Atoy Muzazi stepped into the park.
It was funny. When you got right down to it, all the obvious differences between Serendipity and Azum-Ha could only be seen from a distance, looking at the planet as a whole. When you walked the streets and the squares, when you got right up close, it was difficult to tell them apart. Muzazi felt like he'd walked through parks like this one many tis before.
It was a busy day, with tourists and families eager to enjoy the good weather. Picnics had been set up all across the grass, and tours were underway to show off the park's distinctive bleed-trees as they shifted to a vibrant red in the sunlight. Muzazi didn't turn to look, though. He had other things to worry about.
He stepped through the happiness alone -- as had been agreed -- and sat down on a waiting bench. Beside him, an old woman tossed bread to a family of twin-head ducks.
"I'm told you can help ," he said to the woman called the Widow.
"It depends," she replied evenly. "The kind of help I can give isn't usually asked for."
"No gas, please," Muzazi shook his head slightly. "Morgan already told who you work for."
The Widow stopped tossing bread for a mont -- until the ducks squawked in anger, and she resud like nothing had happened. Muzazi turned to look at her. His eyes were stone.
"I want to et with Jai Pierrot," he said.
To be honest, it had been easier than expected for Muzazi to get this eting… but the whole thing was a little suspicious.
Morgan had been able to contact the Widow so easily.
The Widow had agreed to hear Muzazi out so easily.
And Jai Pierrot had agreed to et face-to-face with him oh so easily.
He couldn't help but feel that this path had been prepared in advance for him, that these people he'd approached were just play-acting secrecy, but even if that was true… that was fine. Muzazi didn't care about their motives. He only cared that they could give him what he needed.
And so it was that he found himself sitting in a shuttle as it landed at the Seat of Man, the centre of the UAP's governnt. How strangely fate turned. A few years ago, he'd have thought of this place as the throne of the enemy, a target of contempt. Now, he couldn't bring himself to muster up much emotion at all. All he had left inside was purpose.
The Ultraviolet who'd escorted him here -- Zep Koel, he'd given his na as -- opened the door for him, smiling down insincerely.
Muzazi stepped past him without comnt, out onto the public docking platform. Even this place was teeming with activity, crowds of new arrivals flowing into the building, but Muzazi supposed that only made sense. There was that eting today, after all.
"Mr. Pierrot's part of the Departnt of Efficiencies," Koel said as he led the way into the building. "Pretty exciting, huh~? Have you ever been there before? They deal with optimization, it's a whole thing, ehe. Don't worry, I'll show you the way, 'kay?"
Muzazi let the teal-haired man go on and on, glancing around the grand main lobby of the Seat of Man. The room was cavernous, filled with circular desks where countless receptionists directed and advised visitors. Right in the center of the room, a massive fountain stretched up -- ten winding hands of stone clasped together, with water pouring from between their knotted fingers.
This place was full, too. The noise was such that Muzazi found himself wincing once or twice from the sheer volu, even with his ears infused. Frowning, he followed Koel to a staff elevator -- the Ultraviolet tapped in so keys and gave his fingerprint, allowing him access.
"It's express," Koel explained. "Unless you want to wait half an hour to get five floors up, I'd recomnd it, to be honest. Oh, wait~. You don't work here, do you? Haha, my bad. I guess you'd have to take the public elevator after all, huh?"
…
Muzazi knew that he'd thought that stuff about having nothing but purpose left inside him, but this guy actually was starting to piss him off now.
Still, he restrained it.
"This man Pierrot," he said calmly as the elevator began to rise. "You've worked for him long?"
"Well," Koel tapped his cheek. "I don't really work for him, per se. Officially, I work at Ultraviolet Tower, you know? You can see it on the horizon from here. This is more like… ah, a side gig, you know? You probably don't get this since you're unemployed, but sotis us working adults have to make ends et, right~?"
Muzazi said nothing in response to that. It had been a mistake to engage a clown like this in conversation in the first place.
"Oh, co on, co on, buddy," Koel chuckled, patting a heavy hand on Muzazi's shoulder. "You want to know if you can trust ol' Pierrot, huh? Well, I'll tell ya." His smile dropped. "You can't. You're eting with him because you want sothing, right? Take my advice. Snatch it out of his hands and run as far as you can. If you're fast enough, you'll make it before you get put on the gaboard."
Muzazi looked up into the other man's green eyes, the elevator silent save for the quiet whirr of cables.
"If you feel that way about him," Muzazi asked. "Why are you still here?"
Koel smiled, and it didn't reach his eyes.
"Who, ~?" he said. "Well, personally… I just love playing gas."
As Atoy Muzazi finally entered the office of Jai Pierrot, resolve in his eyes, Zep Koel waited outside the closed door. This was where his dominion ended. Sotis Pierrot would have him guard soone, and sotis Pierrot would have him end soone… but he reserved the work of creation for himself.
Presumably, there was so greater cause that Pierrot was pursuing. So end that justified the ans. Koel didn't much care: he enjoyed these ans well enough on their own.
He looked down at his hand. Vaguely, he wondered how he would explain to Atoy Muzazi what kind of situation he was in. Was there a smooth way to do it?
Hey, don't be weirded out or anything, but I kind of laid my eggs in you~.
Probably not.
In truth, what Koel had injected into Muzazi's shoulder through his palm weren't 'eggs'. They were pellets produced by his Killing Engine, Fatherhand, small enough to be introduced into soone's body without them even noticing the sting. Even now, they were just floating through Muzazi's bloodstream, utterly harmless…
…unless Papa gave them the order.
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The mont they detected the activation pheromone, the 'eggs' would 'hatch' -- dispersing not young, but bursts of deadly pressure that would blow their target apart from the inside out. In essence, they were biological bombs. If you didn't know they were coming, even an Aether-user would have a hard ti defending against their attack from the inside.
Koel closed his eyes, resting his head against the wall behind him. He was under the strictest of orders only to use his Killing Engine if it was truly necessary. That was how an Inimant like him had managed to lay low all these years.
But, oh man…
…he really hoped it beca necessary.
"Jai Pierrot, I presu?" Muzazi asked.
The man at the desk nodded. "Atoy Muzazi. Please, take a seat."
To be honest, the room was smaller than Muzazi had expected. He'd been led to believe this man was soone of import, and so he'd pictured a huge and extravagant office like what a Supremacy Minister would have. Instead, apart from a desk and two chairs, this room was fairly bare. One might even call it cramped.
As Muzazi sat down, Pierrot tapped a button under his desk, and the blinds slid over the window. The two of them were bathed in gloom for a mont before the artificial lighting flicked back on automatically.
"So," Pierrot said, his eyes inquisitive as he looked across the desk at Muzazi. "I understand you wanted to speak with ."
"And you ."
Pierrot ran a finger through his beard at Muzazi's response. "How do you figure that?"
"You've got an operation going on," Muzazi said. "The Widow, Vantablack Squad, that Ultraviolet outside… you're clearly not the sort of man who'd agree to et on a whim. The fact you've agreed to the eting ans there's sothing you want out of it too."
Pierrot chuckled, leaning back in his seat. "You might be getting a little ahead of yourself there, Mr. Muzazi. You still haven't told what you want."
Muzazi took a deep breath.
"Aclima," he said, voice strained. "I need to make sure she's safe."
Pierrot raised a grey eyebrow. "The forr Supre Heir?"
"That's right."
"It was my understanding that you'd betrayed the girl," Pierrot said, a sliver of surprise in his tone. "You stole her title as Heir, no?"
Muzazi clenched his fists. "That's right," he said somberly. "I betrayed and robbed her. That's exactly why I need to find her and make things right."
Pierrot blinked. "You do realize, of course, that she's most likely dead?"
"She isn't dead."
"The Banquet is nothing to scoff at. Even you only managed to escape with the help of two Nebula and many other factors. Do you really think a young girl, without such assistance, made it off that planet --"
"She isn't dead," Muzazi's voice permitted no argunt. "And I think you know that yourself."
"Oh?"
"The fact that you're eting with ," Muzazi insisted. "The fact that you said she's most likely dead. I think you know she's alive."
"If I knew that, why wouldn't I just say so?"
"Because you're waiting for to na my price."
Pierrot smiled.
"We live in uncertain tis, Mr. Muzazi," Pierrot grunted as he stood up, strolling towards the window. "The gathering today will help make things a little more certain, but… no, not nearly enough."
Stopping, he peeked through the blinds with two fingers. A sliver of sunlight trickled into the room.
"Our 'Unified' Alliance of Planets isn't nearly as firm as we'd like to think," Pierrot mused. "The Final Church is an unknown after replacing their entire leadership, and the new Supre…"
"Dragan Hadrien," Muzazi interrupted.
Pierrot looked back over his shoulder, locking eyes with the swordsman.
"His na is Dragan Hadrien," Muzazi said, his gaze drifting down towards the ground. "No matter what throne he sits on… that fact won't change."
"Which brings to my price, as you call it," Pierrot said, clasping his hands behind his back as he turned fully towards Muzazi.
"Na it."
"The Supre… Dragan Hadrien… is another unknown factor. The minions he's surrounded himself with, though? Well, they give cause for concern about how long the cold war between us and the Supremacy will stay cold. I'd much prefer a Supre we can rely on to be sensible."
He did not blink as he stared at Muzazi, as if worried the slightest undue motion would scare him away.
"Just tell what you want," Muzazi sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "These dancing words and implications… I'm sick of them. Truly."
Hands still clasped behind his back, Pierrot stepped up towards his desk -- and, plucking a bottle of water from the ss upon its surface, began pouring a glass for Muzazi.
"Let describe to you the image I am seeing," he said.
Pour.
"An honourable candidate for Supre, beloved by the people for his service and heroism, robbed of his victory by underhanded ans."
Pour.
"As the new Supre proves to be absent and incompetent -- no different to the previous -- this hero reappears, having survived his adversary's attempts to assassinate him."
Pour.
"The hero is perpetually out of the Supre's reach -- and so he serves as a banner, his supporters rising up behind the Supremacy's lines to fight for his crown. The unworthy Supre is dethroned, and a true shining beacon installed in his place. All is as it should have been from the beginning."
Pierrot put down the bottle. He was done pouring. The glass was full.
"Tell ," he said. "Would you like a sip?"
Muzazi looked at the crystal-clear water before him, his own reflection glaring back at him, warped by angle and perspective.
"You're asking to start a civil war," Muzazi said quietly.
"No," Pierrot replied. "I'm asking you if you want to save Aclima."
"And you can do that?"
"I have a friend," Pierrot said softly. "A friend who can do anything."
Muzazi blinked. For a good few monts, he just stared down at the glass of water. Then, he reached out and gulped it down. It was the strangest thing. The water was no doubt cold and clean…
…but it tasted bitter all the sa.
"Have you ever been to Serendipity before?" Noel Edmunds asked, scrolling through her script.
Aclima shook her head silently. Her expression was concealed behind her mask, but the way she sat on the bench said it all. Hands on her lap, shoulders tense, legs drawn in. It was like the walls of the world were closing in on her.
Noel sighed, putting her script down. She too was wearing a mask -- the pair was disguised as tourists from Abra-Facade -- but unlike Aclima's blank porcelain, Noel's had two blue segnted eyes that provided the vaguest impression of a face. Lenses narrowed to mirror the inquisitive expression behind the mask.
"You okay?" Noel asked.
Aclima shook her head. "No," she said honestly. "I thought I would be… but being here… doing this…"
"You're not doing anything," Noel said calmly. "You're just protecting once the ti cos for upload -- and once we've done that, there won't be a need to do anything else. When you've got the biggest gun, you don't need to worry about other people's knives, right?"
Aclima clenched her fists tightly. "But… if we use that…"
"The point is that we won't need to use it. That's why people get the biggest guns -- so that they won't have to fire them. It's crazy, but it's how the world works."
Aclima said nothing, just staring into space, and Noel sighed again.
"Listen," she said. "I'm not going to ask you if you really want to be here, or if you want to help us, or if you want to do your job and keep safe. I know all that ans nothing to you. What I will ask is this: do you want to kill Atoy Muzazi?"
The sharpest intake of breath.
"Yes."
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