Chapter Text
I lay on the cold operating table, my limbs bound by restraints.
They were a laughably futile measure, one incapable of holding me if I truly tried to break free.
Still, I supposed they were sufficient to suppress the rare flinches that might otherwise complicate the Doctor’s work.
The synthetic material forming my artificial skin was carefully parted by the scalpel.
Not a single trace of elemental-rich fluid marked the incision.
Only a stinging sensation along the edges, and the cold brushing against my exposed interior.
The Doctor worked methodically, careful not to damage any of the artificial vessels.
I felt his hands move within me, shifting components, occasionally brushing the inner walls of my body by accident.
Retractors held the incision open, granting him easier access.
They revealed the cavity within. I gazed down at my mostly hollow chest, filled with what could only be called mechanical substitutes.
Carefully crafted conduits pulsed faintly, sustained by elemental energy.
They were nothing more than replacements for the organs a real human would possess.
Naturally, there was no heart inside. I had always known that. Instead, an element-rich, deep-purple crystalline fluid circulated through my body.
It flowed through passages meticulously constructed by my creator, moving on its own accord.
A pair of cold, gloved hands rummaged through my insides.
It was a strange, unpleasant sensation, one that made bile rise in my throat.
Of course, nothing came up; the nausea wasn’t real.
Merely a deception my mind conjured, unable to comprehend how it was supposed to react.
Those hands remained indifferent to my artificial body.
The doctor adjusted the recent modifications and repaired the damage caused by corrosion.
Despite my endurance, the abyss took its toll during each descent, no matter how sturdy my construction was.
Though considering I had been made to endure eternity, my body was one of the few things capable of fighting it.
Cold did not affect me either. For a puppet fueled by electro energy, such a fundamental flaw would have been an unforgivable mistake.
She, the one who created me, would never have allowed a mistake.
To her, mistakes were unacceptable.
And yet, the sensation of those icy hands invading my body was something I despised, something I could never grow used to.
I had to strain to maintain the scowl on my face, to keep my displeasure from becoming audible.
It took real effort not to tear free of the feeble restraints and drive my fist straight into the doctor’s face.
The Doctor was perfectly aware of my limited patience, especially when it came to him. No anesthesia or medicine meant for real humans would work on me.
Nor would he ever offer to use them.
Whether that was out of an unwillingness to waste resources or, more likely, sadistic delight as he observed my every microreaction, I could not say.
His eyes behind the mask bored into my face, dissecting every movement of the artificial muscles beneath its carved surface.
Sometimes the bastard even made small mistakes on purpose, just to see how I would react.
Not that I saw any reason to dull the pain. It wasn’t as though I were human, after all.
I am a puppet, one created by an Archon herself.
Pain is not something that should concern me, nor something I would ever allow myself to escape from.
I knew that if the Doctor tampered with my programming or disabled the appropriate segments, he could force me unconscious.
The thought was chilling, one I would never allow to become reality.
Entrusting him with the freedom to handle my body as he pleased was simply unacceptable.
We were both well aware of that.
And more than that, we both knew what I would do if he ever tried.
It wasn’t as if I felt any shame about destroying his laboratory before.
Doing it again would hardly be an inconvenience.
The Doctor’s complaints wouldn’t lead him anywhere, no matter how much he loved to voice them, especially about my “working attitude” on the operating table.
The Jester had already warned him, countless times, about conducting non-consensual experiments on other members of the Fatui.
So if a few of the Doctor’s segments were to perish… My lips stretched into a wider smile.
No one would bat an eye.
And I, for one, would have the time of my life watching him scramble for funds, begging stingy Rooster to cover the damages.
A sharp surge of pain, like lightning tearing through my artificial nervous system, ripped me from my thoughts.
I shot him a glare.
Sparks of electro danced across my fingertips, a reminder that I could end everything whenever I wished.
My scowl deepened, my mouth opening to spit an insult about his crude workmanship.
“Don’t worry. It will only hurt for a moment.”
The Doctor interrupted me, holding yet another wire between his fingers.
My brows knit as I watched him handle my insides, exposed to the world.
I tore my gaze away, focusing instead on the hollow cavity in my chest, the place where the Gnosis was meant to be.
Empty.
I already knew that, yet my jaw clenched all the same.
A bitter, phantom sensation flooded my mind.
Was it emotion… or merely fluid replacing the blood that had already spilled out?
It hardly mattered.
My gaze drifted deeper, toward the tangle of my own entrails.
Several wires trailed from within me, all gathered in the Doctor’s hands.
I couldn’t feel through them, yet every tug sent agony through my body, as though they were being torn from my very core.
“You wretched bastard-”
The words died as he disconnected them, his expression never shifting.
My arms tensed, restraints snapping apart with a metallic shriek.
I reached for the electro surging within me.
Only a pitiful fragment answered.
No different from my time under the seal.
My fingers twitched uselessly, scraping against the metal table.
Then it came.
Vulnerability.
Half-sitting, I became acutely aware of the emptiness inside my open body.
Cold air brushed against exposed mechanisms and flesh alike, drawing a faint shiver from me.
Loose wires and components clattered to the floor, scattering across the floor and operating table.
The smile on the Doctor’s face vanished, replaced by an annoyed frown.
I clenched my teeth, ready to seize the Doctor by the throat if necessary and start squeezing.
“Just look at what you’ve done. It seems I’ll be forced to check your organs and return them to their proper places once more,” he sighed, shaking his head.
Of course, the Doctor was more worried about the mess in his workplace than about my hands itching to snap his neck.
Not that killing this segment of him would change anything.
“No appreciation for a scholar’s work at all,” he continued.
I clenched my fists tighter, countless insults dancing on the tip of my tongue.
Powerless for the moment, I knew better than to play the Doctor’s games.
I refused to give him the reaction he was expecting.
Instead, I postponed my rage until the Doctor returned everything to its proper place.
I had to wait until my control over the element returned.
“See? You can stay quiet when you want to,” the Doctor said, encouraging mockingly.
As my patience wore thin, I spat out the words venomously, almost hissing them.
My shoulders shook, my fists clenched tight as I seethed with rage.
“When you finish maintenance, I’ll kill you.”
My words only made the Doctor snort in amusement.
“If you don’t squirm, I’ll be able to finish faster,” the Doctor replied calmly.
Though I was no longer restrained, I still lay on my back.
The situation was no different from before.
The operating table was as uncomfortable as ever, its cold metal surface preventing me from relaxing for even a moment.
My fists gripped the table’s edge.
Each reconnected wire sent a surge of scorching electricity through my artificial nervous system.
The metal in my grip bent and crushed.
My fingers tore it apart piece by piece, destroying the table.
Gritting my teeth, forcing on a scowl, I pushed through the discomfort, counting the seconds until it faded.
Soon enough, I felt it again, the Electro element coursing through my body.
A tingling sensation, like blood rushing through my veins.
The first sparks danced along my fingers with familiar ease, skittering across the table and igniting a few papers nearby.
Without a shred of hesitation, I loosed a bolt of lightning.
It shot straight into one of the laboratory’s test tubes.
It exploded. I watched, savoring the taste of revenge.
Across the room, the Doctor’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second, barely noticeable beneath his mask.
His brows furrowed, his lips thinning in disapproval.
“I spent twenty years on that research,” he said flatly.
“It took the efforts of several segments, you know.”
I scoffed, feeling not even a trace of remorse.
“Then you should’ve been wiser than to store it in the same room where you keep a highly dangerous puppet,” I snapped, venom lacing every word.
To my irritation, his frown vanished, replaced by a condescending smile.
“I suppose envy is only natural when one is confronted with projects more promising than oneself.”
Electro surged violently through me.
I glared at him, jaw clenched, my hand rising once more.
“You dare insinuate that your research would’ve brought more profit than me?”
The Doctor didn’t answer, he only smiled.
Moments later, the last wires were connected, the internal segments secured in place.
“Maintenance is finished.”
Those were the only words he offered before having me promptly escorted from the lab.
A scowl carved itself deep into my face.
My grip tightened around the brim of my hat.
With one last glare at the laboratory, I strode down the halls of Zapolyarny Palace.
My footsteps echoed sharply through the mostly empty corridors.
The cold within these walls forced ordinary people into thick, insulated uniforms.
But since when had I ever been a mere mortal?
I headed toward a familiar section of the palace.
Compared to Dottore’s, my own wing was far humbler.
Most of my duties as a Harbinger lay beyond these walls, missions across foreign nations, or descents into the abyss itself.
Still, possession of a wing meant authority, and authority meant subordinates.
Right now, I had no patience for any of them.
“It’s Lord Balladeer, hurry!”
A few voices cried out in panic.
I answered with a glare sharp enough to scorch flesh from bone.
They scattered instantly.
“Don’t stand in his way!”
Their warnings echoed as they fled in every direction.
It was almost enough to draw a smirk from me.
Almost.
One fool stepped forward instead and ran after me.
“Lord Balladeer! I-”
I didn’t allow him to finish.
A bolt of lightning tore past his head.
It was a first warning.
The last, if he was foolish enough.
Electro cracked through the air, scorching the wall and carving a blackened scar into the stone.
I turned slowly.
“You dare interrupt me, pathetic vermin?”
I stepped closer.
Before he could collapse, I seized his collar and lifted him effortlessly from the floor.
His eyes darted wildly, searching for salvation that did not exist, desperately avoiding the storm burning within my own.
He swallowed hard.
“I-it’s-”
My patience snapped.
I clicked my tongue.
My grip tightened.
Coils of violet lightning slithered around the fingers of my free hand, humming with eager violence as I raised it.
I leaned closer, voice low with promise of violence until he satisfied my demands immediately.
“Stop trembling,” I hissed.
“And tell me.”
“Her Majesty has requested your presence, lord Balladeer.”
Those words were enough to ease my posture, my shoulders relaxing as I loosened my grip.
Even so, the irritation that lingered did not fade so easily, justified or not.
With an exasperated sigh, I hurled the man aside.
He struck the wall with a dull thud, the air driven from his lungs as he collapsed, gasping.
“I don’t want to see your face again. Disappear.”
I cast him one last glance before continuing on my way.
Most of the subordinates had already vanished.
Good.
It seemed I had trained them well enough.
They knew better than to stand in my path when I was in no mood for patience.
Merely recalling Dottore was enough to sour my temper further, so I forced my thoughts elsewhere.
My attention turned to the real matter at hand: the reason the Tsaritsa had summoned me.
It could be anything from a debriefing on my last mission to yet another complaint from Dottore.
If it were the latter, I would leave immediately.
Even the Archons would agree that such a reaction was justified.
I would choose punishment any day over dealing with that Doctor for even a second longer than necessary.
Still… if memory served me right, the Knave’s recent trip to Fontaine might have yielded a new addition to the Fatui.
If that was the case, it would have to be a Harbinger, at the very least.
No lesser member would warrant my presence, let alone that of another Harbinger as well.
My frown deepened as electro crackled from my fingers, spider-webbing across the tiles.
Meeting the Doctor again so soon, and dealing with his bullshit, was the last thing I wanted.
Especially since I knew he had already prepared something.
Whether it was another complaint or some public display of whining in front of Pierro.
But I had no choice.
It was one of the rare occasions when all the Harbingers gathered.
Skipping it while still in the palace, without a proper reason, would be seen as a direct insult to the higher-ranked Harbingers, and to the Tsaritsa herself.
Though I would have gladly exchanged a few violent words with that damn Doctor and the despicable Knave.
And I wanted just as badly to avoid drawing the attention of the Damselette.
It didn’t take long to reach my destination.
Three of the seven seats were already occupied, so I took my rightful place without hesitation.
The Captain and the Rooster were already there. Hardly an ideal company.
Especially the Rooster, a young man with lofty political ambitions.
So paranoid, he thought I might challenge him for his rank.
I caught his wary glance and suppressed a scoff.
The Captain, in contrast, remained silent.
As always, he was indifferent to the room, sparing us unnecessary conversation.
The first of the Fatui Harbingers, by both power and rank, he had no need to concern himself with anything at all.
The atmosphere in the room shifted the instant the Damsellette arrived.
Everyone tensed at once.
Her uncanny presence radiated through the space, setting me on edge.
No matter how long I looked at her, I couldn’t grasp what she was thinking, or what she intended.
Combined with her rank, it was more than enough reason to avoid her whenever possible.
Especially since I wasn’t here to compete for status.
The only thing that mattered was fulfilling my own goal: obtaining the Electro Archon’s Gnosis.
A simple wish, to reclaim what was rightfully mine, and to fulfill the purpose for which I was born.
To see the look on Mother’s face, the horror, the terror, when she finally realized that the puppet she abandoned had surpassed its creator.
With that in mind, striving for a higher position or entangling myself in unnecessary dealings with the other Harbingers was pointless.
The silence didn’t last long.
Sharp click of high heels echoed from the hallway.
The Fair Lady had arrived, “gracing” us with her presence.
My jaw tightened as I heard the room’s tension seem to wilt in anticipation of her grating voice.
Another irritating persona added to the gathering.
She must have already returned from her assignment.
Now she stood among us, waiting for the Jester and the Tsaritsa to arrive.
“It seems nobody here truly knows how to keep a lady company.”
Of course, she didn’t remain silent for long.
She voiced her discontent while offering the Damsellette a mockingly sympathetic glance, so patronizing, so disrespectful, that if I were in her place, I would have punished her on the spot.
Not that I couldn’t do it myself, given our respective ranks.
How often she’d barked ever since I replaced her.
“Those three could bore anyone. A pompous man blinded by ambition, and a child stuck in a permanent tantrum.”
She didn’t need to specify who she meant.
The glare she threw in my direction said enough.
The Damsellette let out a melodic laugh.
It sounded like thousands of silver bells ringing across the hall.
Yet, despite how angelic it could have been, it left me deeply unnerved.
“Ah, silence truly is boring… yet it is quite beautiful, isn’t it? It is in silence that one can be heard the best.”
The two women exchanged brief glances. It seemed she had found her audience, for Damsellette soon began to sing.
Her song was filled with longing and anticipation, perhaps meant for the other Harbingers, awaiting their arrival.
Or perhaps, once again, it was driven by the enigmatic motives of the Third Harbinger herself.
Her camaraderie with the Seventh was an unusual sight, given the difference between their ranks.
The song did nothing to soothe me.
If anything, it only further frayed my nerves, especially when I noticed a familiar face and scowled.
Damsellette’s expression brightened as the Doctor entered.
“It is so good to see you, Dottore. You’ve been spending quite a lot of time with Rank Six ever since he joined. It is a great pleasure to be blessed by your company once more.”
I made a conscious effort to ignore both of them.
If I paid them any more attention, I couldn’t guarantee that thunder wouldn’t engulf the Zapolyarny Palace.
“Do not fret. I am merely on the verge of another breakthrough while studying our dear Balladeer. Once the most important phase is complete, I will be content to slow the tempo.”
The Doctor replied without sparing me a single glance.
I was rather content with that.
I had thought I would need to prepare myself to make him regret opening his mouth, only for him to whine later about his ruined laboratory.
Only one more Harbinger was missing, along with the Jester.
And by this point, I was fairly certain there would also be a newly appointed Harbinger, one destined to take the eighth rank.
They were taking unusually long to arrive.
While time meant very little to a puppet like me, my patience was depleting at a concerning pace.
My eyes remained fixed on the hallway, narrowed as if I could burn a hole through the doorframe itself.
The meaningless chatter of the other Harbingers grated relentlessly on my nerves.
My keen ears strained for distant footsteps, yet none carried the authority that would herald the Jester’s arrival, nor the unnatural silence that would mark the presence of the Knave.
At last, I discerned a familiar pattern, accompanied by a sound I couldn’t immediately place.
Even so, the moment of anticipation soon came to an end.
The other Harbingers gradually fell silent.
Then, the sound of footsteps reached us, and the Jester stepped inside.
His presence drew everyone’s attention at once.
Not far behind him came the Knave, pushing a wheelchair before her.
My brows furrowed in disdain as I suppressed the urge to click my tongue.
I couldn’t recall when the Fatui had become a charity organization, one that allowed cripples to become Harbingers out of sheer pity.
“Today, we have gathered to welcome a new addition to the Fatui Harbingers,” the Jester announced, his decision brooking no opposition.
All eyes turned to the woman seated in the wheelchair.
Some gazes were filled with intrigue.
I noticed the the Doctor’s among them, as well as the Damsellette’s.
Others were wary, or openly condescending.
As for me, I couldn’t find it in myself to care about a new addition to our ranks.
I only wished to leave before the Doctor opened his filthy mouth.
The new Harbinger, introduced as the Jester’s latest acquisition, was a frail-looking woman.
Her eyes narrowed as they swept over everyone present, filled with cold indifference.
Though seated in a wheelchair, she carried herself with haughty composure, seeming to look down on each of the Harbingers in turn.
Strangely, I found it difficult to take offense.
A mere mortal thinking so highly of herself was more laughable than threatening.
She did not appear particularly interested in this gathering either, merely following the Jester’s orders and the bare minimum of courtesy.
That, at least, was tolerable.
I had no desire to deal with yet another irritating colleague; enduring Damsellette’s invitations, which I already gone to great lengths to avoid, was more than enough.
Judging by her attire, she likely hailed from Fontaine, perhaps even from a noble family.
Another reason to doubt her suitability for our ranks.
There was no power in her body. Her own flesh betrayed her, thin, delicate, pitifully fragile.
Only the calculating gaze she cast upon each of us, and her rigid posture, lent her even a semblance of poise.
“From now on,” the Jester announced, “she shall be known as Marionette, the Eighth of the Fatui Harbingers.”
Using the opportunity while everyone was gathered, Jester made several announcements and mentioned the date of her official ceremony.
His final words marked the end of the meeting, and without exchanging a single word with anyone, I turned to leave.
If they wished, the rest of the Harbingers could waste their time here, chatting meaninglessly; they were free to do so. I refused to be part of it.
“It’s such a pleasure to see an addition to our family, Marionette.”
I had already heard Damsellette begin her usual charade.
Whether it was genuine or not, I didn’t care.
I felt someone’s gaze bore into the back of my head and turned slightly, already prepared to direct my irritation at Dottore.
Instead, I found Marionette watching me.
She didn’t flinch when our eyes met, only studied me for a moment before calmly turning away, resuming her deliberate disregard for the rest of the Harbingers.
Knave seemed particularly eager today to mask her rotten nature, while the Fair Lady and Damsellette couldn’t stop pestering Marionette with irrelevant questions.
None of it was my problem.
Still, a brief smirk crossed my face as I wondered how long it would take before Marionette finally rolled herself out of the hall.