Zacharie tapped his fingers against the lime green counter, leaned back in his chair, then sighed. He knew he should be afraid. The amount of sugar-deprived elsen wandering the halls outside the entrance to his shop should have scared or at least unsettled him.
They didn’t. As long as he followed the script, he was safe. Still, the script didn’t protect him from boredom, or the intense feeling of déjà vu that accompanied his actions.
Maybe he could go search for Pablo again or even visit Sucre while he waited for [PLAYER] to return. It wasn’t like they could surprise him.
And yet, he remained in his chair, staring at walls that appeared so real despite the code that built them.
Suddenly, the scream of a dying burnt echoed from down the hall. Zacharie sat up, eyes fixed on the metal door separating his shop from the rest of Zone 3.
Had [PLAYER] returned already? He should have sensed that.
Straining his ears, he could just barely pick up the sound of familiar thudding footsteps rapidly growing in volume until they stopped just outside the door.
His heartbeat quickened, beating almost as fast as when he was late for the Puppeteer’s introduction to Zone 3. At least he was already in position.
The door flew open and slammed against the wall. Zacharie didn’t know that was in its programming and made a mental note to check the game's code the next time he got bored.
The Batter stood hunched in the threshold, gripping the doorframe in one hand and the edge of the door with the other. The visor hid most of his sharp, handsome features, leaving just the grimace distorting his mouth uncovered. Fatigue plagued his form, and he clutched at his supports as if they were the only things keeping him upright.
The image shocked Zacharie. The Batter never hunched. He always stood ramrod straight, perfectly in line with the stick up his ass as he waited for his puppeteer’s guidance. Even when the Puppeteer was offline and all the other characters would go through the motions of their daily lives, the man remained stiff and unmoving until the return of the one with the power to complete his mission.
Speaking of [PLAYER], the merchant’s gaze lifted upward, searching for invisible strings so he could trace them up to-
Nothing. He couldn't see the Batter's strings. Which meant-
A short, strange, tuneless hum burst out from the hallway then faded almost as soon as it appeared. The noise drew Zacharie’s attention and he realized the add-ons were hovering behind the Batter. One of them floated closer, then quickly backed off before emitting that strange humming noise again. The other two repeated the actions, one at a time.
Even though the script intended him to only speak when interacted with, curiosity loosened his tongue. He’d only ever strayed from it once (at least, that he could remember), so he figured it wouldn’t hurt to do it again, especially with the Puppeteer missing. He took a preparatory breath.
Before he could ask his question, the Batter surged forward and slammed his hands on the shop counter.
Zacharie lurched back, nearly falling off his chair before stabilizing himself without looking away from the imposing figure.
The Batter kept his gaze down. From this new angle, Zacharie could see the rest of his face under the shadow of his brim.
He looked… terrible. Which was quite the feat considering who he was looking at. The man was usually the ideal example of health and athleticism. A perfect piece of eye candy that the merchant enjoyed sampling in silence as he watched [PLAYER] guide their puppet to the end of the world. Even when the Batter was a single hitpoint from death, he carried an air of righteous arrogance with him, along with a certainty that whatever his goal was, it would be fulfilled, no matter the cost.
His thoughts were interrupted when their subject whipped his head up and matched Zacharie’s gaze. Four wide-open eyes burned with a frantic intensity that sent a wave of heat over the merchant’s skin.
Zacharie became aware of his own eyes burning and he rapidly blinked the dryness away while keeping his focus on the threat in front of him.
The Batter opened his mouth and let out a harsh, shuddering sigh. He dug sharpened nails into the table, leaving divots in the hard plastic. If Zacharie didn’t suspect he was about to lose his plot armor, he would have made a joke about charging for the damages.
Finally, the purifier spoke, his voice rough and urgent.
“Hm?” For once, the merchant was speechless, too busy studying teeth and nails that were definitely sharper than they should have been.
The Batter ground his teeth before forcing the words out as if a knife was being driven into his back.
“What. Is. A video game?”
Zacharie stared at the other man, awe overcoming him as he realized what he was witnessing. A wide grin split his face, obscured from view by his mask.
The Batter’s gaze narrowed.
Ah, the smile must have reached his eyes. Zacharie rose to his feet and clapped a hand on the puppet’s shoulder, who jolted at the contact but otherwise didn’t react.
“My dear reckless accomplice,” Zacharie teased before leaning forward conspiratorily. For once, he matched the Batter’s intensity with his own eagerness to share this burden with a willing soul. “Nothing would make me happier than to answer your question.”
Despite the truth behind that statement, Zacharie hesitated. He had shared the full extent of his knowledge with only one other person, and she had not reacted well. “Are you sure you want to know?”
A wave of exhaustion washed over the Batter’s face and he slumped under the merchant’s fingers.
For the first time, Zacharie wondered at the sort of pressure the puppet must be under, to be yanked here and there by invisible strings and serve as a tool of destruction in the hands of a higher power. Even then, the fatigue in his gaze was heavier than it should have been. It made him wonder how many times their game had been played... something about the weight on the Batter’s shoulders strengthened the merchant’s suspicion that they had lived this story not just once, but many times.
Still, a desperate determination shone through the darkness in the other man’s eyes as he clasped a hand over the one resting on his shoulder, gripping it as if it was the last thing anchoring him to this earth.
Zacharie paused, taking a moment to stare at the snow-white hand covering his own. He blinked, then nodded to steady himself.
“Okay, you asked for it.”
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