Chapter Text
The Sun set quicker than either of the cultists had expected. Violent onsets of powerful, chilling gusts arrived in place of the harmless breezes of the earlier day, freezing temperatures greeting the Inpherno as it stole warmth from every grain of sand and wandering demon in the desert wasteland. In Lost Temple, when the Sun descended, everything seemed to turn itself upside down, the burning desert turning into an arctic winterland all within a few hours. The glittering stars beginning to take their places in the sky indicated nightfall, acting as the pair’s only source of light as they journeyed onward.
“I can’t believe ya sometimes,” Scythe snarled, crossing her arms together to make known her indignation while also retaining as much heat as possible. “Ya act like an inane fool whenever I’m tryin’ ta reason with ya, ya know that?” she spoke bitterly.
“Awh, why so disappointed, Boss? Haha!” Broker gently laughed as he waved off her cold remarks with his injured hand. His other hand held the burlap sack of gears as he followed behind Scythe like the two were little children and Scythe was leading an imaginary expedition. Each large stride of the smiling demon was cartoonishly stiff and exaggerated, but uniform. “I thought you’d react differently knowing that your dear employee wishes to help you out a bit.”
“Even if yer not actively bleedin’ out anymore, yer still an injured victim, fer goodness’ sake!” the outlaw retorted. “What kinda boss would I be if I let my own employee do all the work ‘ntil he drops dead because of his injuries?”
“An efficient one.” Scythe glowered at Broker as she heard his quick-witted response, inciting a pleased chuckle from him. “Hehe, it’s nothing to fret over, Boss. My injuries don’t affect my performance; I’m barely bothered by their presence. The blood’s dried by now. On the other hand, I don’t see many benefits that come from you continuing to lug this sack around while you’re half-freezing to death,” he argued. “I, however, am not plagued in the slightest this icy night. Your feet must also hurt by now from walking in those heels for so long, no?”
“Do ya take me fer a weaklin’, Broker? I’m fine, ya hear me? I don’t even feel a damn thing,” she snapped, rolling her eye. A rigid gust of wind blew past them, causing Scythe to involuntarily shiver as she temporarily stopped walking to stabilize against the howling gales. Broker merely smiled with an “I told you so!” look, his chains loudly clanging together in the presence of the unstable winds.
“Why, of course not! You’re one of the most powerful demons I know. Though, I believe that it’d be best if you’d kindly allow your worker to lend a helping hand by carrying the gears. Consider this a repaid favor for your suit jacket, since you seem so adamant on letting me wear it despite this weather.” In response, Scythe only audibly clicked her tongue, walking ahead as the gust died down.
The darkness of the night inhibited their vision, nearly every distinct object appearing to be the same featureless mass under the indiscriminate shadows that masked the desert in one continuous blue hue. Even so, the familiar outline of the sacred temple gradually came into view as the two walked on, sinking sand beneath their shoes. There was no road that led to their temple. Although it would certainly be convenient for traveling, it would also give thorough, nosy officers a clear trail leading right to their house of worship, so memorizing the hidden location of the temple within the expansive desert was necessary for all members of the family.
His boss heaved a sigh as the temple moved closer and closer, relieved at the prospect of finally getting out of the miserable cold. “Well, we won’t hav’ta argue about who should carry the goods any longer,” she started, “‘cause home’s right ‘round the corner.”
The navy blue demon nodded in agreement. “Indeed. Before we enter, though, I’d like to give a small apology for talking back to you like that. I always find joy in arguing with someone, no matter who they are. It’s a delightful mind game of persuasion and provocations, haha!”
“You’re alright, Broker,” she replied, offering a smirk in return. “I know t’s all in good fun, nothin’ serious between the two of us. Yer just enjoyin’ yerself, and personally, t’s excitin’ ta have someone stand up ta me once in a while instead’a always mindlessly obeyin’ my orders. Ya don’t need ta apologize fer insignificant things like that. I don’t mind it much. We’re friends, aren’t we?”
“Hehe, how kind of you. I’m quite lucky to have such a considerate boss like you!” he flattered, extending a shut-eyed smile to Scythe.
“I’m sure all those guys back there would really think I’m considerate, huh, Broker?” she ironically asked, chuckling at her own humor.
“Well, you did give them a quick and painless death with your scythe, after all. If I were in your position, I might’ve knocked them out, but then kept them alive and dragged them back. Torturing someone is an unbelievably exciting type of fun. Watching them squirm as they futilely claw at the ropes, desperately trying to escape, while they cry out for help from the pain that you inflict on them is such an amusing sight that almost encourages you to just stab them again, and again, until they’re covered in red and begging you to stop.” His heartless words combined with his soft, innocent smile only made him more unsettling.
The serial killer quietly chuckled as she crafted the scene in her mind to go with Broker’s description. “Sometimes ya act like an angel, but yer quite terrifyin’ when ya want to be. I hav’ta admit, yer talented at what ya do when it comes ta workin’ with other demons. If I recall correctly, ya got a lot of information out of the last guy we brought in. He virtually spilled everythin’ about what his organization was up to.”
“Oh?” The Broker faced Scythe with a surprised but satisfied look on his face. “I didn’t expect that they’d circulate that situation around. Still, I appreciate your praise, Boss, haha! I suppose that’s part of my charm; they just can’t resist an informative conversation with me. Speaking of, I believe I do have another ‘interrogation’ tomorrow as well, so that’ll be something to look forward to.”
The temple was now completely in crisp sight, though decorated in a veil of shadows. With just a glance, Broker could make out all the distinct features of the temple he’d loved for so long. The cracking stone stairs, the nearly collapsed pillars at the entrance that held up the entrance’s roof…
A slight sense of sorrow washed over him for a second. This… was his dear temple, unfortunately. How depressing. It almost looked abandoned, as if nobody had even given a single thought about fixing it up in decades. What a shame. His beloved home had fallen so far from greatness. Its glorious appearance only seemed like a distant memory of the past compared to what he stared upon now.
The once towering structure of dark turquoise stone carefully crafted together was now overgrown with unkempt vines and moss. Majestic pillars that had effortlessly supported the intricate, decorated roof that further beautified the entrance had transformed into crumbling, fragile sticks pushing the fragmented roof up with all their might. The sense of pride and glory when the cuffed demon gazed at the temple in the past was nowhere to be found, replaced with an empty feeling and a longing for something to be done.
Well, no matter; it wouldn’t be such a problem soon. So what if the temple was practically caving in on itself? With enough work, Broker knew that he would restore his home back into an awe-inspiring fortress of pure turquoise stone worthy of being a house of dedicated worship.
As the temple came into arm’s reach, the duo climbed up the steps of the temple to the entrance. The Broker smiled as he gentlemanly held the door open with his heel and performed a courteous bow, motioning for Scythe to enter first. The boss played along, positioning her gloved hand in front of her mouth with a surprised expression. “Ooh, how chivalrous of ya,” she told him in a low voice, followed by a soft laugh while she stepped inside.
Both cultists respectfully bowed as they entered the temple, the stone walls welcoming them with sufficient warmth in contrast to the merciless cold that resided outside. The typical sight of demons whispering to one another in the communal area greeted them, though many stopped conversing when they stepped foot into the temple, heads understandably turning their way. Scythe received a few enthusiastic waves, while one or two nodded cordially to Broker.
“Go pay a friendly visit ta ‘Kit and get yerself all healed up,” his partner in crime commanded quietly. “Drop off all the gears fer me too, would ya? I’ve got some business ta take care of right ‘bout now. I’m sure ya have yer own fair share o’ work ta be done too. See ya soon.”
“That’s a shame. You’re correct, however; I do have my own matters with which to deal. Good luck with your work,” he wished, casually waving to her while he pretended to not mind everyone staring at him in either disgust or unease. She reciprocated with a relaxed half-wave as she walked off into one of the shadowy hallways.
With his boss no longer at his side, he turned his attention to the other demons in the room, smiling at them with an unperturbed expression. Some took the hint and quickly turned away, proceeding with their conversations and acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Good for them! They’ve actually got at least a little amount of care for their own wellbeing. Still, some continued to gawk at him like he was some freak of a monster.
How disrespectful. It seemed like only a few people in his family had any manners in social interaction. He forced himself to not audibly sigh aloud in front of his family, hiding all signs of irritation in his body language and keeping his body mannerisms elegant. “This is how it is every day. There’s no need to get so worked up about it. One warning will do.”
“Ah, apologies, am I perhaps interrupting something?” he rhetorically questioned, keeping his voice low. “I’d appreciate it if you could simply mind your own business. As you can see, I’m already quite bloody, and it would be best if I didn’t have to spill any more bloodshed, haha,” he not-so-subtly threatened, his voice laced with contempt despite his grin. “We can all agree on that, yes?”
Some sort of bright lightbulb finally went off in everyone’s brains, and they swiftly went back to talking to each other, though their quivering voices and shaky hands made it evident to Broker how nervous they were. Although he would’ve preferred not intimidating his own family members–in fact, he would have much rathered befriending them all instead–he’d already tried so much, and they were all so keen on acting as if he were some dangerous beast when he was around them. Was it too much to ask for people to be grateful for once for his contributions to the Church?
One of the demons who had nodded to him earlier approached the chained demon, an anxious smile on the demon’s face. “Why, hello there! How may I be of assistance?” Broker inquired.
“Ahaha, hey there, Broker!” Their polite tone and words barely hid their tense body language. “Sorry about.. everyone there. They don’t mean to be so rude. It’s just.. difficult for them to get used to you. You can be so menacing sometimes, you even scare me a little.”
“It’s not your fault, but thanks,” the dealer replied, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t have to apologize for others’ actions, hehe. They’ll learn eventually, one way or the other.” His vague last sentence instilled an ominous sense of dread into the other demon.
“Right..” the demon half-agreed. “Are you okay? Those injuries look painful. You should go get some help from Doc–he came in just about half an hour ago. I’m pretty sure he’s in his office right now.”
“Is that so? I was actually on my way to visit him now, so I appreciate the heads up. See you around! If you ever have any trouble, I’m more than happy to help!” he brightly offered as he waved goodbye and ascended the stone stairs, the murmurs of the other demons dissolving into background noise.
Stopping on the third level, he walked down the hallway over to Meds’ office, sack still in hand. The white cross painted above the door served as an identifier that this was the medical bay. As he knocked twice against the hard metallic door, the echoes of the raps accompanying the rustling of his chain, Broker acutely heard the muffled clangs of various gears being handled on the other side of the door. Metal clinked against more metal inside as the different pieces came into contact with each other. All sounds from the door ceased after his knocks, the occupant alerted of another demon’s presence.
“Meds, it’s me. May I enter?” he graciously asked, though both of them knew that Broker had access to nearly every room and chamber in the temple without needing anyone’s permission due to his rank.
“..Come in,” a monotone voice allowed after a short pause of hesitation. Broker turned the doorknob and stepped into the room. At his desk, Medkit faced the door, awaiting whatever work the criminal needed him to do, though irritated that his workflow had been interrupted. One glance at Broker morphed his apathetic expression into one of both disappointment and slight annoyance.
“I believe it’s obvious what I need you for, Meds,” Broker requested. Medkit pinched his nasal bridge with his fingers, making a faint groan that sounded like a restrained sigh. He got up from his seat and walked over to the other side of his room that resembled a doctor’s office, beckoning Broker to take a seat on the medical bed while he took off his black gloves, washed his hands in a sink, and pulled on latex gloves.
After Broker sat down, he placed the bag of gears on the floor and took off Scythe’s coat as Medkit began unwrapping all his bloodied bandages to inspect the wounds underneath, dark red staining his gloves. “How did all of this happen, exactly?” Medkit asked, not exactly impressed with the number of injuries Broker had managed to obtain.
“Well, I went out for a harvest with Boss. The opponents were decently skilled, so I sustained some wounds while taking care of them, haha,” he explained. “I tried my best to minimize my injuries so that you wouldn’t have to spend your time healing me so much, but I may have gotten carried away and became less cautious than I should have been,” Broker told him, indirectly apologizing to Medkit.
“Then, I don’t suppose Boss’s also badly injured?” The medic stared as he laid his eye on the slash in Broker’s back, wondering how it could be possible to get such an alarming wound and be so irresponsible as to leave it untreated for so long. Taking out a terry towel from one of his cabinets, he wiped the blood surrounding the wounds.
“No, her injuries are rather light in comparison. You don’t have to worry about her, Meds,” the chained demon replied. As Medkit nodded in understanding and threw the towel onto a tray on a nearby stand, he swiftly grabbed another towel, along with a bottle of sterile water in another cabinet. Broker watched as Medkit quickly unscrewed the bottle cap with his teeth, poured it over the towel over the sink, and then scrubbed soap into the towel with a methodical and experienced flow. Although he’d seen this process many times because of how often he visited Meds, it always surprised him what a skilled and professional doctor Medkit could be. Well, using his teeth to open the bottle was probably violating some medical safety protocol, but it succeeded in removing the cap with ease, did it not?
Meds used the towel to disinfect Broker’s wounds, taking great care to only go around the wounds and not directly touch them. “Sounds entirely reasonable. Those wounds of hers will surely cure themselves. I see no need to treat her,” Medkit sarcastically agreed, sighing in the process. “I’ll find her later after she’s done with her work to heal her, in that case.”
The Broker swung his legs forwards and backwards just to entertain himself, but kept his upper body still to make Medkit’s job easier. After cleaning all other wounds, he took Broker’s right claw, but abruptly froze before the towel made contact with the wound. The crystal floating between his antler-shaped horns seemed to lose some of its shining color. The medic’s glare seemed to bore even more holes through Broker’s claw as he stared stoically at the small bullet still embedded in the palm. He looked up to meet Broker’s eye with a neutral expression verging on resigned discontentment, unsurprised that there was an actual bullet that had been lodged in his hand for the past few hours and was still there.
“What’s wrong?” the cuffed demon toyingly questioned, already fully knowing the answer.
“It’s nothing,” Medkit flatly replied, not granting Broker the ticked-off reaction he was hoping to provoke. “At least you didn’t pull the bullet out and let yourself bleed even more,” the doctor remarked as he disinfected the wound. Dropping the towel on his tray, he took a bullet extractor from the tray and freed the metal shot from flesh.
“Ah, what’s that, Meds?” Broker inquired as he eyed the extracted bullet blemished with stuck tissue on the tray, playfully pretending that he himself had never handled a revolver before.
“It’s a bullet.” Medkit internally sighed at the question while he opened his medicine bag that had been resting on one of the white counters, taking a roll of bandages out and closing it shut.
“They are used as ammunition in guns. Once fired, they pierce through their target’s skin and organs with precision and speed. You act as if you’ve never experienced such before. Shall I perform a demonstration for you?” Medkit vaguely threatened as his claw hovered over his checkered revolver in its holster.
“Hm? W-well, I don’t believe that will be necessary, haha!” Broker faked a stutter and raised his hands in the air, wearing a nervous smile as he played along with the situation.
Medkit kept his arm right over his holster for some seconds, a tired and serious look on his face as he glared at Broker for what seemed like an eternity. Then, his expression cracked. The corner of his mouth turned upward into a slight grin as he lifted his claw away from the revolver, smiling at their stupid tomfoolery. Broker let his arms fall to the side, exhaling an exaggerated breath of relief.
Medkit’s smirk quickly receded back into a neutral expression as he set the bandages on his tray and opened one of his cabinets to take out a container of ointment. Removing the lid, he applied the gel-like ointment on the wounds with practiced hands. Then, Medkit began summoning one of his turquoise crystals in the palm of his claw, the reflective fragments gravitating together to form one luminescent crystal emitting a turquoise glow. He threw the crystal onto the exam table, and in an instant it shattered soundlessly, an angelic aura of healing suddenly surrounding the two. Although he could not feel it, Broker saw his wounds begin to heal, his cuts closing up and regenerating gradually. The only one that still completely remained was the one on his back, too severe for Medkit’s crystal to fully heal on account of the crystal’s size.
The medic rebandaged the wounds with his own special bandages, imbued with a crystal solution to enhance the healing process. “Don’t engage in any strenuous activities for the next few days, and you’ll be fine. Finish up whatever work you have today, and then get home quickly to rest,” he sternly instructed. “Replace those bandages tomorrow and wash them twice more.” He kept his eye on Broker until the navy blue demon nodded in agreement, then he removed his gloves to wash his hands in the sink.
“Thanks for your services as always, haha!” Broker exclaimed, though he earned no response from Medkit, expectedly. “I’ve always been keenly fascinated by your crystals. How do they work?” He tried his luck.
Much to Broker’s expectation, Medkit quickly shut him down. “If I were to explain them in their entirety, it’d take a fair amount of time that I believe neither of us have right now,” he stated. Meds had a clever way with his words, always expressing his own preferences as if they were cold, objective facts of complete neutrality. Sure, it was amusing to hear his carefully crafted sentences and attempt to decipher them, but at times, it irritated Broker that his favorite co-worker was hiding information from him. It was fine. Let Meds have his secrets. Broker would eventually discover them all anyway with his own arsenal of crafty techniques.
“Well, that’s a pity.” He nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders. “Perhaps another time, then. Oh, I also have another request. I’m not very fond of the idea of assigning you more responsibilities than you already have, but I have a favor to ask of you.” He clasped his hands together in jesting pleading.
As the doctor switched off the faucet and put on his black gloves from before, he took notice of the burlap sack Broker carried in earlier. “I presume those are the gears from your recent harvest in there?” Medkit induced, walking over to the medical bed to pick up the sack and place it on his work table. His table was already occupied by the neat spread-out insides of multiple gears that the healer had been repairing before Broker knocked on his door.
“Of course,” the acolyte confirmed. He hopped off the exam table with spring in his step and followed Medkit. “You’re quite reliable, Meds, so Boss asked to have you mend these gears before she goes out to sell them. They were unfortunately damaged in our process of obtaining them, you see. How long do you estimate that it’ll take you to finish?”
As Medkit untied the sack to reveal nine different gears, he briefly placed each individual one in his claws to inspect their conditions, then set them down on his work table. Broker stood next to him, content, his hands folded together behind his back.
“It won’t take long. I’ll be done with them in around four days, considering the state they’re currently in.” His attention fell upon the magnificent sword of flames in the burlap sack as he carefully took hold of it.
“..Actually, three and a half days will do fine,” he corrected himself. Turning the weapon over and over in his hands, his perceptive eye found no flaws or imperfections. “This one’s in perfect condition. It seems high quality, too. If you want me to optimize it for better performance, I can do so quickly. That doesn’t require nearly as much time as repairs do.”
“Ah, that gear’s an exception; we’re not selling it off since, as you’ve noticed, it’s a one in a million find. It’d be more favorable for us if it legally came into possession of the family.” Broker gave a silly wink with his tongue out that the medic pretended he couldn’t see.
“I’ll prioritize this one first, then, after I’ve finished working on the three I’m currently repairing,” Medkit decided, not exactly commenting on Broker’s last reply. “It’ll be ready by tomorrow afternoon.”
“I see. Well, I’m heading down to make a call to initiate the process with the gear.” He turned around and started towards the door. “I expect nothing less than perfection from you, Meds. Your work has nearly always been exceptional. Don’t mess this up.” His last sentence served as a precautionary warning to Medkit, who simply nodded in acknowledgment, expressing no particularly strong emotions about the message.
“Leave Scythe’s jacket here. I’ll return it to her when I heal her later, and I hardly suspect many people enjoy the sight of your walking around with blood on your back,” he advised. Broker, who was reaching for the jacket at that moment, retracted his hand obligingly, and left the room without another word. As soon as the door shut, the familiar sounds of metalworking quickly started up again inside. Broker smiled to himself as he heard the different compartments of a gear being chiseled and refined. “It’s interesting how Meds always starts working whenever he’s alone, as if he’s almost embarrassed or nervous to work in front of me like how a child acts with his schoolteacher. I would never have anything other than praise to say about his work, though.”
–
As the demon at the door allowed Broker to enter, he walked into the brightly lit records room, similar to a library in that its shelves were full of hundreds upon hundreds of organized papers and files and folders. The metal door behind him closed slowly, and he took a seat at one of the open desks in the middle of the room. The record book currently in use was already laid out on the table, next to a black landline phone. Taking a black ballpoint pen from the stationery container, the cultist began writing down the details of the extensive trip that the gear would take:
"Mystic Sword of the Flames: Exploratory Pawnshop → The Lost Temple Hospital of Potions → Hammer’s Engineering Workshop → The Storage Bank of Protected Gears → Church of the True Eye :)
Authorized laundering operation by The Broker"
He set the pen on the desk, happy with the plan. Then, reaching over, he dialed a number on the landline and held the phone in his hand as he leaned back in the comfortable chair, relaxed. While he waited for the receiver to pick up, he tapped the desk in a rhythmic beat, giving his other claw something to do instead of toying with the landline cord. Of course, he’d have wrapped his finger around the cord and started looping it around if this were his red landline he often used, but this black one was communal property of the family. It’d be foolish of him if he accidentally damaged it while playing around with it.
Without much waiting on Broker’s end, the demon on the opposite line picked up, a calm voice answering the phone. “Compass from Exploratory Pawnshop,” the demon introduced himself. “How may I help you?”
“Hello! It’s Broker. I’m just calling to inform you about a new gear with which I require your involvement, hehe. I’ll send someone over tomorrow night to transport the gear. It’s the Mystic Sword of the Flames. I speculate it’s worth around forty to fifty thousand Bux?”
“Right,” the other demon complied, the rapid clicks of a keyboard clearly coming from his end. “Where should I forward it to?”
“The Hospital of Potions. I believe it’s not too far away from your shop. You’ll only need to say it’s for the Gear Donations Program. I’ll continue giving out instructions to the next demons in the operation.”
“Got it. Is that all you need?” The reply was brief, but everything necessary was said.
“That’s all. As usual, we’ll pay for the tax on the Bux that you ‘obtained’ from ‘pawning the gear’. Thanks for your cooperation, haha!” He hung up the phone and placed it back on its stand, satisfied. The process was quick and smooth, as it typically was with the cooperative shop owner. That was all the teal demon needed to do for tomorrow to proceed smoothly. Nothing else urgently important was left to complete today, and Meds had advised him to leave early to heal. Heeding Meds’ advice, he waved goodbye to the temple with a genuine smile and left for the night, unbotheredly exposing himself to the bloodthirsty whirlwinds of the sunless night again to head home. A long day of busy work filled with nonviolent torture and legal laundering awaited him when the Sun rose.
