Labyrinth of Light

"Oh my, how naughty. You're going to make me blush,"   he drawls, turning his head aside in mock bashfulness. His eyes, however, never deviate from the charming circle of Indigo's face, weighing whether or not to make something more of it.

If he did, headquarters would be a foul place for someone like Indigo to stay and travel would be lengthy. And if either were not true? Kleken realizes he's not inclined to take her there, anyway.

"If we stay here ... Well, there is no telling what might happen. I warned you about the monsters that lurk by the ocean—"  His voice trails off with the omen. After all, one monster, in particular, is doing his utmost to behave, a task made laborious with every straying glance she casts toward the moonlit sea.

"So, my adorable fairy—"  Kleken gives her a gentlemanly, sharp-toothed smile.  "To save your pretty face from the clutches of those terrible, terrible creatures, I will continue to guide you."

Fortunately, Kleken doesn’t seem to mind her blunders—a near-miraculous feat considering how many there’ve been. Indigo nods, mutters as a quick ‘ muchas gracias ’ under her breath and follows along.

Time seems to change its aggregate state as they walk, liquid and difficult to grasp at first yet steadily solidifying as soberness slowly returns Indigo’s mind to something close to normal. The white stone buildings pass by at a seemingly quicker pace, and it’s hard to imagine which of them might qualify as the most fantastical in a city so pretty and well-kept. Once upon a time, Iberia’s towns must’ve looked just as beautiful.

They step into one of the many inns before the thought can settle. It looks fairly average in size and decor, which, by Indigo’s standards, renders it a truly luxurious abode indeed. A room here surely comes with a price tag a lost traveller with no means can’t afford, and she can’t help but feel guilty. After all, she’s still relying on someone else’s generosity.

His lips pull back into a scowl. How the hell is anyone supposed to think like this? 

"Stop ..."  Add growls, hoping Indigo will while he tries to reorganize his thoughts on time and space travel. But perhaps it wasn't loud enough to deter her, the words continuing to blend into a verbal slog. Ugh.   "Alright, enough!"

Add tsks.

"I had met a girl with cat ears wearing the same monitor in a different place and time. She was named ... Fog?"  He's sure that was her name, or something adjacent. Unlike mechanisms and technologies with their endless technical terms, keeping names straight is a poor skill on his behalf. Sticking to 'hey,' 'you,' and some variation between is far easier.  "Anyway, forget that for now. Whatever dimwit excuse you've got for being here in Altera can wait. Dynamo."

The drone obeys and arranges itself into a flight-formation.

‘ …I’m not familiar with any Feline operator named Fog… ’ she gently remarks. As for the “dimwit excuse” Indigo has for being in Altera, she figures whatever she says will be of no value or interest to this rather cranky person. It vaguely sounds as if he’s offering help, and she can’t risk losing that by boring him further.

‘ Well, I certainly am grateful for your assistance, Add. I wouldn’t want to return to Terra in pieces… ’

She reaches out to accept the offered hand, but the moment they touch, a bolt of static electricity hits Indigo. Where others might have retreated, she does not, merely offering the indifferent expression of someone who has experienced a situation like this several times before. Once they get past this supposed mine field, it’ll take Indigo a good while to put herself back into proper order, but she can sigh about that when the time comes.

"What? Oh no! The truck is-!" With the convoy freed from its binds, its march continues, and takes the Sankta with it. The other trucks are caught on debris, but the one Ezell had picked as cover and now clung to, was not so inconvenienced and weaves through the debris. Fleeting fortune he was able to pull himself onto the hood before being taken under the wheels.

Surely, it was not a good outcome whether he held on or jumped off. The vehicle swerves as the Sarkaz yell. A fruitless idea to get a shot off with his weapon while trying to hang on. Taking aim when moving like this? No, the other sniper had that privilege, not Enforcer. A bolt is loosed and grazes his arm despite best efforts to dodge.

Gritting through the pain, Ezell looks back towards the ambush point- it's getting further away by the moment. Cecelia. No matter what happened here, he had to get back to her. Too many promises were made. And not enough were kept.

There's a numbness crawling up his arm in the wake of the burn.

"I'll find you."

----

The rest of the mission was, compared to Enforcer's situation, going quite smoothly! Between the rubble and the combat prowess of the mercenaries the scuffle was pulling further into their favor. Guards were disabled, and the shield-wielding defender was quickly loosing steam and morale against the tide.

"Damned by the wastes, Doyt, did you see that other truck take off?! The Sankta went with im!"

"Not our truck, not our problem, we gave him at least a dozen reasons to mind his own business, didn't we? Well. S'what he gets at this point. Get the other blade!"

Perhaps the least surprising component of this ordeal was the indifference of the Sarkaz. Content with the progression of their goal, any concern is left to the Operator and the small charge, who, as you can imagine, clung desperately to Indigo in the wake of the explosion. Seeing the fate of the truck and her guardian, however, left a new fear in her chest.

"Mister Ezell...!" Cecelia's gentle voice, even distressed, couldn't hope to carry over the clamor, nor the distance. That wouldn't stop her lamenting regardless. Shaky breathing as she tries to corral her panic. The halo... dims briefly. And for a moment her grip on Indigo weakens.

"No... we have to help him... but I... what do I do now?" Apprehension chokes any other words back. Is there anything she could do? Was this her fault? Why was the place where daddy was from so dangerous... why were the people so angry? She didn't want anything like this to happen!

Is it too late to be friends??

The Sarkaz now turn their attentions back to Indigo, and she finds a rarely felt emotion bubbling up in her chest in response. None of this is right. And none of this would’ve happened if this had been a Rhodes Island operation. But even Indigo’s so-called friends should’ve known, should’ve done better. She slowly rises to her feet, giving Cecelia a gentle pat on the shoulder.

‘ Don’t worry—we’ll find Mister Ezell. But if we rush ahead now, more bad things might happen. Please, give me a moment to sort some things out first… ’

Hoping the girl will stay put, Indigo joins the Sarkaz, who show neither fear nor remorse as she approaches. That changes quickly. Indigo swings her staff at the group with surprising vigour, a chorus of outcries (“Hey!”, “Ow!”, “Aria, what—”) escaping the Sarkaz as she hits each of them over the head.

‘ We’re all lucky to be alive, ’ Indigo then states calmly, though sounding unusually serious. ‘ You had no plan and put all of us in danger. If you hadn’t run into me earlier…how would you have stopped those trucks at all? ’

Silence follows until one of the group sheepishly suggests, “lots of explosions?” to which the others only shake their heads. “Whatever. ‘Least we got one truck. What d'ya want then, Aria? Part of the pay’s yours.”

Indigo only shakes her head. ‘ Please…repair this for me instead. ’ She hands her broken communication device to one of the Sarkaz, who nods, while the others return to the crashed truck to confiscate its contents. Indigo then returns to the young Sankta.

It creates a nagging feeling, regardless of if the foes ahead of them were drug traders or dealers of other illegal paraphernalia.

“Yes. I will trust you in her care, Operator Indigo.” Aria. The Sarkaz also called her. What connection do they have with someone who looks just as foreign to this land as the pair do? Well, almost. It’s highly likely that the serpent hadn’t required smuggling to enter Kazdel, unlike the two halo-bearing seekers. “Cecilia, remember our backup plan. But for now. Stay with miss Indigo. I’ll be back soon.”

“Okay!” The two exchange a smile, then he passes a nod to the Pythia before turning, leaving the child to huddle with the caster. “Don’t worry. I’m not scared… that much! Do you do work like this a lot…?”

---

Restrained by her impressive arts the vehicles make for easy targets. The people within, however, would not. Enforcer makes a swift approach with long strides to regain pace with the mercenaries he was decidedly aiding. The number of hostiles is counted. At least half a dozen individuals, including the two exiting from the front vehicle. Two snipers, then three guards and… huh, what was that last one? A defender? When they disembark from the rear vehicle the shield is almost as big as they are. Which is huge to begin with.

“Damn wretches. Protect the merchandise, lads!” The shieldbearer belts out, bringing that weaponized shield to bear before they intercept the encroaching Sarkaz. Words are exchanged, though Ezell is at a loss what they mean in the foreign tongue. Angry words. Never mind that. This situation puts him into place too. With the Sarkaz mercs occupied the other guards were rushing to the flank or worse- make their way to Cecelia and Indigo.

The first guard he meets is greeted with an impact from the butt of his patron firearm. The crack to the other’s jaw is swiftly followed by a kick planted to their side. A blast from the weapon sounds after, the concussive force sending the second guard sailing back into the vehicle and knocking it askew. Before Ezell can line up another shot the bolts of the snipers have him dodging for cover. Then, their attention turns to the caster.

And not a moment too soon. There is no discussion, not even a hint of diplomacy to be found, as all sides charge headlong into battle. It is unfortunate, though not entirely unexpected. But there's no reason to panic. All of Indigo’s colleagues, old or new, are professionals after all, and fully capable of handling the situation. Surely—

What are those snipers doing pointing their weapons at her?!

Well then, there’s only one thing to do. ‘ Cecelia, please duck behind me. ’

A blindingly bright orb descends upon the field, blanketing the area in purple light—until it collides with the ground, the resulting explosion shooting loosened rocks all over, ripping entire sections out of the road. Indigo’s grasp on the cars falters, and the released vehicles immediately shoot towards the debris. She ushers the young Sankta behind one of the road-boulders, but a voice catches her attention just as a bolt crashes into the rock, narrowly missing her.

“Aria, is that you?”

Indigo risk a swift glance over the edge, and indeed—one of those snipers looks familiar. What are the chances? But….this is bad.

Too careless, she is, indeed—a far cry from the textbook definition of a heroine, with no signs of amending her actions or future ones. Still, it would be an ineloquent lie to say she did not continue to accrue an octopus' interest.

"Abandoning a cute fairy to the wilds of the dark in her time of need? I could never!"   Kleken speaks a different lie, betraying nothing—or, well, not much—there would be no viable gain in abandoning anyone now. He even clicks his tongue, letting pity seep into his voice.   "Poor thing, you're more affected than I thought ..."  

The slippery arm around Indigo's waist tightens, bringing them closer. A hand, then poised in a loose fist, seemingly reaches for her flushed cheeks, as if to caress them with his white knuckles. But the intent wavers, becomes illusive, and his fingers continue their ascent to adjust the brim of his hat.

Kleken inclines his head, letting a slant of moonlight illuminate the lens on the bridge of his nose. From beyond its rim, he gives her a wink.

‘ Why, I… ’ It’s not a complicated question, though. These waters aren’t so muddied, and the answer, if insufficient, should be clear. She faces Kleken again, fully intent on delivering that simple reply. ‘ I’m not sure. I only have the coins you gave me, and I don’t know if they could rent me a room for the night somewhere. ’ Yes, that. Simple, clear.

‘ Or perhaps...would you mind if I stayed with you? ’ 

A second passes before Indigo’s eyes round with a realisation, a gasp following the moment of terror. If she keeps saying weird things like that, it’ll will only give that naughty-accusation undue credence!

‘ Um, that is, I could sleep on a couch, or perhaps the floor. ’ The words come uncharacteristically rushed. ‘ I-I wouldn’t mind! I’ve spent many nights in the wastelands, after my tent got stolen…twice. A-and I used to sleep on the rocks in my hometown, right next to the sea. So, you see, I’m quite used to it. ’ There, that should clear things up.

" time ? " he repeats and looks around for an opening, hoping to gauge the hour from the light on the horizon. halfway towards a shabby-looking window, someone among the lupo pipes out a quarter past six.

richard stops, glances back over his shoulder at the crowd, then turns to gauge Indigo's opinion. is it too late ? the last rays of the sun can still be seen.

" if only i were familiar with this city, i'd have them delivered on your behalf…" especially while a thrum of energy mixes in with the need to dash about runs through him. it would kill two birds with one stone. yet, no summoning comes complete with a mental map of its location.

" what will you do, indigo? i'll assist you in any way i can."

‘ Say, would one of you be willing to accompany us as a guide? ’

***

With the Lupo’s aid, their delivery speed picks up significantly, and the stack of packages grows steadily shorter. Yet, when Indigo reads out the next address on the list, their unlikely helper suddenly excuses himself, claiming something about “not wanting to get into any more trouble”. Strange. Isn’t the next parcel’s recipient a simple seafood stall?

An odd scene greets them right after passing the next corner. An old man stands before the stall in question, swiping with what seems like a crab’s cut-off pincer at a group of aggravated, hatted Felines.

“I keep telling you, we’re all out of fins! Look at the time and go home already!”

“No way! You’ve gotta have something left, pops! Even if it’s crabs or shrimps, just give us everything!”—“Right, then Waai Fu will become our boss for sure!!!”

“Are you kids completely out of your minds?! Go home!”

The debate rages on, becoming more and more heated.

It begs the question: was she vaguely aware of his attempted solo departure and thus craftily prevented it, or was luck smiling down upon her tonight? 

"My, my ..." Kleken says upon his release, the words contained in a smile, too. Indigo's sorry state is telltale that wine ( and luck, still ) is possibly to blame in the end. "I'm honored that you refuse to let me go, precious fairy. You're much more naughtier than I thought—"

A long stride brings him to her side to lightly catch her elbow, steadying the poor girl. All the while, the waiter is paid the meal's cost and expenses with proper Nightium tucked into a pouch like the one Kleken had bestowed to Indigo earlier, carefully smoothing over the wrinkles caused by her confusion.

Oh, these turn of events—it's almost laughable how different from how he had envisioned it. Almost.

"Dear fairy, we must make haste before the shadows envelope this place, too. Come now, one step at a time—"  With a tentacle furling around her waist like a lover's arm, Kleken helps escort Indigo out of the restaurant's premises and into the seaside streets. The open salt-sweet breeze and gurgling crest of waves stir something within him, and he can't help but slant a look through rose-colored lens.

Unfortunately, this only serves to leave Indigo in a dreadful in-between state: sober enough to sink into deep embarrassment, yet not quite sober enough to order the muddled thoughts clouding her mind into a fully coherent explanation.

‘ No… ’ she says with an attempted shake of her head, abandoned half-way for the dizziness it might bring. ‘ My apologies for what happened. And thank you for helping me…again. ’ One hand still clinging to her staff as if for life support, she lightly pats the arm wrapped around her waist (it is an arm, right?) with her other hand, hoping to convey her appreciation.

‘ My friend Blue Poison… she always says I’m a little slow. Toxins…and such don’t affect me right away. I’ve been too careless. You needn’t worry, though, Mister Kleken…I’ll be better soon. ’ At least she certainly hopes so. She can feel the daze slowly dissipating, like thinning fog.

"... I see," he says, voice dropping low with the weight of his disappointment. "Perhaps you're not the quarry I have been looking for. And, after all the hard labor I put into finding you ... It's a shame—why, I could be driven into tears."

The lie is glorious on his tongue, and Kleken savors it like the finest wine. Aria may not consider herself a heroine, but after this new facet of information, she's bound to weave a story nonetheless. And that is a lure of its own making.

The octopus fishes for napkins from the table, dabs them theatrically at the corners of his eyes, coming away dry, and sets them over his empty plate in finality. Here, Kleken returns to the usual facade as he resumes attention to Indigo again. "Oh well. No use crying over spilled expectations."

With a beckoning gesture, the waiter is called upon to their table, receipts already in hand as they approach. Kleken smiles and flicks up an arm, peering at the hour upon his watch.

The words are heartfelt, and Indigo falls silent afterwards, merely nodding at the suggestion of departure. She absently pats non-existent crumbs off her skirt before rising to her feet and reaching for her staff. The latter turns into an unexpected lifeline, Indigo slightly swaying as if adrift in the waves, her weapon the only foothold against the tide, candlelights dancing at the edge of her vision like fireflies.

‘ Am I… mistaken? ’ she half-questions, half-mutters to herself, grabbing her staff tighter. ‘ Am I meant to… to become a heroine? Is that why… why teacher made me leave? Why, I… ’

The rest becomes incomprehensible, and as she takes a wobbly step towards the (indeed impatiently waiting) server, Indigo only briefly lifts her staff off the ground. Matching her step, she sets it down again and—

The staff lights up, several gently glowing violet lines spreading across the floor like luminous spiderwebs. The swirling spirals of light quickly grab hold of Kleken’s legs, the server’s—even those of some other guests nearby, gently yet firmly keeping all affected stuck in place.

‘ Huh…? Ahh… Why, I didn’t mean to… ’ And yet, instead of ending her spell, Indigo reaches into her bag, futilely searching for the stack of LMD lost and replaced earlier. She finds a coin instead and lifts it to the light of her staff, her expression showing not a single sign of enlightenment. The loud complaints of her “victims” finally snap Indigo out of her reverie.

Outside of various duties that can easily be performed within the village ( delivering potions from the alchemy shop, really? ), a few particular lines jump to his attention: investigate the activity of local Nasods, scout for any missing Ponggos, and evident signs of Alterasian spores from the underground tunnel. The latter exceptionally makes his eyes narrow in contempt. 

That was his quest.

"Damn moles,"  Add mutters, pocketing the scrap of paper rather than crushing it with a fist.  They took full advantage of this idiot stranger, and he is beginning to see why. "The hell do you mean 'what are those Nasods?' Have you been living under a rock?" Another scrutinizing look scours her from top to bottom, getting snagged on an item of chance.

"Oi, that thing around your neck—" Add dismounts Dynamo and shortens the space between them in a step. He peers at the black device there, recalling one that had been dismantled and rebuilt long ago for a cat-woman. Sifting through its internal data reveals an identical match to his own database. But that should be impossible.

But apparently anecdotes of her hometown are of lesser priority for now. Indigo absently lifts a hand and points to the device around her neck to confirm, as if he could possibly mean anything else.

‘ Huh? Have you met another operator before? ’ She briefly wonders whom he could’ve encountered, but there are too many choices to contemplate them all for now. Whoever it was, they mustn’t have explained the device’s functions in an appropriate manner.

‘ Um, well, it is indeed an infection monitor. All of Rhodes Island’s operators are required to wear one, regardless of their medical status. It records… er… ’ Well, she is no member of the medical department, after all. ‘ Something called the ‘Blood Originium-Crystal Density’! And the rate of Cell-Originium Assimilation. For someone uninfected like me, I believe that number should be 0%… H-however, should an operator’s blood density level rise too high, they risk infection! Why, I always carry some suppressants for emergency use for this reason. ’

Perhaps…that explanation had been a little too comprehensive, to the point of getting incomprehensible? Hopefully, that’s not the case.

“It’s nice to meet you too, miss Indigo! Your hair is really pretty.” The girl’s voice is a dulcet ring of bells to contrast the gravel of their compansions. “I’m Cecelia. Mister Ezell and I are looking for someone. My dad, actually. There was a really nice lady who once met them and said they came to this town. Maybe if we help you, it’ll help us find what we’re after too.” The candor in her words could almost convince the assembled Sarkaz even of her conviction. Though the tempered expression on her guardian suggests it can’t be entirely shared. Still an improvement over the tension that had been on display prior.

“Thank you, Operator Indigo. But while I appreciate your concern…” There’s actually a tint of uncertainty in his voice. Gaze moving to the Sarkaz that had chimed in during Indigo’s offer. They were… warning him of a charlatan? One that had fooled the operator it would seem. Suddenly, this scenario felt as though it had different stakes and risks. And to whom? Well. Maybe the woman’s apology did have some merit.

“My presence here feels best.” Was he the only one present with the best interests in mind? Trust who? “At least until I have a better idea what’s going on. The current situation is lacking in answers.” Hm. “I wish I’d had another cup of coffee this morning.”

A well-worn notebook is pulled out of Enforcer’s pocket. After a moment of thumbing through pages, a pen is clicked, and names are jotted- notes to be referenced later within the relevant section. Space is left, of course, anticipating some later doodles to be added. A soft clap of leather binding as his gaze travels into the distance where a small cloud in the sand begins growing in size. The Sarkaz were focused as well. Three vehicles come into view, breaking out of the cloud as the route pulls them over the ridge. Covered. Lightly armored.

“Should be in the middle car.”

“What should be in the middle car?” Enforcer asks. The silent rolling of eyes behind the metal mask was almost conceptually audible, so strong was the gesture..

“Heh. The contraband we’ll be confiscating.”

But these contemplations must wait for a later time, the current mission at hand requiring full focus after all. Indigo gives Cecelia a reassuring pat on the head (the gesture fortunately missing the girl’s halo) and takes a step forward to join the Sarkaz at the front.

‘ I see… This is what you need my help for. Why, you should’ve said so from the beginning. I’ll do my best to assist you in removing those dangerous substances from circulation. ’

Determined, she places the end of her staff on the ground and closes her eyes, focusing her mind and gathering the strength of her Arts into small flickers of light floating around the glowing stone crowning her weapon. She waits, patiently listening to the sound of approaching motors. Finally, the convoy enters the range of her spell. She lifts her staff, unleashing her Arts all at once, covering the area in brightly flickering lights—and purple swirls grasp for the cars, stopping the vehicles cold on their tracks.

‘ Will this…do? ’ Her voice is strained, the strength of her Arts still battling against the powerful motors within the vehicles.

“ Perfect, ” one of the Sarkaz replies, gesturing with a pointed blade towards the middle car. “ C’mon guys, let’s go!—You too, Sankta, make yourself useful. Aria here won’t hold out for long. ”

But that’s not true! Well, it’s mostly true, but still! After all the work Indigo poured into her training, her Arts have become much more powerful than they used to be. Unfortunately, the Sarkaz have already stormed off before she can remark on her progress.