#dottolone week

"Ow, ow, owowowow- mother-" Pantalone hissed, drawing in a sharp breath through his clenched teeth. Silk-gloved hands gripped the sides of the chair with unprecedented strength. "You're a damn doctor. Don't you have anything here to numb the pain?"

Dottore scoffed. His fingers pressed against the bloody skin with firm care, enough to keep his work steady but give some relief to the man above him. "We may be in one of my laboratories, but you should know that I don't contain many pain suppressants here. The only thing I can offer is heavy alcohol, and even then, I would need to travel upstairs to retrieve a bottle."

The banker winced at the sharp needle piercing the folds of the cut along his stomach. "Ah, my mistake," he bit out, sarcasm under the pain. "I thought my Mora would actually go toward something useful."

"You don't need it anyway." Dottore kept his eyes focused on Pantalone's stomach, drawing the thread across the jagged slash and pulling the skin close again. His mask was placed on the tray table next to him as to not cut the banker's skin while Dottore was working. "You are holding up better than most others, with all things considered."

"What a joy..."

It was a hell of a lucky strike. Pantalone's assailant had to have stalked the banker to some degree and learned the man's schedule to perfect precision. It was calculated, intentional, and nearly successful. Had there not been the tiniest flaws in the plan and misjudgments on the assailant's part, the Ninth Harbinger would have certainly bled out and died in a back alley.

Both Pantalone and Dottore had been attending the Korolevskiy Troupe's special midwinter performance. The free entry was something Pantalone took advantage often, and he dipped into his pockets to fund the shows on more than a few occasions. He went once a month, on the third Sunday when the Troupe gave a new performance. As ritualistic as he was, it wouldn't have been hard to figure out where the banker would have been in the late evening.

The only thing that wasn't part of the usual routine was Dottore.

The scientist couldn't put his finger on what compelled him to abandon his lab for the night. Was it to rest his attention after sixteen long hours working on the same project? Was it to see if the Troupe performance was as wonderful as Pantalone had made it out to be? Or was it simply just to spend time with the banker, one of the very few individuals who engaged his mind with intelligent conversation?

His breath touched Pantalone's skin and the other man shifted in his chair with a shudder.

They had tried to cut through an alleyway after the show. Shadows had provided them with the privacy from being swarmed. Dottore was enough to offput people, but there were plenty who would chance death to sweet talk to a billionaire. The scientist had been the only guard next to Pantalone; the other Harbinger considered him enough of a threat to trust that the doctor would kill anyone who chanced wounding Pantalone.

Irony had a funny way of presenting itself. It had taken the form of a desperate, destitute man, camped behind one of the alleyway's dumpsters and trashcans. The moment the two Harbingers drew close, the man lunged at Pantalone, slashing at an angle to slice open the banker's innards.

Both of them were trained better than that, and they had both heard the shuffle of bare feet and panicked breathing seconds before the attack. At the blur of the man and the swing of the blade, Pantalone lept back, avoiding the brunt of the blow but not escaping without a slash over his stomach. Blood had instantly soaked through the purple silken shirt, blackening the fabric and drawing the banker to wrap his arms over the wound.

Unfortunately for the assailant, Dottore had been an unfactored variable. His hands had clawed at the desperate man and disarmed him with unbridled ferocity. The doctor hadn't brought along his usual arsenal of mechanical weapons, but he didn't need any of them to wrap his fingers around the man's neck and choke the life out of him.

Pantalone refused a hospital. Any attempt on his life always left him paranoid, and the banker didn't want to risk going to a place of desperate people who could also kill him in his vulnerable state. Even as he bordered on passing out, the banker insisted that Dottore should 'put the Mora he had given him to good use' and 'practice those skills he constantly boasted about to everyone within a nation's distance.'

The next stitches, all two of them, drew agonized gasps from Pantalone's trembling form. Sweat slicked the skin the longer Dottore worked. The banker had his eyes squeezed shut, sucking in air through his nose and blowing out his mouth to keep his breathing steady. Black hair draped over the back of the chair, and Pantalone groaned as he leaned his head back. "Isn't there anything you can do to make this easier?"

"No." The doctor pulled, moving to make the next stitch. "Did you not have to deal with things such as this in Liyue?"

"I had severe beatings and several whippings, but nothing to the degree of having my stomach cut open."

"You're lucky it only cut into the thin layer of fat and your abdominal muscles." Dottore shifted on his knees, lifting a hand to the tray next to him for a disinfectant wipe. He dabbed the lingering blood away. "Any deeper and we would've had a different situation on our hands."

"Ah!"

"Two more," Dottore murmured. "Two more, and we'll be finished."

Pantalone was frightfully pale, but he nodded his head and settled down.

The scientist picked up the pace. His fingers took great care, and he pulled the rest of the skin together. It wasn't more than two minutes before the gash was closed and the final stitches were in place.

Dottore placed the needle on the tray, tied the last stitch, then snipped the extra bit down from the little knot with surgical scissors. "There," he muttered. "All done."

"Will it scar?" Pantalone asked breathlessly. His face shone with sweat, and his eyes were hooded. The banker looked seconds away from passing out.

"Yes," the scientist said, pulling off the surgical gloves. He stayed kneeled, studying the needlework for any mistakes. "How messy the scar will be depends on how you take care of it and how well your body handles the process." He tossed the used, bloody latex onto the tray. "You'll have to wait for it to heal more before I can take the stitches out. Until then, you can worry about changing your incredibly predictable schedule."

Pantalone laughed under his breath, then cracked a teasing smile. "It still hurts quite a bit, doctor. If you aren't going to numb the pain, surely you could kiss it better?"

Heat touched the scientist's cheeks. "Don't tell me you believe that? That is based on lies told to children. Kissing wounds don't magically make them better."

"That is true..." Pantalone chuckled dryly, lifting a hand to lower his shirt. "Forgive me for the unwanted advance. I know we don't have that kind of relationship."

"And what do you mean by that?"

"We're work associates, nothing more." The smile faltered, but the banker pushed on. Pain strung through his words. "I had hoped to learn more about you in our outing, something to see you in an environment outside of a laboratory, but I see that it was nothing more than a night with an acquaintance."

Something sour settled in the pit of his stomach. Dottore didn't enjoy the feeling at all, but he couldn't figure out why he had it in the first place.

Pantalone's company wasn't completely awful. Their night out had even been a nice distraction from the stall his current research project reached. The banker had taken him to a restaurant before the performance, where they had dined on several Liyuen dishes paired with a fruity dessert. He had talked endlessly about unimportant topics, but the banker had asked several questions that engaged Dottore's mind before the doctor could completely ignore the discussion. Every time Dottore fell silent for too long, Pantalone reached out to draw him back into conversation, doing something to keep his attention with more than useless platitudes or empty remarks.

Pantalone was humoring him, but...

Dottore breathed in, ran his hands along Pantalone's torso to lift the loose shirt, and leaned over. He pressed a feather-light kiss to the middle of the gash, tickling the fresh stitches.

"Oh!"

When Dottore looked up, he saw the red coloring the banker's face. "You wanted a kiss to make it better. Fine; that is what I did. It's only fair since I have no painkillers to give you."

The red didn't disappear from the other Harbinger's face. "Of course. I just... wasn't expecting it. You don't usually do something like that."

More heat burned Dottore's cheeks, so he stood and slipped his mask back over his eyes. "Don't fret, banker. You won't get that again. We'll meet again in a week or so, when your wound is healed enough that it can mend without assistance."

"Doctor?"

Dottore looked back to the man in the chair.

"I enjoyed your company tonight, even if it ended on a sour note." Pantalone lowered his shirt, took a deep breath, and stood from his seat. His legs shook, then steadied. The usual formality he held slipped over him like a well-worn coat. "Would you care to join me again sometime? I'm sure our next outing won't end with a murder attempt on our lives."

Curiosity invaded the scientist's mind. Barring work nights, it wouldn't be a complete nightmare spending time with a person who didn't infuriate him. Pantalone had proven himself a worthy companion, and the doctor did want to see what a comfortable night out was like with him...

"...I would not mind venturing out with you again."

Pantalone's shocked face, one he quickly tried to hide, was worth the trouble Dottore had gone through over the night. "Oh, well, then that can be arranged." He brightened, slipping on a pleasant smile he had worn hundreds of times before. "Please, let me know your schedule for the upcoming weeks. I'm sure I can find something to work for both of us."

Dottore sniffed, then looked away. "I can go out next Sunday. Perhaps we can revisit the Troupe's performance again without one of us nearly dying the next time around."

"Then it's a date," Pantalone cheered softly, clapping his hands together.

For an odd reason, the sentence didn't bother the scientist as much as he thought it should have.

Summer in Snezhnaya brought a touch of relief to the frozen lands. Snow still fell and the temperature was still frigid, but more heat rolled over the enormous landscapes like a soft blanket. The sun came out more often than it had in the depths of winter, shining rays of light through the country's giant greenhouses. Crops that weren't built for the brunt of winter were hastily planted. The economy picked up during the season's first month, giving everyone a boost to their finances and material gains. In the spirit of the warmer months, Lord Pantalone held a grand gala for the nation's finest citizens.

These past few years, however...

A monster of some kind had been stalking individuals on the streets. Someone could walk out into the night, and every year, the chances they would never be seen again grew exponentially. Said monster didn't discriminate; people of all levels of society had been affected. Poorer citizens were the first to disappear, but richer Snezhnayans and at least two nobles had been kidnapped within the past year.

Some of the bodies were found. The lucky ones were in unrecognizable shapes, but still enough of a body to figure out who the individual was.

It was dangerous, this party. Herding all of Snezhnaya's nobility into one place was a basket the monster could reach into and easily snatch up its prey. The monster's activity had picked up since spring, boldly taking more people in the dead of night for whatever it did with its victims.

Most would call him insane at the continued event, but the lord would not let a serial murderer ruin his summer gala.

Pantalone weaved around several of his guests. He nodded to a few as he passed, tipping his head and framing a delicate smile to his mouth. Conversations, most chatting about the juicy gossip about the killer, hummed around him. Some were nervous, huddling around in groups to avoid the creeping shadows, but most of the guests were relaxed, laughing at the idea that a killer would strike at them in a well-lit social gathering.

"My lord."

Pantalone turned his head. "Ah, just who I was looking for. How has the security force been over the past two hours, Mr. Kurnakov?"

A grizzled older man, dressed in the finest navy-blue uniform from the Snezhnayan army, cleared his throat. "The guards posted have nothing to report. The added hired mercenaries also do not have anything to report, only a request to access the cellars."

"Which they will have over my dead body." Pantalone sighed and lifted gloved fingers to his head. "There have been no signs of the 'monster,' have there?"

Kurnakov's red eyes glimmered, and a gruff laugh left him. "No, my lord. The 'monster' every guest is worrying themselves over has shown no sign of being here." He bowed his head, humor in expression. "I have personally handled all of the security rounds for this event. Surely, my three decades of experience in Her Majesty's army count for something?"

Pantalone chuckled, reaching out a hand to pat the man's sturdy shoulder. "That it does, dear friend. Every Mora spent on you and your soldiers has and will continue to be a worthwhile investment for our safety."

"A gracious reply, lord." Kurnakov turned, about to head for the ballroom's double doors. "If you need me in the next hour, I will be walking around the manor, making my own rounds-"

"Kurnakov?"

The man looked back to his employer. "Sir?"

Pantalone narrowed his eyes, lifting a hand to rub his chin. "I must ask... were your eyes not green? I vaguely remember our first meeting, and your eyes were a shade closer to emerald..."

Kurnakov stilled, flashing a knowing smile. "Fire-water, my lord. New on the market, but heavy stuff. It makes the eyes red as fire."

He knew what alcohol did. He knew how Fire-water made people. He mainly drank wine and the occasional cup of sake, but the noble wasn't an idiot.

Pantalone smiled, waving his hired help away. "Of course, silly me. My memory must be slipping. Please, continue on your watch."

Kurnakov reached to the hat on his head and tipped it in acknowledgement, then headed for the ballroom's double doors.

The black-haired lord shook his head, briefly letting the smile fall from his face before returning it. He turned back to his guests.

Nothing was outwardly wrong. By all accounts, everything looked just as his past galas did, opulence and grandeur to welcome the summer months and guests who ran the nation through it all. Underneath though, something sinister slithered at the edges of the party.

"Hm."

A baroness and her wife broke off from their group and drifted over to him. Dressed in fine green silks and decorated with purple-stitched flowers, the ladies stepped over with broad grins on their faces and bubbly champagne in their hands.

"Lord Pantalone, this event has been nothing short of divine."

"Of course, my dear Dina," Pantalone purred. "Every gathering I host is nothing short of the topmost quality. My guests are treated in every delight I can afford, and I do hope you and Elaine are taking full advantage of the hospitality."

At her name, Elaine waved a hand at him. "Save your smooth talking for another noble, my lord," she said with a tipsy giggle. "We're here to talk about the upcoming season's fashions and unwind."

"We've been indulging in the wonderous champagne you brought up from your stores and relaxing from the stressful past week." Dina lifted her glass to her lips, lipstick staining the edge, then gave a thoughtful hum. "We're glad for your added security, my lord. We've had an incident at our own manor, and it's kept us up at night ever since."

Pantalone raised a brow. "Oh? Care to share the details?'

Dina and Elaine looked to each other, fear glinting in brown and green eyes, then glanced around each other. "Is this appropriate talk for the gala?" Dina asked.

"I can assure you, most of my guests have been talking about Snezhnaya's monster. If I were to kick out every person who delved into the topic, we would be the only attenders still here."

The two women relaxed slightly. They leaned forward, lowering their voice but pressing forward to make up for the lack of volume. "The monster broke into our home and stole two of our staff."

Blue eyes lifted, scanning the room around him. Several of his own staff milled around the crowds and served champagne, small snacks, and cool glasses of water. "Interesting..."

"It apparently came in the dead of night, of course, when nearly everyone in the house was asleep." Elaine lifted a hand to the small pearl necklace around her neck. "One of our butlers and the sous chef were cleaning up the very last bits of the evening meal. There was a struggle, and there was so much blood when we discovered it the next morning, but they were snatched away in the night. The knives had been taken from their slots in the block, but it didn't seem as if they managed to pierce the monster. They had nothing on them."

Dina shuddered. "Half the kitchen was destroyed. We didn't hear anything during the night, and that was the part that terrified us the most." She pulled her sheer, flowery shawl tighter around her shoulders. "There was so much blood. I cannot stress how much blood there was, my lord. I rarely see it in our line of fashion work of course, but that morning, I saw more than I thought was possible to hold within a human body."

That had to be an overexaggeration her part, but information was information. Grains of truth were still valuable in a life-or-death situation.

A flash of glass caught in the light out of the corner of Pantalone's eye.

"I am so sorry you two had to go through such an ordeal," he said with a shake of his head. With a concern that didn't reach his heart, he stretched out his hands and took one each of their own. "Please, relax and forget the horrors of the past. I'm sure the monster won't target you personally now that it has already taken from your household. Let me get you some more drink, and take as much care as you need from this party."

He raised a hand to snap for a server, but one appeared quickly by his side.

Stylishly shaggy brown hair and mischievous red eyes twinkled over a jester-like smile. White gloved hands moved the serving tray with a flourish, jostling the flutes of alcohol in the motion. "Your drinks, baronesses and lord."

Pantalone narrowed his eyes, showing the scrutiny he had in his gaze.

The server -- Leonid, as his memory recalled -- flashed a sharp-toothed smile that curled at the corner. "My lord? Is something the matter?"

Pantalone returned the smile with a predatory smile of his own. "Leonid, is that correct?"

"Yessir."

The black-haired lord's teeth ground together. "I see that your service is highly lacking and in need of disciplinary measures."

"Unfortunately, my lord, I won't be in Snezhnaya after tonight." The grin on the mid-twenty-year-old man narrowed his eyes to slits. "I'm taking tonight's check and reinventing my life."

And with that, every suspicion he had was confirmed.

"Ladies, if I may, I would like to speak with Mr. Leonid privately." Pantalone plucked two glasses off the tray, handed them to the women, then ducked in a short bow.

Leonid tried to duck away, but Pantalone shot out a hand and caught the man's ear. As the other man struggled, he tightened his grip and sweetened his smile to the baronesses. "I'm sure there are other guests you will wish to chat with. Please, enjoy yourselves."

They curtsied, and Pantalone dragged a fidgeting Leonid through the crowd. The drinks rattled on the serving tray, sloshing the drink over the flutes' edges and adding yet another point that showed how untrained the intruder was compared to the rest of the staff.

He took the long way around the ballroom. Just to make an example out of the intruder.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow- could you stop yanking on my ear?!"

"I should have you beaten within an inch of your life for speaking and acting the way you did to me, but I know better than to shoot a measly messenger."

Leonid gripped a hand against Pantalone's arm and wrenched the hand away from his ear. "Alright, enough," he snarled. "Where are we going?"

"I assume your boss desires me alone, so I will take a walk through the gardens."

The teasing smile returned to Leonid's face. "You really want to go out there alone?"

Pantalone took the tray from the younger man's hands and passed it to another nearby server that quickly slinked away. "It does not matter if I want to. You, the other minion, and anyone else under the monster's command will force me no matter my choice." He waved his hand, gesturing for the intruder to follow. "I have my own reasons for a meeting. If it means stopping the collection of you from stealing valuable staff from me, then yes, I will step into the obvious trap you've set for me."

Both men reached double doors to the outside patio area, a manicured expanse that led out to a well-cared for garden. Darkness shrouded the outside courtyard portion, cloaking anything beyond the rows of forest-green hedges guarding the end of the garden.

"You may tell your commander that I am stepping out to meet him. I'm sure the man you placed in Kurnakov's position has already displaced the guards that were supposed to patrol that perimeter." Pantalone tilted his head, his smile as warm as the winter season. "As for you specifically, next time you assume the identity of someone else, do more research on their past or do not speak of personal details."

Leonid snorted and crossed his empty arms over his chest. "So, what did I miss between last night and tonight?"

"An entire morning meeting where the actual Leonid thanked me profusely for the advanced paycheck to his account. He mentioned, oh, about ten times in thirty minutes how excited he was to continue his Master's degree in Forensic Accounting, and how he planned to contribute his talents to my bank once his education was complete." Pantalone lifted a finger to his jaw. "Quite a drastic change to flee the nation over the course of one afternoon."

The other man looked away, a sour expression marring his face.

"His eyes were also green as well. I assume whatever you're using to disguise yourself does not take your eye color into account."

Slowly, a grin appeared on Leonid's face. "Heeheehee, you're pretty good, lord."

Pantalone dipped his head. "My entire foundation of work and wealth is based on how well I can notice little details. Besides your bumbling attempts to blend in, I had my suspicions the moment I laid eyes on you."

Leonid shrugged, then turned away. "Then I'll let you and the boss talk. Have fun begging for your life."

Pantalone watched wordlessly as the other man slipped off towards the kitchens and away from the rest of the people.

With the murmuring of other guests echoing in his ears, Pantalone reached into one of his black robes' pockets and pulled out his keyring. One key twist later, he was outside in the frosty night air. He didn't close the doors behind him, but he had no doubt whoever else the monster puppeted his minions into would shut him away from the safety of others.

Gilded heels clicked against the cobblestones, firm in step and clear in purpose. Nimble fingers drew black robes closer to his body, thumb brushing against the butt of a revolver hidden under the many layers of rich fabric. Eyes roamed over the hedge walls, taking in every detail, searching for any sign of movement.

When he reached the edge of the gardens, pitch darkness and heavy forests beyond the cobblestones and a waist-high gate, he paused. A heavy sigh left him.

To say he wasn't afraid was a lie. Pantalone was a mortal man at the end of it all, and the thought of going up something that couldn't easily be defined or imagined flickered primal fear in his heart. His body was going to do what it needed to do to survive. If that meant holding terror for a being that seemed untouchable and unstoppable, that meant his mind was fighting for him not to head toward the high possibility of a grisly death.

Pantalone ran through his memories. All the staff he had lost; all the business that had been stalled due to kidnappings; all the detectives he had to hire to dig up something on what was happening to his workers...

Anger quickly replaced the fear.

The forest beckoned him, branches reaching out like gnarled hands upturned. Wind whistled through the leaves like whispers of fractured conversation. If there was any place the monster was hiding, the forest was a perfect trap.

Pantalone drew in a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and took a step forward.

"I wouldn't venture into the darkness by yourself, my lord... I hear there's a monster lurking by..."

A violent chill ran up Pantalone's spine, ice-cold spikes against the bones. He froze where he stood. Stock-still, he drew from the well of anger he held to banish the terror. "You really should tell your subordinates to pay closer attention to their targets. And, though I do not understand it, whatever you have conjured in terms of disguises could use work in hiding the eyes behind the mask."

"The shifting technology is still a work in progress. In the case of the segments, Alpha has always been my constant disappointment."

"You keep Alpha around because..."

"He is my mechanical engineering specialist. His work is decent enough that I cannot scrap him without wasting more resources than it would be worth."

Pantalone kept his robes pulled close around him. After several beats of silence, he lifted his chin and spoke. "Am I to stay with my back to you this entire conversation, or am I permitted to lay eyes on the monster that's been a thorn in my side?"

"You may turn around. I have no qualms about you seeing me."

"Aren't you concerned about your appearance?"

"Should I be?"

The black-haired lord drew as much fury as he could from his emotions, then turned on his heel.

Behind him stood a figure framed in moonlight. Black feathers puffed around the collar of his thick black cloak. It draped over what looked like a white laboratory coat hidden underneath. Pants, something cut in what Pantalone recognized as a Sumerian style, tucked into boots that held sharp points along the sole and heel. The points curled like short birdlike talons, silver in color and impractical unless it was meant to serve the illusion of appearance. Under blue hair, a mask ran down the monster's nose, extending out in a way that resembled a honed beak.

By all accounts, if Pantalone didn't have a good look of the monster, he could see how someone would think a creature out of a nightmare was attacking them. However, from everything he could see in front of him, the monster was a man. A dangerous one, but a man nonetheless.

Teeth, pointed bones that would have put a shark's molars to shame, flashed from a smug grin. "Do I live up to the legend made of me?"

Chuckles erupted from the noble. "You are a man playing dress-up," he sighed.

The grin melted into a sneer. "Have you forgotten what I am capable of?"

"Of course not." Pantalone relaxed his shoulders and relished the huff from the man across from him. "You are dangerous and a threat not to be trifled with. But you are also a man..." He let mischief shine in his eyes. "I can work with that."

Quiet laughter shook the feather-covered monster.

Pantalone's thumb brushed up against the revolver.

"I am no mortal man. That, I can assure you." He slinked around the black-haired lord, walking in a way that reminded Pantalone of a corvid. "I possess things this world has never dreamed of, and my intelligence is more than a match for anyone in Teyvat."

Pantalone smiled, coy in nature. "An arrogant man too?"

"It is not arrogance if I can provide evidence to my claims."

"My terror of you is misguided, I'm afraid." It wasn't fully a lie, but Pantalone caught the hiss of irritation in his ear. His fingers curled around the pistol's butt. Pointer finger at the trigger, thumb at the hammer... "If you continue talking, the effect will fall to ruin and I might actually think you are nothing but a child hoping to puff up their own importance."

A hand grabbed his chin and yanked his face toward the monster's. Fingers sank into the soft cheek flesh. Hot breath, strong with the scent of coffee, burned Pantalone's face. The mask's point hovered at the space just below his left eye.

"Watch what you say, you haughty, prissy little-"

The monster shut up when Pantalone pushed the muzzle hard against the soft length of his stomach.

Neither of them moved or spoke.

Far away from their hostile embrace, a cheer rose from the crowd milling within Pantalone's manor. A name was chanted like a war cry, but it was clear no one knew what was happening at the garden edges. Inside, guests ignored the troubles of the outside world, dancing and cheering in the way the ignorant did to mentally escape.

The monster's mouth curled at the edges. "I now understand why you felt you could step outside and meet me. Do you really believe that you can kill me with that?"

"Even if I only wound you, I will make sure it will be the most pain you have ever experienced in your life." Terror flooded his veins, but Pantalone pushed back what he could. He matched his smile to the monster's, predatory and secretive, and pushed the muzzle as deep into the other man's gut as he could. "I don't go down easily."

"I didn't think so, but please..." His other hand gripped onto the revolver's barrel, lifting the muzzle higher along his chest. "Don't aim at my intestines. If you want to really make it hurt, shoot my stomach." The hunger and dare in the tone matched the man's mouth. "It would be the most painful last twenty minutes of my life."

Pantalone hummed. "You really shouldn't tell a sadist where to cause the most agony..."

A sigh, one the noble could only interpret as dreamy, left the monster. "You are so very interesting..."

Their gazes stayed trained on the other. Moments stretched into a long silent minute. Then, the monster hummed. His expression twisted, similar to one of intense focus. "Do you know why I am here?"

"To steal another one of my workers, I assume."

"No," the other man corrected. "I am mainly here because you continue to intrigue me in ways no one else has."

Pantalone raised a brow. "Am I supposed to feel flattered by that?"

"You were the one who deduced that there were multiple of me. Even the private detectives you hired did not think of that." The monster ran his thumb over Pantalone's cheek. "From what my segments told me, you were the one who looked through the evidence only three consecutive times before telling your incompetent sleuths that it was possible I was multiple people."

Pantalone wrenched back, buying himself a few inches of free space. His pistol stayed trained on the spot the other man had pointed out.

"The evidence they collected all held the same profiling," Pantalone sniffed. "Black feathers, same heights as figured out from the shoe sizes, and similar eyewitness descriptions, as miniscule as they were. There was one case where two kidnappings happened at different sides of the nation at the exact same time. You cannot be in two places at once... unless you are more than one person."

Praise was evident in the monster's voice. "A very astute observation."

"I had assumed identical siblings, but you have implied more to the situation than I can currently understand."

"Indeed..." The monster waved a hand. "But I've been told that you have your own reasons for disregarding your safety."

"My staff. Many of my businesses have had their workers taken by you and your minions, and I have had enough of your interference."

"May I inquire about the deep concern for your workers? Enough so that you hire detectives to try and spy on me?"

"I don't care about the workers themselves, unless they work in my private office or personal manor." Pantalone gestured to the manor. "Business and resource management is my skillset, and it is infuriating when vital personnel are kidnapped and operations stall to a snail's pace."

A scoff came from the other man. "I tend to take many individuals off the nation's streets. I do not specifically target your workers. It isn't my fault you have seemingly employed half the nation."

"You've taken enough that I've lost more than fifty-five million Mora to your impediments." His chin lifted, and Pantalone looked down the length of his nose. "Other subordinates have died by my hand for less."

The monster growled, the sound rumbling in his throat. He tilted his head. "I would love to see how you handle disobedient subordinates."

"Before the end of the night-" Pantalone lifted his other hand to the revolver to steady the weapon and stepped forward "-you will find out."

"I don't work for you."

"Even better." His thumb flicked back the hammer. "I'd say I give my subordinates more merciful executions than I do those who directly go against me."

The purr that came from the monster was one of pure want. Metal clicked against the cobblestones as he closed in the rest of the space between them. Strong fingers wrapped around the hand holding the base of the weapon.

More clicks echoed against the stones behind the lord, but there was no way Pantalone would bare his back to the monster in front of him.

"You are the first person in a long while that has engaged my mind in a delightful way." The monster leered close. "You will not kill me tonight, but I promise you, I will be studying you for as long as you still breathe air."

Before Pantalone could wrench himself back to take a shot, the other man lifted the noble's hand to his lips, pressing a delicate kiss to the back of his hand. "I promise to take very good care of you, my little anomaly..."

"Hehhehheh, let's see you yank me around now..."

Pantalone yanked his body around and fought to steady the shot with shaking hands.

A man similar to the monster behind him stepped forward. Pastel blue slacks and a vest contrasted a crisp white undershirt and lab coat. Instead of a bird-like mask, a domino-colored mask covered most of the man's face, leaving only the left cheek bare. His hand withdrew from his lab coat's pocket, pulling out something cylindrical.

Pantalone pulled the trigger as weight slammed against his back.

The domino-masked man's head tilted as the shot went wide. He threw the odd object forward, and a blinding flash erupted right in front of Pantalone's eyes.

More than half of his mind instantly shut down, and his senses muddled together. His legs gave out, but strong arms caught his body before it hit the stones. Pantalone fought the pull of unconsciousness, but whatever the object did, it forced a heavy blanket over his mind.

"Tell the others to pull back. We have our new subject."

"On it, boss."

The monster's beak mask appeared in Pantalone's foggy sight. "A valiant effort to defend yourself! I think that deserves a little reward."

Pantalone felt his feet lift from the ground. "I... won't... go..."

"You've given me a greater challenge than anyone before you. It thrills me in ways I do not entirely understand. So, as your prize, allow me to tell you the name of your target." The monster smiled down as black spots blotted out the noble's sight. "Snezhnaya calls me 'the Monster,' but I prefer... the Doctor..."

With a shaky exhale, the effects of the foreign contraption took effect and rest of Pantalone's world fell away.