Time passes.
All of you disperse to the winds, your paychecks from Sophia allowing you to live a much more comfortable existence after the mission than you otherwise might have been able to. For the short term, at least- it’s up to you whether you put that money to use wisely, or blow it all on unwise investments. Certainly the first five, seven years or so after that mission on the Inferno are uneventful.
Save for the fact that the Catastrophes have stopped, of course. Nobody really knows it was you, save for the other employees on board the Inferno, and who’s going to believe Oose? Exactly. It’s a cause for celebration, initially. Until the world realizes that the Originite veins are slowly- but surely- drying up. There’s panic. Strife. Powerplays over access to the last reserves of Originite, some of which you might even find yourself contracted to fight in- if you still want to live the Operator life, of course. But the inevitability of Originite depletion weighs heavy on everyone’s shoulders.
What now? How will mankind power its cities, its technology, after years of total dependence on Originite?
Cherry supposes they should be grateful that the other mercenaries let them do anything at all, after what they’d put everyone through. After being dragged back to the ship in order to perform the most basic self-care act of taking a nap, they have some space to cool down (literally) and consider things.
To think that the core of the beast that ruined everything ended up as rubble in their hands. Compressed into a tiny ball and smashed to pieces. To anyone else, it would be almost comical. It didn’t feel like a satisfying end, carefully torching the tiny chunks of heartsblood into ashes. Though, they’re not sure if they were expecting it to feel like anything at all. They weren’t really expecting to be alive enough to feel anything, after their transformation in the crater.
And yet here they are, sitting in the medbay as the nurses do another round of tests on them - alive, in some sense of the word. Breathing, at least, and only some of what comes out of their mouth is smoke now. Their aura of flames has died out, as has the fire that burned from their eye hole, leaving another shiny crystal mutation in its place, marked with flecks of gold. They even cleaned most of the ash off their face.
Of course, there’s more to living than that, but they forgot what that was a long time ago.
The heart is gone. Their mission is complete. Like they’d said before, they didn’t have a plan for what comes after. Without that fuel to keep them going, the infection would surely finish them off in a few years, anyway. Well… they thought they heard Slappy mention something about Inferno taking up research of the remaining heartsblood, and finding a cure, maybe. But they never had much faith in that guy. He’s five years old, for God’s sake.
What could possibly be left for them? One of the crewmembers picked up their discarded weaponry, but they had half a mind to leave it there in the dust. Mercenary work was a means to an end for them, and that avenue of death and destruction has no use for them anymore. Exergy will crumble apart on its own sooner or later, now that the source of their Originium is gone. The other mercenaries probably resent Cherry as much as Cherry resents them. The home they left behind has been ravaged by the Catastrophes, and their mother - if she’s even still alive - had surely moved on without them by now.
There is nothing left for them. And yet, they have to live.
They remain in their bed for most of the trip, and resist most attempts to talk to them. When they step off in Vancouver, they seem like a dead man walking. They feel empty, but that’s nothing new. Maybe something else will come to fill the void, eventually. Something other than anger, and grief, and pain.
There’s really only one way to find out, they suppose. They don’t know where they’re going, and yet they must walk.
The Inferno doesn’t technically have a brig. When Sophia is returned to the ship, after a great deal of debate, she’s placed securely in a barrel in Oose’s room. It’s okay: her head is sticking out, and they make surprisingly good roommates. In a strange twist, it turns out Oose got trapped in a crate of coffee beans once. Fascinating stuff.
With her villainous dream in ruins, she is unsurprisingly morose and moody, but still the same old Sophia. A pleasant conversationalist when she’s bribed with coffee. It seems like she’s coping about as well as could be expected. She even gives Slappy a formal apology.
Once the Inferno makes it to Vancouver, she’s handed off to the actual authorities. Nobody notices a single familiar with a teddy bear floating inside it squeezing out of an exhaust port. What’s that in its mouth? Probably nothing to worry about. It’s just taking care of some business.
Despite all her threats to the contrary, the paychecks promised to the Inferno’s operators arrive on time, mailed from a holding cell. Sure, Cherry’s says “Invest in etiquette lessons” on the memo line, but the fact that it showed up at all is nearly miraculous. It’s enough to live on for a few years if you spend it wisely, and who can ask for more than that?
To prevent Exergy’s name from appearing in any public proceedings, they finance a small team of lawyers. Before long, it seems like the only thing the law has on Sophia Calmet is illegal collection of meteor fragments from the Whitecourt Crater protected area, punishable by a year in prison or a $50,000 fine. She takes the year. It’ll be good to have some time to think.
Maybe this is the time she’ll go legit. Maybe she will actually be reformed, live life on the righteous path. Maybe she’ll get a stable job where she isn’t doing violence for money and she can take coffee breaks without bullets whizzing overhead. She thinks she’d like that. A change might do her some good, no matter how promising the mercenary market is going to be once people realize the limits of the originium supplies.
And if that doesn’t work out, well. There may be no underground corpse-gods to resurrect any more, but Moldywarp had so graciously told her all about a truly fascinating set of creatures. He’d even offered a blood sample. And they were all quite active around Greenland, she knows.
Perhaps there’s a paradise waiting for her under the waves.
It’s just something to think about. An idea to kick around when she’s bored. A way to kill the time.
Maybe it won’t come to that again. Last time was the culmination of grief, the loss of her whole life, and years stewing in solitary. Maybe now, with friends she’s become fond of and a lesson in humility, she’ll be fine. The future is looking a bit brighter, after all.
You have to have hope, don’t you?
It’s a strange way to end it all, you think, as you stand in the smouldering crater of Whitecourt. You literally just beat a God, and now you have to deal with the Heart. Many of you have floated different solutions, but the most sensible- if somewhat worrisome- one you’ve agreed upon is to let Banco blast it into the size of a marble.
What a strange career change this is. Maybe she really should have let the feds take her in? But there’s no time for that sort of thought as you all watch the Heart, sucked into a gravity well, condense into an impossibly dense little orb. Which then gets promptly shoved into a plastic baggie someone had in their pocket and brought back to the Inferno. It’s a good thing that in the calm since you finished fighting God, Big Slappy has arranged some employees to run out with stretchers to put you on. You’re… very tired.
Things proceed quickly from there. You have to get checked out at the medbay, of course. They detain Sophia. Cherry, too, although Cherry isn’t in much of a state to fight back. At some point in time someone gets a hammer and smashes the orb into little teeny bits, small enough that there’s no way it could be reformed; once Cherry recovers enough to harness their Arts, they burn up the shards until not a sliver remains. The Heart will never beat again.
With the goal of the mission technically accomplished, there’s no more for you to do. Big Slappy gives you all a homemade medal (it is a ribbon glued to a slappy token), a speech for your bravery-
[“…All of you are SO brave, even though I do think some of you need therapy…!”]
- and the reassurance that you don’t need to lift a finger until they arrive at Vancouver. And then… you’re free. Free to disembark and continue with your lives, as best you see fit.
But what of the ones behind all this in the first place? Sophia, who had sought to create a new Paradise- and Cherry, who had harnessed their own Inferno to see it burnt to the ground?
Well…
Sophia listens patiently to Cherry’s complaints. She watches as they transform. Throughout the whole process, not once does a flicker of concern enter her eyes. She’s amused, if anything– finally they’re getting into the spirit of things. Nothing’s worth doing without a little theater, right?
“Why would I even hesitate to betray you? You’ve treated me – and everyone else – like trash since the moment you showed up. I doubt any hand that has ever made the mistake of feeding you has come away without tooth marks,” she sighs, rising to her feet. Two taps of her cane against her puppet corpse’s palm causes it to lift her, and she delicately hops from its hand to its shoulder, placing a hand against its head to steady herself.
“Don’t act like this is my fault,” Cherry snarls, faint puffs of black smoke accompanying their ragged breaths. It’s clear that their transformation has already taken its toll on them, despite - or perhaps because of - the intense heat that radiates from them. “This was… always your plan. Before I even got involved. I just… expedited the process.”
Yeah… that’s right, isn’t it? This would’ve happened anyway, even if they hadn’t reached out to her, even if they hadn’t agreed to work with someone they had no reason to trust, even if this wasn’t the only way to do what needed to be done while they still had the time…
No. It’s always been their fault. Nothing has changed. The blood still stains their hands.
They clench their eye shut, just for a moment.
“What do you plan… to do. When the world has burned up. When there’s nothing left for you, either.”
“Oh, my ascension is hardly anyone’s fault. You don’t call a party someone’s fault,” Sophia says airily. “But there was a time when I might have considered going along properly. Luckily, I had someone on hand to remind me that some people just won’t listen no matter what you do. That the path to the paradise I envision will need to be cut open by a sword.”
“But the moment for discussion and philosophical debate has passed.” She sighs and shakes her head; her new minion mimics the motion. “And I wouldn’t care to have them with you anyway. If I wasn’t holding the keys to a doomsday weapon, it would be ‘fuck off’ as usual, I’m sure. Why don’t we stop delaying the inevitable, hmm?”
Of course she wouldn’t answer the question. They shouldn’t be surprised.
“I don’t believe in paradise,” Cherry growls. “Not anymore. And this… stunt you’re pulling… is not going to change my mind.”
They clench and unclench the bony fingers on their exposed hand. They kick at the dirt with their crystalline hoof. As someone who usually spends their days covered from head to toe, there’s something… freeing, about this. Unrestrained. Alive.
“The mission… has not changed. Destroy the heart. I’m going to do what I came here to do. And you are not going to stop me.”
Their scowl deepens. “In short. Fuck off.”
“Yes, that’s about what I expected,” Sophia sighs, rolling her eyes. “Well, if nothing else, I have to thank you for providing a perfect opportunity to test my new associate’s capabilities.”
Sophia’s gaze flicks to the assembled operators of the Inferno. Her tail is held high as it twitches back and forth, like a cat staring down a group of mice. “The rest of you, stick around. Let’s get this over with, okay? You can all share the same shallow grave.”
With that, the liquid originium pooling at the bottom of the crater, steadily pouring from the beating heart of a dead god, begins to congeal. An array of familiars in black and gold begin to bubble up, crafted from a much more exotic form of blood than usual, and head for the Inferno. The corpse itself shifts from its stable resting position to a more aggressive one, ready to annihilate anything standing in Sophia’s way.
“Exergy didn’t know how to kill me properly. I don’t think you’re going to do much better.”
Cherry huffs out another cloud of smoke, and the ground catches fire around their feet as their aura burns brighter. Their vicious scowl is directed right at Sophia, but the flames spread, threatening to escape their control. They, too, look like they might just direct their fury at anyone unfortunate enough to get too close.
“But I’d like to see you fucking try.”
With the more pressing concerns that come with the enormous undead beast now being under Sophia’s control - the threat she poses with it, the ultimatum she proposes - Cherry’s apparent absence from the proceedings is probably an afterthought in most people’s minds. As the discussion continues, perhaps you’ve all forgotten about them entirely…
Perhaps, until you hear the sound of footsteps in the dirt above you. Or the voice that, despite being quiet and ragged, has a sharpness that pierces through the air like a bullet.
“You…”
Their limbs shake as they slowly drag themself back toward the edge of the crater, their breaths rough and shallow, their weaponry discarded as if to free them of any extra burden. It’s hardly a wonder that they are in such bad shape - they weren’t exactly in good fitness to begin with, and the strain of having their traumatic memories invaded seems to have left them rattled.
Their gaze is vacant and unfocused, but there’s no doubt who their words are directed at.
“You… fucking… idiot,” they breathe. “And you wonder why… I never trusted you. I only even found you in the first place… because of your dealings with. Those bastards. So really, it only makes sense. That you would backstab me. I was expecting that… from the start. But this. This is some real horseshit.”
They gesture weakly toward the giant corpse, hoisted up like a puppet, and huff out a humourless chuckle.
“Incredible, really. To think I went along with all this mass global destruction. Watched what little I had left be destroyed… because of us. All for the sake of your… big playground toy. So you can do what. Take over the world. Very mature. Real class act. Real… fucking…”
They take a breath. In, out. Dry warmth radiates from them, but it’s milder than usual, with less force behind it, as if they just don’t have the strength to keep it up. Their gaze meanders around the crater, sliding over the other Operators, tracing the Originium veins that snake their way out from the centre and up the walls. Cut off from the source now, but still bleeding the last of their potent heartsblood energy.
…Hah. Of course. This is the only way it was going to end, after all.
As your vision clears and you return to consciousness, you find yourself lying on the ground at the edge of the crater. Being unceremoniously dumped in a heap on the ground isn’t ideal, but it’s better than being buried alive in the now hardly recognizable bottom of the crater. The earth has clearly been disturbed, like a grave being dug out from the inside. The few trees scattered around it have been uprooted or buried, the edges rent with deep claw marks from its massive resident’s struggles in escaping.
Silhouetted against the red moon, in the crater’s center rises a creature that seems to be made mostly of the same sparkling originium as the artifacts you’ve found. Gold flecks scattered through masses of black crystal form a beast of massive size, broken in places, held together with flowing blood like the world’s most expensive and macabre arts and crafts project. From its back sprouts crystal formations not entirely unlike wings. It’s missing its entire body below what would be the ribs in a more familiar animal. A large hole in the torso’s center reveals something like a heart beating black blood, and it ends in a hanging length of metallic spine.
The six-armed corpse is held upright by its four lower limbs, keeping it stable as it looms over you. Of its larger uppermost limbs, one rests against the lip of the crater, tensed and ready. Sitting on the edge of the other’s claw, smiling warmly at your group, is one Sophia Calmet, codename Bloodborne.
How lucky you are to witness her ascension.Â
“Good job, everyone. You’ve collected the artifacts and delivered them to the crater, in accordance with your contracts. The very model of professionalism,” she announces, waving a hand in the direction of her new pet monster’s head. You can see where the artifacts you’ve been finding are reattached, the scales, the horns, the jaw fragments, and the eye, each held in place by that same oozing black blood. “Shall we talk about what happens next?”
It’s been some time now, with the Operators chiming in with their questions and concerns and threats, Cherry responding to them, Cherry trying to stop Sophia from responding to them, etcetera. It’s been more time than Cherry would like, to be frank. They tap their foot against the ground a few times, taking this lull in the conversation as an opportunity to get things moving again.
“I assume I don’t need to explain myself further,” they say, turning to look at the group. “We are past the point of no return. We need to destroy the heart. Use whatever means you have at your disposal. This devastation…”
Hearing some clunking in the background, they turn their head to peer at Sophia, who is tinkering with one of the crates retrieved from Exergy’s mercenaries. They pause for a moment, as their scowl deepens.
“…Will end here.”
Wandering closer, quietly, they pick up the lid that had been removed from the crate, turning it around in their hands, before tucking it under their arm. With their now free hand, they pull a communicator out of their satchel, and raise it to their ear.
“Area is secure. Enough. Bring in the excavator.” … “Not the fucking spider. A different one.” … “Not the goat, either. Surely she has a third– alright. Fine. Whatever.”
They click it off and put it away, addressing the group once more.
“Obviously, the longer we wait around here chattering amongst ourselves, the worse things are getting outside. So it’s time to move. After I take care of one last thing.”
They glance down at Sophia again, watching as she hunches over the crate, fiddling with whatever’s inside. They look at the wooden rectangle under their arm, then at the back of Sophia’s head. Without a word, they swing the crate lid up over their own head, and slam the edge down directly into–
“Look, I think it’s pretty obvious where suspicions have settled,” Sophia says cheerfully, turning and walking to a crate left behind by the goons who fought you here not so long ago. Her patience at an apparent end, she slaps her hands down on the top dramatically. The loud sound echoes through the crater and brings the conversation to a brief halt. “Why don’t we just skip all the messing around and get this over with?”
“I mean, that journal, that’s not me, you can all see that,” she continues, leaning forward on the crate. She’s smiling. It’s not an especially pleasant smile. “And do you really take me for the kind of person who goes around dipping shards of originium in tubes full of some kind of super deadly acid? Of course not. Notes about chemical stability or whatever? Come on.”
“We all know it was Cherry, don’t we? Why don’t we just move all this along, report to Slappy, and get it over with?”
Your radios crackle again. They’ve been buzzing for quite a while now, actually, ever since you went into the maintenance tunnels. Snippets of Big Slappy’s voice have filtered through here and there, but not legible words- just fragments of syllables or angry little squeaks. It’s concerning, but you’ve had bigger problems on your mind, so you haven’t bothered to stop and recalibrate.
What could possibly be the issue, after all? The Inferno has always taken care of itself, more or less. It’s a bizarre ship run by clowns, but so far it’s been fine. You half expect Slappy to be asking you to pick up some soup for him on your way back-
“We’ve been attacked! I repeat, we’ve been attacked! All Operators please return to the ship immediately! The hull has been breached!“
Oh.
No. No, that isn’t a soup demand at all. Fuck.
You hasten your step.
The plume of smoke billowing from the Inferno is evident as soon as you leave the walls of the fairground, and you can smell the acrid chemicals in the air long before you come face to face with the damage. The more sensitive of you will have to cover their noses as you approach, greeted with the sight of debris everywhere and a vicious hole blown in the side of the ship’s hull. There’s scrap everywhere- from Pangaea’s defense efforts, you’d assume- and splashes of blood here and there, although you can’t make out any definite corpses. That’s probably for the best… despite every other employee here being incompetent or insane, you don’t think you want them dead. Or, well, maybe you do. But they’re not. So.
There’s no combatants in sight, not right now. Big Slappy is hovering nervously around the blast hole with his radio in hand, having been waiting for you to arrive for quite some time.
“Umm…!”
He whimpers. There’s little tears in his eyes. “We- We were attacked out of nowhere! And they’ve- blown a hole in the side, and- there’s all this weird stuff in a part of the ship I didn’t think anyone was using, and- and- and I don’t know what’s going on! Pleaaaase can you go inside and check it out?!”
You look at each other and, although hesitant, nod. If there aren’t any immediate enemies for you to fight, then you suppose you’ll follow orders and investigate what’s got Big Slappy so worked up. Hmm… What on Earth could be happening right now?
