Oh, great. Just as the evening rush got off to a promising start, with plenty of eager customers for Nadia, Dave, and the other server to attend,
she showed up. Even though the catgirl could maintain an upbeat smile in the face of life-or-death situations, when subjected to terror or pain that no ordinary person could withstand, her lip curled at the slightest hint of Juri Han. Her nasty attitude went against everything that Nadia herself believed in; whereas she sought to help the downtrodden, put down the mighty, and make the world a brighter place, Juri mercilessly picked on anyone weaker than herself, leaving misery in her wake. Even though the Mafia here was a laughable shadow compared to the Medicis, Nadia couldn’t forgive her nemesis for joining them, and giving the cabal of otherwise harmless thugs some teeth. Then again, she couldn’t be surprised either. If Juri could be relied on for anything, it was to show up at the worst possible time and cause problems.
Well, tonight the feral wouldn’t give that bully the satisfaction. If she meant to provoke Nadia into making a scene and losing her job, Juri was going to end up disappointed. In the past week, after all, this humble place and its people had really grown on her. Sure, Bancho, Dave, Cobra, and their tech guy Duff might not be that important to her mission in the World of Light, and were admittedly a distraction from her task, but they’d quickly become her friends, and Bancho Sushi now felt like a home away from home. Plus, it was nice to just forget about Consuls and Galeem for a while and live in the now. So even if Nadia would be moving on before long, she’d be damned if she’d give it up. That meant that it was up to the catgirl to kill her rival with kindness. “Coming right up~” she chirped at Juri.
Nadia plopped down two mugs of beer for a couple of customers, said hi to Junior and Rika, then hustled back down the bar toward the cook station where she made for a grating board lined with shark skin. As he continued slicing sashimi Bancho glanced at Nadia, then at the woman toting a Tommy gun, though he seemed more wary of the former than the latter. If he sensed some sort of prior relationship between the two, he kept that to himself, but he did have one pointed question. “What did she order?” he asked.
“Just something spicy, so give her whatever. And those kids want one of everything,” Nadia replied dismissively as she grabbed a gnarled root, which she began to scrape along the board. With each pass, an alarmingly bright green paste began to collect among the coarse scales. She snickered to herself. “I’ll handle the spice.”
Bancho replied with surprising speed, his voice hard and firm. “That is unacceptable. Wasabi is a condiment, not a substitute for a spicy food, and at Bancho Sushi we aim to do right by every customer.”
Groaning, Nadia dropped the wasabi root and held her hands up in defeat. “Ugh, fine. So what do we do?
Behind his dark glasses, Bancho’s sharp eyes perused his stock of ingredients. “I have all the ingredients I need to make Hot Pepper Tuna. Except…” He shook his head. “No tuna.”
“Damn. We might be o-fish-ially up the creek,” Nadia sighed. As soon as Bancho put down a plate, she scooped it up and jogged over to deliver it to the customer, a wink and a smile on her face.
Dave, who’d been listening as he carefully made a three-layer cocktail nearby, turned to look with a thoughtful expression. Having changed out of his wetsuit into navy blue jeans, a red undershirt, a pale blue Hawaiian shirt, and a white trilby hat, he’d taken his place as Bancho Sushi’s primary server, but he hadn’t put today’s Blue Hole expedition completely out of his mind. “We saw some bluefin tuna while diving this afternoon,” he pointed out. “Nearly bulldozed us on the way down. We didn’t have any steel nets though, so we couldn’t catch ‘em.”
Nadia’s eyebrows shot up as she headed back. “Oh yeah! You know…” Her head swiveled toward the boat, then back at Bancho, her gaze questioning.
Her boss sensed her intentions. “Can you do it fast?”
As Nadia clenched her fist, yellow sparks burst from her veins. “Like lightning.”
Dave grinned. “Better get going then. I’ll hold down the fort.”
The catgirl took off running like a track star at the starter pistol, her ears and tail flapping behind her. She leaped onto the boat and scanned the equipment, heart racing. While she and Dave typically used the newer, higher-capacity boxes to store fish, Cobra hadn’t thrown away the old ones, so she grabbed the smallest one and tucked it under her arm, then snagged a harpoon gun. Rather than starting the boat, though, she promptly threw herself overboard. There was no splash; instead, her Mantreads stopped when they hit the water’s surface as the rigging of the
shipgirl Massachusetts unfolded from the compact metal case on her back. Resembling parts of a slate-blue battleship, the mechanical limbs acted as stabilizers as they suspended their wearer on the water, allowing her to slide across the waves like a figure skater. “Alright, let’s do this! When I get back, that bitch’s gonna be singing to a different tune-a!”
Quickly picking up speed, Nadia made a beeline back toward the area where she and Dave dove, going over what she knew about tuna in her head. They were big, exceptionally powerful swimmers, and though not dangerous to humans like sharks they were highly effective predators in their own right. All this made them tough for a small operation like hers to catch, but the feral was nothing if not resourceful. If she could destroy enormous boss monsters in nightmarish dream realms, this ought to be easy. Of course, even after reaching the area, it took her a few precious minutes to even sight the fast-moving fish, but finally the catgirl spotted a telltale flash of silver just below the surface.
She dropped her catch box, then pulled her Bait Launcher from her belt and fired a raw steak into the water.
Foomp! As it sank below the surface, Nadia readied Dave’s harpoon gun, and sure enough a tuna shot toward her a second later. “Here, fishy fishy…” With a predator’s instinct she waited for the right moment, then fired. The harpoon struck the tuna just as it snapped up the steak, which in turn summoned a burly tiger out of nowhere. Even manifested underwater, the tiger quickly sank its claws into the tuna as it hurtled along, dragging Nadia behind it. “Nyagh!” she yowled, pushing her stabilizers to the limit as she water-skied behind her prey. Beneath the waves her tiger’s assault continued, and as the slashes piled up the tuna began to slow down. By the time her helper timed out, the damage was done, and it wasn’t long before Nadia’s wild ride came to an end.
“...Whoo!” Nadia gasped, hyperventilating. She’d been tired enough from the expedition today, so at this point she really was running on fumes, but she did it. Thanks to her quick thinking she could savor the taste of victory, and soon Bancho’s customers would be savoring this bluefin, Juri included. As the dying fish floated to the surface, Nadia drew one of her Athame daggers from her belt and started slicing before the corpse could dissolve. Normally a tuna like this would be almost impossible to carve, but Athame temporarily crippled the defense and resistance of anything it cut, so Nadia made quick work of the fish and soon filled her catch box with deep rose-red flesh. So intent was the salivating catgirl on her task that she didn’t notice a sickly brown fin plowing through the waves until a
monstrosity leaped from the water, its bulbous red eyes flailing at the end of fleshy stalks.
“The hell!?” At the sight of a toothy man opened wide, Nadia staggered backward across the water, terrified. The next second the Gazing Shark’s jaws snapped shut, and when it hit the water, the catgirl’s headless body sagged down to the ocean’s surface.
Then her head landed on her neck again, still one hundred percent alive, and Nadia sprang to her feet. She whirled around to see where her attacker landed, a nasty smile on her face. “Thought you’d get a piece of me, huh? Well, I don’t go down easy!” After drawing her other knife, the catgirl trained her rigging cannons on the mutant shark and opened fire with a barrage of blood bullets. “Let’s get chummy!” Once she triggered the gleaming monster, it turned back toward her to continue the fight. She braced herself as it ripped through the water, then dodged away as it lunged from below. Unfortunately, her fear got the better of her and her foe caught her arm in its jaws. “Me-owch!” Thinking quickly, Nadia forced her captured arm to drive one dagger into the shark’s head. Then, when it reached the apex of its leap, Nadia used Charge to launch herself through it as a streak of lightning. It floundered, sparking, as she reformed and slid across the water. She turned and launched muscle fibers from her stump, reconnecting to the arm in the shark’s mouth in order to yank the creature toward her. “That’s the thing about you sharks,” she hissed through a gritted smile. With a mighty heavy, she brought her rigging’s hull-blade around. “You always ‘chews’ poorly!”
With a squelching impact the hull blade nearly chopped the weakened shark in two, forcing it to relinquish its grip. Nadia reattached her bloody, bitten arm, wincing as she flexed it, then stowed her daggers. She’d lost Dave’s harpoon gun in the panic, but the catch box was still floating there. She seized it, then turned to flee the scene, skating back toward Bancho Sushi as fast as her rigging could carry her. Horrifying as it had been, that wasn’t the first mutant fish she’d seen. Cobra called them ‘aberrations’, claiming to have seen more and more of them lately. Many were aggressive, and none could be made into edible sushi. Nadia risked one last look over her shoulder, but saw no sign of the freakish Gazing Shark. Instead she spotted what looked like a cargo ship in the distance, slowly approaching in roughly the same direction. Thinking nothing of it, the catgirl turned her attention back to the restaurant.
A minute later, Nadia plopped down and cracked open the catch box, presenting its content for Bancho to assess. “Well? Doesn’t get much fresher than that!” She pressed an artifact, a pale blue
ripened heart, to her chest to kickstart her regeneration.
Bancho grunted in approval. “It’ll be ready in thirty seconds.”
“I’ll get the music!” Dave declared.
After a moment, the low-key, twanging
tune typical to Bancho Sushi gave way to a
rap song that just so happened to have a lot of Korean lyrics. Nadia sauntered up and deposited a
tantalizing dish of expertly prepared and habanero-treated bluefin tuna chutoro with sesame seeds and salty sea grapes. “Here you go dear customer~” Nadia told her in a painfully sweet voice. Even if she hated Juri, and the jerk probably wouldn’t even pay for this delicacy, she couldn’t help but be proud of her quick acquisition. Even if the smell of fish blood clung to her. “Don’t choke on it now~”
Meanwhile, down at the harbor not so far away, something peculiar seemed to be going down. Anyone with an eye for criminal activity who happened to be lingering -or biking- around might notice activities a little too clandestine and careful to be attributed to the average Mafia bumbler. Men supposedly belonging to the Yokohama Trading Company were working overtime to unload crates of shark fins from a barge to a small storehouse. A handful of buyers for local merchants had entered there, but in addition to purchased goods they left with bags that could only be full of pons, betrayed by their distinctive bulkiness. Nothing seemed criminal, but it did seem weird.
As Midna, Edelgard, and Pit conversed, a large silhouette cut through the sunset rays and cast a shadow over them. The beat of heavy, feathery wings reached them, followed by a throaty shriek. Many angels in the area joined them as they looked toward the disturbance, but rather than a cause for concern they found a source of ample reassurance: a majestic griffin with striking red feathers and golden armor. The
angelic beast known as Ortho had fought alongside all of them once or twice, and though fiercely proud he boasted agility to match his ferocity. When he landed near the assembled angels, the Seekers spotted a familiar face riding him. “Heya!” She was Celia, one of Palutena’s attendants. With flowing white clothes, long straight blonde hair, and futuristic armor on both her long legs and fluffy white wings, the
lovely spymaster seemed out of place out in the open. One could only assume she had business with the Seekers in particular.
“Ms. Edelgard!” After waving to the human, Celia stood up from Ortho’s saddle and fluttered down. “Lady Palutena wanted me to give you something. Though the loyalty you’ve earned from your unit is inspiring, we figured they’ve probably had enough of carrying you around.” Celia giggled, thinking of the last time she saw the fearless but flightless Edelgard being ferried between islands by two Feathershields. “So…here!” Grinning, she patted Ortho on his feathery neck. “He’s more of a red griffin than a black eagle, but I hope he’ll suffice!”
Just then, Palutena’s voice rang out telepathically, entering the minds of her various captains and lieutenants.
“Hear me, soldiers of light. It’s time to commence the assault. Before night falls, let us expunge this foul corruption from our fair homeland. Go!”Right away, Nathaniel’s baritone voice resounded across the staging ground. “We have our orders, let’s move, move, move! C’mon, we’re burning daylight!” For many of the angels present, that was no mere expression. Skills like Diurnal Guard, Row Resistance, Hastened Heal, and Photon Arrow all enjoyed extra effects as long as the sun still shined, and Nathaniel knew it. “Get those sorry wings in gear!”
Weapons at the ready, the heavenly host took flight. They spread out into platoons to make their approach, spread out enough to lessen the risk of AoE attacks and assault the Ivory Citadel from a dozen angles. In front of them, the old keep loomed large, sludgy black corruption visibly weeping from the cracks in its white facade. It looked especially bad atop the ramparts, where it formed into rows of vicious long spikes like those used to ward off pigeons, and the biggest deposits sat atop the Ivory Citadel’s two towers.
It didn’t take long for the opposition to respond. Out from the structure swarmed false angels like hornets from a kicked nest, two kinds called
Catchet and Compassion that always worked in tandem, the smaller and more fragile Compassions running interference for the larger, more dangerous Catchets. With feathers like blades of gold they could inflict grievous wounds by hurling themselves around like arrows and drills. Along with them came their ranged brethren
Dear and Decorations which behaved similarly but preferred to fire energy blasts by peeling back their marble flesh to expose their inner organs. As if that wasn’t enough, the strange
Enraptures took to the balconies and battlements, their staves at the ready to launch magical attacks. Unfortunately for them, Feathershields came well-equipped to handle magic. Their Row Resistance and Mystic Shield skills could boost allies’ magic resistance, while Reflect Magic could return the Enraptures’ attacks to sender.
They could not, however, defend against gigantic harpoons of pitch-black corruption, hurled through the air with such dizzying speed that the first angel hit didn’t even get the chance to scream.
“Ballista!” Nathaniel roared, pointing his greatsword at the two towers. “The corruption has copied our siege engines! Get to cover, inside the citadel!”
“Those ballistae are our highest-priority targets!” Palutena ordered.
“If you have the speed and power, hit them hard and fast!”One angel spread her wings. “Going!” Uriel decreed, streaking through the air in a ray of light. A black bolt whizzed past her, but it was not fast enough, and the Hellguard’s leader descended on the ballista with all the speed she could muster. She was just one angel, however, and both siege engines were guarded. If someone of similar speed and power could target the other ballista and the
corrupted angels that defended it, the skies would be reasonably safe once more.
As it was, however, the angels made a beeline for the windows and balconies of the Ivory Citadel, quickly overcoming the first layer of monsters and breaching the structure. Once inside, their mission was clear: destroy the corrupt cores that throbbed like beating hearts throughout the citadel, pumping infectious tar through its veins to the extremities. Of course, an absurd number of enemies stood between them and that goal. In addition to standard corrupted angels, the vicious and sneaky
sycophants wielded enough intelligence to try and ambush their foes, while
ayfids cast corruption like magic. The golems that once defended this fortress had long since fallen to the plague as well, their stony exteriors now shielding writhing cords and sinews of loathsome black. Worse still, many of the enemies in here would have the last laugh even once slain, giving rise to
vengeful spirits that would pounce on their attackers, skeletal jaws gnashing, for one last attempt to even the score. Affinities could also be found in squads, not much threat by themselves, but they were never too far from one of the Citadel’s two minibosses. One was a hulking, axe-wielding, baby-faced marble goliath known as
Beloved, while the other featured a face in its chest and a single, bladed tentacle arm:
Belief.
When it came to facing Palutena’s enemies, however, the angels packed appreciable strength. Those under Uriel and Nathaniel fought with both martial prowess and advanced weapons, especially the Storm Wardens, but even the rank-and-file had their tricks. Featherbows could loose Delaying Shots to slow foes down, Saint’s Shot to deplete their stamina, and Photon Arrow to cripple the physical defense of two enemies at once. Better yet, they could unleash Shining Light to blind foes just prior to their attacks, guaranteeing a miss. With support like that, Featherswords could boost their speed and agility with Accelerate, then act as evasive tanks to wear foes down with debilitating attacks and cash their buffs out with Discharge followed by a Honed Slash, turning those blows into evasion-nullifying finishers. If the Featherstaffs couldn’t purge afflictions or heal their allies up fast enough, which they generally could, the Feathershields could slough off their afflictions onto their attackers with Mirror Weakness.
Still, within moments the assault turned into a chaotic and dangerous battle. It was up to Palutena’s elites to take charge and lead the assault into the Ivory Citadel’s heart.
About two-third of the way through his meal, Goldlewis found his contemplative solitude interrupted as a smartly-dressed man helped himself to a seat at his table. This was Roland, one of the comrades he dropped with last week, and as far as Goldlewis could remember he hadn’t seen the other man since they parted ways beneath the gaze of the main gate’s divine eye, at the top of Meridi-at-han’s interminable staircase. Like him, Roland was a former government employee, but instead of a cabinet member his new acquaintance had been a Turk, tasked with all sorts of unscrupulous work well out of the public eye. Furthermore, Roland continued to serve under the corrupt Shinra administration, while Goldlewis took his leave once Vernon left office. Of course, that went for Zenkichi and Benedict too, and to be fair none of them stuck around once awakened to the truth of their reality. Still, the two weren’t exactly friendly. The only time it had ever been just the two of them was back at the Pelican Inn in Everdream Valley, but just like today he kept himself at a distance, not saying much. Roland was just…there. Even without that mask he was oddly forgettable, even here in Meridi-at-han where his plain salaryman outfit stood out a lot more than in Midgar. Perhaps he didn’t mind living life as a ghost, but that sure wasn’t the veteran’s style. Larger than life and honest to a fault, Goldlewis would always stand as a beacon of strength, his powerful presence as unrelenting as the sun. But if Roland didn’t mind lingering in his shadow, Goldlewis wouldn’t either. There was plenty of room.
“It’s good,” he replied after a moment, the simplicity of his response belying the complexity of the tajine’s flavor profile. Goldlewis had never been the most adventurous when it came to food, but staying in Meridi-at-han for almost a week had given him a thorough appreciation of the spice of life, both literally and metaphorically. At Roland’s mention of the Grimm Troupe, the veteran cast his eyes back toward the impromptu carnival nearing completion in the plaza down below. Was Roland serious about being creeped out by those masks? Goldlewis had a hard time believing that. “I reckon it’s for the best,” he declared. “They’re all bugs, from what I hear, but if normal bugs were that big they’d be real nasty. So maybe we oughta count our blessin’s that they’re coverin’ ‘emselves up.” After such a rich and spicy stew, a close-up of insectoid mouthparts would definitely churn his stomach. The prospect of super-sized creepy crawlies was just one of the reasons why he didn’t plan to attend the Grimm Troupe’s act, but he’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t curious.
Roland wasn’t the only person that Goldlewis managed to attract. Not long after the fixer arrived with his curry, a far more distinctive individual sauntered over, her light footsteps accented by the musical jangle of expensive baubles. Unlike Roland, Primrose didn’t take the veteran by surprise; she was somewhat who made every effort to be seen and remembered, her undeniable allure expertly utilized to plant irresistible seeds in the minds of her many admirers that could be nurtured and bear fruit when needed. Several times Goldlewis had seen her performing while out and about, but as talented a dancer as Primrose was, he never stopped to watch her craft for more than a second. Part of him didn’t want to be taken in by her enchantments, but for the most part he just didn’t want to give her any unwelcome attention. She had more than enough to deal with without having to worry about an old fart like him. But despite their differences, the two were comrades-in-arms, united in a shared purpose, so Goldlewis offered a cordial nod to both Primrose and her friend as they approached. “Howdy. I most certainly did not,” he told the dancer, jokingly using a hand to shield his bowl from her. “If you’re hungry, y’all better get your own grub.”
He beckoned for the two to take a seat, though for a moment he furrowed his brows at Kayna. While this reunion hadn’t been planned, he hadn’t placed himself in such a prominent position for nothing. In terms of gathering intelligence for the Seekers, Goldlewis felt as though he’d hit a dead end. He couldn’t turn up anything concrete beyond secondhand reports and hearsay while holed up here, so he’d been hoping to meet up with the others to see if they’d fared any better. Regardless, if the well had run dry here, they would need to move on. Plus, he couldn’t help but wonder how Gadd and the other techies were doing with their little science project aboard the Avenger. With Kayna here, however, the Seekers couldn’t speak plainly. Anyone still addled by Galeem’s light could be a pawn of the Consuls. Until she left, this would be nothing more than an ordinary meal.
Even as the ladies settled down for dinner, nobody could ignore the elephant in the room. Goldlewis sipped his beer as he watched the circus tent taking shape, its conical form and deep red coloration a far cry from the red-and-white striped drum he would’ve expected. Most striking of all was the main entrance, a massive
mask like those of the troupe members with upturned eyes and a mouth that shone with scarlet lantern-light from within. Long-necked bugs resembling giant giraffe weevils lounged out front to bar the way in, their eyeless masks swiveling to stare at anyone who got too close before the appointed time, while a
bulky fellow kept the onlookers entertained with the
chords of an accordion made from the remains of a log-sized grub. Off to one side, a fortune-teller’s booth had been erected where one could meet a strange eccentric with a half-mask and a lower half little more than a massive, fleshy trunk. Known as
Divine, this creature seemed to have quite the nose for tastes and scents, providing fortunes and fragrances if enticed with gifts.
The Witch saw all this and more as she wove out from the gathering throng of intrigued citizens and into the cluster of stalls, tents, and carts that surrounded the Grimm Troupe’s big top. The performers were busy, scuttling or floating here and there as they pounded stakes, knotted ropes, and planted braziers. As long as she shied away from the torch flames, she could remain relatively undetected. Small holes in the main tent permitted a peek inside, but she found only bugs busily setting up the galleries for the troupe’s imminent audience. Toward the back of the venue, though, she discovered something odd even for a circus of bugs. It was a
metal wagon shrouded completely in silky black cloth, including the weevil steed that now rested nearby and a couple of spindly attendants. Even from a safe distance, though, the Witch could see a flicker of red light through the veil, and sense something foul and unnatural, burning and acrid–not just magic, but a curse. If she drew just a little closer toward a gap in the cloth, she could see a hint of a
strange artifact inside, a vessel of wrought iron and stained glass that glowed with crimson flames that seemed to smolder like red eyes in the darkness of a nightmare.
Just then, a flock of bugbats burst up from their hiding place beneath the eaves of the big top nearby, buzzing noisily as they scattered. One of them fluttered toward the Witch, then past her to alight on a black claw protruding from the fibrous raiment of Troupe Master Grimm. His scarlet gaze stared at the little thing for a moment, then shifted pointedly to the Witch, a silent and scathing indictment.
”Good evening, madam.” His voice was a raspy whisper, sharp as a blade sliding over bone, formed not by a human voice but by an attempted recreation.
”You must be lost. Please, allow me to show you to a seat. The show is about to begin.” He bowed his head politely as he extended his clawed hand to the right, indicating the way back toward the big top’s entrance.
Not even a minute later, the floodgates were opened, and after paying a paltry sum of zenny each, men, women, children, and demihumans of all kinds poured inside. The seats filled up in no time flat, full of excited Meridi-at-han citizens wowed by the dark, eerie atmosphere. As anticipation continued to build, the lanterns suddenly went out, only for the scarlet torches of masked, ghostlike
Grimmkin performers to light up a darkness filled with fluttering bugbats. As Brumm’s accordion-playing rose to a crescendo, and Divine’s voice filled the air, the insects of the Grimm Troupe began their fire dance, turning the confines of the circus tent into an awesome frenzy of pitch-black dark and dazzling blood-red light.
"Shadows dream of endless fire,
Flames devour and embers swoop,
One will light the Nightmare Lantern,
Call and serve in Grimm's dread Troupe!"
From his seat at the tavern, Goldlewis could watch the light of unnatural flames playing against the tent’s cloth, the twisted shadows forming and reforming in a wild tango. The sight only served to awe and fascinate more bystanders, encouraging them to pay the toll and duck into the tent to see the spectacle for themselves. He shook his head. “Whoo-wie. I woulda settled for seein’ bugs jugglin’, but that’s one helluva lightshow even from here.” All the same he kept himself on high alert. If it was all just a trick of the light he needn’t be concerned, but the sight of such magic reminded him of the frightful whispers exchanged beneath the breath of otherwise boisterous gossips whenever the topic of the Grimm Troupe came up. There were plenty of city guards all around, but they seemed overwhelmed. If these strange performers really were up to something, it would be up to the Seekers to step in.
With his eyes on the scene down below, Goldlewis didn’t notice the sudden ripple in the leftover broth of his stew, gone as soon as it came.
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