you shouldn't have come down here.

Gonzo didn’t like going down to Extractions.

That wasn’t special. Who did? A dark and dismal place, ominous pillars ascending further than Disciplinary’s ceiling, glowing with words that no one could or should read—compared to Central Command, brightly lit and ornate as it was, you’d hardly believe they were in the same building.

Even with all of these fears lined up in his head, there wasn’t anything he could do about it; a Crimson Ordeal had struck, leaving everyone scattered this way and that, out of their departments, making sure every clown was squashed under someone’s weapon. Gonzo himself had followed one all the way down here, only barely managing to smash the little thing with a golden fist before it let anything out. This was where he currently sat, fist to the mushy ground.

He looks up to check what Abnormality he’d just saved everyone from.

The King of Greed.

Ugh.

Gonzo takes a deep, shaking breath, peeling Gold Rush from the ground as he stands. Even just looking in through the window for too long sends vibrations up and down his body, visceral feelings, manipulative, and he shakes his head roughly to get them out. It was just a weapon! Just a tool. Those feelings were, too.

...But even so…

“Staring into it isn’t good for you, you know.”

Gonzo turns suddenly, feeling his heart practically jump out of his chest. Before him stood the very one who watched over this place, never even seen outside of the horrible nightmare Extractions so clearly was.

Binah towers over Gonzo, staring steadily into his fearful rabbit eyes, saying nothing. He stares back, unable to parse anything from her expression, like stagnant, murky water under scrutiny.

Moments pass. Her eyes slowly move to Gonzo’s weapon, to the door behind him. Contemplating.

...He opens his mouth to speak—but before he’s even gotten a sound out, she speaks:

“You seem troubled by the weapon you carry.”

He swallows harshly. She was right, so, being an honest person (he hoped), he nodded. Having gotten a response, something changes in Binah’s eyes, very slightly. A gear turns.

“The King of Greed.” She stares into the window, watching the amber-sealed magical girl float in stasis. “A maw that knows not satiation. Is that what you’ve chosen for yourself?”

Gonzo resists the urge to run right then and there, paralyzed by fear and indecision. He hesitates to even answer, but if he didn’t...the potential consequences gnaw at the back of his brain.

“...It was given to me,” he begins, speaking carefully. “Because I had high fortitude.”

This answer does nothing to change Binah’s expression. She glances back down towards Gonzo, and her eyes fall on his armor: Foolish are the Young. An Aberration of Dream of a Black Swan, the robes come down in viscous globs—but not of damp, swamp-laden feathers. Of gold.

Another gear turns, once. She continues her examination.

“A weapon like that is useless in the hands of someone who doesn’t fit its role.” Her gaze returns to Gonzo, watching him lift Gold Rush and stare uneasily at its surface. She then turns her eyes to the bloody paste on the floor. “...but you seem to use it perfectly fine.”

“...I, uh…” He hesitates again, squirming like an insect pinned to a board. Captured, under scrutiny. He has to be honest. “...I sort of...force myself to synchronize with it.”

Something flickers in Binah’s eyes, but it’s gone in an instant. A lighter trying to ignite.

“How so?”

“W-well…” Finally, he takes a deep breath, forcing his fear down into the pit of his body. “...Gold Rush is a weapon that feeds off of greed, so I...I force myself to feel that greed.” His eyes fall back to Gold Rush, staring into its amber. “I choose whatever I want most in that moment—peace, victory, power—and I want it more than anything. I tell myself that, over and over, and I believe it. And it works.”

He pauses. Still staring into the amber.

“...But…"

“But?” Binah seizes Gonzo’s uncertainty, intending to drag it out of him. He responds.

“B-but sometimes, I...I feel that way when I’m not using Gold Rush—when I’m at home, even! I-I’ve never even felt that way before I started using Gold Rush, but—” He pulls his gaze away from Gold Rush, letting his arm fall to his side and gripping it with an anxious intensity. “...I-I feel that greed so powerfully, so deeply. It’s horrifying. It makes me wonder if that’s who I really am. Who I’ve been all along.”

Here is where Binah finds her opening.

Gonzo looks up at her, and he sees something different. No longer is her stare murky or distant—now, her eyes are present. Dark, solid, with a hard glitter to them. A gaze that bores into his very soul, examines him more deeply than he’d ever felt before.

He feels as if he’s stepped into a bear trap, shacked to the floor—but why? What did he say that could have shifted something in her so considerably? Should he have kept quiet? Not confided in her at all?

He has little time to consider this further. Binah speaks again, a smile creeping up on her features.

“How close you’ve come to your answer, yet you’ve passed it by without even blinking.” Her voice is different now. Almost...excited. Amused. More than ever, Gonzo feels like he’s being toyed with.

“Let me tell you a secret.” She leans in, just a little, yet Gonzo feels the urge to draw back nonetheless. “This self that you’ve constructed. The you that has become the maw. The you that wants. It is just as real as the self that cowers in fear before me.”

She watches his eyes. They stare into hers with a baffled wideness, gears furiously turning behind his head. The corners of her mouth are tugged just a bit higher.

“What you’ve told me has demonstrated your understanding of EGO. Weapon or armor, it is a mask that you wear. A mold, and you are the cast—and as a cast, you are malleable.” She raises one hand, slowly clenching it into a fist. “That is what you have missed, in your tireless efforts to show your usefulness. This ‘truth’ you hold so dear...were you truly deceiving it, the EGO you wear would know it as well—yet your greed is eagerly received; accepted into the mold.”

Gonzo is silent. He turns his eyes back down to Gold Rush, processing Binah’s words. If that was the case...was there no escaping it, then? In his whirlpool of anxiety, he doesn’t see Binah scrutinizing him still, gaze steady.

“Should I spell it out for you?” Once again, she leans closer, catching Gonzo’s attention as his eyes lock with hers again. “You’ve created these feelings within yourself. Authentic, powerful feelings, that this EGO you wear responds to.” She taps Gold Rush with one nail, eyes steady on Gonzo. “Yet you fear them, as if you’ve forgotten that they were your own fabrication in the first place. You fear the power you’ve given yourself, when you could just as easily take it away.”

This is when it clicks. Gears turn in Gonzo’s head, consistently, as he realizes just what Binah is saying.

And she’s right. Whenever he catches himself feeling greedy, those feelings are almost immediately dispelled by his own insistence. They fade each and every time he calls them to fade, even if it’s because they appeared when he didn’t need them.

Doors open in Gonzo’s mind at this realization—the realization that the feelings he created were real, palpable, and most of all, malleable. This insistence, this avarice...could he mold himself to fit other EGO as well? The thought of becoming what was most needed at any moment was both horrifying and tempting—but as these doors open wider, more troubles reach his mind. If he could make himself feel anything, then what was real? Who was he? Why did Binah decide to give him this knowledge in the first place?

“You look troubled.” Predicting his very thoughts, Binah speaks once more. “Could you perhaps be doubting yourself, knowing now that each identity you present yourself with is just as real as the last?” Her small, crooked smile returns. “If you’re so afraid of not knowing, you’re welcome to choose. People such as you are free to construct your own selves, unbidden by the strings that tie you and those who hold them.” She points upwards. ”All they want is for you to produce the energy that they so desire. Whoever lies beneath is meaningless.”

Normally, such a statement would crush Gonzo’s spirit, but now… it was almost comforting. His mind swam with possibilities, questions, worries… He opens his mouth to respond—

“All Agents are to return to their assigned Departments at once! Thank you!”

...Ah. Malkuth’s voice was unmistakable, even over the shoddy intercom. Gonzo looks between where he came from and Binah, but before he can say anything, she gestures towards the door at the other end of the hall.

“This was an...enlightening chat.” Binah’s crooked smile returns, the same hard glitter in her eyes as before. “Thank you.”

“I-I—of course.” Gonzo dips his head respectfully, taking this as his cue to scurry back to his department, mind still full with the contents of this happenstance conversation.

Somehow, he feels as if his entire world has shifted.