Chapter Text
The fog of early morning still lingered on the streets of Krat as the puppet worked its way through Elysian Boulevard. It climbed up to the rooftop passageways, killing as it went. For every home that seemed to be in ruin there were yet more windows bright with light; movement at curtains from curious survivors, some ill, some tending to them. Maybe they would be able to leave their homes if it helped. If it did well enough.
It still had not found the man Sophia wanted it to.
"Hey, buddy, uh…" Gemini chirps, "have you noticed anyone following us?"
It hasn't, and it tells the cricket as much.
"I uh, might just be paranoid I guess!" He chuckles. "It's probably nothing, maybe I'm just seeing puppets."
It asks what he thought he had seen, and he makes another anxious chirping noise.
"Eh, a stalker, maybe; not one of the Black Rabbit Brotherhood but…. Well, no one else would be out in streets like this, right? But, uh, if you haven't noticed anything then I'm sure it's nothing."
It asks if running into stalkers would be a bad thing.
"Well, they're… you know…." It says nothing. Gemini continues, "they're hunting puppets, or what's left of them should be anyway, and you're, you know." He stops talking, Geppetto's Puppet hissing through its teeth as electricity arcs from a shock canister it was too slow to block. It doesn't make that mistake a second time, even as it's distracted by other attackers. "You definitely look human, he made sure of that, but if someone hears the way you click…. Well I'm not sure what would happen but they'd figure it out."
They don't speak again for a while, not even when they come across their first stalker; someone who does, indeed, try to kill it. It's different than fighting another puppet. It feels heavy in its chest cavity, like the wire of its springs suddenly became a few gauges too thick.
But it finds Geppetto. It's called son , standing there, dripping blood instead of oil. It's given a new task.
It fights its way to City Hall with a sinking feeling. There's nothing but puppets and a babydoll left orphaned in another pile of bodies. Maybe the woman's family had changed their mind. Maybe they could still be alive somewhere, in one of the lit windows, peaking curiously around curtains.
It doesn't matter. It can't bring her her child.
They make the trek back anyway. She can't tell the difference, or pretends she can't, for its own sake. Geppetto's Puppet tells her her baby is beautiful. It hurts. It doesn't know which is crueler, playing along or being honest. Gemini doesn't either.
No new puppets attack when it returns to City Hall. For a moment it thinks it came and went quickly enough to avoid new ones arriving. But the ones inside the building lay in pieces. It hadn't gone in there.
"Well no one's here now…" seems to be all Gemini can offer, just as perturbed.
The Watchman is scary; more so than the police puppet in the train station or even the Parade Master. Maybe even scarier than the stalker. It was certainly bigger, and the stalker hadn't been full of electricity that made its joints seize up when it tried to get away.
And the thing about the human, Geppetto's Puppet thinks as it jumps backward to avoid a swing, was that he had grown tired.
The fight goes on. It dodges. It parries. It slashes when it can. It wants the fight to be over but no matter how many hits it gets in on the Watchman it doesn't feel like enough. Not when every wrong move made it feel close to finally breaking.
One wrong move too many is all it takes for the puppet to get grabbed. It can feel itself being crushed, things popping and screeching inside of it under the pressure. It wants to scream. Something in its lungs won't cooperate anymore. Fluid drips down its chin. The last thing the puppet manages to register before the world goes dark is just how quickly the ground is approaching.
"Buddy? C'mon, say something to me pal," Gemini pleads. The tinny voice filters in over the sound of… fighting? Metal is clashing against metal, somewhere, but face down against the stone Geppetto's Puppet cannot turn its head the correct way to look. It feels as though it can't quite move at all. It's more straining than it should be to roll over onto its side, the one opposite Gemini's lantern against the cobble.
"Woah," the cricket chirps at the sudden lift. "You with me?"
It tries to say something, to tell Gemini yes, sort of, it thinks so , only for ergo to spill from its mouth with a gurgling wheeze.
"Oh boy."
It looks around the best it can, unsure where the fuzz in its vision is coming from, until it finally sees the Watchman. It's fighting something else, something blue dancing in and out of harm's way until finally the puppet officer breaks. The sound of the overcharged battery dies with it, casting the courtyard into silence.
Geppetto's Puppet can't seem to focus its eyes properly at all , as the figure in blue approaches. It can't feel its legs or left arm anymore either, the prosthetic eerily still where it's pinned beneath its body.
Blue. Is it Sophia? No, her coat isn't that long, the puppet thinks to itself.
It startles when a blank porcelain face fills its vision. A puppet's face. It can't crawl away.
"Well you got put into a mess, didn't you?" a voice, deep like Geppetto's, asks it. It can't answer. It can't do much of anything as it's lifted high and slung across the man's back like a corpse.
"W-wait, what are you doing? Where are you taking us?!" Gemini stammers. The man doesn't answer. He walks until the puppet can no longer see or hear, ergo dripping in their wake.
Geppetto has just settled into his office when he hears the commotion. One thing about the lobby of Hotel Krat, all the marble makes sound carry.
Sophia's voice asking " who? " is concerning enough, but it's her cry of "Oh God, what happened to him?!" that has the man springing from his seat. The grim sight of the figure striding toward him is not one the inventor is soon to forget. His son slung limp across the broad man's shoulders would haunt him, he is certain. As would the stalker's choice in mask. Fashioned from one of the dancer puppets, Geppetto recognizes the face plate. An oft-discarded model, due to the wear and tear of the profession. The man can't help but think it a disturbed choice in attire.
The stalker does not speak, nor does he slow down. Geppetto is forced to either step out of his path or be knocked over. He steps aside, allowing the stranger into his office. Sophia follows, hot on the man's heels. The puppet-masked stalker deposits his son into the chair, unclipping Monad's Lamp in the process and leaving it on his desk. The stalker's clothes, as well as his sons, are soaked in ergo. There's no hiding the truth. Did the man simply not care?
When Geppetto rushes to his son's side, the man turns to leave.
"I know not why or how, but thank you," Sophia says, voicing what the inventor has not. The stalker only nods, running his blue stained fingers through his low tied black hair and squeezing a small puddle of ergo out of it as he leaves the room. Geppetto cannot find it in himself to be concerned about a stranger being in the hotel. He must fix his son.
Geppetto's Puppet doesn't know where it is when its hearing finally returns. Sight and touch still stubbornly elude it. It uses what it can.
Something in the room is on fire. Metal objects are being moved around, tinkling against one another. A grinding sound goes back and forth across the floor. Someone is breathing.
The puppet recalls breathing. It hadn't thought much of the motion until it stopped working. It's reminded, suddenly, of what led to it not being able to breathe. The mechanisms in its chest lurch into action. It can't hear Gemini and it doesn't know where that stalker has taken it, if Gemini is even around or if they've been separated .
The grinding against the floor starts up again, approaching quickly before stopping much too close for the puppet's liking. It wants to move, wants to open its eyes, wants to call for Gemini, but none of its body responds.
It is more terrifying than anything that's ever wanted it dead.
"Oh dear," someone mutters. The puppet doesn't recognize the voice and all that matters is it isn't Gemini. "Hm…."
"What's going on?" The familiar sound of the cricket makes its springs clank loudly again. It doesn't remember itself sounding so loud before.
"I'm not sure, nothing should be happening with so little oil in his system, the infusion has only just begun."
"Is he awake? Whatever it is, it doesn't sound good."
It wants to tell Gemini that it is, that it can hear him, but it isn't working . There's a padded thunk to its right side, upsettingly close, and its springs stutter and shift like it's flinching. As if it could.
"His lungs are not operating yet. He's going to overheat if this doesn't stop."
"He sounds scared…." Gemini says, almost to himself.
"Scare-" the voice begins to scoff.
"-Buddy? We're at Hotel Krat, you know?" Gemini calls out. "Geppetto's just fixing what that watchman puppet did to you, okay?"
Geppetto. The man who had called it son. His was the other voice, then. Had that stalker taken it here? Did he not want it dead for being a puppet? The machinery in its chest slows to a low, calm hum.
"I suppose you were right," Geppetto breathes. "Sorry, my son, I had not thought you would become aware again so quickly. I've replaced the tubing that was ruptured, as well as everything that cracked, but I must re-grease a few of the moving parts the ergo came into contact with so they run smoothly. If you feel any discomfort I must apologize."
It's strange, to hear things being done inside of it and feel nothing. Geppetto finishes long before it can move again. Sophia arrives around the time it gathers the strength to open its eyes.
Its chest is folded open. A bag like Miss Antonia's hangs in dark blue above it, leading to a gasket in its clicking heart. The clicking grows louder, and the puppet watches as it jumps and trembles more and more rapidly.
"Maybe don't look at that, buddy," Gemini chirps from the large wooden desk. The man sitting at it, Geppetto, the puppet assumes, having only ever seen him once, looks up from his papers. His eyes glance first at his puppet, then at his visitor. The puppet stares up at the ceiling.
"It's good to see you're recovering," it hears Sophia say.
"Shouldn't be too much longer until your fluid levels are back to normal," Geppetto states agreeably. "We must take our time with it, unfortunately, or else the pressure equalizers will become overwhelmed."
Sophia enters the puppets field of vision, as it continues to stare at the ceiling and away from its own open chest cavity, with a kind smile gracing her features. It attempts to mirror her, but pulling its face into such a shape feels awkward. Sophia's eyes crinkle as her own broadens into a grin. Its springs click, and click again when she brings her hand up to ruffle its hair. Geppetto clears his throat. She drops her hand to her side and turns away to face him.
"And what of our… guest?" The puppet thinks he says the word like he doesn't want it there.
"He's not spoken," Sophia replies, "however Antonia has allowed him a room."
Geppetto hums, sounding displeased. "I hope that is wise. We know naught of his affiliation or his reason for being here."
"He saved us," Gemini points out.
"And as grateful of that as I am, I am wary of why."
"I suppose he is wearing a puppet's face…" Gemini shudders.
"It is… unnerving, yes," Sophia agrees.
"I noticed a grappling hook on his arm as well," the cricket continues, "and I know of only one ex-stalker with that set up."
The puppet watches as Sophia turns away from the conversation, her expression pinched in a way it cannot identify yet.
"Have you tried speaking to him?"
It sees Sophia roll her eyes. "Of course. He said nothing to me, as I mentioned. But the brotherhood has no reason to help us, and I see nothing they would gain from having a mole here. We will simply have to wait and see what he does."
No one seems pleased, and the puppet feels bad. If it had done better the stalker wouldn't be at the hotel at all, it's convinced.
When all its fluids have finally been replaced Geppetto gives it another task: shut down the factory, and rescue his friend. He tells it to be wary of others, and careful of who it tells about the sanctuary of the hotel. It's throat feels tight at the words. It apologizes.
"Oh, my dear boy, Gemini told me neither of you said anything about the hotel to that man. He must have known we were here some other way. It is no fault of yours."
It was its fault, it wants to say, because it failed , but the man sounds so sure of himself that it says nothing. It will just do better.
Miss Antonia is near Polendina's desk when it descends the stairs from Geppetto's office. She smiles lopsidedly when she sees it.
"I was told you would be up and about again soon, I'm pleased to see they were correct. It was quite the commotion when you came back, though I missed it all." She gestures to the wheels of her chair. "Not quite fast enough on my own, I'm afraid."
It apologizes for worrying her and she scoffs.
"Oh, don't. People your age are always a worry. It's part of being young, worrying your elders. If only you knew the sorts of things…" she trails off. "Well, I ought not reminisce too deeply. It matters little." She sighs, and begins wheeling herself slowly back to the library. It asks if it should assist, and she declines. "I'm quite alright, dear, thank you." It follows along beside her. "I'm sure Geppetto has given you something to do. You may wish to visit your new friend before you go. Sophia tells me he's been in the courtyard, past Eugenie."
Geppetto is wary of him, it tells her.
"Of course he is," she sighs, stopping in her usual spot in front of the large portrait. "But what goes on in my hotel is not up to him. He saved your life, and I do believe such an action is worth some trust, even these days."
It nods, and says goodbye.
The puppet masked stalker is indeed in the courtyard. He reclines on a marble bench with a book, looking up and closing it when the puppet approaches.
"So you're still here…" Gemini chirps. The man nods, standing with a stretch. He's much taller than the puppet. Taller than Geppetto, as well. He tucks the book into a pocket on the inside of his long blue coat. There is a hooked machine on his arm, as Gemini had said, the puppet notices. "Were you following us?" The man nods. "Why?!"
He stands still for a while, dark eyes blinking through the eerie porcelain face. He clears his throat. "Haven't seen a puppet killing other puppets, until you."
It asks how he knew it was a puppet from so far away. The thought bothers it. It glances at its mechanical arm.
The man takes a while to answer. "There was no blood on you, even when I saw you get hit. You were only ever covered in oil."
"Sophia said you haven't spoken to anyone, why us?"
"They're not the ones risking their lives out there," he replies simply. He reaches into an outer pocket and pulls out a small hand bell. "Speaking of," he holds it out. The puppet stares at it for a moment, but after an insistent motion from the man, it takes it. "I probably won't be with you the whole way, but-" he pulls out a second matching bell. He shakes it once, and the one in the puppet's hand rings clear, a blue aura glowing faintly when it strikes. "-if you get into a spot of trouble, I'll be there." The puppet frowns, and shakes it. The bell in the man's hand glows and rings out. "Yep, just like that," he says, and it sounds like he's grinning.
"Why are you helping us?"
"Because not many people will, out there. They can help you here, make you stronger, assist you with weapons, fix you when you break; but that's not very useful if you never make it home to them."
"Well, if you're gonna be around, I'm Gemini. What's your name?"
"Well I suppose the current system with the masks won't really work…" the man muses. "You can just call me Stalker."
"Stalker it is then," Gemini sighs, his dig for information fruitless. "Hey, buddy, I know Geppetto wants us to get going, but why don't we check out that record the woman gave you? You've never gotten to listen to music before, right?"
"You got a record from someone?" Stalker asks. The puppet nods. "Here, I can show you how to get it playing."
It follows him into the lobby to the thing next to Polendina's desk. It notices Sophia watching them from the staircase, and Stalker must notice her as well, because he changes his voice to a low mutter as he walks the puppet through how to use the gramophone. They stand there as the record plays. Stalker reclines against the side of the desk, hands in his pockets and ankles crossed. The puppet watches the disk spin, fascinated by the little needle running along the grooves. The clicking in its chest feels light, when the thing Gemini had called music ends. Stalker picks up the needle.
At some point during the song Sophia had drifted over to the stargazer near them.
"Where did you find that?" She asks.
"It was a gift from someone in the quarantine district."
"You must have done something kind for them."
The puppet stares at the floor, chest unbearably heavy again despite the praise. She gives it a curious look, but it avoids her gaze.
"It was… complicated."
"I see…. Well, why don't I show you where you can keep it?" She goes over and opens the base of the gramophone, revealing shelves. "When you're done listening to a record you can put it back into its sleeve and store it here."
The puppet looks at it all, and decides it will put the record away.
"Are we heading off again?" Gemini asks. It nods. Stalker clears his throat, eyes shifting between Sophia and the puppet until he just sighs and wordlessly pulls a drawstring bag from his coat, handing it to the puppet. The puppet takes it, and pulls it open. It's full of ergo crystals. It looks at him. He nods, then gives a small wave, and walks back to the courtyard.
"Strange," Sophia whispers to herself. The puppet looks at her. "The stalkers I know would sell ergo like that to what's left of the alchemists. For him to just give that up…."
"So he's not with the Black Rabbit Brotherhood, then," Gemini deduces.
"It would seem that way," she murmurs. She looks at the puppet. "Did he speak to you? Did he give you a name at all?"
The puppet nods, then shakes its head.
"He said just to call him Stalker, and that he'll help us out there when he can."
She pinches the bridge of her nose with a sigh before seeming to compose herself. "Do you wish to use it now, or later?" she asks, gesturing to the ergo. It nods, and takes each crystal out, crushing them one by one to absorb their power. When it gets to the bottom of the bag, it frowns.
"Something wrong?" Gemini chirps. The puppet pulls out the last crystal, easily the size of an apple, and oddly shaped. Gemini whistles. "That must have come from the scrapped watchman. Stalker sure is a collector, huh?" The puppet shrugs and absorbs it.
Sophia uses her power to focus it all, to give it purpose and duty within its machinery. "Stay safe, clever one," she tells it, and it leaves.