Work Text:
Maybe being another punching bag in the newest combat arena game would’ve been better than this.
When she’d agreed to give up game placement in favor of being employed for the Gameworks, she’d expected to spend her days doing office work and normal security detail. And yet here she is, wandering the void. She’s been wandering the void, actually, for … however long it had been. The only thing the employee has on her is her uniform, black jacket and all, and the folded up suspect description tucked into her pocket.
The employee pulls it from her jacket again, the paper crumpled by how many times she’d done this. The text on it hasn’t changed- plain black arial font, printing out a description. Cloaked figure with a short stature, whispering voice, clawed hands, and something glittering underneath the hood. Frustratingly vague. The picture attached is so blurry that the suspect looks more like a gray-brown smear than a person. Even worse.
She most definitely hadn’t missed him- for the past hours, there had been quite literally nothing but a straight line stretching in front of her. Nothing exactly eye-catching before that either. It’s been her, the darkness, and the familiar static fuzz of the void. She curses under her breath, folding the paper back up and slipping it back into her jacket pocket.
When she’d been given the briefing by her boss, they’d instructed her that this was a manhunt of the utmost importance, and that she was to not abandon the mission unless absolutely necessary. Irving himself had ordered it. So why was she the only one sent out to search for the guy? Probably just another creep pissed about getting fired.
She’d been out here for days probably. Maybe this was a way for the Gameworks to easily shed their extra staff without having to put it on the books- they had plenty of other lamias working under them after all. She was seriously considering just turning around at this point.
That’s when she felt something cold and wet hit her arm.
She jumped, whipping around, making sure it was nobody else touching her. Just her, still. The void had pockets of hot and cold here and there, but that was.. Definitely not just chilly air. It dripped onto her again, and again. She reached her arm out in one direction, and she could feel a cold wind against her skin.
She slithered forward, and sure enough, she could see a flickering tear in the ever-present dark. The light creeping through was dim, but it was light nonetheless. She leaned her head out of it, and while she had to squint through the rain, she was greeted to the sight of a pine forest shrouded in night. A single dirt path cut forward through it, leading up to a building in the distance. The lights were on.
She’d heard of pockets of life within the void, but had never actually seen them. She’d listened to plenty of tales from her coworkers of hidden refuges, whether those be cities of escaped NPCs or decrepit slaughterhouses. She prayed that this wasn’t one of the latter.
Despite herself, the employee slipped through the tear, escaping the inky black into the forest. Rain pelted her even under the cover of tree branches. She drew her flimsy suit jacket tight around her as the downpour soaked her scales. What a terrible time to be cold-blooded.
She made her way up the dirt path to the building- three, she could now see. An outhouse and an old cabin sat to the side. The glow from the windows was warm and rather inviting. Outlined by it, she could read the sign over the front door now. Six Pint Inn , it read.
She really should be considering this more. She had no idea who these people were, if there was even anything inside. The stories from her coworkers could be true- she could wake up in an ice-filled bathtub with half her code getting pawned off on the black market. But she was already striding up to the door, hand on the handle. It was freezing, and now that she was out of the suspension of the void, she could feel the exhaustion catching up to her. Even if she couldn’t get a room, she could at least rest and warm up.
When she opened the door, she thought nobody was inside for a second before her eyes adjusted to the dim light. The inn was rather old-fashioned in appearance, textures of the walls and furniture somewhat mismatched, but it was warm inside. Now that she could see, she spotted that there was a bar in front of her, with one other person sitting at the end of it, and a barkeep at it facing him, the two of them quietly conversing. Both of them turned to face her.
Judging by the old barkeep’s face, it wasn’t hard for the employee to discern that her appearance was unexpected, but his expression quickly shifted. “Ah. Hello, there.” He put on a smile that seemed welcoming enough. She could hear the creaking of a wheelchair as he wheeled down to the other end to face her. “Welcome to the Six Pint. Terrible weather, I gather?” She nodded. “..Yeah. Definitely.” She was soaked to the bone at this point.
She began to slide off her sopping wet coat, but the Barkeep murmured something out into the darkness. “Jerry?” She almost asked who he was talking to, until she heard footsteps next to her. She turned around, and, barely visible in the dark, a much smaller man was staring up at her.
His paws outstretched- his arms way too long for his body, she vaguely recognized, and he whispered out, “Let me take your coat.” “Oh. Uh.” She nodded, quickly pulling it off of her. Her blue Gameworks lapel pin was visible on her white button up underneath- no way they didn’t realize her employment now. “Thank you.” He took it, and hung it on a nearby coat hanger, before darting back off into a darker corner.
Not creepy at all. Totally.
She slid her way up to the counter, considerably less cold already, to meet him. “You have any open rooms?” “Well, I’d say we do. You’re our only patron tonight, you know.” “Really?” She looked at the other man at the bar out of the corner of her eye- he was built like a stereotypical fighter. Pretty sure she’d seen him on some Combat Arena X posters, actually. “Alright.. How much is it for a room and a meal?”
The barkeep looked the employee over, like he was discerning something. She expected him to say their normal rates, but he simply goes, “How much do you have?”
“Uh.” She looked back towards her coat, and quickly went over to it, pulling out her wallet from within the depths of one of her pockets. She rooted around in it, and was able to procure some bills, sliding them across the countertop. “Will this be enough?”
After a second of consideration, he nodded. “That’s fine. How about you take a seat?” Sighing in relief, she pulled out a barstool and sat down on it. It felt oddly stiff underneath her, but she didn’t exactly care too much. “Thank you. Seriously.” “Of course. We’re happy to offer sanctuary, especially in this storm.” That smile was still on his face as he turned to the man at the bar. “Bryce!”
He looked up- she realized now that he had been warily eyeing her for the past couple of minutes- at the barkeep. “Could you get our guest something to eat? I think we’re serving apple pie tonight.” Now named, Bryce stood up. “I’m on it.” “Thank you, sonny. Always so helpful.” “It’s what you pay me for, isn’t it?” He unlocked the kitchen door with a key from his pocket, and pushed it open, heading inside. It firmly swung shut behind him.
“You have a name?” The man’s voice broke through the quiet, and the employee sat up straighter. “Yeah. It’s, ah, Eda.” “Eda. Pleasant name, miss.” “Thanks. And uh.. Yours?” He just hummed in response. “Oh, I’m just the barkeep.” “Ah. Alright.” Odd.
“So..” The barkeep asked, eyes watching her. She vaguely realized that he hadn’t blinked once this entire time. “What brings you down here?”
“Oh.” She tapped her clawed finger on the countertop. “Gameworks business. I’m just passing through. Got assigned to look for a fugitive.” “Is that so?” His eyebrow raises. “What’s the fella look like?” “I’ve got the official printout in my jacket, but.. I’ll be honest, it’s vague. He’s short, about-” She reached down to make some hand motions. “About this tall, from what I’ve heard? Whispery guy in a cloak. We’ve been seeing him all over the Gameworks.”
“Hm..” He looked to be in thought for a second. “Well. Don’t reckon I’ve seen him.” “Yeah, I figured.” Was this even the right direction? “Thank you, though.”
“You, uh.. Get visitors often?” He shook his head, as he turned away from her, going to reach for a glass on the shelf above. “I’d say no. Bryce only just recently started working for us. Best chef I could’ve asked for.” He pulled it down, and reached for a rag to clean the dust from it. “Before that, it’s just been me and my.. Companion running the place. You saw him not too long ago.”
“It’s a nice place you have,” She said. Not her objective, but spending the night here wouldn’t be half bad. Things felt off, sure, but.. In the depths of the void, everything felt off. His smile widened. “Thank you. We built it ourselves. Our very own triumph.”
It wasn’t long before the ground floor started to smell good. ‘Mir, she was hungry. The kitchen door opened, and there was Bryce, fresh pie in one hand and a thing of silverware in the other. It was still piping hot as he slid it onto the countertop in front of her, murmuring a quiet “Careful.” as he did. Goodness gracious, this looked good .
“Thanks man. It’s appreciated.” She tried to shoot him a smile. He just nodded. “Hope you’ll enjoy it.” He wasn’t making eye contact as he stepped away. He looked.. Weirdly guilty, almost, as he headed back into the kitchen. Her smile dropped.
She cut a chunk out of it, and after blowing generously on it, she was able to take a bite. How starving she was hit her like a truck. Man, Gameworks cafeteria food was nothing on this. A little overcooked, sure, but the slight crunch was perfect. She didn’t speak for a while, digging in, thanking every higher power and then some for leading her here.
She was about halfway through it when the barkeep spoke again. “Would you like a drink with that?”
“Hm?” She looked up- looks like he had already slid a napkin across the counter for her. “Something to wash it down with. On the house.” “Oh! Yeah, that’d be great, actually. Thank you.” As she wiped the cinnamon-y fruit off her face, he dipped down underneath the countertop, the glass from earlier in hand. She could hear him opening the tap on a keg, mug filling. By the time she was done, there was a cup of frothy root beer on the counter. “My specialty.” There was something in his voice. Pride, yes, but another thing she couldn’t quite name.
“Much appreciated.” She took the handle of the glass, and hesitated for a second. She didn’t- she didn’t know why she was hesitating, as she looked into the swirling foam on the top of the cup. She looked up, and he was staring at her. Still smiling. “Well?” Her throat was dry.
..Probably from how thirsty she was. She brought the cup up and tipped her head back, chugging it down. Decent root beer, a little stale, and a tang of something unusual there, but it was more than good enough as a drink. She noticed him sliding something back into place underneath the countertop through the foggy bottom of the glass as she drank.
When she placed it back down on the countertop, the barkeep took it from her to clean it. “I used to make this stuff by hand, you know. I’ve quite a few stories from those days..” “Yeah?” She said, tilting her head, smacking her lips to get that weird aftertaste out of her mouth. He began to wipe the mug down with a soapy rag, and continued to speak. “This one man who was a regular of mine..”
He wove his tale, and she listened. The rain beat on the roof, and the clock ticked. She tried to stay attentive and listening, she really did, but eventually the words were beginning to blur together. She felt.. Tired. Very tired. She had just eaten a hot meal and was in a generally soothing environment, but this was an exhaustion less like a pleasant wave and more like a sudden root in her bones.
“Ma’am?” She actually was able to hear him that time, sitting up straight- how long had she been slumping? “Sorry. I’m just, uh..” Something in her stomach cramped. “Tired.” “Ah. Well, I’d figure.” There was something on his face that she would’ve called unsettling if she was able to think clearly. “Your room should be ready. Jerry? Do you mind?”
She stumbled to her feet off the stool, not needing to look to tell he was there now- she heard his footsteps. “This way,” He whispered. She nodded, following him in the direction of the lift.
“Sleep well, Miss Eda.” She vaguely heard the voice of the barkeep call out. “I hope you’ve enjoyed your stay.”
Up the elevator, her hand tightly gripped one of the handlebars on the side to keep herself upright. There was something about the presence next to her. She wanted more distance between them, but there wasn’t nearly enough room to do that.
She nearly tripped over her own tail as she exited onto the second floor. Cold hands- more pawlike than anything- came up to support her. “Easy, now.” That raspy voice still made her skin crawl. She didn’t know why, but every word he uttered felt like it was being snarled directly into her brain. Her stomach was in knots- was the pie spoiled? Couldn’t be. They stopped in front of the second door.
“Your room,” He said, letting go of her. Her hand scrambled to support herself on the door handle. She didn’t respond, shakily turning around to face him. “Thank you,” she managed out. Her throat felt like it was full of rocks.
A roll of thunder shook the inn, followed by a crack of lightning. The entire hall was cast in bright light, illuminating them both, and for the first time that night, she saw him fully, even for a split second. Short stature, whispering voice, clawed hands. The lightning caught on the monocle on his face, leaving it glittering.
She stood there, staring at him, for a long second. “You’re..” Dread. Dread was brewing in her gut. Why did she feel so horrified?
Without another word, he stepped away, harsh face still fixed on her. “Goodnight,” he said simply. “Get some rest.” And then he was gone, turning away. He dipped into the shadows, and it was like he vanished. She- that was the guy. Christ, she needed to run after him, do something.
Her hands were shaking. Instead, she opened the door, taking several attempts to get it open. She stumbled to the bed, almost tripping in the process. She weakly settled herself onto the sheets, not bothering to attempt to crawl underneath them. Her heart was hammering, her stomach felt like it was digesting itself, but all she could process was how dizzy she was.
She had found her objective all along. This wasn’t a blessing, a refuge from the literal storm, this was a deathtrap. Even if they hadn’t known she was coming, they were ready to make sure that she never reported back. Like a lamb to a slaughter.
She didn’t know how long she laid in that bed, but she had to get out of here. Her claws pricked the blankets as she attempted to get up. Her attempt at standing ended with her collapsing to the floor, hitting the floorboards with an ungainly strangled sound. She- it felt like she was choking. This was it, wasn’t it?
Her claws raked across the floorboards in a feeble attempt to keep going. It was to no avail- her fingers and lower body were going numb. As her vision went spotty and she laid there, immobile, the last thing she heard before it all went black was the door creaking open and that same pitter-patter of feet from earlier.
“Hm.”
Reginald squinted as he read over the paper retrieved from the jacket of the Gameworks employee, which currently was strewn over the countertop. The words had been blurred from the rainfall, but it was a decent description of a disguised Jeremiah, with even a picture attached.
“I swear, Jeremiah..” He sighed, exasperated, shaking his head. “You ought to be more careful. You cut it close this time.”
Jeremiah, who was currently hanging up his cloak soaked with water and a splatter of something red, nodded. “I apologize. I got sloppy last time.” “I know you have your hobbies, but please, if you keep up your little sprees, you’ll lead them right to us.” Reginald made sure the cork on the little vial of poison was firmly stopped in. “And where did you hide her?”
“Under the tree just behind the building. With the others. Tossed anything that might have tracking in the river that flows out into the void.” “Good.” Reginald sighed in relief. Jeremiah hopped up to the countertop. “Do you think Bryce will say anything?” “No, I doubt it. He’s not said a word for every other time this has happened.” He slipped the Gameworks pin she had worn into a drawer. It sat alongside several others.
“We should be more prepared next time. In case this happens again.” “You may have a point.” Reginald’s eyes fixed on the door- firmly shut and locked, and hopefully no others coming through it tonight. “Though I hope that there won’t be a next time. It’s only a matter of time until everything falls into place.”
As Chandrelle uncovered the old cellar key from the heart of the pie, her eyes caught on the floor. She wondered where those gouges in the wood of the floorboards came from- looked like scratch marks.