Chapter Text
The pickaxe strikes the wall. A pressurised smoke pocket is exposed.
#48276 is quick to pull out an empty bottle from the crate just sitting by his left steel capped shoe. He unscrews the lid and holds it over the smoke pocket until it has clearly filled up. What was the point of this again? He is self-sufficient. He can corrupt impure spirits and gain credit from that rather than rely on his measly income. Carving meat from the spooks to devour later rather than go get his ration. Although he also does this to inhabitants the second he hears another nerd coughing harder than what is coined as ‘normal’ within the smoke mines. He keeps a safe distance for a good reason.
These dumb nerds can think what they will. He’s doing them all a favour; getting the itch to work out of his system, and keeping the disease isolated to only Patient 0.
Five bottles filled. These pockets are getting bigger by the month. Is this an ill omen?
#48276 shrugs. When he feels like adding more common knowledge to his little world, he will consider bouncing from his new home on this File to explore another, just for a while. His original File has been on the wayside, and he feels no point in sticking around, only checking back for Sucré and Coach.
The pickaxe strikes the wall, ignoring echoes of a fight coming down the tunnels leading to his location.
“Adversaries purified.”
A batter clad in black mutters under his breath, surveying the end results as he cleans the blood off of his bat. Spectres lay where they have been slain, yet he can sense there are more lingering around.
He was put on this Holy Mission with no recollection of yesterday. There has to be a good reason as to why. Maybe it will come back to him.
As he corners a Fat Spectre, bat drawn, it begins to laugh at him. Shortly after caving its head in with a swing, he almost utters the same line when two Burnts get the jump.
This almost takes him off guard. They usually don’t appear until he reaches Shachihata, so there can only be one explanation; something foul, amiss, lingers in these purple tunnels. They do not sound well either, with heavy coughing cutting in between wheezes. Zone 1 Employees in very poor health indeed.
It takes next to no time for Black Batter to finish them off. And… How did he know that Burnts don’t usually show up in the mines? He closes his eyes, trying to see if there is a cause and effect to the manifestation of Burnts. It is odd, as there does not seem to be recovering numbers of spectres filtering in to take place of the purified ones–
There it is! A point of impurity in the air. How can something so foul exist?
With a new lead to follow, Black Batter sets off deeper into the mines with only the lit lamps to guide the way.
The echoes are getting brighter, it is actually quite distracting.
#48276, fed up with this, lowers his pickaxe and trains his gaze directly towards the flickering, hearing spectres taking a crunch left, right, and centre. It also smells like that inhabitants who were in the early stages of infection were not spared either.
Then, the scent hits him.
A Purifier is deliberately making their way to his location.
#48276’s half functional heart starts to race. He hasn’t smelled one this strong in a while. What have they been doing? Goofing around on the small fries closer to the entrance just grinding for levels? Early-level Purifiers don’t stand a chance, but he’s got a bad feeling about this one.
Corruption in progress…
Echoes flash in his vision as a bat swings out of the darkness. The sickly Elsen grits his teeth and fortifies his stance, bringing his pickaxe up to block it by the handle, and catch the end under curved metal, locking it for a few seconds.
A few precious seconds is all he needs to get a ping on his form.
[Echo Locate]
Black Batter Lv: 24
HP ?? / CP ??
Vulgar and irritable, but sincere. Is on a mission to purify the world.
Not enough information to go by, the other is definitely a much higher level than himself. The miner is concerned at this point; he lets the other retract his weapon before hopping back, creating some distance as white smoke from stress starts to emit from his ears. That’s when #48276 realises something. By the time any purifier starts to explore the mines, they usually have their first Add-On with them. This one has no such company.
There’s a flash, indicating that the opposing purifier has used [Wide Angle] on him.
Elsen #48276 Lv: 19
HP: 5800 / CP: 2740
Vessel of Pestilence; an undead miner with admirable resilience. Resembles a Valzong Burnt. Somewhat blind, relies on sound for accuracy.
Heavy resistance to Plastic, Light resistance to Smoke, Light weakness against Pure, Heavy weakness against Meat.
Immune to Poison and Toxic — can still acquire affliction.
Miasma Lv: 20
HP: 800 / CP: 650
Servant of Pestilence. An Add-On.
Immune to Poison and Toxic.
Black Batter pauses at this. Vessel and Servant of Pestilence? An entity that is thoroughly corrupted? This flaky inhabitant is no pushover, unlike the other Burnt he encountered in the mines. He is in no hurry to attack, just keeping his stance and waiting on him to move.
What the purifier cannot understand is why there is this spark of… intrigue. A Valzong hiding in the mines, minding his own business, does not cause additional spectre to appear but seems to provide stress on the other inhabitants by merely existing. Aside from white claws instead of black, his head staying steady on his neck, and the Valzong’s ring actually being the miner’s Add-On, he’s just as calm as a healthy inhabitant leagues away from burning.
Granted, as tempting as it is to keep up the confrontation with violence; Black may be stupid, but he’s not that stupid.
[Flee]
Miffed with these new feelings, Black Batter steps forward rather than back.
Adversary absconded…
#48276 lowers his pickaxe and guard with a frown. For someone capable of posing as a threat of superior level, exuding a sense of uncertainty, the purifier made a wise move. That thoughtful praise is short lived as the miner finds a hand press against his chest, effortlessly pinning him against the metal wall behind him before it moves to grasp him by the shoulder.
“I don’t get it.” the Black Batter’s voice reaches his ears. It sounds more than just a flat stoic tone that the miner is used to hearing from the average purifier. “You corrupted, terrible and impure child.”
“Hey, wait!” #48276 tries not to prick his calcified claws into the other’s wrist as he struggles slightly. He thought this confrontation was over.
“However, you seem to live free of madness. What are you? What makes you different from the other Burnts?”
That voice brings some familiarity to the Burnt. “Ghost?”
“Why… why am I so attracted to you?”
The leer sends shivers down #48276’s spine.
“Answer me, please.”
The Burnt’s claws threaten to prick the purifier’s veins on his wrist. Wait… veins, pulse… a heartbeat!
Starting to snap out of this turmoil, the harbinger steals his resolve. He cannot, will not, deliberately infect the living. It’s bad enough he has one too many nameless purifiers on his kill count, he refuses to add this one too. And by the sounds of things, Ghost doesn’t seem to remember him.
“Mister, do ya mind gettin’ yer hand off of me? Take a step back? You can git sick.” #48276 asks with a stern tone all of a sudden.
“I can?” Black Batter leers down at the other’s goggles, leaning his weight more on his hand as his other arm moves to rest on the metal wall just above the other’s hardhat. Interesting… very interesting.
“Yes, ya can.” #48276 grunts, his concern gradually replaced by a sneer. “String-puller, if ya can hear me, git yer marionette to let go and take a few steps back. I won’t hold myself accountable if he becomes unwell for playin’ with poison.”
The Black Batter blinks, but does not move right away. Eventually he retracts his hand and takes a step back. “You are not the true source of impurities appearing in this zone?”
“Nah, of course not. Who do ya think I am, my boss?” Freed from being pinned, he picks up his pickaxe and turns to face the wall.
“Then who is your boss?”
“He’s the Guardian of this Zone.” #48276 swings the pickaxe down onto metal, his stance and form showing good practice. “Ya could go ask ‘im about the spectres. Now I suggest ya move along. You don’t hafta go home, but ya can’t stay here.”
For a while, Black Batter stands there and quietly contemplates on the suggestion. Find the Guardian of this Zone… where does he even begin to look? Plus, he has no clue what role this inhabitant plays other than being the ‘Vessel of Pestilence’. An impure child who has not yielded to madness. If anything, the inhabitant is as sick as he looks, however he’s sensible enough to warn him about backing off.
An idea floats up in his mind. One that may be seen as stupid, but it is as good of an idea as any. If he cannot purify this Burnt, then he’s going to have to bring him onto the team.
“You didn’t answer my question about this attraction I feel. You’re coming with me.” Black Batter states flatly, getting the other to stop abruptly and shoot him a dirty look.
“Excuse me?” #48276 asks, unimpressed. “Says who, an’ why? I got work to do.”
“I need a guide, someone who knows this place well. It would also help a lot once I understand what is the difference between ‘Impure’ and ‘Corruption’.” Black Batter replies.
With a frustrated huff, the Elsen shakes his head. “Y’ain’t takin’ a walking pathogen with you.”
“Do you think you get a say in the matter?”
“I do. I choose death over bein’ responsible for ya health. Go continue on ya Holy Mission with ya puppeteer. Come back when yer confident enough to take me out in a single hit.”
Those words stung; it’s enough for Black Batter to make up his mind. He moves quickly, getting between the miner and the metal wall he was working on. “Then I get a choice, too. I choose to put my health at risk if it means not leaving a corrupted child like you unchecked.” He watches as the inhabitant stops his pickaxe swing short from hitting his chest. Just as he thought. The Burnt is sane enough to deliberately avoid harming him. “If there is one thing I will take you out in a single hit with, it’s a Date full of Violence and Junkies Colours.”
“For the record: Do not call or refer to me as a child, thank ya very much. I ain’t some helpless blanket baby in need of coddlin’.” #48276’s grip on the pickaxe falters before lowering it slowly, standing up with a frown upon his goggles. “Yer as stubborn as a cow. Fine, I’ll come with ya… you weird Mister…”
The prevailing allure that Black Batter feels is irritating, giving him the strong urge to bash his head into a wall. Why did he go and say that out loud? Although, it got what he was gunning for; getting the sickly inhabitant to join his party. He takes a moment to check the status screen.
His current status reads ‘Pure’. However, under the Elsen’s ID number, it instead has ‘Insubordinate’. Looking into the status, it details that the afflicted is an unwilling participant, and will act as though Auto has been selected. Most often than not, it will spend its turns doing nothing. Closing the window, Black Batter glances back at the goggles wearing inhabitant who refuses to look at him, keeping a good five feet of distance between them, arms folded in defiance. #48276 definitely does not look like a happy camper.
When three Magnolias were confronted, #48276 constantly picked [Wait and See], which either results with him doing absolutely nothing, landing a counterattack after taking a hit, or using a Luck Ticket on Black Batter should his HP dip below a certain point. As for Miasma, it behaved like it was on Auto as well– not that it was Black’s right to be giving it orders, it’s not his Add-On –choosing to attack or pass along an affliction right back to the enemy while curing the afflicted ally. The only other Competence #48276 would use is [Echo Locate], mitigating Blindness should he have it and marking the target with Identified. The only time he attacks without waiting is when there is a spectre on the field, all while ignoring ghouls in the process.
A few puzzles and switches later, the way to the metal farmsteads of Pentel opens up. However, as soon as Black Batter reaches the ladder, the sick inhabitant stops short from the opening.
“I ain’t walking into that rain, Mister.” he growls, red goggles giving an eerie red glint. “You want me to follow you ‘round some more, find something that’ll keep the rain off of me.”
With a sigh, Black Batter climbs back down the ladder. “Fine, I’ll look around, stupid asbestos flaky…” he grumbles, returning to the mines. He did pause as he replayed what he said in his head: why does this feel like Déjà Vu? Anyway, the inhabitant is going to need something, either an umbrella or a raincoat and hat.
As the search continues further back to where they came from, more spectres end up crossing their paths to be purified. One touch at the yellow box later, Black Batter opens the menu, only to find the Elsen’s status has changed from ‘Insubordinate’ to ‘Begrudging’: a reluctant participant in the party, the afflicted continues to behave as though Auto has been selected, is inclined to attack a select few of enemies. Light vulnerability against Madness and Fury.
It’s an improvement from being a deliberate deadweight. Here, Black Batter decides to try something.
“Hey, what is your name?”
“Huh?” #48276 stops, seeing the echoes flicker seconds before he hears the question, he faces the purifier. “Why’re ya asking? It’s a waste of time to git to know someone you’ll eventually destroy… or be destroyed by.” the Elsen is puzzled when his answer makes the purifier take offence to his words.
“Really? You’re going to conflate purification with destruction?”
“Ya know what? Yeah, actually. Seein’ as you conflate corruption with impurity.” he snaps back.
“Alright, cool it. I just wanted to know your name.”
“An’ why’s that?”
The miner asks, tapping his foot as silence falls upon the two while the purifier tries to put together an answer.
“Because when I used Wide Angle, followed by checking up on your stats after joining the party, all I got was your ID number as your name. Is it a placeholder?” Black’s tone holds genuine curiosity.
Purifiers aren’t meant to be anything more than stoic, with a one-track mind to purify the world. Then again, he’s likely dealing with Ghost who, judging by the ever faltering stoic tone, cannot remember what happened yesterday. “Ah guess it is.” Elsen #48276 replies, arms folded as he looks away again.
“If I told you my name, would you tell me yours?”
#48276 blinks, unseen by the murky red of his goggle’s lens. “No need to offer such a trade off.” With hesitancy, he approaches the purifier, soon holding out his right hand. “My name’s Huaso, smoke miner of Zone 1.”
Swapping which hand holds the bat, Black Batter grasp’s the other’s hand. The texture of calcified sugar feels grainy, yet warm like charcoal. Since it has been dehydrated, it does not feel sticky. With contact alone, he does not feel a shift in his appetite or condition. “Nice to fuckin’ meet you then, Huaso.”
That’s the first time the other has started swearing around him. The miner quickly pulls his hand away and steps back after two shakes, “You don’ have to give me yer real name, but I’d appreciate knowin’ what you’d like me to call ya.”
“Start with calling me Black Batter. Or Black for short if it’s a mouthful.”
“Aight, Black. Shall we keep looking?”
Black nods before turning away and opening the status menu again. The ID number changed over to ‘Huaso’, and the ‘Begrudging’ status has changed over to ‘Acquainted’: May occasionally ignore orders or suggestions in combat. The default Auto no longer seems to be a factor, thank goodness.
When the duo approach sections of the mines that lack adequate lanterns to keep it illuminated, Black pauses. How is he going to navigate in the dark?
Sensing this, Huaso reaches up and twists the rim of his headlamp; casting a bright beam down the tunnel. Several spectres were caught in its lighting, and the batter wasted no time sprinting into action with the corroded inhabitant hot on his heels. It was a hit or miss when it came to collaborating attacks. Admittedly it’s slack at best, wasting one too many turns missing the mark at worst. The darkness certainly does not help.
Claws tipped black, Huaso sinks them easily into the noggin of the last one standing, a one-eyed spectre. He huffs as he takes a step back.
Adversaries purified.
Or was it corrupted?
Black blinks as he glances over at the miner, squinting from the headlamp shining close to his eyes as the other looks back at him.
Black Batter Level 25 achieved. Magic Homerun has been acquired.
Huaso Level 20 achieved. Coma has been acquired.
Huaso grunts, fixing his hardhat, trying not to pay attention to the aftermath text. “Still need me to lead for now?”
“Sure. I could fall back on Faith to guide my steps, but it’s let me down once before. I can’t see shit.”
Given the prompt, the ill inhabitant nods and takes the lead, headlamp mitigating the darkness. There are some pockets of smoke that have split open on their own, seeing as nobody in fear of the dark would so much as mine in these areas. The search and scrap fights with phantoms did not conclude in disappointment: a chest tucked away on its lonesome is found.
Black opens it. Inside was defensive gear alright, but it’s not meant for him. It is a rainy day set. Funny that this is just one of the two things he was hoping to find. Gear put away in inventory, he then opens the menu, navigates to Party, then apply the new equipment to Huaso in the first defence slot.
There does not seem to be any visual change, but the miner appears to relax some. The raincoat and hat grants full immunity to plastic, with the precaution to avoid the element of meat as he is now brittle to it. A small increase in defence is applied, too.
“Huh… this fucker was most definitely not here before.” Black mumbles, raising his bat to poke at a white ring floating by the ladder to Pentel.
There’s another swear word. Is his presence starting to break the mould? “Must ya really do that?”
“Do what?”
“Swear on a whim?”
“Get fuckin’ used to it. If I need to exercise my fucking brutal honesty, I’ll say what I mean.”
Huaso scoffs. Brutal honesty, his ass. “Great! You do you, Black. But if you ever swear at me with animosity, I’ll just head right back t’ work. No ‘ands’, ‘ifs’, or ‘buts’. Purified world be damned.”
Black was about to touch the Add-On when the other said those words. He turns around and looks at the sickly inhabitant. “Fine, understood. I’ll try to dial it back, but offence is taken, not given. Don’t hafta take every fuckin’ word to heart, you know.”
Right, back to the Add-On. One touch was all it took to make it disappear.
Add-On Alpha has joined you.
“Powerful Manager…”
Black opens the menu and checks in on the party, only to find that the Add-On isn’t there.
“Everything alright?” Huaso asks quietly.
“No?” Black replies, closing it, “Text said it has joined, but it’s not fucking there?”
“Try checkin’ in on a yellow or red save box.”
With nothing else to say that can start a conversation, the two climb the ladder out of the mines.
“Hh… What? Did you come from the smoke mines?” an inhabitant greets them in the light rain, responding after hearing the trapdoor coming unlocked.
“Yes.”
“But… but… b-but there are loads of spectres down there…”
“No shit.”
“Are you a spectre?”
“Wanna ask me that fucking question again? No, I’m not.”
“Black, be nice.” Huaso hisses, red goggles watching the conversation otherwise. He groans quietly at the Elsen’s stammering, watching the exchange for a moment longer.
“Oh. That… That would be great. We… We have… uh… spectres in our big barns.”
“Cowsheds. Ya mean cowsheds.”
“Ah… uh… yes…”
The inhabitant goes on to talk to the two about Pentel, and what their location specialises in. Something that Huaso has heard it all before. Black looks a little disinterested in this explanation himself, but he stays silent for it.
“There… And thus we have spectres in the large barns…”
“We haven’t finished purifying the mines first.”
“We?” the inhabitant asks.
“This motherfucker,” Black points at himself, “and his acquaintance are both adept at purifying spectres.”
“Ah… Right, but the barns aren’t that big… And uh… It would be nice of you to take care of them fast, because the Queen’s inspector is going to arrive at any moment… So… could you please take care of the barns first?”
Black stares at the ground for a moment, then back up at the inhabitant. “What I don’t get is why you don’t ask this guy for help if he’s capable of doing it. Alright, we’ll make it quick.”
“Ah? Ah! Great! Thanks, thanks a lot! The barns are directly to the right. They aren’t big at all, you’ll see, it’s going to be done quickly.”
The two follow those directions, stopping by the door. Black seems dissatisfied.
“Somethin’ on ya mind, Mister?”
“Tell me I’m not the only one who noticed that bullshit.” Black states sharply. “You’re standing right there in the rain, and this asshole goes on pretending that you’re not. Won’t even look at you. Can’t tell if they knew to ask you or not, it still rubs off as fuckin’ rude. I almost wanted to punch the fucker’s face in.”
“Ya know what? I don’t think I would’ve stopped ya.” the miner replies, wasting no time hopping over a lump of metal, “But there is no need t’ git angry on my behalf. I’m used to it.”
Black pauses in his steps when he hears this, watching the other pass him by. There’s a reason why Huaso keeps to himself, if not to prevent the spread of whatever it is he’s infected with. While Black has confidence in himself to withstand it, he didn’t think the other inhabitants would deliberately ostracise the miner. As they approach the cowsheds, an idea worms its way into his mind.
“I’m going to try punching the phantoms.”
“Aight, fine. Jus’ don’t hurt yourself doin’ that too much.” Huaso nods in response, “You want me to git in there and help, or ya happy for me to wait outside for the Queen’s inspector?”
Black is about to voice against it when he remembers about Add-On Alpha. Conveniently, there is a yellow box waiting just outside the cowshed entrance. Here, he is able to swap out party members. The party size is determined by how many cards one has in their inventory. “Alpha and I got this! You keep an eye out for your boss.”
With that, the Batter clad in black charges in with a white hoop following him.
The sweet sounds of crunches and slashes kept his vision well lit, even if it is not needed right now. Huaso stands under shelter, his arms folded. The other inhabitants seem to have scrammed now that Dedan was on his way. Only when the insides of the cowsheds quiet down does he hear the footsteps of his boss approaching. Where was the intern manager? Oh well, the miner is here now and waiting. He perks up with a cheeky grin.
“Tall Mister!” he greets with a slight tilt of his hardhat. “Sorry fo’ ditching my work in the mines. Heard there was a spectre problem, so I thought–”
“Shut your trap, you poor moron.”
“Yessir.” Huaso shuts up after with a frown. Of course, it never is that easy with Dedan when it comes to getting a single word in.
“Has he been in there for long?” Dedan asks after a pause. This one usually never leaves the mines, so something has to be up for #48276 to be out here.
“No idea who yer talkin’ about.”
“Of course not. You know nothing. I could’ve guessed.”
“Well, not entirely.” Knowing nothing is preferable in Huaso’s mind, but at the moment he can’t help but be a smartass. “There’s been this guy goin’ around purifying spectres. Or so word gets around.”
“And why does he think he’s capable of destroying those stupid phantoms?” Dedan barks his question, “He thinks he’s better than you! Better than the Queen!”
“I’m startin’ to think so seein’ as ya don’ do nothin’.” Huaso growls under his breath. He could not hide the sneer.
“Shut it. I haven’t asked you anything.”
“Didn’ sound rhetorical to me…”
“You think you’re smarter than everyone else, but you’re all the same.”
Huaso gives an angry eye roll without retort. So now the fucker decides to compare him to all the other exhausted nerds?
“At any case, that’s hardly important. The ghosts will erase that prig.”
“Ya sure, Tall Mister? You think he won’t succeed?” he asks with an apathetic tone.
“Of course not! Nobody here’s capable of fighting off the phantoms other than the Queen’s officers.” another pause, as though Dedan begrudgingly remembers something, “And you, somehow, but this isn’t your work station. You are not to get involved here. If the others, yourself included, only listened to me more often, you wouldn’t be in so much shit.”
Although glad about his acknowledgement, it is not enough to assuage Huaso’s temper. “If you think he ain’t gonna cut it, and if yer barring me from gettin’ involved, who’s goin’ to destroy the phantoms?”
“I could’ve done it.” Dedan answers, sounding smug, “But you don’t deserve it. Too bad for you, the workers in Pentel will have to take care of their problems themselves. Go back and mind your problems in Damien.”
“Suits me fine.” Huaso mutters under his breath. He is going to forward a complaint letter to Dedan later, on a piece of blue paper, in silver writing.
“I’ll be leaving now.” Dedan announces.
“Good.” Huaso grunts back.
“I’ll be returning to Alma. At least the people there are polite. They ain’t constantly cutting you off.”
Huaso rolls his eyes again, but he hasn’t budged from his spot by the door.
“Goodbye.” A few steps, then Dedan glances back at the miner. “And piss off. I command you. Get back to work in the mines or you’re fired.”
“I will. Let me enjoy the rain for a little more an’ I’ll get right to it.”
“Fine. Five minutes, don’t let me catch you still hanging around after that! DO NOT offer any assistance in purifying the spectres here.” With that, the Guardian of Zone 1 marches away.
Bloody Hell. Getting into a verbal scrap with Dedan has been growing more and more tedious and unpleasant these days. Huaso glances down at his claws, black tipped and digging into his tense biceps through his work shirt. Not that injecting himself with his own toxins would do anything.
Sure enough, Black Batter emerges from the cowshed, fists stained, and a splash of blood soaking his right cheek. He’s grinning though, so he probably had a lot of fun. After touching in with the yellow box, he walks over to the miner, Alpha following closely. “So, who was that?” he asks, his grin easing off.
“That was the Tall Mister, Dedan.” Huaso answers, “An’ yeah, he’s a bit of an asshole. More so than usual lately… anyway, how did the heyday in the hay bales go?”
“Fucking fantastic. Fatasses laughing up a storm, causing migraines. Nothing Alpha and I could not overcome.”
“That’s great. So, does this mean I can git back to work?” Huaso was in the process of turning around when a hand flops onto his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.
“Already? But I thought we agreed you would guide me.”
“Hmmph… yes.” he pushes the hand off his shoulder. This stubborn cow, he swears…
“And I got a big bad spectre to beat down now.”
“Then surely, you got a sense of his aura. Ain’t it different to mine?”
Black blinks, trying to think on that. No, he didn’t get a proper reading. “Uhhh… I wasn’t near the door.”
The miner facepalms. “Ya got Alpha, you should be fine. Why do ya need me?”
“Because…” Black pauses for emphasis, “we’re on a date full of Violence and Junkies Colours, all the fucking way down.”
“A date? I didn’ agree to that.”
“You didn’t? Oh… well, hold up. Before you head back.” Black opens the menu, navigating his way to equipment. Even if Huaso isn’t a part of the party at the moment, he can still arrange equipment as long as a save block is nearby. “I think I found something that belongs to you.”
Miffed, Huaso waits until the other swaps out his pickaxe for the new weapon. Not that one weapon or tool is superior to the other but… this, he can recognize. Eyes widen within his goggles.
“My trusty shovel!” he wheezes in surprise, looking it over, “I was wonderin’ where it disappeared off to. Loaned it to a nerd who needed it in Pentel, never saw it again.”
For someone to be this thankful, even an inhabitant as stubborn as a zombie, Black cannot help but smile in earnest. “Found it in a chest under the trapdoor where I purified the last spectre.”
The thing is damaged, but it’s not something a little plastic tape cannot fix. He glances up at Black. “Thank ya, for findin’ this… but y’ain’t gonna use this as leverage to make sure I’m still followin’, are you?”
“No, not really. That never crossed my mind.”
“Well, I was told to git back to work an’ purify only the mines.”
“If you do that, I’m only going to stick around.”
“Then progress on yer Holy Mission will stagnate. As will yer health.”
“Fuck work. Fuck my health. And fuck your boss.” Black exclaims, feeling exasperated as he throws his hands in the air. “Your boss doesn’t care. Your coworkers don’t care. And I…” he trails off, his thought train derailed.
Tip of the shovel dipped just under the metal surface, Huaso looks at the purifier with a bored expression. “What about ya? Sounds like ya care a whole deal an’ ya won’t exactly explain why… but there’s no need t’ keep me around until ya knockin’ on death’s door.”
“I can see you don’t care about yourself.” the purifier quickly spits out, then pauses, making sure he doesn’t tongue tie himself on his next words, “So let me care about you, until you can do it yourself.”
The miner huffs, looking away, his hands still holding the shovel handle steady as he leans his weight on it. “Ya don’ understand my situation, but you've made yerself a good point. I guess I’ll continue onwards with you. Just so ya know; you have been warned a dozen times now that lettin’ me tag along is a really, really bad idea.”
Hopefully, it’s decided for good. Black Batter heads back to the save block, frowning that he still can’t fit a total of three on the party, but it looks like the sickly inhabitant is willing to follow him this time. Part of a Saviour’s job is to save those in need spiritually, whereas a Hero’s job is to save those physically. He has no idea how to save a ‘Vessel of Pestilence’ when purification is not a viable solution.
Plus, whatever drew him to #48276 in the first place is too strong to ignore. Like liquid ferrite to a super strong magnet, or a moth to a flame.
“Well well, I would have stuck to the script and said ‘the characters are starting to pile up’ rhetorically, but that’s assuming that the player I’m talking to isn’t a domineering soul, already wise to being half of—!”
“SHHHHHHHH!” Black hisses at the merchant, cutting him off with a malicious stare. “Shut your fuckin’ frogger face up Dickscammer, or so fuckin’ help me! I refuse to listen to your meta-ramblings!”
Huaso frowns in confusion. What does Black have against this guy?
“Ah, fine. You got spoilers. I will hold onto them for you.” Zacharie shrugs with his eyes closed. “What I was also about to say was that the average player doesn’t need all these complicated and tedious dialogue.”
“A-fuckin’-men.”
“Just so it ain’t goin’ over my head, who are you?” Huaso asks, trying to get the ringing in his ear to die down. Black can be so loud sometimes.
“I’m Zacharie, the traditional item merchant that’s necessary in—”
“Heard that one before. Moving on.” Black butts in.
Zacharie pauses, waiting on this supposed Saviour to shut up and behave before continuing. He knows he is not the only one getting fed up with Black’s attitude “I’ll always find myself in places you’re going to visit before you arrive. But enough blather. I’m not one of those protagonists you need to listen to for hours. So, let me see the colour of your credits.”
A bit of shopping done and swapping some new equipment around, the two step into the next room. It’s tiny, with a single desk and an elevator right behind it. But no one is there.
“This looks like a good time to stop and rest.” Black announces with a stretch.
Huaso stands and waits for the other to pick a corner and settle down. Where Black Batter sits, the miner takes up a spot at the complete opposite of this tiny room. He wants to be as far away as possible, reducing the risk of infection. Not that avoidance is possible in a poorly ventilated room this small.
Gloves on, Huaso digs into his bag and tosses something, with Black alert enough to catch it in time. It’s Moloch’s meat, but it’s dry strips of it, and it has a dusting of white granules on it. It is not sugar though. “If ya feel queasy in the mornin’, eat that. It’s jerky.”
There’s an answer to his unspoken question. Black looks it over before putting it away. He hugs his knees, watching the inhabitant eat some silver flesh. There’s an itch that persists, he has to say something.
“Why? Why am I attracted to you?”
“To the point ya keepin’ me hostage over a date?” Huaso grunts, “Ya say you care where I just don’t, yet ya still askin’ me that question. If I answer it, will you abandon me?”
“It’s not anything emotional, I think. I’m just fuckin’ drawn to you.” Black corrects, “And I struggle to understand why.”
“It ain’t ringin’ any bells, is it?”
Huaso sighs, closing his eyes within the goggles. Ghost needs help, he’s gotten himself into this mess. Then again, it might not be a Ghost Batter he knows. The possible guesses of who this man is is endless, and Huaso’s access to such meta-knowledge is part of the blame; it’s there, but it’s not accurate. Either or, it’s time to jog his memories in his stupid brain.
“Harbingers cannot be purified. They are, as ya noted, thoroughly corrupt individuals. Because corrode and impurity are two very easy things for purifiers to get confused, harbingers become natural purifier magnets. It’s likely yer drawn to that. Rest assured, the power of corrode is just as strong as the power to purify. Errors are found and corrected in death at the hands of corruption.”
Black blinks, looking away. Is he drawn to it, or something else? There’s an itch, a lie has made itself present, he just cannot pick up on what. “So… how did you become this way?”
“That’s a story for another time, Mister. I ain’t diggin’ into it just yet.” Huaso abruptly shuts it down. And with that, he turns the headlamp off and pulls the hardhat over his goggles. “G’night.”