#fester jester

“I didn’t expect you to wake up first.” Fester Jester continued speaking, moving backwards and returning within Gepetto’s view. He fixed his gaze back on her, still swinging back and forth despite no longer consciously moving. She reached a hand out, ignoring Gepetto’s obvious recoil and brushing her fingers against the back of his head. He winced, pain jolting through his skull at the contact. Fester pulled her hand back, examining the blood on her fingertips before wiping it away. “You, the living marionette. I’m sure you’ll do wonderfully in my show.” Gepetto’s tied hands clenched. He wasn’t a talkative individual, but his anger and growing fear for his friends curbed that nature.

“Let them go. Now.” He ordered. Fester snorted, expression twisting into amused disbelief. She shook her head, moving away from Gepetto. Her feet danced across the surface of the ball with uncanny balance, never once falling from her perch.

“No no no. I need them, just like I need you.” As Fester Jester spoke, Gepetto struggled again, trying to hoist himself further up the ribbons. The glee faded from her voice, falling into a scowl. “Besides, you three have been the greatest threat to my circus I’ve ever seen. I can’t allow that to continue.” Gepetto’s arms shook, the muscles tense as they took the brunt of pulling up Gepetto’s body weight. He slipped, barely catching himself before he could lose what progress he had made, and grunted with the effort.

“They’re not your puppets, Fester!” He spat through gritted teeth.

“Are they yours?” She questioned. Even entertaining the thought made him feel sick. They very well could have been, with his abilities, but he wasn’t a monster. He didn’t take away people’s willpower like Fester Jester did.

“No.”

“Then they’re up for grabs.” Fester declared. She turned and snapped her fingers. The cage rattled as the mound of fur uncurled and rose to its feet, rumbling lowly. Luna growled and snapped at the bars, her hackles raised. A mask was attached to her face, obscuring her eyes and muzzle but not her teeth, which were sharp and bared beneath her curled lips. The mask displayed a simple face smiling in joy.

Gepetto swallowed and increased his pace, scaling the ribbons until he had plenty of give. He locked his legs around them, using one hand to pick at the ties around his other wrist. Fester Jester was cooing over Luna, stating commands and plans for their act as Gepetto worked at the knots. One wrist came free, and he quickly shifted to the other, willing his fingers not to shake. At last, both ribbons were untied, and he dropped to the floor, rolling to absorb the impact. Gepetto looked up in time to see the pink and blue ball slam into him, sending him flying backwards. The ball ricocheted back to Fester, who caught it in a movement that turned into a somersault, placing her back on top of the ball’s surface. Gepetto went skidding across the dirt floor, kicking up a cloud of dust. He closed his eyes against the spinning world, and pushed himself back to his feet, launching into a sprint towards Dalmatian on the knife-throwing wheel. Fester Jester kicked the ball towards him again, but this time he dived, dodging the blow.

“Stop it!” Fester screeched, moving to the right to catch the ball on its rebound. She steamrolled into Gepetto’s path, stopping him from moving any further. “I’m in charge here. Sit down or I’ll make you!” Gepetto’s eyes darted from Dalmatian and Luna to Fester. He knew a solution, but he couldn’t resort to it. It was against his personal code. He had to find another way.

Thinking quickly, Gepetto interlaced his fingers and slammed them into the side of Fester’s ankles, sweeping them out from under her. She cried out as she bounced off the ball and hit the floor. Gepetto kicked the ball out of the way and Fester growled, climbing back to her feet. Her makeup was smeared with dirt as she lunged, tackling Gepetto and bringing him down with her. He beat at the hands clawing into his chest, his throat, strangling anything they could reach. Fester’s eyes were clouded over, her face splitting in two to accommodate twice the normal number of teeth, and the shriek that bellowed from her mouth was like several voices all howling at once. Gepetto screwed his eyes shut against the cacophony, trying and failing to knock away the hand that clenched around his throat.

“You’re not a fighter, Gepetto.” Fester Jester told him, the skin rotting against her skull as he watched. “You never have been. I have the fighters locked away in cages, and you’re not letting them out!” Gepetto gritted his teeth, his eyes glancing wildly towards his friends. They were going to be stuck here forever, forced to perform tricks for other people’s entertainment. He was going to lose his closest friends in the world if he didn’t do something.

With a snarl, Gepetto slammed his forehead into Fester’s. She fell back with a yelp, the twisted visage of her corpse vanishing as she clutched her head. Gepetto rose to his feet, every movement slow and deliberate. His gaze was fixed on her, his lips pulled into a thin frown. His last resort went against everything he stood for, everything he was, but Fester Jester was hurting. His. Friends.

An exception was called for.

Gepetto raised his hands, hovering in the air at his chest. Fester’s entire body went stiff, palms stuck to her injured forehead. With a flick of a finger, her arm reached up, up, stretching far above her head.

“What?” Fester twitched, a visible attempt at resistance against what had taken hold of her, but Gepetto couldn’t be shaken off. “What are you-” Gepetto splayed his palms, and Fester sat bolt-upright, both hands held aloft. Gepetto’s focus bore into her as he stalked forward, every step slow and intent. Fester’s eyes were wide, drowning in a mix of confusion, anger and horror as Gepetto approached. “S-stop! Stop it!” She was pushed backwards by her own spine curling, catching herself by the elbow at an odd angle. Still Gepetto’s expression didn’t change, ignoring her startled cries as her own body dropped her onto her back and pinned her there. He side-stepped Fester, keeping a hand extended towards her as he walked to the spinning knife-throw wheel. He spun it back upright, and tapped Dalmatian’s cheek. Dalmatian’s eyes fluttered open, focusing on Gepetto as he unbuckled Dalmatian from the wheel.

“Gep…?” He groaned. Once one wrist was free, Dalmatian helped remove the others, despite his groggy return to consciousness. Gepetto hooked an arm around Dalmatian’s back to help him down, his brow creasing softly. Beneath his regular mask, Dalmatian’s eyes followed the length of Gepetto’s arm, and they widened slightly when they saw Fester Jester. “Oh, Gigi…”

“It’s fine.” Gepetto assured him.

“But-”

“It’s fine.” He insisted, ignoring the dismay in Dalmatian’s voice, “Help Luna.” Dalmatian looked over his shoulder, and the prepared-for-action stance that Gepetto was familiar with returned to his friend. Dalmatian looked back to Gepetto, scanning over him quickly, and he wrapped a hand around the back of Gepetto’s head.

“You’re hurt.” Was the only explanation he gave, the only explanation Gepetto needed. A soft gold glow emanated from Dalmatian’s hand, and Gepetto could feel the wound healing over. Dalmatian hurried towards Luna’s cage, Gepetto following shortly behind. Fester Jester was still squirming, grunting and hissing her discomfort at being held. Gepetto reminded himself not to look, not to listen, just keep that hand outstretched until everyone was safe. Dalmatian unlocked the cage (the key was still sitting in the lock - Fester must not have thought anyone but herself would have access to it) and threw open the door. Without Fester Jester’s instructions, Luna stood there half-crouched, vacant and unresponsive. Doctor Dalmatian carefully removed the mask from her face, dropping it to the dirt only to crush it under his boot. Lady Luna blinked, the dazed look receding from her eyes.

“What happened?” She questioned. She looked between the two of them, stepping out of the cage. “Are you two alright?” Dalmatian assured her that he was fine at the same time Gepetto nodded. She also followed Gepetto’s arm, and her wolf-like ears dipped low. “Are you alright, Gigi?” She repeated the question. Gepetto didn’t meet her eye. He nodded again. Luna, bless her heart, believed him.

“I’m here to assess damages.” Boogie stated. He switched off his power as he spoke, becoming just as noticeable as any other Joe Shmoe. Hodgkins nodded, and he stepped aside, leading Boogie down another corridor while telling his employees that he had this matter handled. Boogie Man let himself be led, Hodgkins sticking closely by his side. Once they had passed through another door, and the other onlookers were far out of range, Boogie grinned.

“You’re living the big life, aren’t you babe?” He remarked. Hodgkins’ jaw clenched, eyes glancing towards Boogie for a second before fixing forward again.

“Stay focused on the task at hand.”

“Come on, we’ve got all the time in the world! You can boiler room with Boogie till the cows come home, babe.” Boogie turned to walk backwards, still keeping stride as he directed the declaration towards his compatriot, “You’re always so focused on the clock, stop and smell the roses! It won’t kill you.” Hodgkins increased his pace, forcing Boogie to nearly jog to keep up with him.

“Prancing around like a prized horse might kill you.” He warned, showing no signs of amusement. Boogie shrugged and turned back around, following Hodgkins into a deeper part of the museum. Ever since they’d first had to interact, Boogie Man had known that ‘Hodgkins’ (although really, Crono Sector) didn’t have much of a sense of humour. But he still enjoyed pushing Crono’s buttons.

Boogie Man and Crono Sector stepped out into a small corner of the museum, housing a limited selection compared to the more packed spectacles near the front entrance. There were several mannequins attached to the floor via metal poles, designed to hold extravagant dresses or coats. The velvet rope that usually separated them from patrons had been tossed aside, and a person was seated by one of the mannequins, their wrist handcuffed to the pole. Their head rested in their other hand, and the black and white scheme of their clown costume matched the bored and glum expression on their face. They looked up at the sound of footsteps and Boogie Man’s chuckle at the sight of them.

“Well well well. Look what we caught.” Boogie Man eyed Fester Jester over before directing his next statement at Crono, “It looks a little shrimpy though, think we should throw it back?”

“Ha, ha. I think you should fire your costume designer.” Fester snapped, gesturing towards Boogie’s jumpsuit. Crono stepped away from the two of them, double-checking the locations of the security cameras. Boogie largely ignored him and let the man work; Boogie Man’s power only worked on people, not machines. He leaned over and flicked one of the pom poms on Fester’s hat.

“What would you try to filch from a museum? Pagliacci’s pantaloons?” His tone had been light-hearted with Crono, but it was genuinely mocking towards Fester Jester. He rarely got along with them, and vice versa, unless it was for work.

“I wasn’t stealing for me!” Fester hissed back.

“Enough.” Crono returned to the two of them, having successfully turned off the nearby cameras, “I’m not going to babysit every time the two of you are in a room together. Grow up.” Fester scowled, the expression not unlike a pout.

“It’s only gagging, babe. You know how us show ponies love a bit of fratricide.” Boogie Man smiled, attempting to brush away Crono’s concerns. He kept that overly-polite smile on his face as he walked over and hooked a hand under Fester’s arm, hoisting them to their feet. Their own hand was still held down by the cuffs, and they straightened their costume before tugging at the cuffs.

“What about this?” Fester questioned. Boogie considered what the best course of action would be. He patted down his pockets, disappointed that he didn’t have a pick on him. His gaze flicked up as Crono approached Fester, and Boogie backed up to give him operating space.

“Arm straight.” Crono instructed. Fester locked their arm, pushing themself back another step.

They and Boogie watched as Crono rolled up the sleeve of his coat, revealing a bracer attached around his forearm. With a flick of his wrist, a blade extended from the bracer, about half a metre long and shaped like the hand of a clock. With practised precision, Crono raised his arm and sliced through Fester’s wrist. Boogie stared as the hand hit the floor with a soft thump, dark and viscous blood seeping from the wound. Fester examined their sliced arm with the same casual regard as a chipped fingernail, and shook the handcuff off. Crono examined the blade on his wrist, wiping it clean on his other sleeve with a scowl of distaste.

“You were sloppy.” Crono told them. He sheathed the blade once more, and rolled his sleeve back down as he jerked his head towards Boogie. “Grab it.” Boogie Man shrugged and retrieved the hand, wiggling a few of the fingers out of curiosity before shoving the whole thing into his pocket. Crono checked his watch, one of several he wore on his person. “Time to leave. Now.” He didn’t wait for a response as he started to walk back in the direction he and Boogie had entered through. The other two followed shortly after. Boogie Man stayed behind Fester Jester, the formation not only giving more cover, but giving the impression that they were escorting Fester out to be properly detained, if anyone did poke their noses in.

“Which exit?”

“Side.” Crono stated, taking a turn away from the path that led to the front entrance. Boogie watched the back of his head as Crono glanced over his shoulder, every movement alert and watching their surroundings. “We may need cover.”

“Got it.” Boogie nodded. He sped up his stride so he was closer to the other two, keeping them within the bubble of his invisibility. To his amazement, even Fester allowed the other members of the group to take the lead, staying hunched between them so she couldn’t be seen. Despite there being no smile on her face, there was a light skip to her step.

The side door had none of the flash of the front entrance, just an impressive looking lock. Crono produced a key from his person, making short work of it and holding the door open. Fester passed through first, with Boogie striding through afterwards. Cronos Security was used by virtually every important business in the city, including the museum. The company’s owner, Brett Hodgkins, had access to the keys and passwords for everything under his company’s protection. Which meant Crono Sector also had that access.

Boogie took a deep breath of the evening air. He looked around, pleased to see no-one had seen them yet. Fester, despite going first, had barely passed the threshold, currently craning her neck to see the large crowd she had gathered.