Hunted|Haunted - Chapter 27 - The Perfect Basilisk.

As he was flying towards the nearest wall, he understood one of the things that unsettled him in all of this – he was hearing more steps than he was seeing people.

Next to Toma was a thick goth woman, who, judging by what just happened, clearly was named “goth” after the people who caused the fall of the Western Holy Empire, and not fans of eerie music dressed in black lace. Also, for the record, she wasn’t one bit like an “outdated corpse”, as per Neven’s description of her, and it did precisely nothing to calm Nexa down. That, and the fact that she had with her a shotgun, loaded and pointing straight at Nexa.

Somehow, her glare at this very moment made Nex more scared than that dead snake stare he saw on Fogdog. Which Nex initially thought was impossible.

While his mind was panicking and trying to think of an escape plan, Nexialist’s body acted as if automatically, on its own now, not because of Cogs. Nex, still mostly recovering from what probably was a punch to the jaw, slowly raised his hands. And of course, he couldn’t shut up for anything, because the next thing his stupid mouth blurted out as he continued staring at the shotgun.

— Easy… Your son over there kidnapped me for his nefarious plans, not the other way around.

As soon as he said that, the woman probably decided that he had fallen on his head one too many times to be a sufficient threat – that was if she cared about it to begin with – lowered the gun and grabbed Toma. Who was halfway into turning into seaweed.

— So… — He slowly lowered his hands. — I guess you are Miss Grobar.

That resulted in the return of the Glare and finally made Nex shut up. He really, really should have prepared the will before all this. Well. Not that he had anyone to leave things to, except for Bond. But he damn well wanted his remains scattered across Carvington’s city hall. And Miceland's pirate zone, because why the fuck not. Also, he did not want to be cremated.

Thankfully, the Glare didn’t return for long. Because soon, Nex, who very much did not close his eyes and totally did not try to make himself seem smaller than he was, heard a questioning beginning. Upon opening his eyes, Nexialist noticed that Miss Grobar turned her full attention to Toma. Well. It would be a good time to hightail out of here while she was distracted and probably forgot about his existence, but Nex wasn’t that stupid to pull that stunt anywhere outside Nario, where he knew a lot of nooks and crannies and could hide so well that people still looked for him to no avail. He couldn’t hide in this village – and he certainly didn’t want to join this cult of whatever-opium.

— Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did he hurt you? Where's Coyote? — Toma hardly got the chance to answer, as mum poked at his bruises and scratches, distracting both witches.
— He’s with Tove.
— Okay, and who’s Tove?
— She’s a savtktani, — mum immediately got 70% calmer, — but she’s a ghost.
— Savtktani don’t become ghosts. — Mum looked very confused. — Can she grab things?
— She grabs things a lot, and she punched one of the monks, and his hand was gone.
— Oh, a savshque then, that makes sense… And why are Tove and Coyote not with you?
— Monks want to kill us, and they’re distracting them.
— What about this one? — Mum pointed at Nex.
— No, that’s Nex, he’s my friend. We dressed him like that so monks don’t notice us, but he talked, and now they know we dressed him like that.
— Okay, and why was he trying to catch you?
— He didn’t want me to talk to Fog, but I think Fog knows where Dad went, so I need to talk to Fog. Please talk to Fog too, I swear he knows something, he heals scratches like Nana, and he showed us the way out, he’s not like monks. Mummy, please.

Imeje signed. Toma wasn’t hurt, and the savtktanque definitely took care of him on the road, so that was nice. Really, the fact that he had a run-in with at least one savtktani took care of most of her worries. It was incredibly rare that a savtktani wouldn't at least ask a child if they were okay on their own. Now, with the most pressing matter gone, Imeje could analyse the situation a little.

— Before we do that, mind telling me what you did to get in trouble with the monks?
— We saw them kidnap someone, and they really didn’t like that we did. But they put something in Uncle Harvey’s tea that made him sick even before that, so I don’t know.
— And where is he?
— There was an old human who knew monks made people sick, so he took Harvey in.

Dissecting Harvey can wait, then.

— Who did you want me to talk to, again?

Toma wiggled out of her grasp, took her by the hand and led her to… an empty spot.
An unusual invisibility spell, but it’s quite simple to counter. You just have to be convinced you are looking at someone to actually see them. It was easier for those who saw ghosts, since they already expected to see things where none were.
It has been quite a while since Imeje last had to think about countering it. Some habits fade surprisingly fast…

His marred hands struggled with the mask’s ties. Imeje staggered.

His hair. His height. The invisibility spell. How his miscasted hands charred the wooden mask’s edges as he tried to get it off.
The eyes of a snake playing dead. His face.

— …You? — Her pulse skipped beats.
— I’m sorry. — His voice was raspy and breathless, a near whisper. Almost as if he wasn’t sure how to talk anymore.

"I'm sorry", – he coughed over and over through mouthfuls of blood, grabbing at his throat. The cracking and twisting of bones under his thin skin drowned out his pleas to be forgiven.

Holy rain only had one use for oath breakers,
What a beautiful sacrifice this would be. A perfect basilisk.
After all, it’s only fitting that a horrible being meets a horrible end.
He must’ve been one to have been completely transformed this fast.

***

— What is their fucking problem, man?! – Cogs contemplated, chucking a pot at the monk and missing miserably.
— I kinda sorta maybe-
— You brought a dragon into their temple. I think this isn’t a “kinda-sorta” situation anymore.

Dogmasks, high as they were, had ant-level coordination when it came to cornering. Which didn’t seem like much at first, as they’re chasing ghosts after all, but it soon turned out dogmasks were immune to possession. Right after that, it turned out they weren’t just immune, they were possession-proof. Let enough of them pile up against a wall, and the wall is no longer passable.

— If they didn’t want a dragon, they should’ve let you go when I asked nicely. Now they get a dragon and no hall with like a thousand souls on show.
— The kind of adventure you’ve been having sounds way better than babysitting Nex. — Not that Cogs minded, but that was rather mundane.
— Honestly, it’s pretty close to babysitting Nex.
— What is that supposed to mean? — Neven wasn’t certain what explanation he wanted, but “you’re also an anxious addict” didn’t please him.

Tove tore a plank off a fence and threw it at the crowd. The crowd absorbed it, like an amoeba, hardly losing any speed.

— The masks are pretty liquid, thinking we could pull off Rat Whisperer with them? Like, get them stuck in a dead-end?
— That’s not exactly what happened in Pied Piper. — Cogs snorted.
— I don’t know what that is. Do you think if we go into a house through the doors, they’ll follow?
— Only one way to find out.

When they inevitably wound up herded into a narrow alley that ended in a house’s front porch, Cogs was the first one to run through the front door, although running was a strong word – more like diving headfirst.

— The last one on top is a rotten egg!

The trio of ghosts went through the house, climbing through the ceiling and the attic, and eventually ended up on the roof. Upon inspecting the alley they just climbed out of, it became evident that the pile of dogmasks lost speed only upon colliding with the house wall, burying the monk beneath them.

— Heh, suck sardines, losers. — Tove snorted.

Neven was completely mesmerised by the sight. Cogs, interested in a new possible threat to beat the living shit out of, looked in the same direction, and, dumbfounded, asked:

— What the actual fuck is that?
— Ten opalescent eyes. Curved horns, as those of a ram. Rough hide, in colour reminiscent of an old bruise. Short, flat face. Developed hands, with short, unremarkable claws. Large tail. Hair, spikes or markings are unique to each specimen. Its gait is that of a rabid bear, and its cries are as those of a wounded dog. — Neven said methodically, as if reading from a boring textbook with the font size two points too small.
— New thing? — Tove seemed surprisingly unbothered by the sight.
— Corpse basilisk.
— So, he's dead, and then he's basilisked?
— It's a "corpse" basilisk because it looks like one, not because it is one. If this is where they come from, no surprise we never found a nest.
— Does it turn things to stone?
— I don't know.
— You don't know? — Cogs’s usual eye-crosses on his screen mask turned into startled circles.
— I've never seen one in life, just preserved organs, and those, too, came from a single 400-year-old specimen. You cannot fathom how rare corpse basilisks are. Then again, it makes sense if they aren't born, but created.

Some of the cultists who tried to capture the beast turned to granite, as the creature scurried to get away from them.

— I guess that answers your initial question.
— Now I wonder what’s its stance on us. — Cogs let out a short, slightly nervous chuckle. — Can it even see us? Does it count if it looks at us, or what? Countless possibilities…
— How offended would you be if I called you a moron for wondering if a basilisk can turn you, a ghost, without a physical body, into a physical thing?
— Dude, I got by by being a genius moron. Just because I ask a question you don’t, doesn’t mean it’s off the table. — Cogs side-eyed Neven in mock offence. — This is a creature we both know roughly the same nothing about, after all.
— Have you ever seen a cat? If you saw a cat from the other end of the world, would you assume it still acted like a cat?

Both got picked up and thrown to the next roof over.

— Move! — Tove shouted, jumping after them.

If anyone asks, the ghosts will say that they were running towards Imeje. But deep inside, both knew they were actually running from Tove.

***

Fortunately for everyone involved, Nokk was an extremely capable bloodhound and killing machine. Not an emotional support person or a psychologist. Unfortunately for those involved, Lara had the stamina of a 3-year-old hamster and the anxiety level of a wet chihuahua. And Nokk was extremely done dealing with it.

— If it wasn’t for the need for a healer in case of emergency, I would sedate you. — He eventually deadpanned, after waiting for Lara to catch up with him for the umpteenth time.
— I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I don't get enough exercise between shifts! — Lara was on the verge of tears.

Nokk huffed. Having a healer stressed and tired, however, wasn’t the smartest course of action in this situation. So, Nokk moved his emotions aside, as per usual, prioritising the mission, and grabbed Lara, sweeping her ankles with one hand and supporting her back with the other. Soon enough, he ran forward, holding her bridal style. Not the most efficient position. Especially with Lara trembling herself out of his hands.

So, he threw her over his shoulder and continued on his way. This was preferable, allowing him to free one hand. This way, he could protect both Lara and himself until they got to the mistress, who had leapt away so fast that even Nokk couldn’t catch up with her.

Nokk regretted his decision to carry Lara by the time they finally found Imeje, the lost child… and other people. The group they encountered consisted not only of Imeje and Toma, but also two people dressed in the garb of the local cultists. Before Nokk managed to reach the group, however, something happened.

One of the cultists took off the mask. Nokk couldn’t see his face quite well, since it was streaked in grime and ash, but there was a… resemblance of a kind. After quickly cross-referencing the face with those faces he remembered, Nokk came to a conclusion which he was… uncertain of. Which would be the first in a very, very long time. So he shelved it for later.

Nokk, however, despite all his experience, didn’t expect the cultist to almost immediately turn into… a reptile of sorts? It seemed expectations had no place here. While staring at the scene of the witch turning into a beast, hearing the sounds of bones grinding and cracking and tissues tearing and reknitting, Nokk had briefly thought that it was a good decision to make Lara face the other way. Even if she were a surgeon. With lots of experience under her belt. He needed her alive and had his doubts about the odds of a person of her constitution surviving such a spectacle.

What he didn’t know was that Lara immediately took out a mirror from her sleeve of many things to peek. Everybody knows basilisks don’t work through glass! Though nothing worked as well as not looking the basilisk in the eye altogether, like Nokk did.

Toma latched on, face pressed against Imeje’s side. Neither of them was able to say anything and make the horrible noise of cracking bones disappear. Not even as the beast disappeared in the village’s streets, pursued by monks with spears.
Static in the air held up her hair as lightning struck the temple.
She handed her child to Nokk, who now had to put Lara down. Said child immediately clung to him like a tick.

— You two, take care of this. I'm going hunting.
— You- You're not going to... Him? – Lara’s voice trembled.
— If anyone has the right to kill the sonovabich, it's me. Me, and no one else. Nokk, take orders from Lara until we’re back together.
— Roger that.

Imeje sped off, shotgun and bandolier in hand.

— Well… That was an unfortunate sight. Not that bad, but…
— …Clarify. — Nokk slightly turned his head to Lara to hear her better.
— Seeing an altar beast suffer from crystalline plague was significantly worse. They are very fragile… Their crystallised bones rip right through their flesh when they move. Significantly worse… Not that a corpse basilisk isn’t bad… Oh, we’re so doomed… — Lara crouched, hiding her face in her knees.
— …Maybe if you quit whining, we’ll be less doomed. — Grumbled the second cultist, who by now had climbed out of the small crevice-like cellar window of the building they were all standing near.

This one got Nokk’s attention as well. He had worn much less grime than the witch-turned-to-giant-lizard, and was likely human – he didn’t have a tail, stood straight and, while his face was additionally hidden by a dog mask, so it was difficult to discern, the cultist’s eyes were ordinary brown, and he didn’t have problems with breathing on land, much less at high altitude.

Upon seeing Nokk, however, this cultist shut up immediately. Nokk could see the thought process commencing behind his eyes, as he looked at Nokk, then at Lara, then at Toma, and came to some kind of conclusion, because when he started talking again, he stayed a respectful distance away.

— So… Since motherwrath is temporarily not killing me and off to fight whatever creature that was… What’s next? Cause I have a few options, and none of them include staying here.
— Then don’t. — Nokk would shrug, but that kind of movement was almost impossible with Toma holding on to his shoulder with juvenile sticky magic, which could suddenly stop working had Nokk moved in a way Toma didn’t expect.
— Yeah, and leave the kid under the protection of “sorry” personified, and an extension of a knife? — The cultist tilted his head slightly, his tone dripping with sarcasm. — I know how people like you work. You won’t defend yourself, you won’t ask questions-
— Correction. — Nokk interjected. — As per orders of my mistress, I am allowed to ask questions, defy orders and encouraged to do anything in my power to protect her son.
— You still have the exact amount of will to disobey that a tablespoon has. — The cultist tsked, then looked at Toma and said in a softer tone. — Damn, kid… I’d want to ask what kind of mob boss your mother is, but on second thought, I don’t want to find out. — Seeing that said kid wasn’t about to respond any time soon, the cultist sighed, then looked at Nokk again. — Well, Encouraged-to-do-anything, I think it’s logical that we need to get someplace safer.
— I don’t think you understand. — Lara mumbled. — There’s a jaguar on the loose, trying to kill her lizard husband. And she leaps really, really far. Any place the lizard husband tries to hide will very suddenly become dangerous, and you’ll find out the moment someone turns into target practice. Can you be sure your choice of safer places is different enough from his?
— Miss Doe, are you blind, deaf, or stupid? — The other cultist almost growled that, gesturing animatedly with his hands. — We are out in the open in a place that swarms with these so-called monks. If we’re caught, we’re toast. Literally any place that at least somewhat hides us would be better. Also, you’re on a level of paranoia even I’m not at, which is very weird.
— With a corpse basilisk on their hands, I’d say we’re the least of their problems. — Neven never quite got the hang of politely adding himself to the conversation.

Nokk heard the unfamiliar voice and immediately looked in that direction, evaluating whether it was a new threat or something else. What he saw, however, made him draw an unusual conclusion for the second time that day.

After all, Milos Lowac couldn’t possibly be alive… in any existing way, let alone look as young.

That said, Nokk didn’t exactly have a lot of references for his face, but in each portrait made by his former master, he saw a fairly old, even gnarly witch, who was one leg in the grave at all times of his life. On all paintings, the eyes were cold and stern, the lines were prominent and numerous, the hair was greyed in a way that seemed unnatural, the features were like ones of a kitchen knife – slightly sharper, and they would be able to cut physically. The face on the portraits was either a displeased frown or devoid of any emotions.

The face of the translucent man standing in the distance was both similar and different from Milos Lowac, in all the ways that mattered. That witch looked like Milos Lowac got somehow younger by quite a lot, then waterboarded in his own blood, carried around half of the known world in the sack, died, was revived in a most violent and wrong way possible, and some of the other things his former master promised to do to Milos Lowac, if he ever got his “wretched soul”. Nokk wasn’t prepared for this… creature before him to make as little sense by simply existing.

— Omnissiah’s panties! — Nex, upon noticing familiar ghastly faces, swore, but judging by his voice, he was more glad than not that they arrived. — Fucking finally! You guys sure took your damn time.
— Yeah, but hey! We did get like 57 of them stuck in a house. — Tove was sprawled across the entire height of the building, lowering one chunk of herself at a time. Shame she didn’t notice that ladder like Neven did. Nokk watched her do that for a bit, quietly muttering under his breath as Paddington’s words came to mind.
— Limbhound indeed…
— Wait, you kept count of them? — Cogs turned at her, dumbfounded. He looked a bit staticky – his wounds were covered in glitch-like patches, but otherwise, he seemed fine.
— Not really, it just seemed like 57.
— Not 58?
— No, that’s way too many.
— Let’s think about numbers later; we have other problems on our hands. — Nexa waved his hand to get the ghosts’ attention and pointed at Nokk, still holding Toma. — Specifically, that.
— Oi, who’s this dude? Toma, are you kidnapped again? — Tove finally got all her pieces in one place, only to immediately scramble herself a moment later.

Toma just clung to Nokk tighter and let out the most pathetic little meow. Nokk shifted his shoulder slightly as the little witch's claws stabbed into it. He adjusted, trying to accommodate the child in a way that wouldn’t cause more pain than it already did… And also turned slightly in a way that wouldn’t seem obvious – to shield Toma with himself, if the skirmish begins.

— Considering that’s Lara, and Lara wouldn’t have gone anywhere she wasn’t dragged to, I’d say this is someone Imeje brought. — Neven took a better look at the stranger. — Damn, this woman came more prepared than the army usually is.
— And what makes you say that? — Cogs, who inspected Nex for injuries, looked at him. — Aside from the fact that this guy looks like he knows twelve ways to murder a person with a pencil.
— That’s a necromancer, and not a split practice one.
— You can just tell what magic someone does?
— I was trained to pick out specific ones, necromancers included and… He really shouldn’t find out anything about the… Reason… Lara has that in her wardrobe. Lest we want Lara’s skeleton to stop associating with her.
— At this point, is there at least one party your weird cult didn’t make enemies with? — Cogs’s mask made a face that looked like an eye roll.
— The crown.
— Alright, I set the bar too low… — Cogs raised his hands in a placating gesture. — Now name two more.
— Brother dog. Think about what you just said. But slowly.
— What now?
— He’s a necromancer. You’re a ghost. You just mentioned something you don’t want him to know, like three and a half meters away from him. — Tove attempted to pet Toma, but the necromancer just made small, careful steps away from her.
— So?
— Why wouldn’t a necromancer see ghosts? It’s like a fisher who can’t see fish.
— Fishermen usually can’t see the fish until after they’ve caught it.
— After we’re done with this, I’m getting you resurrected specifically so I can dip your face first into a pot of forever soup. Anyway, what did you do this time?
— Well.. The crown hired us to do this, and what we did is… The reason… It’s hard to find a necromancer… Kind of…
…
— Gotcha. You don’t want to get resurrected because whatever necromancer will do that, will do that wrong on purpose, innit?
— I won’t deny, but I can’t confirm if that is why I’m opposed to this.
— Guess you missed one then.
— People might have been born afterwards.
— That is to say, people get born all the time. — Nokk noted flatly, deciding to get a bit more information about whatever these strange dead and not-so-dead were talking about. — My former master also used to say that magic speciality is not hereditary.

Cogs made a surprised face. Nexa looked at Nokk, then at Neven, then shook his head.

— What can I say… Rest in peace.
— I fucking told you! You’re getting dipped in the soup!
— …I doubt that that is a possible course of action.
— Oh, you want to test the waters for him?

Nokk just looked at her in an unimpressed and calm manner. Then turned his head momentarily at Lara.

— Any orders regarding these entities, ma’am?

Lara made numerous indiscernible noises of complete anguish. Nokk was unsure what to do with that.

— If we want her to be useful, we need her to be possessed, because this is getting nowhere. — Neven facepalmed.
— Is she okay? — Out of all the malfunctioning witches Tove saw recently, Lara was the most concerning. What kind of adult apex predator fawns like that?
— I never saw her any other way, to be honest.
…
— Why is everyone looking at me?
— You’re a witch. She’s a witch. You’re from the same weird cult. Seems like you’re the man for the job. — Tove shrugged.
— I’m not great at possessing… fleshy things in general. — Cogs shrugged, then snorted. — Computers, vending machines, phones – sure. But people? Fuck no.
— You seemed fine with possessing me. — Nex grumbled.
— You’ve got no idea how many times I did that to stop you from doing dumb things. — Cogs’s head immediately snapped in Nex's direction.

Neven looked at Lara in a way usually reserved for wet cats.

— Do I have to bite her?
— No, what… Why would you need to bite her? — Considering Tove is a kind of canine, you’d expect her to be more on board with biting people.
— Because that’s how possession works?
— Nah, just overpower the target in whatever way makes sense.
— … But you bit the horse?
— Figured it would make sense for the horse.

Neven couldn’t argue with that. A hammerlock hold should do, then.
Except he immediately lost his balance, as it turned out, it was enough to lightly brush against Lara’s hand. Nevelara got up. Nevelara sat back down.

— Are you, like, okay?
— Nooo… — They howled. — This is horriibleeee…. Why are you out of breath already?! And why does it feel like ants under your skin?!
— … Uh.. Guess not, but please keep in mind, if you can’t make Lara useful, no one else can. Like, Cogs never had to walk with a tail, and it’ll take me at least two hours to make sense of your legs. And neither of us can use magic.
— I also wouldn’t trust either of you with guns. Oh well. — Nevelara got up again and pulled a suspicious paper tube from their sleeve. — Back to the old habits.
— Is she supposed to be taking whatever that is?
— If she were opposed to taking stimulants, she wouldn’t have had them in her sleeve.
— You have about zero idea how purses work, don’t you?
— I know what I’m doing, and medication can only work on Liokks as intended. Getting used to or addicted isn’t an intended effect.
— Quick question. Do you have more, and if you do, can I have some? — Nex gave what had to be a joint a hopeful look.
— Wish louder.

Someone indeed wished upon a falling… witch, as Harvey flew in and immediately crashed his broom into the house’s corner. Don’t worry! The broom is totally okay. Harvey, on the other hand… Eh, it’s probably not his first time falling.

— HARVEY!
— Shut up, and who are you? — Harvey slurred, getting up and walking towards the group in a perfect cosinusoid. He came up close. Way too close for anyone’s comfort. Took a good look at Nevelara. — What are you doing in my wife?
— You aren’t married yet.
— We’ve been living together for 20 years, we’re more married than you ever were. Get out.
— As you wish. — Lara folded immediately upon Neven exiting her body.

Since Lara refused to cooperate, and Harvey wasn’t feeling any better from that, he reluctantly agreed… Yeah, we can’t legally say that he did, but since he couldn’t carry Lara out of here, it’s not like he had a better choice.

— This is getting you another curse.
— Do you want to get cured or not?

The poison, while magic in nature, wasn’t too hard to dispel.

— How many fingers?
— Fuck off, Neven, you make Lara look like that fish Liokk. So. What did I miss that Jeje is now this mad? — Harvey pointed at the sky. — And why are you still here? And who’s this discount death omen?
— Someone Miss Grobar brought along, I know that much. — Nex offered, judging by his voice, with a frown. — All tatted up and perfectly obedient, too. Yikes.
— Oof.. Well, that explains at least half of the sky. This has to be tough to deal with for her… — Harvey said, originally planning to get Imeje a cake as a “sorry I kidnapped your child”, but now feeling like a hallucinogenic toad was more appropriate. Or even two toads. And a cake.
— The situation or just this guy?
— What I mean is like, mostly what you make out of it.
— At least this much is constant. — Nevelara facepalmed.
— Also, — Nexa added, slightly unsure. — his name seems to be… “Nokk”? Heard her ordering him around.
— I’d say your parents were odd, but mine named me after my great uncle, and all my siblings after plants.

Nokk looked at Harvey calmly, with a flicker of mild curiosity, like an adder inspecting a mouse. Then, finally responded.

— Clarification. This serves as the current designation, set by my former master. Imeje didn’t set other designations for me as of now, so you may use it for your convenience.

Harvey looked at Nevelara in a way that definitely held some meaning behind it, but it remained completely indecipherable to the rest.

Nexialist cleared his throat.

— Now that we finally know everyone’s names, let’s get to the part where we get out of here. — He then looked at Harvey and added, somewhat apologetically. — I’d explain what we’ve been through while you were out of it, but there’s really a lot. Let’s do it on the move, at least, before Miss Grobar storms us off the mountain.
— Jeje is only doing a little bit. It’s just that storm serpents really like it when she’s angry, so they gather. There must be an imperial fuckton here, though.

Nevelara dug deeper into their sleeve, then exclaimed in surprise:

— The incompetent bastards keep surprising me even after death.
— What are you even doing?
— They never removed her access to the armoury! — Their hand had to have reached past the elbow by now. — Not even to that?!... Then again, Lara never touched it. My best guess is that she never checked if she could. Well then…

The sleeve stretched as the witch pulled a rifle out of their sleeve. Unclear if with murderous intent.

— Is that a Lee-fucking-Enfield?! — Cogs’s mask made starry eyes, for some reason.
— We were paid in them.
— How long ago was that “making the necromancers join the dead” thing again?
— I’m not good with counting time. Can you handle firearms?

Nokk nodded. Nevelara pulled another rifle and a bayonet out of their sleeve and passed them to Nokk.

— Tove, Nex and Harvey take Toma to the door and out of it. Who’s left goes to back up Imeje.
— Sure, sure, but I have to ask. If there’s a magic space in your sleeves, where are your arms?

Nevelara pulled up the coat's sleeve to reveal a shirt’s sleeve.

— Intersleeve magic, gotcha. — Tove tore Toma off Nokk’s shoulder, along with a chunk of leather coating, and put him in one of Harvey’s broom bags, next to the opossum. The broom wobbled a little, but it seemed it was made with multiple accidents in mind.
— Hey, can I also get a gun? — Cogs leaned closer to Nevelara, with a conspiratorial look of a conspirator. — I can handle one, and I’d like to use it. Pretty please?
— Oh, you can? — Neven passed Cogs the rifle, only to immediately take it back. — I guess you can not. Make do with a bayonet.
— The hell? — Cogs’s mask made a frowning expression.
— You hold it wrong. You pointed it at Harvey’s tail. You get no rifle.
— Har har har. — Cogs tilted his head back, glowing eyes on the mask rolling again. Then threw his hands up. — You’re literally giving Toma a gun! Which he can’t neither point nor use, let me stay silent about him being a child.
— First, I taught him gun safety. Imeje also taught him gun safety. Second, it takes Toma a full minute and a half to concentrate enough to make a shot. He is, quite literally, incapable of making an accidental shot. Third, you can’t use magic ammo, so you’d have to use actual ammo. Those rifles are older than you are. It takes you dropping it in the wrong direction for someone to end up at Grobars’ permanently.
— Are you sure you three should be on your own? — Tove snickered.

Harvey had no problem finding the way back to the door. To Nex, it even seemed like they took a couple of shortcuts and made it to the door in less time. Sure, that could’ve been the fact that Fog (or whatever Nex was supposed to call him now) couldn’t walk normally, but Harvey was so much shorter than him that Nex thought their speed probably didn’t differ too much.

— I feel like some god is punishing us for something. — Nex said, closing and opening the portal door in hope it’ll show something else but a brick wall. Heavy rain also didn’t help the allegations of a divine punishment.
— It’s just how doors are. Sometimes they slip through the wall a bit too far and… This happens.
— So we’re stuck?
— Not necessarily, we just need to push the door to the other side of the wall. — Which Nex immediately tried. — With magic, of course.
— … Well?
— Dimensional stuff is very expensive. And then, it might start leading to a different place. If any place at all.
…
— Well, fuck, let’s go fetch someone then.

Back into hell they go.
At least the opossum helped Toma recover from his catatonic state. Nex was honestly getting concerned that the kid broke.

— If Fogdog is actually dad… Why didn’t he say anything earlier?

Now Nex broke, unsure if an answer that wouldn’t upset the kid any further even existed.

***

Despite the painful transformation, the basilisk evaded effortlessly, as if his new curse washed him of his old ones.

It always was inevitable. He’d break his oath and would have to run lest his sheer presence blighted more, and in the end, he will be hunted down. For the greater good. For his own good.
For he was always meant to be a sacrifice.
It always was inevitable, but never imminent. He will be caught, and he will be killed, but first he has to be caught. He has to keep running.
Away from hunters. Down the street. Up the mountain.

The monks couldn’t do much but throw rocks, as the basilisk scaled the statue overlooking the village. Hiking up the mountain to try and hit the basilisk from above would take no less than 10 hours, so they were left waiting. The basilisk had to come down eventually.
They didn’t get too bored, as in a minute, a witch woman, yelling obscenities in the basilisk’s general direction, showed up.

Imeje took a good look at the basilisk’s “nest” — in the nook near the statue’s neck, cussed once more, and started enchanting some birdshot. A delayed replacement trick should do it.
She shot a little above the top shoulder, changing places with birdshot just in time to not kiss the mountainside. The statue’s surface was uncharacteristically smooth, which warranted an uncomfortable walk on all fours towards the basilisk. Come on, you weren’t a lizard for long enough to act like one. What prompted you to hide on a surface this slippery?

The basilisk tucked itself into the nook, hiding his face under paws and a lengthy tail.
Maybe he’s just startled and didn’t notice Imeje is armed. Drag him along, enough of this mess. Imeje reached her hand, and…

He flinched.

He. Flinched.
As much as this filled her with righteous fury, she couldn't let him know that. Not when she got so close to getting back the life that felt fulfilling. Not when she got so close to grasping the one frail chance to get him back. And certainly not when she got so close to finally burying all of it.
She reached further. The basilisk pressed harder against the rock, trembling under her hand like a newborn lamb.

— If not for this corner, for how much longer would you keep running from me?
— I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please don't hurt me. — The basilisk whispered.
— Why would I-... If you want your sorries to mean anything, come back and face what you did. Or rot here for all I care. At least leave me with a proper farewell, then.
He carefully crept towards her, brushing against her arm, eventually getting close enough to rest his chin on her shoulder, still shaken. Still crying.
— Now that that's decided, any ideas on how we avoid traumatising Toma any further with you looking like this?
— The Rain should... Might... Fix this.

She pulled away, loading a salt shell into her shotgun. Mere moments after shooting straight up at the sky, a torrential downpour to end all downpours fell onto the village.

— Good enough?
— I hope.

He motioned for her to get onto his back and started making his way down. From the shoulder onto an arm.

— How did you avoid petrification? — He greatly struggled with his choice of words, having to take multiple tries at pronouncing the last one.
— The Universe shouldn’t have named me Salt if it wanted me to be a different kind of rock.
— Oh. Makes sense. I didn’t look at too many people, did I?
— I can’t quite feel sorrow for those funny men with spears after some of what I’ve heard. But you probably should close your eyes when we get closer to the rest of the group.
— Of course.
— What does that even look like with ten eyes?
— Not much. I think some are blind. Gives me a headache.

From one arm to another arm.

— How’s life?
— Other than the fact that I kind of want to smack you for asking that in this situation? Mundane and tedious. Yours?
— Not worth remembering.

From yet another arm onto a temple’s roof.

— Why’d you shave your beard?
— I didn’t.
— But... Your face…
— I also didn’t shave my tail, yet here I am.
— … At least that won’t come as a shock later.

From the temple's roof onto sets of ceremonial gates.

— Why would you stay here?
— They took my name. They ordered me to stay.
— Which one?
— The usual.

From them onto the boundary wall.

— Not ideal, but not fatal. To us at least.
— Please, don’t kill people.
— Oh, I won’t. But I also won’t be stopping anyone else from doing that.
— Can I try?

Then onto a nearby tree. Finally, on the ground, where Cogs, Nokk and Nevelara were already waiting. The witch has just finished applying water-evading spells on Nokk and his new gun.

— This should do. Now, you must create the magic bullets in the magazine, where actual bullets would be, and not any further down the barrel. Otherwise, you might be left with no hands, and only partially because of the rifle malfunctioning. Also, don’t bother transferring noise or knockback. That’s taken care of. If you run out – scream, I’ll get you one preloaded with actual bullets. Cock the rifle after each shot. I know it doesn’t have anything to eject. That’s how it reactivates the enchantments. Any questions?
— Yes, why are you in Lara? — Imeje said, getting off the basilisk.
— She wouldn’t cooperate.
— And which one of you was mean to her? Never mind, no time for this now. Get me some bandages, will you?

Nevelara took a roll out of their sleeve, but struggled with passing it to Imeje, since their gaze was completely stuck on the basilisk.

— With how you’re staring, I’m not sure which one of you is the basilisk. — Imeje decided to cover the basilisk's eyes, just in case.
— It’s a scientific interest.
— Don’t forget to blink. Can you see anything like that, or do you need a lead?
— I see silhouettes well enough. — Nevelara just about changed colours like a squid from seeing a basilisk talk.
— Whose vocal cords do you have?
— Don’t bother with that now. Who is Toma with? — She loaded the shotgun with salt, again, just in case. She seemed to have a lot of encased justs.
— Nex, Harvey, — Imeje gave Nevelara a look obviously meant to incinerate them on the spot, — and Tove. I’ve sent them to the door.
— You are so lucky you can’t die any further.
— There exists a spell that can make a ghost into a lantern. — Nokk sounded off, tilted his head slightly, as if listening to something. Probably shouts in the distance that were getting closer. — Former master used it as a method of torture on the deceased. It is a bit time-consuming, however.
— Not good enough, I want his spleen on a skewer, barbequed.
— It does give a sensation of perpetually being burned alive to a ghost.
— Does it give me a sensation of eating his barbequed spleen?
— Hm. — Nokk hummed in consideration. — I suppose I could find his corpse-
— Stop giving her ideas! — Cogs cried out, with eyes that turned into glowing circles in panic.
— I can dig up his corpse myself, and I guarantee it wouldn’t taste good. — Imeje added, as if eating someone’s spleen at all is normal.

The discussion of whether Neven would taste good at any stage of decay at all was cut short by the monks showing up. This served as an immediate change of focus for Nokk, who decided to give this new rifle a go. Neven also aimed.

— No casualties! — Imeje growled.

Neven begrudgingly changed aim. Nokk followed.
To think of it, those probably aren’t that difficult to discourage pursuit.
Neven disabled the silencing spell on the rifle, loaded it with just enough mana for it to make a loud noise, and shot above the crowd a couple of times. Those in sound mind immediately started running the opposite direction, but alas, they were few and far between.

Nokk was next, and he simply grabbed Nevelara under the arms, threw her over his shoulder in an even less than ceremonious fashion, and, noticing that the basilisk and Imeje ran forward, immediately bolted after her. Cogs followed after the dream team, cussing, yet not wanting to test whether a crowd of possession-proof monks could trample over him.

He was the first to notice Nexialist, Harvey, Tove and Toma, and the first to exasperatedly ask, cuffing Nexa on the back of his head.

— Why the hell are you still here?!
— Hey! — Nex rubbed the place of the hit, staring up at Cogs angrily. Then pointed a finger at him. — Not my fault the door was locked!

Cogs blinked. Then tilted his head back.

— Son of a bitch.

The group, now Ragtag United Plus+, continued running. Save for Toma, who crawled deeper into the broom bag. Much as he wanted to ask, he was afraid to know.

— Don’t mention my mother, she has nothing to do with that! — Nexialist huffed in irritation. Then, after a couple of seconds added. — Probably. Whatever, lizard is back on Earth? Great. We now need to get back to the exit and force the door open somehow.

Imeje, Harvey and Nevelara looked at the basilisk in three separate, equally uncomfortable ways.
The rainwater finally de-maged the broom enough for it to start dropping, so Imeje decided to instead carry Toma on her back.

— That has to wait a little. We can’t have him cast magic like this.
— And reason’s why?
— We don’t know much about corpse basilisks- — Nevelara began.
— Oh, so this is where they come from? — The basilisk interrupted.
— Shut up. We don’t know enough to be sure that whatever he tries to cast won’t turn everyone to granite.
— Let me get this straight, none of y’all can move that thing? Not even brother shady? — Tove pointed at Nokk.
— My magical capabilities are limited. — Nokk frowned slightly, but otherwise his voice was perfectly flat. — Creating or fixing an existing portal would take time. And someone knowing what to do.
— Okay, and what if we take that door, hinges included, and put it somewhere else?
— Tove, not a single thing about doors works like that.
— Well, it worked with the pine!
— Don’t you bring the pine into this again!

What few dogmasks tried to intercept them were swiftly made reconsider via a salt shotgun blast.

— I feel like I’m missing about half of the conversation. — Harvey added.
— Would you like to talk about what will happen to your kidneys in the next week? — Still, probably not the best time to desecrate Harvey, but Imeje was a busy woman. She had to plan ahead.
— I can already guess, with me being soaking wet.
— Could you execute him and me on a later date, pretty please? — Nexa hurriedly asked, wiping the water off his mask. — I still have rent to collect and– Wait a second.

Nexa stopped abruptly as soon as they filed out of the street and onto the pretty big open space of a square. Not just open. Empty. Of people, of animals… and of buildings as well.

Nexa’s eyes narrowed under his mask. Skin prickling with a faint unease, as he turned around.

— Something’s wrong. Really wrong. We’ve been running around for hours at end and have never ended up here? — Nexialist shook his head slightly. — I definitely don’t remember this place. I would recognise it if I seen it before.
— It’s the centre of the iris. — The basilisk signed. — I guess the Rain is near.
— What? — Nexa immediately looked at the lizard creature, alarmed. — What’s that supposed to–

The thundering roar of rain grew louder, becoming utterly deafening, and eventually… stopping to make any noise whatsoever. The rain stood still, as the statue holding up the mountain leaned in.
Its face — horrible abomination of thousands of eyes and teeth where neither should have been, swirling, overlapping, growing upon each other and merging to stop resembling either.
Its arms, of which there were too many as is, broke and formed new joints as they outstretched towards the village. The statue blocked off all escape routes, its face now covering the group from the sky.

— Welp, since we're about to die anyway, there's something I need to confess. — Tove said in an unusually serious tone. — I call y'all brother this or that because it takes me like a month to remember anyone's name.
— Oh, but you remember trees just fine!
— Brother holebowl, how long until you let the damn pines go?
— …Seems like soon enough.
— I owe Bond so many apologies… — Nex mumbled, staring at where the statue’s face was supposed to be. — She probably murdered a quarter of Tower-Hamlets while looking for me.

The street they came from, meanwhile, as if it came alive with steps, and soon enough, a group of monks appeared. One of them, judging by a gilded headpiece, a weird-looking medallion, ornaments on his robes and a couple of gilded bracelets, was their leader, or at least the senior of this group. What definitely made him the leader, however, was a familiar revolver in his hand.

— Oh shit. — Nexa mumbled.

That was the last thing he managed to say before this swarm of bodies descended on them, and everything mixed in a mess of arms, legs, kicks and punches. Our party wasn’t that easy to separate, however. Despite the sheer numbers of the enemies, back-to-back back the fighters were more successful. The tide was slowly turning to their favour. Agonisingly slowly, almost, but it seemed like they had a chance to actually crawl out of here alive. Between Neven’s expert shots, Nokk’s knowledge and usage of the weak points, Nexialist using cuffs as brass knuckles, Imeje shooting off anyone who tried to get closer to Krsto, Tove literally throwing hands, Cogs just throwing bricks and Harvey using his deck of cards… If you squinted and for a moment forgot about the God looming above them, you could imagine that the situation wasn’t half as bad.

But it didn’t look good for too long. The fighting was soon interrupted by a startled yelp in Toma’s voice.

— Mummy!

Nokk immediately turned in the direction of a sound, while holding a cultist in a headlock and froze in place. The cultists, who moved kind of like an avalanche, gained sentience while in a group, tore Toma away from Imeje’s back and, faster than even he could have intercepted them, ran to their leader. Nokk immediately changed his position, throwing the cultist to the ground and aiming with the rifle at the cultist who held Toma… But two more monks jumped on him, throwing the shot off its course.

Immediately upon monks handing Toma to their leader, the gilded bastard briefly examined the boy’s face, then, in a swift motion, pressed a revolver to the shocked child’s forehead. Then turned to look at the non-cultists, gathered in the crowd and shouted at the top of his lungs.

— Surrender!

— Halt! — Imeje shouted.

Nevelara froze, their finger on the trigger of the rifle aimed for the leader’s head, and dogmasks hanging off of them.

— I can make this shot.
— Can Lara?

Lara could not. There was no basis to think Lara could for sure be faster. Nevelara tried growling in irritation, but as Lara wasn’t used to expressing her emotions in this way, the sound came out rather pathetic. Like someone dragged an anvil across concrete in front of a startled cat.

The lead monk, meanwhile, satisfied with the reaction, which ranged from fury to fear, continued, in a quieter but no less heard version.

— Infidels! You fought well enough to deserve the attention of the Holy Rain themselves. So, I have just the proposition for you. — He nodded at Toma and continued.— Surrender the impostor and the basilisk to us, and I will return the child to you, unharmed.

Imeje took a good look at Nexa.

— What do you even need them for? This one’s like wet spaghetti, and the other turns people to granite. — She pointed nonchalantly.
— Hey!

Nexa’s protest was abruptly cut off by the cult leader, who grinned that really self-assured grin.

— I would need them for something I would otherwise use this child for. — The gilded maniac was clearly satisfied with himself. — A smart woman, like you, wouldn’t trade her child for the two still-walking sacrifices, would she?
— How do you always end up a sacrifice? — She asked the basilisk.
— It’s the advanced version of having a punchable face.

The cult leader’s mouth twitched slightly at the corners.

— I guess the child isn’t as valuable as I thought, then. — Now there was a note of irritation in his voice. — Oh well. One more sacrifice to the Holy Rain-
— Oh, don’t play games, we both know children suck as a sacrifice, and are only demanded as a show of unquestionable faith. Even demons don’t find their souls particularly valuable. And if not for souls, what are you sacrificing them for?

The discussed child tried to learn to go cross-eyed, to look at the gun better. After all, what had he had to worry about? Mum is obviously calm.
Mum herself, of course, knew that wasn’t the case, but not acting calm wouldn’t help the situation.

— Oh, I wouldn’t sacrifice him for his soul, don’t you worry. — The head monk recovered, clearly looking for another way to intimidate through this conversation. — I would sacrifice him just to see you lose everything you want to defend.
— Dude, — Nex, pinned to the ground under the collective weight of four dogmasks, let out a hysterical laughter. — I don’t know how to tell you this, but you’re either stupid or batshit insane!
— And that would help your relationship with... this, how? I’m no more important than any other soul here. What do you need the basilisk for?
— An outsider and an infidel wouldn’t possibly understand our reasons.
— Well, try me, maybe I’ll convert.
— Hmph. — The cult leader tilted his head slightly to the left, but begrudgingly nodded. — I suppose it will do to explain our cause to you, then. You see, this creature — He nodded at the basilisk. — consumes neither meat nor fruit. It feasts upon sins. All the most awful things you did in your life, all the dirtiest secrets you feel ashamed of, the Holy Rain makes whoever breaks our Oath into the basilisk, to collect and absolve you of them. — The head monk then asked, tilting his head to the right now, like a curious bird. — Isn’t it nice to feel guiltless? Shameless? To have your sins gone, like nothing ever happened?

Imeje tried her best not to mention the party at the leather club. It seemed like it was a more peaceful solution, at least to the shame part.

— Wait, whose sins are we talking about here? I’m more or less Iouwan, I have no idea what goes as sin here.
— Brother lizard, either you go back to your wife, or I will. — Tove pointed the basilisk in the face, despite understanding he probably can’t see her either way. Meanwhile, the leader recounted every sin under the sun, of which it seemed like too many.
— If it wasn’t such a piss-party at the gunpoint, I’d say it’s fun how she continuously tears the chair from under that lunatic. — Cogs noted, frustratedly holding a brick in his hands, looking to all who could see him like he desperately wanted to throw it into the head monk. Cogs’s mask grimaced. — This sounds like they honestly made up at least half of it – and I didn’t even study law.

Toma was getting nervous. To think about it, if everything indeed was okay, he wouldn’t still be standing with a gun to his head. He decided to try to get out of this himself.
First, he thought about Neven’s gun. It would probably get him out of trouble, but it would take him more time to shoot it than it would the leader. The monks could notice he had it before he could do anything. His hands dove into his pockets. Next, he thought about throwing something and changing places with it. But they would notice him throwing things.
He pricked his finger on something. An old transistor he pocketed while playing puzzles at Nex’s place.
Toma poked the gun and made it switch places.
The leader yelped, now firmly grasping metal prongs where a gun was a moment ago. So Toma aims. Toma misses. The sound produced by a regular gun turned out much louder than he expected, startling him enough to accidentally try a new spell. Newly acquired electromancy shocked monks enough that the basilisk had ample time to swoop, grab Toma by the shirt, and floor it.

First goes the basilisk, right after them is Imeje, then 15-20 monks, Nevelara is taking stimulants again and tries to keep up, goddamn it, woman, what’s wrong with your body, and Nex somehow gets body slammed by a new set of dogmasks. Just when there were only a few steps left to the border of the iris, the deity moved.
Using its many hands, the Rain encircled the group, cutting all paths to escape.

— Basilisk is my game. You cannot take. — Holy Rain’s voice thundered from above.

Imeje’s face twitched.

— I cannot take? I? Me? This poor bastard’s wife?
— Did you not hear what the Holy Rain said? — The leader said, being held up by dogmasks, as his paralysis had not yet subsided.
— Shut your mouth, you gilded piece of shit, before I fucked BOTH of your parents and gave them a child they actually like! — She screamed in answer.

The leader, monks, villagers, party, Rain itself, and likely local marmots were too stunned to continue this conversation.

— Now, let me ask this again. I cannot take? Me? His entire reason for self-exile is wronging me, and I cannot take him? Who do you think you are?!
— The Holy Rain is the one who-
— Will you stop making noise? — Imeje snapped. — Who are any of you to judge if anyone is guilty, and how guilty they should feel about that?! Has shame ever solved anything for you? Because I’m willing to bet this deified parasite, — Imeje pointed at the Rain, — just feeds on it!

She returned her attention to the sky.

— You’re not even a god, are you? You’re a tulpa someone made in the image of a dead deity. You don’t have a face because no one finished that damn statue.

Now this was enough to snap the monks out of their stupor. They grappled Imeje, attempting to silence her, but she was more than they could handle. Seeing that, some monks started to try and escape, as Holy Rain was not a kind god. No one wanted to find out what it was like when angry.

— Holy Rain is god.
— Then prove it. Tell me the name of the savtktani god. All gods know each other, you should know that. Even the deity of the Dragnawing’s library knows it.
— It is. Hil-the.
— It is not. Will you let us go, or will you dare to make me invoke the name of the savtktani god?

The rain stood still.

— And which one of them bastards took your name? — Imeje growled in exasperation.
— One in the crown. — The basilisk said meekly.
— You’ve heard your target, soldier, do what you want.
— Whatever I find necessary? — Nevelara attempted to limit collateral damage.
— Whatever you fucking want! And you, Krsto, assigned Krchilats, born Lowac, name-swapped with your twin at the age of three months, and nameless until 30, and named-.. — a thunderclap drowned out her words for a moment, — by the Universe itself are returning home, whether anyone wants it or not!

Next came the harrowing, almost whistling, discharge of an Order firearm.
This was more than enough time and derived attention for Nevelara to take the gun back from Toma. The leader lay on the ground, surrounded by the crowd. His throat near completely gone.

— What’s going on?! — Nex shouted in frustration, finally able to get up after the four dogmasks holding him down froze in shock.
— I did what I wanted.
— More specific- Oh. — Nexa stood up, noticed the corpse of the head cultist, saw Nevelara with a smoking gun, and came to all the right conclusions. — Lived a bastard, died a bastard, rest in piss, you won’t be missed.
— Hm. — Nokk examined the corpse as good as the distance allowed him to, noting how precisely the shot exploded the cultist’s neck. — He will not be resurrected any time soon.
— Of course he won’t, I know what I’m doing. For once, that is.
— Did you have to kill him? — Toma wimpered.
— If I had just wounded him, he would’ve died a slow, painful death of sepsis or blood loss. This way, he probably hasn’t realised what happened at all.
— Additionally, if he hadn’t, someone else of us would. — Nokk deadpanned, still staring at the body, which was now almost completely covered with the monks, who rushed to it, crying and screaming.

Imeje turned to the Holy Rain.

— How about now?! Can I take him now?!

The Holy Rain looked at her, staring her down with an unreadable intent… But slowly, oh so ever slowly, the rain droplets began to move on their way down again, speeding up, faster, faster…

As soon as they hit Krsto, the basilisk form began to melt, like wax from a candle flame, more and more with each droplet. And each drop of mud that was washed off him, more of his old curses returned. The bad leg, the crooked tail. But this was the price of being allowed to continue living. All of him had to continue living.

As he scraped enough mud and bandages off his face to see, Krsto looked at Imeje in awe, as if seeing the rainbow for the first time.
Seeing that the basilisk was dispelled, the Rain spoke.

— Request… Judged. Claim… Reconsidered. Argument… Worthy. — The countless eyes blinked, as if they came to a consensus. — You can take.

The Rain picked up the dead body, its hand disappearing within Rain’s “face” along with it.
A moment of silence passed, and the monks began screaming at the deity. After all, it was quite a life-changing revelation to find out the rain didn’t care whose corpse would be sacrificed. The Rain, unbothered, simply moved back to its original place – holding up the mountainside. The monks followed.

— Hold on a sec. — Nexa blinked, staring at the place where the Rain had been just a minute before. — We are still alive? It didn’t just kill us, right?
— Philosophic shit later, blud. — Cogs grabbed Nex by his shoulders, slightly turning him in the general direction of the exit. — Don’t know about you, but my opinion is you don’t wanna die of hypothermia, or of weird God being weird towards you.
— Pst, brother holebowl, is it like, weird a god can be bargained with? Like, that’s not something y’all do with your gods?
— Well… — Cogs thought for a bit, then shrugged. — The Constructor is pretty much about transactions, if you think about it long enough. “Every action has an equal and opposite reaction”, and all. But judging by their followers, none of the Gods really like it when you don’t just accept what they tell you. — He then thought of something and snorted. — I mean, take Ermaera’s Witnesses, for example.
— I’d say y’all are weird, but what we think is a god is more like… a hungry elk.
— You bargain with an animal?
— You don’t bargain with a person.

Touché.
After a short redistribution of resources (and bodies), the party started to leave. Nevelara charged the broom, and Toma went back in the broom bag. Tove picked up Harvey, who was very unceremoniously flattened during the mess, then shellshocked by Neven’s gun, and now was reminiscent of a compressed stoat. Nokk got to carry Krsto, still somewhat covered in mud, but hopefully the rain was strong enough to solve that problem before they got to the car. The rest went on foot.

Nokk carried Krsto carefully and attentively. It was because of this attentiveness that he noticed something out of the ordinary. A familiar ink line was looking out from beneath Krsto’s clothing. Nokk hesitated for a second, but he wasn’t exactly prohibited from doing it, so, quietly, he stopped and tugged at the collar of Krsto’s clothing.

He wasn’t exactly surprised when he saw parts of something, not entirely dissimilar from his own tattoo. Parts, not the whole thing – partly because of the angle he was looking from, partly because it was interrupted in places, clearly useless for its original purpose now.

So that was why Imeje, when his former master traded him to her, looked not overly out of her depth. She had already handled the weapon like him before.

Having come to that conclusion, Nokk shifted his grip and continued carrying Krsto after the squad. At least until they have gotten to the door.

After the team of Troublemakers+ had finally arrived at their destination, Krsto stood in front of the door for a moment, then looked at his hands. Then swiped across Nevelara’s forehead, confusing Neven enough to stop possessing the body for a moment. Who the hell taught you to steal mana? And why, you’re miscasted, you have more than you can handle anyway!

— You know how to heal with Lara’s hands, right?
— Of course.
— Good. — Krsto proceeded to gnaw at his arm until enough blood came out for him to draw a frame on the door and fill its corners with symbols.

As soon as he finished the last symbol, the door phased completely out of the pub, into the alleyway. He pulled the door open and held it until everyone passed through. Then passed himself, and… passed out.
While Nevelara took care of that, and Imeje took care of drying people out, Nex, Cogs and Tove had their own mischievous deeds to attend to.

— You thinking what I’m thinking? — Tove said, like an anarchist.
— Is it arson?
— It is arson, a little bit.
— Then sure.
— I’d say we arson not a little bit, even. — Nex stood looking like a scarecrow, as Imeje pushed the water off him. — This whole pub seems like a front, so…
— Eh, without this door, what are they gonna do? Mail people there?
— Maybe? — Nex shrugged, channelling all of his willpower into stopping shaking. — I don’t know, I was never involved in human trafficking.
— I’d feel bad setting the upper stories on fire. It’s just people living. But I am all limbs for setting the door on fire.
— Well, then let’s. — Cogs interrupted, leaning his elbow on Nexa’s shoulder. — Shame we can’t use cocktails for that. And the fire magic also isn’t an option.

Tove proceeded to rip a power line out of the wall.

— We still have live wire, though! Be a good boy, go steal something flammable.

Nex, eager to focus on a familiar task and not on some dreadful experience, followed the instructions, stumbled to the alley mouth. While out on the street, finding a parked car – a particular truck with a weird wooden door, not that Nex cared, of course, – wasn’t that hard. Then it was a matter of tearing off a bit from the cultist's robe and giving it to Wrench, so that he opened the truck tank and soaked the rag in diesel. Do that, don't get noticed, and get back to the others.

Arson was swift, and soon, what little of the door was actually located here was reduced to charred remains.

Seeing as Krsto didn’t have any fresh wounds to heal, and his condition could be described as stable, Neven decided it was enough of possessing Lara. Yeah, he’s definitely throwing himself in the washing machine later.

Lara was very confused as to how she ended up here, but she was glad she wasn’t in the mountain place anymore. Having calmed Harvey a little, they left.
It was time for everyone else to leave, too.

Imeje behind the wheel, and Toma in his child seat in the front. Krsto, still unconscious, in the casket. Nokk in the back. And Nex, who particularly unsuccessfully tried to run away, next to Nokk.

— Would the ghosts please possess the radio? I can’t hear you, unless you are inside of something. — Imeje said, buckling up.
— Hey, now that you and your kid and, I guess, husband are reunited and everything is fine… — Nexa tried asking nicely, even with a bit og humour. — Why exactly do you need me?
— Questioning.

Nex felt his mouth dry in an instant. He gulped, quietly. His eyes darted to the door first, then to Nokk, who was sitting right next to him, calm as a python. Then to Wrench, who just shook his head.

— Be smart, brother. You are not winning this if you try something funny. Not even with my help.

And, with that, he disappeared inside the radio, leaving Nex clutching at his seat.

Imeje started the engine, and the hearse roared to life. Satisfied with it, she pressed the gas and, slowly, made the car roll out onto the street, simultaneously asking.

— So. What have you been up to, children?

Maybe staying with the cult wasn't such a bad idea…