wings.
While those who hesitate will be scorched by the fires at their feet.
I've said all that must be said. We'll meet again here, in three days' time.
He leaves them with a "gracious and generous" deadline.
Don't listen to him! He's a lunatic!
The little lady bravely steps forward, fervently warning the crowd.
And just who are you?
Marcando.
Santos quickly stops his subordinate.
As students of the Truth, we have been granted a much stronger weapon than violence.
Lopera, follow my lead.
He stands beside Sotheby, taking her hand in his.
Sir, please forgive her. She has mistaken you for those pirates on the Tietê River.
So, just a misunderstanding, then? I'm no lunatic, after all?
Yes, Your Reverence. She came across a terrible raid on her way here, you see. The poor girl was left terrified.
Well, I'll need more than a few words to convince my friends we have not been insulted.
Loyalty without tribute cannot be trusted.
I-I'm an old man with nothing to give you but the truth! Believe me, sir! I-I came all this way just for you! I want to join the Brotherhood!
His words surprise everyone. Those who know Duncan are shocked, and those who don't are confused.
She didn't mean to offend any of the gentlemen here! Please, sir, she's only a kid.
Of course. I try never to take offense at a sweet young lady. However, if I'm to believe you, I will need you to up your ante to prove you are worthy, sir.
The old man kneels, just as he did when he played the role of "Karson" for Sotheby.
If that's what you need, Lord, allow me to sweeten the deal. See that guy over there? His name is Galeno. He's been recruiting for Zeno. He told me so himself!
He turns and points at Galeno in the crowd.
Duncan?
Bring the young man closer, Marcando.
Oof! Are you out of your mind? Don't touch me!
He tries to flee, but the thugs rush at him on command.
In the chaos of the battle, Lopera grabs Sotheby, and they hop onto a small wooden boat.
Let's go!
Surrounded, Galeno finally stops his struggle when a knife is pressed to his throat.
I admire your courage, but bravery alone won't protect you from harm. Tell me, son, is what he said the truth of it?
...
He turns his head, refusing to respond.
Now, you'll give me the names of Zeno's new recruits. Who are they?
A drop of blood falls from Galeno's neck as the cold blade of the knife presses into his skin.
Everyone! Every man and woman in this city that still has a shred of integrity!
Ah!
Duncan punches Galeno squarely in the face, sending him reeling.
"Hahahaha! I'm not gonna harm you, kid. And if I ever do, remember that old Duncan must have his reasons and he'd never harm a friend intentionally."
Galeno looks at him. He has that same old look on his face—determined, brave, and resolute.
This young man has one day to think it through. He will give us his names.
He sheathes his knife and hands Galeno over to his new companion.
Or, he will give us his eyes and tongue as offerings. Mr. Duncan, let this task be set on you. Prove yourself worthy of our trust.
It will be my honor, Your Reverence.
Marcando, you'll stay with them. Don't forget what I told you earlier.
8. On the Margins of Life and Death
79 linesIn the narrow streets, violence is so often more than just a means to ending conflicts. It is a tool, and one all too readily used.
I must note, however, with some relief, that the segregation so commonly observed in other regions is absent here. The arcanists of São Paulo live alongside humans, with the latter often displaying traits more common to their arcanist neighbors—passionate, if a bit touchy.
Life here is incomparable to the comfort, security, and freedom of New England.
Hardship, violence, and oppression are the fundamentals of life, as constant as the sun, and as heavy as the rain.
This country is renowned for its coffee and sugar. It is a land of beauty and bounty, treasures too often extorted. Whether by the princes of Europe and their donatários, or now by the bankers and corporations.
Despite all the centuries of treasures extracted from the land, desperation remains everywhere you look. It is a place where insurmountable wealth and the deepest deprivations are neighbors—sometimes they lie only a street across from one another.
The multinationals have cut open the country's throat, and now they drink it dry—
leaving the people struggling with poverty and chaos. It is a bleak existence.
Dear readers, I share this with you, so the story of these people might be heard.
The doctor sits by the riverside, a small group of children gathered around her. They watch in awe as her typewriter hammers the letters onto the page.
Shippy, do you know, has life always been like this here?
If you ask me, Doc, São Paulo in 1990 isn't much different from Nassau, 1681.
It's a shame. Between the sunshine and warm sands, there is a good life to be lived here, if only they were free enough to live it.
The summer is long, just like the suffering of these people.
I used to dream of traveling to all sorts of fascinating places.
A foggy city by the Thames, and a little town blanketed in snow and sunflowers. I met so many different people, though I find I can no longer recall their voices, I have only their words left, only my records of them.
Have you heard of a weed down at the bottom of Lake Ilopango? The people there turn it into a polenta with cornmeal.
Supposedly, if you have it, you'd recall every last thing that's ever happened to you. Every bit of it!
Wow! What's the weed called?
The children turn to the ship in the bottle, their eyes filled with curiosity.
They call it "La hierba del tonto," Spanish for "the fool's weed," ahahahaha!
You see, lad, only a fool would want to remember everything. Sometimes, a little forgetfulness is a blessing in disguise.
I beg to differ, Shippy. To forget the past—its lessons, in pain and joy alike—that isn't a blessing. It's oblivion.
But let's not argue over some mythical weed. For all the claims, no one has ever seen it, just another myth, like the succubus or the minotaur.
Aye, aye, let's talk about succubi instead. That's sure to get the lads pricking up their ears!
At the mention of this, the little ship goes off again.
Back in '88, I mean 1688, of course, our chief mate, Mr. Morgan, had an encounter with a succubus after he found her seal while carousing in Porto Belo.
If the rumors tell true, once he got a hold of it, she grabbed a hold on him too. I couldn't say what transpired, but we never saw hide nor hair of him again.
No one can debunk her stories, but no one really believes them either.
The children's curiosity fades, and their eyes start to wander. One of them spots two "big fish" floating in the water.
Look over there! Something's in the water!
Two figures float among the trash in the river, spluttering and choking.
One is clinging onto the other as they struggle to swim to shore.
What the devil is all that commotion?
...
Hey. Wake up.
Hey, hey! Stay with me!
Can you hear me? Hello?
Kimberly pats her fallen companion's face.
No response.
She's still breathing. Why won't she wake up?
Oh. What happened to the lass?
The little ship makes its way over, followed closely by the children and the doctor.
Seeing the group of strangers approaching, Kimberly tenses up.
Miss, are you alright? Is there anything we can do?
Yes, I'm fine. Our ship went down.
Blow me down! These waters are getting rougher by the day.
The little ship sways back and forth in its bottle, showing off its excellent condition.
And we drifted down the river until we reached the shore here.
A long way to go, only to end up in the favela.
I know she's traveling with her friends, but I don't know where they could be now. Everything happened so fast.
Shippy, what's going on? Are there people that need care? What's their condition?
Just one. A lass. She's still breathing, but she looks like she's been keel-hauled for a bit too long.
Miss, please lay her down on her side.
Kimberly does as she is told.
What are you going to do to her?
The doctor kneels down, skillfully clearing the girl's mouth of any residue before starting chest compressions.
Save her, if I can.
One push. Another.
It's a professional instinct. The duty of a doctor.
An unexplainable impulse drives her to revive the drowning girl.
Huh ... Huh ... Huh ... Huh ...
The girl coughs up some water. The doctor continues.
Good, good. She'll make it. Please, make sure her airway's clear.
She coughs out more water, but she still lies there, unable to move.
Errh, are you sure about that, Doc? The lass looks paler than a ghost. I think she's burning up.
The doctor touches her forehead. It's burning hot.
You're right. We'll need to take her back with us. I'll fix some medicine for her.
Would you give me a hand, Miss? Help her up on my back.
Kimberly obediently helps the blind doctor lift the feverish girl onto her back.
Oh! She's almost as light as a child.
The children run ahead, pulling aside the hanging clothes for them to pass.
I need to run some tests and see if it's just an ordinary fever, or if she has contracted something from the water.
Don't worry. You're safe with us.
The doctor speaks to herself, or perhaps in reassurance to the unconscious girl.
Where are we going? Wait up!
Home.
Kimberly catches up to the doctor, only now realizing how far they've walked.
She steps into the doctor's "home."
9. Aged Like Fine Wine
129 linesA fan whirs loudly, yet the room is just as hot as the outside.
The doctor gently lays the unconscious girl down, resting her head on her lap.
She lightly strokes her flushed face.
So you weren't even traveling together, and still you brought her all the way here?
You have a good heart, Ms. Kimberly.
You flatter me, Doctor. It was only that the current pushed her to my side when we all fell into the water.
And I just couldn't forgive myself if I were to let her drown.
An accident or, perhaps, fate.
In fact, she and I had met briefly before, in Texas. We didn't part on the best terms.
Sometimes, we find ourselves in quarrels, even among friends.
No, we aren't ...
...
Shh. We should let her get some rest.
Kimberly falls silent.
She squats down, watching her the way a cat peers at a sleeping baby.
May I touch her?
Fever is one of the biggest dangers here, though it's still better than diarrhea and vomiting.
I'll take her to the Veterans' Residence for further treatment once her condition stabilizes.
It almost looks like she's only sleeping.
Are you two really not friends? Seems to me that you care for her very much.
She helped me. She was kind to me on the ship. That bloody ship ... I don't know what happened.
Shh. Hush, please.
The doctor presses a finger against her lips, a gentle smile on her face.
My apologies.
She has the face of a guilty child.
*sigh* As I said, it was only twice that we'd met, and somehow, both times turned out quite terrible for me.
The doctor strokes the feverish patient's hair. It's beautiful—almost the same color as hers.
Her hair is so silky. It's smooth and soft, like fine rain in my hands.
The doctor gently combs the hair with her fingers, slowly untangling the matted strands.
First it was Tuesday's Motel. Things there turned into a right mess, and I didn't find what I'd lost.
Then, in that manor, just as I was about to enjoy a bit of dinner, that wild girl burst in. They caught me, threw me into a tower, and locked me up.
I was stuck there, waiting like a lamb to be slaughtered.
But you've made it through. You're safe with us.
No one is going to hurt you here.
Thank you, Doctor.
Kimberly gently takes the feverish girl's hand into her own. It's limp and slightly rough to the touch.
The blurred memory of her sister comes to mind, as well as the wrinkled, warm faces of her old friends cheering her on.
Goodbye.
Satisfied that she has paid her back for her kindness on the ship, Kimberly leaves through the back door.
?!
The little ship in a bottle is waiting for her on the other side.
Leaving your friend so soon, lass?
Well, come as you are, I'll give you a lift. Perhaps we might have a bit of an old jaw along the way.
After all, it's rare indeed to see one of your kind out and about these days.
A-A lift? Uh, pardon me, madam, but, I'm not sure you could bring me anywhere.
You're a little too small, and a little too stuck in that bottle.
A galleon, born from the 16th century's dreams of exploration. She awakened and slumbered once again until now, a time in which there are no more uncharted lands to uncover.
Climb aboard, matey! So, where's our heading? Or shall we go for a ride on the river? Don't be shy. I aim to make a friend of you.
Kimberly looks hesitant.
Don't be shy. I let the little ones play on my deck all the time, climbing here and there, like a bunch of cheerful little monkeys.
And not just them. I ferry the good doctor from here to the Veterans' Residence too.
You'll have to wait till we reach the sea to see me at my full size.
Once the water opens up, that's when I'm really free.
The sailboat slowly drifts away from the doctor's hut.
Now, I ask again, where are we going, mate? Can't just let the wind decide our course.
Why not? I should like to go somewhere nobody will ever find me.
Confusion, chaos, escape—perhaps tomorrow will be just like all those yesterdays.
I'm afraid there's precious few places like that anymore, lass.
I've spied the globes they've got nowadays; seems like every last step is covered to the four corners and back.
But aren't you a strange sight, lass? You know I've seen your kind before. Beautiful to look at, aye, but there's a darkness in you that lies beneath the surface, isn't there?
But you're not like the rest of them, you'd say. Well, I would sooner believe in a Map to El Dorado before I'd swallow the idea of a succubus with a heart of gold.
So, was that girl your master? Did she have your seal?
If that were true, then heart of gold or coal, wouldn't matter for none. You'd be as thick as old tar.
She's been found out. She's a member of an ancient race once wanted—even hunted—and now forgotten by the world.
A few seagulls land on the boat's edge, joining them on their journey.
...?!
What, are you wondering what gave you away? Your gloves don't do much to hide those claws. I could feel them pressing on my railings as soon as you hopped on.
Kimberly immediately hides her hands behind her back.
Her reaction betrays her.
Ahahahaha! No use hiding them now, matey.
Her hearty laugh sends ripples through the water.
You!
Kimberly scratches the mast with her claws, but this small protest does nothing to dissuade the ship.
Are you going to turn me in?
She looks around. This place looks safe enough. Just one small leap, and she'd be back on solid ground.
Turn you in? And how do you suppose I do that! I'm only a ruddy ship! Bring me back up on land, and I'll be stuck right back in the bottle.
No, lass. I've sailed with rougher folks than you. My old captain had a bounty on her head, too.
She's a fugitive, hiding like a frightened bird.
Thunder rumbles in the distance, scattering the birds perched on the roofs on either side of the river.
...?!
It makes her quiver, but for the boat, it brings back fond memories of sailing the roaring westerlies with her captain.
Rain starts to pour. The wind picks up, filling the ship's sails and racing her down the river.
Well, just so you know, I very much doubt they'll pay you anything for handing me over!
Maybe so, maybe so. Now, you've got the law in your tailwind? What happened? Did you spring loose from the old gibbet?
I ...
Mark me now, young lass. If you're going to try to pull one over on me, you'll have to do a lot better job than that.
That same old trick.
Are you mocking me? This is not how one ought to treat a new friend.
Quite right, lass. So then, who are your pursuers? And your master? Shouldn't you be under his protection? My old crew would say any captain that can't keep his ship safe is only good for bait.
I have no idea where he is, or where my seal is for that matter—he was a no-good fool, though. Or only good for bait, perhaps.
I hope he's dead, rotting in some sewer back in San Francisco.
The rain stops. Brief and intense, just like her escape.
Aye, well, mortal flesh doesn't last long. I've ferried many a passenger in my days, and none yet have escaped when Davy Jones came calling their name.
As I recall, the first that went was William Half-Leg. He lost the other half in a fight at the port of Southampton. Hanged on the governor's orders.
And Eduard the Red-Hand, a nasty piece of work from the low countries, loved a bit of throat-cutting. Until he got his own throat slit by some fool in a ramshackle pub on Tortuga. Hahahahaha!
She fondly remembers every one of her crew. Though they all died hundreds of years ago, it still feels like yesterday to her.
Sounds as though they got what they deserved.
That they did, lass. They all got what they deserved. Some hanged, some drowned, some we marooned on a desert isle with naught but a pistol and a flagon of rum.
I've been to Plymouth, Nassau, Port Royal. I once even slipped into Seville disguised as a merchantman to smuggle pepper and cinnamon. Wherever the captain wanted to go, we sailed.
An exciting, dangerous life, yet ordinary in its own way.
The countless cannonball scars in her hull alone tell the story.
But one by one, Davy took them all. Now here I am, a ship without a captain. My own master.
I suppose that's a lot to take in. You ever thought about living a different life?
To set sail for some far corner of the sea, living on spiced rum and jerky thick as a buccaneer's hide?
How's that sound, lass? Not that I'm saying we set sail today. It's only a bit of old fancy.
I really can't say, uhm, Shippy. I, I suppose I can't, not yet at least. There is something important I need to retrieve.
Ah-ah, that's "Captain White Rum" to you—the ship of a captain, and captain of the ship!
I prefer ... Wait ... Sorry ... I need to ...
As the ship docks, she leaps back ashore, doubles over in an alleyway, and retches.
Seasick? I hadn't thought your kind capable of it.
I didn't expect this ... either ...
A can rolls over, gently hitting her foot. Annoyed, she kicks it away.
Not far away, a few boys have been practicing their soccer skills with it. One mischievous boy kicks the can back toward Kimberly.
Urgh! What now?
This time, she picks up the can and angrily throws it at the boy's head.
Jeez! I like this girl. She's feisty!
He straightens himself up as he slowly makes his way toward her, a cocky grin on his face.
We're with the Brotherhood, Miss. You apologize now, and we might just let you go.
Or don't you know that Lord Santos is back? We can make this rougher for you, if you like.
Careful me lads. I wouldn't pull those knives. Things may go rougher than you'd bargained for.
The boys are no match for her.
Not so tough now, are you boys? Try this again, and I'll make a mince out of what's left of you!
She angrily kicks the can into the river.
I know your fathers, me boys, and I think they wouldn't be none too happy to hear you claiming to be with the Brotherhood.
Let's go. We're wasting our time here.
The boys scurry off, muttering under their breaths.
Bilge rats, the lot of them. Not even fit for the Apostles.
The Brotherhood always let their knives do the talking.
If there'd been any doubt of what you are, lass, that fight sure cleared it up.
10. Boarding the White Ship
83 linesListen up. We're the Apostles Brotherhood, not some worthless favela gang.
So, we start off nice and easy. And if the doc doesn't play along, well, then we make her play along, clear?
The feverish girl looks to be doing much better than before. Doctor Dores is crouched beside the bed, gently wiping her face.
A few uninvited guests burst in.
Hello. How can I help you, gentlemen?
Ay, is she really blind?
I'm afraid yes. But please don't worry. I'm more than able to treat all my patients. Are you feeling unwell, sir?
Marcando glances at the patient on the stretcher and signals to his men.
His "dogs" quickly surround the patient.
Sir?
We heard that you're a good doctor. We got someone who needs your help.
You're Dr. Dores from the Veterans' Residence, right?
Yes, and may I know who you are? I won't turn away a patient, but I'll also need some assurance that you can be trusted, sir.
So, is she coming with us or not?
He kicks over a cabinet, causing the test tubes within to smash in a small explosion on the floor.
Did you hear that?
Sounds like some kind of explosion near the clinic. Should we go back?
It could be an accident, but she's got a way with her equipment. Doubtful she's the cause of this.
Steady on then. Let's hurry back and see for ourselves.
Ah-ah, that's not how you treat a doctor, lads!
The thugs instinctively draw their knives—a habit developed in their line of "work."
What are you doing to her?!
Lord Santos would like to have a word with the doctor, that's all.
You're not taking her anywhere. Don't you see she's taking care of this girl?
She bares her claws, digging her heels into the ground.
Yeah, I'm not asking for permission, sweetheart.
Marcando snaps his fingers.
Grab the doctor. Ice the rest of them.
Kimberly clasps the head of a thug in her claws, poised to crush it, but she hesitates, glancing back at the doctor.
Stop! Enough! I won't have you fighting in my clinic!
Kimberly releases her grip.
Doctor?
But they've got the girl, Doctor.
The feverish girl's unconscious body has been thrown over the shoulder of one of the thugs.
This lady definitely isn't from the favela. So, what's she doing here?
She's ill. She needs my help. That is all I ever ask.
Well, all we need is you, Doc. So, how's about we make a deal? You come with us, we let the rest of your friends go, understood?
So be it.
She doesn't hesitate to accept.
Please, Doctor! Stand aside. I'll happily take care of these rats.
I have no doubt about that, Miss. However, once violence starts and blood is spilled, there will be no end to it. For now, I would be happy to meet with this Mr. Santos, and seek out a peaceful resolution.
I'll come with you.
See? We can all be friends.
The thug pushes the feverish girl toward Kimberly.
Vertin!
Kimberly catches her, holding her tightly in her arms.
If she doesn't wake up tonight, take her to the Veterans' Residence first thing in the morning.
Alright, get the doctor straight to His Reverence.
...
A long sleep with no dreams.
No worries. No troubles. No thoughts.
Like being back in a warm, dark, damp room.
She awakes to an unfamiliar place. It's quiet and strange.
*cough*
Have a good rest, did you, sleeping beauty?
Vertin!
You've missed quite a bit. All terrible, I'm afraid.
A talking ship inside a bottle.
A tiny floating fortress on the water, and beside her, a worried Ms. Kimberly.
Where am I?
You and this lass were drifting down the river after your ship went down.
You'd have met Dr. Dores, had you woken up a little sooner.
Doctor?
Dr. Dores, yes. She's a doctor from the Veterans' Residence. She saved you from the very claws of death.
She ...
She can't walk. Her body is still too heavy.
Aye, you were burning up, lass. But the good doctor pulled you through. She was right there by your bedside the whole time.
The good news is, we think she's still alive.
Still alive? What's the bad news, then?
The bad news is she's been snatched up by the Apostles Brotherhood.
What?
Rest now, lass. They aren't likely to hurt her, for now. You'll need your strength for later.
Some scallywag by the name of Santos wanted to "have a word with her," so they said.
...
Everything has gone to hell since that ship sank.
But Lopera and Sotheby ... Where are they?
There's a shooting pain in her arm.
I remember we all fell into the water.
I'm sorry. I didn't see them. I only—
We washed ashore together.
My map—have you seen it? I have to get to the Veterans' Residence. They may very well be waiting for me there.
Come on. On your feet.
Well, I may be just the ship to get you there, ladies.
11. Sao Paulo Bossa Nova
104 linesAfter instructing his men to take Doctor Dores to their chapel hideout, Marcando walks over to Duncan, who is watching over a group of hostages.
You're a clever one, old man. I like working with your type.
The hostages—Galeno among them—are lined up on their knees, their hands tied behind their backs. Marcando has ordered they be taken to the manor.
Haha, much appreciated. I've tried to pick up a thing or two over the years.
You've had plenty of time to learn, a man of your age. By the way, what about that girl? Where'd she go?
Sotheby is missing.
Dunno. Maybe got scared away. You know how little rich girls are.
I'm certain she's found her way back to her daddy's bodyguards. She'll be no cause for concern.
Fine, fine. No need to worry about this spoiled little girl. Now, this bastard on the other hand.
Marcando kicks Galeno hard in the stomach.
Leave the boy be. He's not got much time left, if he doesn't give up those names.
His eyes dart around, keenly scanning his surroundings.
Marcando had left with about a dozen men, but he's only come back with nine.
Hot enough out here? Luckily, I've got a bit of vino left. You a fan of wine, Mr. Marcando?
I'll fetch some for us, and all the brothers and sisters here! Let's drink to the Brotherhood, and the opportunities that lie ahead.
Hahaha, you old fox, I see your game! But why not? We could all use a drink.
You over there! Keep a watch on this guy. Don't let him get away!
He gives Galeno a kick in the backside as he leaves.
Old Duncan waits by the water, his eyes anxiously fixed upstream.
Eventually, a small boat carrying Lopera and a few men rows into view.
Finally ...
The boat docks, and they jump ashore one by one, carrying spiked wine in their hands.
Duncan! You nearly had me there. When did you plan all this?
I've had it brewing for a while, but things have been changing fast lately. Honestly, I didn't expect to be doing this now.
He counts the men. Just six of them. Fewer than expected, but enough.
There's enough snoring syrup in the wine now to put them all in a dreamy, deep, deep sleep!
Oh, but might it have had a stronger effect if I had included a dash of slumber belladonna in the recipe?
This will be more than enough, little lady. We only need to get them to drink the wine, then—
Oh, then you must drink this! Just a drop!
She rummages around in her skirt for the potion.
Eventually, she produces a bottle of thick, pine green liquid.
It will stay on your tongue and prickle around in your mouth. That way, you won't drift off like the others. I've concocted much tastier potions before, but this one ...
Memories of her past experiments come flooding back, almost bringing her to tears.
It'll do just fine. Thank you, little lady.
He smiles as he takes the bottle and downs its contents. He raises his flute, signaling the next step of the plan.
Pass me the wine and wait for my signal. When you hear me playing this flute, you'll know it's time to strike.
The wine's here! Courtesy of an old friend from Mexico. Take a glass, everyone!
Here's to His Reverence's good health!
To His Reverence's health!
To Marcando! To the Invincible Brotherhood!
To Marcando!
The flattery and alcohol have successfully lowered Marcando's guard.
Duncan, that your flute? Give it over.
Marcando snatches Duncan's flute and looks it over.
This is, *hiccup*, a f-fine flute!
D-Duncan, did you-you said that you g-got a f-friend in Mexico, huh? You know that old Mexican song "La Llorona"?
Can't blow the flute just yet. A few men are still awake.
Heheh! That I do! I learned it from the best—in the "Cactus" back in Tulum, from a fine young lady with silky hair and gentle eyes as dark as coffee.
An improvised lie, but there's truth in it. The Cactus Bar in Tulum is real, at least.
Sure, so-uh, how fine was this lady?
It seems beautiful ladies are much more interesting than music to him.
Ah, don't let me start spinning that yarn. It'll be no fun for you to watch an old man bursting into tears.
Lies and fake tears. Duncan's acting wouldn't fool the sober, but with his audience under the influence of alcohol and potions, he just might get away with it.
I'll only say I was heartbroken by the time I left. Ah, that love of mine! *sigh* Anyway, enough about the old flames of yesterday! Let's raise a glass to a better tomorrow!
To poor old Duncan, hahahaha!
Hahahaha! To poor old Duncan!
Duncan adeptly retrieves his flute before pouring out more drinks.
He feigns joy, drinking and laughing with his "new friends," until they're too drunk to stand.
Every one of them is utterly inebriated.
Marcando and his "hounds" pass out, one by one, until they're all fast asleep.
It's time.
He blows the flute, and his companions jump into action.
Good, good music.
Mm? Who-Who are you?!
Lopera! Galeno! Come on, give me a hand!
F**king traitor!
Time to cash you out.
He pins the struggling Marcando to the ground.
You'll be ... be-begging for Lord Santos's mercy!
Be reasonable, kid. The Brotherhood is finished. Your time's up.
He pulls the knife from Galeno's waist and finishes Marcando off "the São Paulo way."
Don't let them slip away!
Mr. Ka-Karson ... But ... You ...
She swallows her words. No, her butler would never do something like this.
This is the raw, fierce power of a man who has lived on the streets of the favela.
Meanwhile, Lopera catches up to a fleeing thug and cracks him over the head with the butt of her gun.
Let me.
He picks up a metal bat and stands over the fallen thug in front of Lopera.
Think you can handle this?
Yeah, I've got it!
He swallows hard and aims at the spot where the gun butt had struck.
For the favela.
The Brotherhood must go!
The battle is over.
Sorry to put you through all that, kid.
Don't mention it. If this means we can get rid of them for good, it'll all be worth it. So, what's next?
Next, Zeno will come around to pick you up. But first, we've got to get back to the Veterans' Residence.
Unease spreads among the group. They exchange a few glances.
No, sir. One of you has to stay. The people need to see you, or they'll worry that you've deserted us.
I can make it there on my own. Stay with them, Duncan.
And me!
An unexpected volunteer steps forward.
I've seen there are many sick children here in the favela.
I'm certain that I could do something to help them!
Uhm, I'm not sure it's a good idea, Sotheby. The favelas can be dangerous if you don't know them.
The brave young lady can stay with me if she likes. I'll keep her safe.
Galeno and the others nod.
What do you say to that, little lady?
Ms. Sotheby is never afraid!
It's decided then. Lopera, head for the Veterans' Residence. Tell them what happened and contact Admiral Igor from there.
All hesitation leaves Lopera's body once she hears her father's name.
Galeno!
You've done us proud, kid. If I were king, I'd have made you a knight. Who knows, maybe the little lady could do that for us.
But first, young Galeno, we'll seek another deed worthy of knighthood. It's time we fight for our people!
12. "Silent Night, Holy Night"
73 linesThe route from the favela to the Veterans' Residence is quite familiar to White Rum. She has ferried the doctor back and forth countless times.
You ever been to a Veterans' Residence? Not many young faces there, besides Lopera. As far as the doc goes, doubtful anyone knows her real age, and even the saltiest sailor knows better than to ask a lady her age!
...
Oh. I see that joke missed the bow, so to speak.
No, no, it wasn't a bad joke at all, really.
A joke would usually warrant some kind of response.
Aye, thanks for the kind words, lass, but best to leave old flotsam where it lies.
Mamãe Mariana from the Veterans' Residence brings out some snacks.
There's plenty of sugar to go round in this neck of the woods.
Have you been filling this sweet young lady's head with your tall tales, Shippy?
The little ship used to live with the doctor in the Veterans' Residence, but today she returns alone, and neither one of her two passengers is her old roommate.
Sorry to show up without proper notice.
Don't worry about it! Any friend of Lopera is a friend of ours.
Oh. If you'd come a couple of days earlier, we would've introduced you to Mr. Duncan and Dr. Dores.
But they've not been around in a while.
That's a shame. I was looking forward to meeting them. Hopefully we'll see them soon.
Kimberly wanders the courtyard. She's still on guard, but she seems to be oddly familiar with this place.
You know, I knew a girl who looked just like her. A caregiver here way back in the '60s.
Back when this place was called Heartfelt Home.
She scratches the chin of the kitten in her arms.
But it can't be her now, can it? Besides, I'm old now, and my memory is a bit fuzzier than it used to be.
May I see Dr. Dores's room?
She wouldn't mind, but please be careful not to move anything.
It's that one over there, dear. She never locks the door.
The place looks no different from the other rooms in the courtyard, but the door is slightly ajar.
Green vines hang from the roof, and the weathered walls bear the passage of time. It's a simple little home.
Kimberly stands by the door, a stray cat in her arms. She scratches its belly.
Aah!
Hmm?
How dare you scratch me!
The cat leaps out of Kimberly's arms, grabs hold of one of the vines, and clambers over the wall of the Veterans' Residence.
Get back here, you fluffy rapscallion! I'll have your tail, you hear me?!
She's not as agile as she looks, or perhaps the kitten has made her soft.
She fails to catch it, instead stumbling into the door, throwing it wide open, and hitting the floor with a thud.
Do be careful, Ms. Kimberly.
Ugh, how did that happen?
And how long have you been standing there?
Just a little while.
Funny, I've never thought to open a door like that before.
Come along. Let's take a peek inside.
...
It's a rather ordinary guest room.
Except there's a peculiar white marble chair sitting by the window. It has a red button on the armrest.
Hmm?
The marble feels familiar, but no memories come to mind.
Odd how they both have some kind of familiarity with this place.
Hmm, what's this red button on the chair?
The button seems totally out of place, as if daring someone to press it.
Kimberly takes a seat and curiously presses the button.
*click—click* *click-click-click*
Despite her fervent pressing, nothing happens. Frustrated, she swings her legs over the other side of the chair.
Heh. Good for nothing!
A tasteless decoration. No one knows why this chair is in the doctor's room.
But pressing the button didn't trigger an explosion or anything of the like. It's simply a functionless, harmless little contraption.
On the other side of the room, the doctor's desk holds a stack of manuscripts.
These must be articles that she hasn't sent out yet.
Notes on the districts of São Paulo, records of arcanists in the favelas, investigations into plantation economies in northeastern Brazil …
She's a good woman.
And her room smells like a good woman's room. You don't find many of those around these days.
What makes you say so?
Well, firstly, she did save your life.
And secondly, it's hard to explain. Good people have a smell, a pleasant one. My nose has never been wrong.
Vertin ...
We'll bring her home safely.
This typewriter seems like it's seen a lot of use.
Do you see any drafts? Any samples?
I can't say. I'm not very familiar with these things.
Take a look! She's signed something here. Hmm, but I thought her name was Dores.
There's a single word written at the bottom of the manuscript.
Urd.
...?!
Mariana!!
A familiar voice echoes from outside.
13. Boto Cor-de-Rosa
121 linesOh, more visitors?
...?!
It's Lopera. She's safe.
But where's Sotheby?
Thank goodness. You survived, too. What about Sotheby?
Oh, something happened in the favela earlier, so she decided to stay there. Don't worry. Duncan's with her.
We've got bad news. Dr. Dores has been abducted by the Brotherhood.
What? Idiots! What's wrong with them?!
Ugh, guess I'll call the base. My father will figure something out.
Sink me! Lopera! I thought you'd been sent to Davy Jones's locker!
White Rum soars through the air and lands squarely in Lopera's arms.
The ferocity of the embrace is enough to knock a grown man to the ground.
Hahaha! Why did you think that? I'm tougher than the stubble on the chins of the old geezers here!
I'm like you, a ship that'll never sink!
Umm, Timekeeper, who's that over there?
Kimberly is peeking out through the doorway, only a sliver of her face showing through the gap.
Kimberly? Did my father let you go?
She's been released?
Oh, Timekeeper, let me explain. When we were routing out the deserters, we found Kimberly hanging out with the Manus thugs.
Pa took her off somewhere, and he always has a plan, so I didn't bother asking where she ended up.
Hey, come over here and say hi. When did Pa let you go?
Or did you sneak out somehow?
Kimberly's eyes shift, her claws tensed, as if ready to spring into action at any moment.
I think ... Ms. Kimberly, didn't you pull me out of the water?
...?!
How did you know?
Shortly after my fever subsided, I started to remember what happened just before I lost consciousness.
There was a voice ringing in my head. It was you calling out to me, "Vertin, I can't have you dying here! You mustn't give up!"
What?! I did not say that! I just took you to the doctor and left!
Her protestation is almost a scream.
Aye, 'tis true what Vertin says. Though Kimberly denies it, she chose to save her—even when she had plenty of chances to blow the lass down.
She's a good lass at heart. Not an enemy, Lopera.
...
...
Lopera lowers her guard, offering a friendly wave to Kimberly.
Kimberly cautiously steps out of the doorway but maintains some distance between the two of them.
Lopera looks at her new "friend." Her attire has given her a totally different appearance.
After a brief pause, Lopera smiles at her.
You have to understand, it's pretty hard not to suspect someone who hangs around with the Manus.
Anyway, I guess there must've been some kind of misunderstanding. Back then, I didn't have time to ... In any case, I'm sorry, Kimberly.
Lopera extends a hand in a gesture of peace, but Kimberly hesitates, her claws tensing once again.
It's fine. But don't think I'll forgive you so easily.
Speaking of the Manus and the Brotherhood, I never quite understood what they were trying to do.
I don't blame you. I still don't really get it, either.
So you're really not in the same boat as them?
A sudden yet perfectly reasonable question.
Of course not! I don't have a boat, no, I mean, I'm not in any boat with anyone!
If only I'd found my ...
She looks around as if she's forgotten something but finds nothing.
Listen, I don't know who it is you're looking for, but it's not me. I've already told you everything I know. If I'm not welcome here, I'll get out of your way.
Just please don't take me back to that place. I don't want to see that thing ever again.
She refuses to look at the weapons around Lopera's waist. Perhaps in a restrained sense of rejection or fear, or something hidden deep within her heart.
Alright, girls. If you want to have a chat, at least take a seat first.
It simply won't do to have you all standing around the entrance like this.
Mamãe Mariana takes Kimberly with one hand and Lopera with the other and leads them back to the courtyard. When they arrive, she lays out some paçoca for them to snack on.
Eating candy's bad for your teeth, Grandma.
Oh, I'm much too old to worry about that. When you reach my age, and just waking up each day is a blessing, you'll eat whatever you want, too.
Mamãe Mariana, could I have a word with you, please? I have some questions about Mr. Duncan.
Oh, Duncan, what kind of trouble has he stirred up now? Alright then. Why don't we head inside and give those two some space?
And Lopera, apologize to that poor girl properly, you hear?
Every lost friend is worth remembering.
My father released you, which means you can be trusted.
And you saved Vertin's life, too. I guess I shouldn't have been so hostile toward you.
I ...
Here, have a drink, as a token of my apology.
She hands her a warm cup of something dark. It has a rich smell.
It's Salvadoran coffee. Great if you need to pull an all-nighter!
Kimberly raises the cup to her mouth with both hands and curiously sticks her tongue into the liquid.
Bleh! It's so bitter!
Yep. Bitter like the old days.
Lopera falls silent for a while.
Kimberly glances at the gun around Lopera's waist.
You know, back in Colombia, my father did horrible things to his plantation workers.
Well, my biological father. Not Igor.
Lopera looks off into the sky and laughs resignedly. It's as if she just spoke of a stranger rather than her flesh and blood.
He said, "No, that's not the sound of gunfire outside. The workers are setting off fireworks. They're celebrating."
But they weren't fireworks. He betrayed his workers—his compatriots. It wasn't a celebration; it was a massacre.
...?!
After that, I ran away from home. One day, the admiral and Molly found me. That's how I joined Zeno.
Betrayal's as common as dirt here. Comrades, friends, family, anyone could sell you out, and for cheap, too.
I hope you can find your boat soon. You know, a place where people have your back.
Umm, can I not drink this?
Hahahaha, of course. Don't force yourself. I know the taste isn't for everyone.
She clinks cups with her new friend.
Lopera stretches out her arm, closes one eye, and lines up the moon between her fingers. She closes her fist but catches nothing but the air.
I wanted to erase it from my profile, from everywhere, to be honest, but my father disapproved.
She fiddles with her fingers, her eyes lingering on that unattainable celestial body.
Molly agreed with him. She said, "You mustn't forget your past, Pera."
So I let it go. But "Lopera" sounds so much nicer, so I prefer to go by that.
And you, Kimberly? What's your real name?
Kimberly hesitates.
Nala. Nala Hari. The residents of Heartfelt Home called me Anjo Nala.
How long ago did Mr. Duncan move here? Do you remember?
It must have been ... five, maybe six years ago? I'm not entirely sure.
Five or six years ago. Nowhere near the '20s. What's going on?
Do you have any photos of him?
Mariana nods and pulls a photograph from the storage room.
We do have one, but it's been gathering dust for years. Let me see. Ah. Here. This is him.
She points to the man who looks like Mr. Karson.
I knew a gentleman who looked just like him.
His name was Karson. Did Mr. Duncan ever go by that name?
The old woman blows the dust off the frame.
No, not that any of us are aware of anyway. And I've known him since I was a medic in the army.
Back then, people called him "Duncan the Dauntless" or "The All-Powerful Duncan." I never once heard "Karson" or anything of the like.
Sorry I couldn't be of more help, my dear.
It seems an in-person meeting with Mr. Duncan is in order.
As they head outside, black flashes across their vision as a crow swoops down from above.
It releases the letter clutched in its claws.
A crow?
The crow perches nearby as the letter flutters down and lands at their feet.
The old woman picks it up and breaks the seal.
Oh, dear. This looks like bad news.
Santos.
It's a cleanly written ransom note, signed "Santos."
Dr. Dores is being held captive in the colonel's manor.
He's given us three days.
He says that if Zeno doesn't return the deserters they detained, he'll execute the doctor.
...
Mamãe Mariana, please contact Admiral Igor. We need Zeno's help.
14. The Sleepless Man
97 linesAdmiral Igor rarely makes calls to Zeno headquarters, but the situation has become desperate.
Ah, Igor! How are things in São Paulo?
Worse than expected.
I have a small number of troops with me, but not enough to deal with the situation.
Things have gotten out of hand. At least one of the Apostles Brotherhood leaders has pledged allegiance to the Manus.
Tsk, Brotherhood? These new gangs just keep popping up, don't they? It's like cutting down sugarcane. Before you know it, another one's grown in its place.
Carlos has been murdered by his own subordinates. Even now, some of the deserters are with the Brotherhood.
...
This news is met with a prolonged silence.
Did you catch them?
Some have already been executed. The rest will be transferred to headquarters for interrogation.
Good. What assistance do you require, comrade?
An army. A reliable one.
An army? I'm afraid that's not possible. We simply don't have the men to spare.
It doesn't need to be large.
Just dispatch my Sentinel Unit from Buenos Aires to São Paulo.
A loyal army led by the children he raised himself, composed of orphans of war born into Zeno's cause.
Or at the very least, send Ptolemy.
Ptolemy? Ah, one of your orphan "children." Hmm. That seems like a feasible solution.
Yes, his parents died fighting for Zeno. All my children are loyal to a fault.
Officer Carlos was shot in the head by one of his own men in this very office. I need soldiers I can trust.
Ah, so the fearless Igor is afraid of death, after all?
An officer was killed by his own soldiers at his own base. This is an immense stain on Zeno's honor.
How little honor they have left. Igor clings to it like a leaf to a tree in winter.
Indeed. If everything goes according to plan, you'll see your unit shortly.
Now, it's just a matter of time.
The admiral tosses the dice in his hand. Up and down, up and down.
He receives the same oracle—the same answer—like the inscription on the Behistun monument. It is eternal. Unchanging.
"His heart is a hanging lyre, a hanging lyre ... gently plucked ... "
An ancient verse rises in the old admiral's memory.
Dark omens. Ill prophecies. It is all whispered from his lips.
I have seen the hawk chase the dove and the sun god pull his golden bowstring taut.
I watched as the wooden horse was welcomed into our territories, and the sacred fountain flowed with the blood of the fledgling birds.
Ah, but a man of steely mind and lofty pride knows ...
That his city will endure. Its walls will stand strong. It will be as steadfast as the earth's core.
What wickedness ...
Now, the die is cast ...
The pale shroud will devour him, and he will be enveloped by the grim night.
All for a better future.
A better future for everyone ...
On this rain-soaked night, this is the only answer.
Admiral.
Come in.
Yesterday, we received word from the Timekeeper that Dr. Dores has been abducted by the Apostles Brotherhood. She should be coordinating with Lopera to set up a rescue operation as we speak.
She breathes a sigh of relief. The doctor may have been abducted, but at least the Timekeeper is safe.
Also, that girl who escaped, Kimberly, is with the Timekeeper. She claims that she was released.
Just play along with her lie. There's no need to tell Lopera the truth.
The Brotherhood has demanded that we exchange the detained deserters for the doctor. Forgive me for issuing instructions without your consent, but if we refuse or ignore them, I'm afraid they'll—
They'll execute the doctor.
He knows full well the ways of these thugs.
What arrangements did you make?
Moldir tenses up a little, unsure of how her father will react to her decision.
I told the Timekeeper that Zeno reinforcements would meet her at the Veterans' Residence.
Since Lopera is familiar with the place, I also asked her to scout out the rendezvous location.
And, yes. I played along with Kimberly's lie. I-I assumed you would've done the same, Father.
Very good.
While the admiral refused to talk to anyone last night, his daughter had been modeling her actions after him.
Your squad will soon arrive. Take them to Lopera at the rendezvous point and bring the doctor back.
A squad?
The admiral gazes out the window.
He scans the barren fort, the weathered stone, and the vines slowly wearing away at the walls. How did this come to be?
I've spoken with headquarters. All going well, Ptolemy and the unit will arrive soon.
Moldir's body relaxes a little, and a smile grows on her face.
I see. I can hardly remember the last time we were all together.
Her smile turns bittersweet.
Your father died in Abadan, in a war he had no obligation to fight in.
It's far more glorious to die in the throes of battle than to wither away on a sickbed. He made an honorable sacrifice.
How shameful that we would tarnish his honor.
Honor is a thing easily stained.
Let's begin with that young pilot, Lilya. Tell me, what do you think of her?
She's well-trained, experienced, a straight shooter—similar to Lopera in many ways.
She's a true Slav. Just like my brothers and sisters back home.
Stubborn, loyal, brave, and as unshakable as the frozen Siberian earth.
I suppose she's luckier than Lopera. Not destined to become a traitor like her.
Lopera's still a child, really.
The admiral closes his eyes as he remembers those who fought beside him.
So many lives have been lost, in wars, in the "Storm."
They have all been enshrined in the Hall of Merit at headquarters.
What do you think Lopera will do?
She's your child, just like me. I think she will stand with us.
He smirks.
You "think," do you?
Anyway, she's not important. Here, take a look at this.
An invitation.
I will not wear it.
Nor will you. I promise you, not one of us will wear this thing.
The Preacher has given us a gift and shared with us an "oracle."
We will bring her something in return.
Fire and brimstone rained down from heaven, yet among the ruins we recovered the remnants of a miracle.
A miracle that is living, breathing, and growing.
I can sense THEIR life force. I can hear THEIR whispers from within these ashes.
A lucid dream, a living death, a perished immortality.
Moldir, THEY are invincible.
Rather than endlessly throwing young soldiers' lives to the White Stone House ...
I choose to stand with the true future.
15. The Northern Falcon
108 linesThe old admiral picks up the file beside him and flips through the young pilot's records.
Arcanist. Abuses alcohol ...
And loves to fight.
Messenger!
Call Lieutenant Lilya. Tell her to meet me at the training ground.
He rises from his chair and heads to the training ground, where the blood of the traitors still stains the grass.
Lilya approaches the admiral, her flask clutched in her hand.
How does it compare to the drink back home?
This stuff saps your energy. Makes you feel sleepy.
Just like this land. This place is always submerged in a half-dead stupor.
Poverty. Chaos. To them, the future feels farther away than the sun beating down from above.
While the sun casts its light from above, many choose to dance in the darkness of the sewers.
Tell me, Lieutenant. What do you think of the Foundation?
Is this some kind of test?
No, no. Just the curiosity of an old man. I often wonder how the younger generation views the organization.
Well, unlike those Manus maniacs, the people at the Foundation are at least open to reason.
Don't get me wrong, they are stubborn. But overall, I think they're good people.
The Timekeeper's red-headed sidekick, for example.
Sonetto is too busy with administrative work to join the Timekeeper in São Paulo.
She's a stickler for the rules. But it's so boring to follow all the regulations. That being said, it'd probably be even worse without them. Total chaos, actually.
Anyway, at the end of the day, someone has to do the thankless jobs. And the people at the Foundation are the only ones willing to do them.
A subtle hint of approval flickers in the admiral's eyes.
As the Foundation's most loyal partner, Zeno has always been committed to creating a brighter future for both arcanists and humans.
That includes fighting Manus Vindictae, as well as any other conflicts and chaos in the world.
In São Paulo, for example, Zeno maintains the city's fragile peace in its own unique way.
Uh-huh, it's a mindless gun. The Foundation points, and Zeno shoots.
Precisely. Countless soldiers have perished in the "Storm," and they've all been deemed "necessary sacrifices."
I have to tell you, I don't like Zeno's role in all this.
Neither do I. But an order's an order.
Even if it sends your soldiers to die meaningless deaths against an enemy they couldn't possibly defeat.
Still, we march on without hesitation, pushing our weary bodies deeper into the "Storm."
But how much longer can Zeno keep going, Lieutenant? How long until our knees buckle and we fall to the ground?
I don't know, and I don't care.
She takes another swig of sweet liquor.
Sweet as the oblivion of a dream.
Arcana isn't dead.
We detected life signs after the explosion of the vacuum bomb.
That's impossible.
Yes, it is impossible. It would take a miracle for her to survive. Do you believe in miracles, Lieutenant?
I'd sooner believe the ramblings of a drunkard.
That may be the case, but when a miracle worker appears, there will always be people who follow them, like sheep follow a shepherd.
So, when the desertion incident occurred, I wasn't surprised. I was infuriated, however. Not because they abandoned Zeno, but because they murdered their own officer.
Damn traitors.
Back before the first "Storm," human and arcanist troops got along well.
We set aside our origins and united under a common banner.
Our bloodlines meant nothing next to our bond as comrades in arms.
But the "Storm" changed everything.
Time rolled back, and with each regression, the brilliance of arcanum shone ever brighter.
Eventually, it formed a rift between them.
As a soldier, I must obey my superiors. I sent my men as ordered, no question asked.
But ...
Igor looks hesitant.
Does it really make no difference if the place they die a martyr's death isn't a battlefield? Like war, these things are never simply a matter of "black and white."
Lieutenant, what do you think of the Timekeeper?
I trust her completely.
Her statement is short and powerful.
Sounds like you'd gladly sacrifice yourself for her.
We need more leaders like the Timekeeper.
*sigh*
Manus Vindictae, the Foundation. They're just two sides of the same coin, aren't they?
He sighs again. Then he extends Lilya an invitation.
The Foundation, the Pax Security Council, Manus Vindictae ...
Which path do you think the Timekeeper will eventually take, Lieutenant?
I trust in Vertin's decision.
Hm. I see.
Are you sure this isn't a test from Zeno?
No, this has nothing to do with Zeno. Right now, I speak to you as simply Igor, not the admiral.
With a wave of his hand, he takes his leave.
As he vanishes under the shadow of the colonnade, soldiers rush into the training ground. They surround Lilya, their guns pointed firmly at her.
What's going on?
Lieutenant Lilya, you are under arrest for the assault on Admiral Igor.
A lie that makes Moldir's ears turn red with shame.
Assault?
A crime for which no evidence need be provided.
Oh, I get it.
She grips her trusty Red 38. After what happened in Texas, it hasn't left her side.
Stand down and surrender, Lieutenant.
Lilya downs the contents of her flask.
Soldiers! Fire!
It's useless. There are far too many of them for Lilya to escape.
There is no use resisting, Lieutenant.
Disarmed, Lilya is forced to her knees, and her hands are bound behind her back.
Tell me, what's Igor planning?!
Father will lead us to a future where meaningless sacrifices are no more.
The die has been cast.
I hope you know that this is nothing personal. I'm just following orders.
A fate as cold as the wind that sweeps across Marie Byrd Land.
Take Lieutenant Lilya to the holding cell. No one is to harm her without orders from the admiral or me.
What?
We are traitors to Zeno now, Lieutenant.
Though these words disgust her, she forces them out.
I am loyal only to my father.
It's a pity, really. I would've liked to work with you in the future.
The shackled pilot stares furiously at Moldir's dark silhouette.
How long has he been planning this?!
Ever since the Preacher gave Father a gift and a path to a brighter future.
Live or die, Lieutenant, I will never betray my family.
...
The door closes, leaving Lilya alone in the darkness of the cell. Moldir issues a few instructions to the guard before handing him the key.
It will soon be time to welcome her brothers and sisters.
For there is no turning back from the path her father has chosen.
Trucks led by young officers loyal to Admiral Igor roll into the base, carrying elite Zeno troops from across the country.
To annihilate Manus Vindictae, to destroy the Apostles Brotherhood, and for the future chosen by the admiral.
In a world of lies, the traitor's blade has been raised.
Don't worry, young comrade. Just hang in a little longer.
...?!
16. "Family Reunion"
114 linesAfter a long wait, father and daughter reconvene.
Father, Ptolemy and the unit have arrived.
Huh. So here they are. The "army of justice" ready to eradicate the Manus and the deserters in one fell swoop.
He picks up a gift he received from the Foundation.
During the last "Storm," the Foundation created this thing.
And with the help of Laplace and the Apeiron arcanists, they stole the fire of the gods, just like Prometheus.
Which side would you choose?
Her loyalty is like a shield to protect herself from her inner doubt.
Send someone to bring Stefen's belongings here.
That traitor found something important at Tuesday's Motel.
Ptolemy will find it useful.
That's all for now.
Understood.
Moldir! Long time no see!
The one-eyed officer steps forward to embrace his older sister, kissing her on both cheeks.
The conversation gets straight to the point.
What do you say? Do we give those humans a chance to surrender?
*sigh* Manus Vindictae don't accept humans.
But I doubt Father would blame you if your men allowed them to escape the base.
A hint.
Escape the base? Haha, Moldir, are you having second thoughts?
He sneers at his sister's "kindness."
Either follow this path to the very end, or show mercy and get Father and the two of us executed.
He shouts a few orders to his officers, instructing them to return to their respective units and await the admiral's command.
So what, then? You want to have a mass execution like Lopera did? On what charges? For refusing to join the rebellion? Disobeying orders?
Oh, no, there'll be no trials.
He leans in close and whispers a few words in his sister's ear.
Moldir's eyes widen.
All my men know about this plan. We're just waiting for Father's orders.
They all know?
Well, those who're still alive.
Only blood and dirt can bury secrets.
The Manus have provided us with a miracle that allows us to survive the "Storm." How could anyone refuse such a sacred gift?
Even after the total destruction caused by the vacuum bomb, we still detected life signs.
No one in history has ever been able to do that. Lady Arcana is invincible.
I don't care about Arcana. What worries me is that the soldiers who are unwilling to follow us won't just surrender.
Then we shoot them.
His delivery is disturbingly casual.
There are only two options: follow or die.
I don't think that's—
The admiral strides toward them.
Oh, Father!
Where are the others?
They went to rally the soldiers. We've been waiting for this day for ages!
He seems to have known about the admiral's plan for quite some time.
For ages? How long have you known about this?
She looks at Ptolemy, confusion and astonishment in her eyes.
I told your siblings some time ago.
Then Lopera ...
She's not part of the plan. Her only responsibility is to bring back Dores.
Dores? Who's that?
None of your concern.
You have other things to worry about. Go issue your orders to your soldiers.
Moldir, prepare the aircraft. We're going to Tierra del Fuego.
All the way to the southernmost tip of the continent. To a place where he can gaze upon that snow-capped land to the south and feel the icy breeze on his face once again.
How many of our soldiers do you think will remain loyal?
I'd say about eighty percent. The arcanists will follow us, there's no doubt about that, but we still have a lot of human soldiers. Don't worry. I'll be sure to deal with them.
A necessary sacrifice.
The spilling of blood will only unite us further.
A betrayal of their brotherhood. But there will be no escape once blood is spilled, for those who shed blood and for those who draw it.
Take this and go to São Paulo tomorrow.
He gestures to the wind-up toy that once belonged to the traitorous officer who stayed at Tuesday's Motel. It's placed beside a G33 syringe and a Flying Arrow M1903 pistol.
Oh, me too? So, if Moldir fails, you want me to use this little toy to get Lopera back?
No. You will bring Kimberly back from the Veterans' Residence.
This is Kimberly's seal. As long as it's in your possession, she cannot disobey you.
A succubus cannot resist the will of whoever holds her contract item.
Bring her back peacefully, if possible.
Of course, Father.
I will do as you wish.
Instructions given, the admiral leaves.
Right then, Moldir. Let's get started.
He whistles, signaling the guards to begin their massacre.
The sound of gunshots echos through the holding cell.
What's going on out there?
No one answers.
The guard has already left. Lilya frowns.
Is the base under attack?
By whom? The Manus has no reason to launch a frontal assault.
The Apostles Brotherhood? No, that's even less likely.
She immediately dismisses the idea.
Get out! Quick, comrade!
Are we under attack?
Just take your stuff and go!
The guard hands Lilya her weapons just as the rebels catch up.
More enemies over here!
Comrade!
Amidst the chaos, the guard has been shot in the leg. Lilya goes to help, but the rebels are closing in fast.
There's no time.
Damn!
Another damnable choice, but this time there's no time to hesitate.
Lieutenant Moldir asked me to help you. Take care—
Aaah!
With a running start, Lilya leaps onto her Red 38 and takes off into the air, bursting through the rebels and leaving them choking on her exhaust.
First, the bright light of the outdoors hits her; second, the stench of gunpowder and death.
Traitors and loyalists.
Under the sun, their blood glimmers just the same.
It's plain to see now that their blood paints the courtyard.
Kill them all!
No. Recall your troops and assemble.
The remaining loyalists are fleeing. There's no need to pursue them any further.
Ptolemy reluctantly passes on the order.
All hands, assemble!
The bloodshed stops here.
An unceremonious end to the battle. The rebels have formed a new kind of blood brotherhood now.
Moldir, time to head to São Paulo.
Forgive me for asking, Father, but what if Lopera refuses to come back?
...
Oh, Moldir, if it's too much for you to bear, I'd be happy to go and see our dear little sister for you.
No need. This is my mission. I will get her to come back.
The two of them are still linked via the tracker button.
There will be no alteration of the mission. Ptolemy, retrieve Kimberly.
The order is non-negotiable. Ptolemy and Moldir board their boats and head to their respective destinations.
17. The Black Lamb
119 linesThe pieces are falling into place. Lopera has gone to the colonel's manor, as Admiral Igor planned.
If Mr. Duncan moves quickly, he might make it to the manor in time to meet her.
The early morning sun scorches the courtyard.
White Rum is still tucked away in her bottle, fast asleep.
What are you waiting for?
Admiral Igor has sent reinforcements. We were instructed to await their arrival at this location.
Some time has passed. The sun has now risen well into the sky, but the reinforcements are yet to arrive.
Igor?
She tenses up at the name.
Do you know him?
N-No, I don't. And I don't want to know him, either. I want nothing to do with those Zeno madmen!
She knows him. She's hiding something.
Stay away from them, Vertin. Trust me, they—
They're here.
A young man with an eye patch strides into the Veterans' Residence, followed by a squad of soldiers, all armed to the teeth.
Greetings, Timekeeper of the St. Pavlov Foundation. I'm Ptolemy, the Commander of Igor's Sentinel Unit.
Ptolemy? No one at the base has mentioned such a name before.
Are we setting off now, Commander Ptolemy?
Setting off? No, no. It's Lopera's mission to take care of the doctor.
My mission, well ... It concerns the young lady behind you.
...?!
I wasn't informed of this. What does she have to do with Zeno?
Is it because of what happened at Tuesday's Motel?
As far as I'm aware, the Zeno officer at Tuesday's Motel committed suicide. Kimberly had nothing to do with it.
Oh, Stefen? I couldn't care less about him.
If that's the case, then why is he here?
The door opened all by itself.
What door?
Hmph. I'm not stupid, you know. Ms. Kimberly somehow escapes the base.
And suddenly I find her with the Timekeeper, who I hear took a detour to a certain tower before she left.
So, Timekeeper, care to explain why you helped Ms. Kimberly, a member of Manus Vindictae, escape?
Oh, so the captive in that tower was Ms. Kimberly?
She gives him no answer.
Per the admiral's orders, I will now escort you back to the base, Ms. Kimberly. And please, don't make me resort to violence.
No. I'm not going back there.
She takes a step back, her body trembling all over. She's too frightened to run.
You'll kill me, just like those Zeno soldiers.
Ptolemy's soldiers raise their guns, just as the others did when they executed the deserters.
Now, now. Let's just get along, shall we?
This isn't an arrest, Ms. Kimberly. It's an invitation.
He reaches into his pocket and reveals Zeno's "sincerity."
...?!
A succubus should follow her instincts.
Come on. Obey your master.
A toy. Unremarkable, even ridiculous, yet utterly terrifying to her.
You know, you were close, Kimberly. You almost found it.
It was hidden at Tuesday's Motel, just like you thought. Stefen thought it was just a wind-up toy. Hmph. What a fool.
Give it back!
Yes, that's the spirit. Come with me, and I'll—
Don't. He's not going to give it back to you.
...?!
Oh, so you'd rather stay with the Timekeeper.
I guess you need a little reminder of who your real master is.
Soldiers, prepare to fire!
Kimberly barely moves as she struggles against the command of the seal. Meanwhile, Ptolemy and his troops have taken control of the courtyard.
Pick it up, Timekeeper.
He's tossed a pistol near her.
I hold no grudge against you, and I'm not going to shoot an unarmed civilian.
Make your choice. Take the weapon and continue to fight, or surrender.
If you do surrender, I'll guarantee your freedom, but Kimberly has to come with us.
She picks up the pistol.
I see. So you've chosen to fight. On your feet.
Now then, Kimberly.
The officer gives a malicious grin.
Kill her.
You want me to kill Vertin?
A command as malicious as the look on his face.
She doesn't know what to do.
But her bloodline allows her no choice. The seal takes effect, slowly compelling her to obey it.
Come on, my patience has its limits.
Ptolemy raises the wind-up toy, like a lighthouse beacon in a storm.
You will obey me!
Compulsion. An attack so swift that there is no time to react.
The succubus looms over, her eyes hollow, her beastly claw poised to strike.
Ptolemy will say anything to ensure she enacts his will.
Do it, demon. Your freedom for the life of a stranger.
...
Yes, kill her. Prove your loyalty. Then I'll give you back your toy, I promise.
The succubus wraps her claws around her neck.
Vertin ... I ... I can't ...
The command has taken hold of her, but still, she's wavering.
Meanwhile, Ptolemy, like a sadistic spectator in a coliseum, wills their struggle to go on.
Raise your gun, Timekeeper.
Gun ... yes ... I have a gun ...
But breathing ... strength ... it's all ...
Aim at her and pull the trigger.
...
This monster's going to kill you. You'll have to shoot her if you want to live.
Ptolemy presses further, eager to get a show.
...
No matter how hard she resists, the succubus within her must obey.
Her claws tighten around her neck. She can hardly breathe.
No, I don't ...
Her struggle is as futile as her tears.
Obey your master.
Her claws start to sink into her neck.
Yes. Give in. Just like that.
Look, Kimberly. She picked up the gun. Shouldn't you kill her before she kills you?
She obviously values her own life over yours, and she won't hesitate to fire a bullet through your heart. To her, you're just a horrifying beast.
I mean, look at you. You're a succubus, a demon born to be bound to a master! Born to be controlled!
His contempt is palpable.
No! I-I don't want to!!
She's pleading.
Tears pour down her cheeks.
Hiding away for all those years, living no kind of life at all, only to be captured and executed.
If that's what you want, then kill her. Break her neck.
Now, heed my order and kill Vertin!
She does everything she can to resist the command, yet her body is compelled to follow.
She raises a claw. It hangs in the air, like a butcher's knife ready to slice its meat.
End your suffering with her death.
Don't think. Just obey.
Her grip tightens.
The pistol ... Get it. There's still a chance.
L-Let go. Let go of her.
She's sobbing.
Nala ...
Aim ... at him ...
18. Eye of the Hurricane
85 linesVertin?
The bullet flies from the barrel, trailing a long, white streak through the air.
It pierces the wind-up toy in Ptolemy's hand—the tool of Nala's subjugation, that thing that she had so desperately sought, so desperately run away from, is destroyed.
Its power is lost. Its controlling force vanquished by the bullet.
H-How dare you!
*pant*
Nala releases her throat.
Ptolemy glares furiously at the broken wind-up toy, then shifts his gaze toward them.
Looks like negotiation's off the table, Timekeeper.
I suppose I'll have to turn to violence.
Soldiers, kill them all. Spare no one but Kimberly.
She's the only one the admiral needs.
Nala looks over her shoulder at Ptolemy, her face twisted in rage, her bloodied claw poised to strike.
Blood. His blood. She craves it.
I'll kill every last one of you!
The battle quickly becomes a massacre.
Damn it! What kind of monster is she?!
Sir!
Maintain formation and fall back. Keep firing!
Ptolemy's troops are only equipped with standard military gear.
No devices to capture arcanists, no heavy firepower.
Go to hell!
Anger is pain, and she needs to release it.
They'll pay for her tears in blood.
She's ... She's totally insane!
Kimberly grabs a rifle and smashes the stock into a fallen soldier's face.
Why?!
First claws, then teeth.
Tearing, biting.
Slashing stomachs, ripping out throats.
Like a wildcat pouncing on a sparrow.
The Zeno soldiers fought bravely. Had they not been enemies, they might have made excellent allies.
Their loyalty to each other outweighed their fear of the enemy.
Retreat!
A small trickle of blood runs down her cheek.
She walks mercilessly through the courtyard of the Veterans' Residence, avenging all she has suffered.
The enemy starts to retreat, or rather, flee with the "dignity" of a soldier.
...
The air is filled with a bitter scent.
I-I am not a lamb for the slaughter!
The rain comes suddenly, washing away the blood spilled in the courtyard.
It's over. They're gone. She collapses.
*whimper* It hurts.
Pain.
Like thorns in her heart.
Everything will be fine, Kimberly.
She's crying. The wind-up toy lies nearby, shattered like her spirit.
Vertin ...
She spreads her hands and gazes blankly at the sky.
I'm here. It's okay. You're going to be alright.
The marigolds in the courtyard are stained with blood.
The place is a mess. Mamãe Mariana's cat's den has been blown to pieces.
Perhaps she'll make a new one.
You're no longer bound by anyone.
No contract, no seal.
The wind-up toy's been destroyed.
It's been shattered into pieces. You're free, Kimberly. You don't have to take orders from anyone anymore.
She repeats her words as if she's drowning, and they're the only pieces of driftwood to cling to.
Come.
The rain subsides.
And the sun shines again.
If you've got nowhere else to go, you can come to the Foundation with me if you like.
I'll let them know you risked your life to protect me from the Zeno rebels. Anyway, the choice is yours.
Nala breathes heavily.
I ... I can choose?
Her confusion matches her pain.
Yes, whatever you want.
No one can control you anymore. You belong to no master; only yourself.
Belong to myself.
She looks down. She's covered in blood, like a newborn baby.
Like when my sister died, the first time I left home?
Like when I fled to São Paulo during the war.
Like the old days at Heartfelt Home.
...
Real, yet distant memories.
To her, it's as if those times have been rolled in the sweet nectar of happiness.
For a moment, she almost forgets why she's been running all this time.
Yes, no longer reliant on or under the control of anyone.
Just think about who you are, what you want.
And enjoy your new life, Nala, starting today.
A familiar silhouette streaks across the sky.
Captain!
Lilya descends, bearing bad news.
19. The Gamble
99 linesThe master of the manor sighs.
All this time waiting for Zeno. I really want nothing more than to clear up this little misunderstanding of ours.
There's no benefit to me hurting you. I hope only to peacefully return you to your friends and, in return, receive mine.
After all, this city and its false era will be washed away by the "Storm" before long.
*sigh* Those poor unbelievers. We were all once like them, yet to realize that we are children bathed in the light of the divine.
One day, they will turn from darkness to light, just like our Zeno friends did not long ago.
The apostates, however, they who have abandoned our faith, they must die.
Heretics and oath breakers, the most detestable of all.
I'm still curious, you know, about who attacked the manor.
Who disturbed the meeting between the Apostles Brotherhood and the messenger of the great Manus Vindictae?
Who came here?
He kicks a small stone at his feet.
And took away my people?
...
The potion has locked the blind doctor's throat. She cannot speak.
I wouldn't be surprised if Marcando's already messed things up in the favela, but ...
He turns his back to the doctor.
As long as he continues to recruit young arcanists, it doesn't matter.
People like him are useful.
Tools to be used to our benefit until they're lost to the "Storm."
Isn't that also how Zeno uses their soldiers, Doctor? As currency to be spent and lost?
A chip may roll away from the gambling table, but it will only find itself at another.
All the world's a casino, and all the men and women merely chips. We have no choice but to take our place at the table.
...
He looks at the doctor.
At least Manus Vindictae promises these soldiers a future, a future worth looking forward to.
The Sufferer will be reborn.
And the Apostles Brotherhood will sail south with me. We will become followers of the Sufferer, undertake THEIR trials, and THEIR grace will be bestowed upon us.
He leans close, whispering in her ear.
And with THEIR blessing, no matter how many times the world is reversed, we will stand firm.
For we will be immortal.
Yesterday is within our reach, dear lady.
Lopera crouches in the bushes by the manor, observing the guards' movements. The place is surprisingly light on security.
Seven, maybe eight, guards? No way to get through. Damn!
Cautious footsteps approach from behind.
Who's there?!
Oh, sweet Mary, I finally found you! Haha! I bet you didn't expect to see me here, did you?
An unexpected ally.
Duncan? How did you know I was here?!
Shh, keep it down now. Our friends at the Veterans' Residence told me everything.
The Timekeeper said you were going to the manor alone.
My, would you look at the beautiful greenery. Are you heading to that chapel?
Amidst the distant greenery, just past the building before them, peeks the chapel's bell tower.
Yeah. If the doctor's in there, I have to find a way to break in.
Do you have any plans? Reinforcements?
Reinforcements? No time for that. Just watch. I can handle this myself.
The path to the chapel is well within the sights of the patrolling guards.
Unless you dare to join me, old-timer?
The old veteran answers with action.
He lowers his sunglasses and lifts his blowpipe.
Give me a few darts.
Okay. Here's the plan: you lure the guards away, and I'll check inside the chapel.
She tilts her crucible and, in the flame of an arcane skill, produces a few poison darts. She hands them to the old man.
Alright. When I take my shot, I'll head that way. You stay hidden in the woods and make your way to the other side.
He crouches, aiming at an unfortunate guard's neck.
*thwip*
The guard drops instantly.
Intruder! Over there!
Alarm sirens blare.
Lead them toward the river.
Duncan catches the smoke bomb tossed by Lopera.
Let's make this a little more exciting, shall we, boys?
He lobs the bomb, aims his blowpipe, and pierces the bomb in midair.
Nice shot!
With the guards distracted, Lopera raises her guns and makes her way to the chapel.
Ah. It appears someone has come to your rescue, dear lady.
I'm not surprised.
Santos gazes at the doctor. He holds a small control button in his hand.
He has no qualms about reducing this place to a pile of rubble.
Doctor!
Her shout echoes through the halls of the chapel.
Huh? It's you!
The little gambler from the ship.
I should've put a bullet in your skull back on that ship.
I'm afraid you're playing the wrong game now.
Oh, yeah? So what does the winner get this time? Dr. Dores?
She steps toward the enemy on the pulpit.
Santos spreads his arms.
No, there are no prizes.
You and I are nothing but specks of dust in the wind.
Guns emptied, Lopera drops her revolver and charges at her opponent with nothing but her fists.
Looks like I win again.
She kicks the weakened Santos to the ground, pinning him by the throat, her fist poised.
Yes, yes, you won this round.
He lies among the rubble, blood trickling from his mouth, smiling as Lopera's fist hovers above him.
But I'm afraid there won't be a table left to play the next.
So long, little gambler.
What?!
Perhaps it's time you paid a little more attention to your friend.
He presses the button in his hand. After a loud bang, the chapel starts to crumble.
In Lopera's moment of distraction, Santos kicks her away.
He vanishes amid the chaos of the explosion.
Now there is no one but Lopera, the doctor, and a building that's about to crush them both.
Crap!
She grits her teeth and runs to the pulpit, freeing the bound doctor.
...
She tries to speak, but the effects of the potion still hold her throat in a tight grip.
We can talk after we get out of here.
She hoists the doctor onto her back and carries her through the falling debris.
20. Farewell, Pera
134 linesFollowing the admiral's orders, Moldir has followed the tracker button's signal to the manor.
But she has arrived too late. What remains of the Brotherhood have no desire to fight. They scatter, putting a swift end to the gunfire.
The blood-splattered sugarcane field burns, and amidst the smoke and blood, Moldir searches for the doctor and her sister.
Just as the chapel collapses, Lopera makes it through the front door.
Huh? Where have the Brotherhood guards gone?
Neither Duncan nor the Brotherhood guards greet her.
Oh, Molly!
Pera! Thank goodness this tracker button still works. What happened in the chapel?
I had a fight with Santos, but he got away. Weren't you supposed to go to the Veterans' Residence?
She flashes a brief, bittersweet smile. This is still a victory, albeit an imperfect one.
Rescuing the doctor is our top priority now.
Doctor Dores sits on the muddy ground, cradling her typewriter.
I'm so glad to see you safe, Doctor.
Great job, Pera. Let's head back to the base with Dr. Dores.
What about the Timekeeper?
She's on a new mission assigned by the Foundation. It's got nothing to do with us.
Father wants me to bring you and the doctor back to the base as soon as possible.
What do you mean? Why the sudden change of plan? What's going on here?
No one told her about this.
Just come already. We're evacuating São Paulo.
Evacuating? Since when was this the plan?
Evacuating? To where?
Just follow your orders, Lopera.
...
The admiral sent me to pick you up.
Then why didn't he tell me any of this?
I-I don't know! I'm sure he has his reasons!
In her hurry, she presents a reason her sister cannot argue with.
Recognizing her hastiness, Moldir sighs.
*sigh* Fine. We're heading south.
To Tierra del Fuego. They've made preparations for us. Come on, Pera, come with us.
You, me, Father, Ptolemy, everyone. We'll all be there.
Everyone? Why didn't anyone tell me about this?
Because ... *sigh* Pera, you can ask questions later. We don't have much time.
Lopera knocks away her sister's extended hand, taking two steps back.
No. Why are we going to Tierra del Fuego?
And why are we running out of time?
What are you planning to do?
Who's waiting for you in Tierra del Fuego?
She grips the revolver on her side.
She hesitates, fear and confusion flashing across her face.
Her gun is safe. Her gun is reliable. As long as she holds it, she won't be hurt.
She pulls it from its holster and slowly raises the barrel to her sister. With a final crash of thunder, rain starts to pour.
Who's behind all this? That jerk, Ptolemy?
No. Father gave these orders.
Moldir unbuckles her holster, reaching for her own gun.
Don't move!
Come on, Lopera. Lower your gun.
The handgun slips from its holster and falls to the ground. Moldir spreads her hands in a show of friendship—of sisterhood.
Father needs the doctor. We need her.
Bring her back to the base and come with us to Tierra del Fuego.
Why? What're you going to do in Tierra del Fuego?
A betrayal she had never imagined.
No. My family are not traitors.
Not in the past, not now, not ever.
A hunter never willingly becomes the prey she once pursued.
Look, you don't have to do anything for them if you don't want to.
She tries to explain, but she can't even look her sister in the eye.
Just come with us. Come home.
Home.
That single word makes Lopera waver.
Forgive me, Pera.
Taking advantage of Lopera's moment of hesitation, Moldir launches an attack.
As they wrestle, Lopera pulls the trigger, the bullet shooting into the sky and startling a flock of birds.
Finally, Moldir wrestles the gun from Lopera's hand and knocks her to the ground. She lies there, winded and in pain.
Pa ... Why is he doing this?
The pain is the least of her problems. She simply can't understand how things have ended up this way.
For the good of us all, Pera.
Consider your mission complete, I'll take over from here.
Thank you for your service, Comrade Lopera.
Several Zeno soldiers, returning from their sweep of the manor, arrive at the lieutenant's side.
What's going on?
The doctor offers no resistance, weakly surrendering to fate as she's taken once again.
Moldir looks down at her fallen sister, her gaze cold.
I am sorry it has to end this way.
She raises her gun, aiming at her cherished sister.
Farewell, Pera.
The rain grows heavier. Lopera's soaked body lies in the mud.
He pauses at the echoing of the gunshot and scans his surroundings.
As an experienced soldier, he knows not to act rashly.
In the distance, a young female officer leads the soldiers and Doctor Dores away, but there's no sign of Lopera.
Duncan cautiously makes his way to the chapel to search for her.
The rain comes and goes.
As the effects of the tranquilizer wear off, Lopera can feel her soaked clothes sticking to her.
She sees the tracker button. It's been destroyed. Moldir's bullet must have smashed it.
It's shattered.
Moldir's aim is as sharp as hers. They truly are sisters.
She grips the fragments in her palm, trying in vain to piece them back together.
But the rain washes them away.
Pa ...
First her biological father, now her adoptive one.
Betrayal. Rejection.
How long have you been planning this?
There is no answer save for a crash of thunder.
She has no one but herself.
Am I really the only one who knew nothing about it?
Did her siblings know?
Did everyone else in her family know?
Was I ever actually accepted into this "family"?
The bitter thought burns in her chest like fire.
...
She forces herself up, her arms shaking as she heaves her body upright.
Tears, rain—they both become one.
She pounds the ground, splattering her fist with mud.
...
From the shadows of the trees, a familiar figure emerges.
It's Duncan. He's running over to her.
Lopera!
Finally, some good news.
Duncan! You're okay! We have to hur—
She tries to stand, but her legs give way, and she collapses again.
What happened? Why did your men leave you here all alone?
He supports the weakened Lopera. She gives him a sad smile.
Hurry back to the Residence. It's Igor ... He...
She can't bring herself to finish the sentence.
The sky clears, and the heat of the blazing sun washes over them once more.
21. Ground Zero
110 linesNala's tears have dried up. Lilya looks around and frowns.
I guess you haven't had an easy time either.
Rain and blood.
I have bad news. Igor's just started a rebellion.
...?!
Lilya strides forward.
He's got an army.
What's the situation at their base?
Not good. There was fighting and bloodshed. Lots of it. The rebels must've won.
She takes a long swig of liquor in an attempt to steady her emotions.
...
All I know is that she was sent to the colonel's manor earlier.
But why would Igor ...?
If Lopera's also joined the rebellion ...
Worse than expected.
The old fart set us up!
A burly figure appears in the entrance to the Veterans' Residence.
It's Duncan, Lopera slung on his back.
She's injured!
Mr. Karson!
I'm fine. Ugh! Damn you, Igor!
Waking up from her deep slumber, White Rum looks around to see the courtyard in disarray and an injured Lopera.
As Duncan gently places Lopera on a chair, she races up to her.
Oh, my darling little buccaneer! Who did this to you?
Lopera, could you tell us what happened?
Bloody and dirty, yes, but her injuries aren't serious. She only has a few scrapes and bruises.
However, her eyes are swollen as if she's just been crying.
Igor ... He took Dores!
...?!
First, Zeno soldiers try to take Kimberly; then, Igor orders the kidnapping of Doctor Dores.
So, are you going to go after him?
Yes. But you should stay here. Igor still wants you.
Igor mustn't succeed.
We'll come back for you later.
Okay.
What now, then, Captain? There are no Foundation branches nearby. If we request reinforcements, they'll be too slow to arrive.
...
Then we go ourselves.
Lopera grits her teeth.
White Rum, could you take us to the Zeno base?
Anything to save the doc! Anchors aweigh, mateys!
Back at the Zeno base, the rebels are organizing the final stages of their retreat.
You screwed up.
It's just a minor setback.
Father isn't happy.
Look, I'll deal with her, okay?! Next time, I'll—
His defeat is a consequence of his own arrogance. It's a bitter pill to swallow.
There won't be a next time. We can't just waltz into the Foundation and take her.
Anyway, are the aircraft ready?
Yeah. Father and the doctor will be boarding soon.
Who is she, anyway?
I don't know.
Her answer is honest. She rarely questions her father.
Her duty is to obey and execute—while holding onto a sliver of her own sense of justice.
Looks like Father hasn't told you everything either.
You should never entrust all the pieces of a puzzle to a single hand.
Huh, all this time with Father's made you quite enigmatic.
There's a charm in mystery, you know.
Around them, soldiers are busy transporting supplies and burning sensitive documents in fires.
Are you not coming with us on the helicopter?
Someone has to stay behind and organize the retreat. You go ahead with Father. I'll join you later.
Sometimes I just don't understand you, Moldir.
Oftentimes, I don't understand myself either.
Perhaps that's why Father always keeps me close.
Just get going. I'll take up the rear.
The sound of gunfire echoes from outside the courtyard.
But she pays it no mind. Whether it's an internal conflict or a counterattack from the Foundation, it doesn't matter.
Ma'am, we're under attack!
Th-Three, and a sailboat.
A sailboat? What is this, the Age of Exploration or something? Hahahahaha!
One of them is flying some kind of aircraft. Oh! She's fast. Two squads are currently engaged with her in courtyard A2.
So, you're just going to leave me here in São Paulo, huh?
Two rebels break through the defense line and rush over to her.
Where's Igor?!
Her hands are bloody, the muzzle of her gun singed red from the repeated use of her arcane skill.
No sign of the admiral, only the unwelcome sight of her older brother.
You've grown taller since we last met, dear little sister.
There's a hint of malice in his voice.
Woah, woah! Don't look at me like that. I don't care what you do. Come home, or stay with the Timekeeper. I won't stop you.
Get out of my face.
She raises her rifle.
This scene looks all too familiar. Time to execute another traitor.
But someone steps in front of her.
Molly?
Ms. Moldir.
It's unfortunate that we have to meet again under these circumstances.
We've simply chosen different paths, Timekeeper.
I suppose the next time I see you, we'll be in Antarctica. Ptolemy, go join Father. I can handle this.
Her brother turns and leaves.
Molly, why?
The remaining soldiers gather around the lieutenant, their weapons raised.
Forgive me. I can't let you pass.
Moldir issues a command to her remaining soldiers.
Soldiers, take aim!
The battle ends. Not one of Moldir's soldiers has survived.
She falls against the wall, blood oozing from her forehead and shoulder. Faced with her sister's gun, she cannot—or perhaps doesn't want to—move.
There's sorrow in her eyes as her gaze meets her sister's.
I don't ever want to see you again.
As the bullet casing falls to the ground, so too does a tear.
We couldn't halt Igor's escape.
More rebels came at us following the gunfire, and we were forced to flee the base.
We failed.
22. The Roaring Forties
64 linesYou made the right choice.
We simply followed THEIR guidance, Preacher.
Unfortunately, we failed to bring the succubus.
But I did bring you this, and Ms. Urd, as well.
...
No, Admiral. Not you ...
Us.
We all need the miracle THEY bestow.
My men will not wear the masks. Nor will they take the trials.
We need no trials to test the loyalty of my children, Preacher.
And for now, Ms. Urd will stay under my protection.
As you wish.
The Preacher agrees to all of the admiral's requests.
It doesn't matter. None of it matters.
She looks southward across the sea.
Until next time, Admiral.
The Preacher takes the relic left by the Mother of Resurrection and bids farewell to the admiral.
Shooting is one thing. Whether the bullet hits the heart or the ground is another. To the admiral, however, it is unimportant.
I have to be honest, Father. I don't fully agree with your decision, at least not on a personal level.
You're entitled to your opinion, Lieutenant. But I don't need your approval.
I understand. You only need my obedience.
Precisely.
Had you anticipated that Lopera wouldn't come with us?
She is inconsequential. She helped us retrieve Urd from that Brotherhood farce. That's all I needed from her.
But the Brotherhood ... With all due respect, admiral ...
I've heard they have connections with our "friends" at Manus Vindictae.
She finds it hard to call those they once fought against "friends."
Treason is a stain not easily washed clean.
I thought you'd make the same choice she did.
No, I will always follow you, Father.
Just let her be.
A lone seagull glides across the sky, calling out as it flies to the warm north.
Igor pats his daughter on the shoulder.
Now, bring me Dr. Dores.
Father.
She dutifully leads the doctor to her father and leaves the two alone.
I don't know you, sir. You must have mistaken me for someone else.
No, I couldn't possibly mistake you.
Old friend.
In the last days before the millennium, we fought side by side.
Memories flood the weathered halls of the old admiral's mind.
In hindsight, that battle may have been a mistake.
The "Storm" swept across the world, leaving behind an era of chaos.
And we lost our future.
The admiral has never been fearful of sacrifice, especially when it has served the grander goal.
But now, another path lies before us, one that we once fought desperately against.
A path paved by Arcana.
A path leading to a world free of conflict.
My old friend.
Sadly, she cannot comprehend even a fragment of these words.
She's simply Doctor Dores. Nothing more.
That marble chair the Foundation gave you ... What's the secret behind it?
What happened to you after you pressed that button?
Nothing.
Do you remember what happened after you walked into that white house?
I'm sorry. I don't know anything about that.
She's stubborn but answers honestly.
The old admiral sighs and pulls a stack of UTTU magazines from his coat. They were not for his own reading.
My dear Ms. Urd.
Your name continues to show up between the occurrences of the "Storm."
I don't know what you've encountered, what you've experienced, in all this time.
But your very existence is about to change the fate of us all.
23. The Final Curtain
102 linesHehe! I never knew that so many people lived on the river!
I saw them tie plastic bottles to planks to make a bridge, and then they crossed the river as if they were walking on a row of puffpuff fish!
Sotheby's sheltered life has given her few chances to witness the struggles of those on the verge of hunger.
But ever since she came to consciousness on the water's edge, that same question has lingered in her heart.
...
She restrains herself from voicing it.
Duncan's well known in the favela, and everyone keeps telling her, "Yes, that old man is Duncan from the Veterans' Residence!" It's like she's trapped in some kind of dream.
I know what you're thinking, little lady.
But I am Duncan. My ID card, my military record, my medals—they all prove it.
As for your friend, Mr. Karson, listen, I know it's hard, but at some point, we have to move on.
Thank you for the advice; it's just ...
Pardon me.
The Foundation staff member gently pushes open the door.
Hm?
My apologies for interrupting.
Ms. Sotheby, I heard about what happened in the favela. Thanks to your efforts, Zeno has been able to recruit a new group of spirited youths.
The staff member then turns to Mr. Duncan.
Sotheby gives a proud nod. She's more than just a pretty dress. She did her very best to help her friends in the favela while the others were busy with their missions.
Mr. Duncan, we need to record your information and cross-reference it with that of Mr. Karson, who was lost during the "Storm" of 1929.
It's bewildering, isn't it? How could there be another Mr. Karson?
1929?
A fervent era filled with ambition, dreams, and madness.
Please come with me, Mr. Duncan. It won't take long. After that, you'll need to initiate the procedures for your re-enlistment in the Zeno Arms Academy.
While the said procedures are underway, the rehab center will take care of the injuries you sustained in São Paulo. Welcome back to our cause.
There have been many cases like yours.
Politicians, singers, the list goes on. The Foundation compared them to photos from the '90s. While their appearances had changed, they were undoubtedly the same person.
These words leave Duncan feeling puzzled.
This place is strange, and their language is even stranger.
Heh, hey! Isn't that Lieutenant Lilya?
Lilya is sauntering down the hallway, swigging on her flask.
This is an alcohol-free zone, Lieutenant Lilya. Please try to follow the regulations.
Oh, did I just wander into another dry zone? Great.
So many rules and regulations. Ugh, how boring!
Has Lopera arrived?
She's in her room right now. Vertin managed to secure her some rest time before her interrogation. Poor girl.
Honestly, no one deserves to go through what she has.
It's even worse than being cooped up and buried in paperwork.
Ahem, clerical work is essential, too.
She gives an awkward smile at this mockery of her work.
Lilya cheerfully pats her on the shoulder and turns back to Duncan.
Well, good luck, Comrade Duncan. Don't forget to stretch your hand between signing papers.
She'd rather ride her Red 38 until her legs went numb than be stuck in an office all day.
You also need to write a report, Lieutenant Lilya.
Our executives are quite curious to know how you managed to escape the rebels' custody.
Moldir, the woman in charge of the base, had one of her guards release me.
Moldir's orders saved Lilya's life.
You mean to say that Moldir, the lieutenant who's joined the rebellion, set you free?
I think so. At least, that's what the guard told me.
"Lieutenant Moldir asked me to help you. Take care—"
I'll be sure to make note of that. And of course, please specify this in your written report as well.
This is very important, Lieutenant.
If she's having doubts, then we may still have a chance to win back Igor's rebels.
Or at least some of them.
Vice President Constantine makes a long-overdue call with the Pax House.
...
Igor fooled us all with his rebellion.
It's been confirmed that the Dr. Dores he took is none other than Ms. Urd.
The motives behind his actions, however, are still unclear.
While only a small number of the Zeno soldiers chose to join his rebellion, I believe it is necessary to urge the Zeno Arms Academy to strengthen the discipline of their members.
She removes a white chess piece from the board in front of her.
No need to worry about that. Zeno will handle it themselves.
If that's your judgment, then I have no objections.
On a separate note, Moth, our mole planted within Manus Vindictae, has sent us some new information.
The Manus are sending supplies, personnel, and weapons in huge numbers to the south. It appears our suspicions were correct. Manus Vindictae is preparing a ritual to draw forth another "Storm."
...
The location of Jerry Wilson provided by Ms. Lucy confirms that the Manus are moving toward Antarctica.
Additionally, it's now clear that some of the arcanist organizations, including the Apostles Brotherhood, have been assisting the Manus through criminal activities such as smuggling and human trafficking.
She advances the black pawn on the chessboard.
All very valuable information. How's the Timekeeper doing?
She's stable. It's worth noting, however, that she brought back a succubus from the Manus.
She requested that we revoke the arrest warrant for the succubus and grant her all the rights enjoyed by Team Timekeeper in accordance with The Storm Reformation: Manpower and Discipline Act.
I've consented to her request.
Excellent. She's the ideal person to keep watch over the succubus.
Very good, sir.
About Igor ...
The "late Admiral Igor of the Zeno Arms Academy" will be duly honored in the headquarters' Hall of Merit.
His great achievements and remarkable service deserve to be remembered.
That's all for now.
The admiral's betrayal has already cast a lasting shadow over the optimistic '90s.
But the news that, even after losing their leader, the Manus are gathering once again is even more worrying.
Vertin ...
London, Lima, Ushuaia ...
The Foundation's reports detail many cases like Duncan's.
One familiar face after another turned into someone else.
The "Storm" has brought everyone with it to the bright and hopeful '90s.
"A report from Colombia: The mugshots of Pablo Emilio Escobar Gaviria do not match those archived. Similar anomalies have appeared for other notable figures."
There are many such cases.
But the most pressing issue now is Igor's actions.
Why did Igor abduct Ms. Urd?
And why does he want Kimberly?
One question leads to another, but the answers remain a mystery.
And where are Igor and his army going? Why did they defect?
It's a maze of questions and clues.
And there is no waxwing to peer over its walls, and no thread to guide the way out.
Mr. Karson, who was reversed by the "Storm" of 1929, has somehow reappeared in 1990.
If only there were some way to look beyond the towering walls of this maze and see things for what they truly are.
Or maybe there's more to it.
A person pulled under by the river isn't always swallowed. They often wash up on another shore.
Possibilities. More possibilities. Crows gather and drive away the doves, and by the dry, decaying fountain, they peck at the rainwater.
Could it be that ...
She makes a bold guess.
The "Storm" doesn't kill people? At least, not physically?
24. Monologues
36 linesLopera picks up her gun and loads the bullets one by one.
One, two, three.
There are no enemies, no targets, no opponents.
She has never raised her gun so aimlessly before.
She's lost. Like a hunter in the wilderness with no place to go and no home to return to.
Shots on target.
Three bullets are shot, but they leave only one hole.
One, two, three.
Empty shells fall. Bullets are reloaded.
The room is riddled with bullet holes.
Lopera is numb. She mechanically pulls the trigger.
The gun doesn't respond.
She loosens her grip, and the revolver falls to the floor.
You planned to kick me out right from the very beginning, didn't you?
A plan that never included her.
Or did you never even trust me in the first place?
Was this all some kind of game to you, Molly?
She's lost, lost and alone. Nothing but herself and the hollow sound of the wind blowing through the window.
She drops to the floor and curls up against the wall.
Why?!
At the same crossroad
When the warm days grow cold
Leaves are falling down to the ground
Fire can't burn down
My past into ashes
By now
In the melancholy tropic we say goodbye
I see whispers in your eyes
In the melancholy tropic we kiss goodbye
You will find someone in your life
You will find the love of your life