The club's air is thick with smoldering ash and smoke.
The "Open" sign swings forlornly at the door. Those few that still pass it on the street do so quickly, as if running past a graveyard.
Even in the heart of the city, it feels remote.
Matilda: Yes. I am awaiting orders at 379 Haight Street now. I have sent two investigators back to the branch. They'll show you the way.
Matilda: Since time is limited, I will go to the target location in advance and update you on my coordinates.
SPF-I: This mission will bring us one step closer to eliminating Manus Vindictae. You have provided us with vital information thus far, Ms. Bouanich.
SPF-I: Please stay in touch. The reinforcement squad will arrive soon.
Matilda: And, one more thing.
She stops, but eventually cannot help but continue.
Matilda: One of our arcanist friends may have defected to Manus Vindictae. I believe they'll be expecting us and the reinforcements.
Matilda: This was my personal oversight, so I hope you will allow me to scout ahead. That way, I can provide optimal support for the following operation.
The other end of the line is silent, until a staticky clamor breaks through.
It comes with a resolute reply.
SPF-I: Your current mission is to wait for reinforcements at the New Age Market. Please follow your orders, Investigator Bouanich.
Matilda: Understood.
She bites her lip, disheartened, and puts the device back into her pocket.
It is good news, but she can't calm the turmoil within her.
Pioneer: I heard Ms. Mercuria went to Legers's place this morning.
Pioneer: Ms. Bouanich, we've done everything we can. It's not your fault.
She shakes her head, no longer in the mood to respond to any words of comfort.
Matilda: Legers and those arcanists have made a total mess of the market. The people's safety is our top priority now.
Matilda: J's been away since this morning. He has to be here when the reinforcements arrive.
Matilda: Where did he go?
The mannequin shrugs.
Pioneer: Nowhere, Ms. Bouanich. He's right there.
He points to the back door of the kitchen, held slightly ajar.
From behind it comes a rhythmic, metallic sound.
"Clink—"
"Ding, ding—"
"Ding, ding—ding!"
She steps forward, moving through the cluttered kitchen, past sauces, grills, and towers of unwashed plates.
Matilda: What's he doing?
The mannequin turns his head to the door, giving no response.
She pushes the door open and steps inside.
...
J: Hah, to be honest, I thought I'd never use this thing again.
His hammer strikes down heavily on the glowing, red-hot metal. Something tells her they fell harder than they should.
J: I remember that day. Dad was in the living room with his friends, boasting about this awesome treasure he found on his trip. Hadn't seen him smile like that since Mom died.
J: Heh. His friends all sucked up to him. Thought he dug up some good stuff.
J: I was just a whiney little kid back then. No one liked me.
J: After his friends left, Dad put me in a suit and tie, like I was some kind of stage performer, and took me to the Velvet Restaurant.
J: When we got there, he brought this little girl to me and said, "Hey son, I got you a little sister."
J: That was the first time I met Paulina and her mom. I realized that he wasn't lying about the treasure. The days after were sweet, like eating dessert on cloud nine every day.
Sparks fly across his eyes.
J: But it didn't last long. My dad was nothing but a broke insurance agent after he ran away from the Wayland family. He had big dreams, but he was too weak to realize them.
Matilda: The Wayland family? I've read about them in the Arcanum and Metal, compiled by the SPDM.
Matilda: They've been arcane blacksmiths, famous for their sword-making, for generations. But the book says the family perished in the war.
J: No matter what generation, Frenchie, weak people cower in dark holes, learn to hide their power, and only use it when they really need it.
J: Being reckless can kill you. I've learned that better than anyone since my old man died.
J: And, you know what? His friends were right. He followed Solomon's Manuscript, a document left behind by his family, and dug up something from under the ruins. A worthless piece of black iron.
Matilda: Solomon's Manuscript? That document holds top-secret information, only available to certain members of the Foundation. How did he get it? And what have you done with the iron?
J: Most of it became this thing strapped to my back, and the rest ...
J: Well, you're looking at it, girl. I didn't get why Dad said it was good stuff until now.
J: You know those witches who can tell at a glance whether a kid'll be a warrior or a priest?
J: When I looked at this scrap of metal, I had the same feeling. It was destined to be a killer knife.
J: And now, it's gonna make its debut.
The girl catches sight of the cloth bag at his feet and, further away, a weathered but polished old motorcycle.
Matilda: Reinforcements will arrive soon, and I have decoded the spell on the key.
Matilda: You have to wait, J.
Matilda: Ms. Mercuria, she's joined Manus Vindictae. We have no way of knowing what information she's given them.
He shakes his head.
J: I don't need their help. I can bring my friends back myself, French Fry.
J: Those crazies are holding the ceremony soon. I'm not gonna let them destroy my birthplace. I'm not gonna wait for your little friends to arrive, either.
Matilda: Please, J, there's no reason to risk your life! The reinforcements will arrive in no time. Then we can finish this with minimum casualties.
Matilda: Take this lesson from the experienced Investigator Matilda Bouanich: preparation is the key to success!
The young man laughs hard and steadily.
J: Hahaha, I guess you're right.
J: When I was a scrawny little street kid, I'd look to a savior, like a cop or a boss, anything to avoid a beating.
J: We all got the smarts to stay outta trouble.
J: We just gotta look both ways before we make our move.
"Clink—"
Old Beggar: This wallet is all I have, please! There's nothing in it! Just a photo of my wife and daughter!
Rascal I: C'mon, you old fogey. Take it back if you got the guts! Hahaha, Berton, catch!
Rascal II: Over here, old man. Hey! Get out of the way, you stupid bastard!
Brian the Beggar: ...
Old Beggar: Help me, Brian.
Brian the Beggar: I'm sorry. I'm sorry, friend.
He shakes off the old man's trembling hand as if preparing to run.
J: We show tolerance and modesty.
"Clink—"
Garage Owner: Hollick, tell me, did your brain slip outta your skull? Don't you know how expensive this cleaner is? Spray it on this piece of crap one more time, and you ain't getting a cent next month!
Hollick: B-but, sir, the customer paid us to use this cleaner.
Garage Owner: And I pay you to work for me, you idiot! Either listen to me, or go back to daydreaming in that burnt-down garage of yours!
He timidly glances downward, feeling at his empty pockets, struggling to find words.
J: We know our limits. Do what we can and give up when we have to.
"Clink—"
Becket: coughs and spits
Judge: Ten, nine, eight, seven ...
Oddsmaker: Hey, hey! Just stay down, you idiot! You'll get paid after the game, I promise!
Oddsmaker: Oh c'mon! You think you're a tough man? Just stay down, and we'll make a fortune!
His body is exhausted, pushed over hard, yet his fist remains tightly clenched.
"Clink—"
"Ding, ding—ding!"
J: But if you've ever tried to temper a sword, you'd know that hesitation ruins the work.
The searing-hot blade plunges into the water, producing a hissing burst of bubbles and steam.
J: You gotta be brave, decisive. That's how you make a great sword. That's how you live a great life.
J: You don't gotta be too careful about what you say and do. Don't gotta be prepared for everything.
He pulls the cooled blade from the water and places it into the soft wrapping cloth.
A new Bowie knife.
J: Because a brave and decisive fist ... Well, that's unstoppable.
J: I won't just stand back and wait like a coward. Never. You understand?
She hesitates.
Matilda: Perhaps you're right, but this would be a serious violation. You'll be going against the direct orders of the Foundation!
Deep within her restless mind, an answer is slowly emerging.
Matilda: Therefore, as your supervisor, I will keep an eye on you wherever you go, just in case you do something stupid.
A helmet flies through the air, landing in her hand.
J: Fine by me, commander.
The round bartender has polished the table to a shine, as if oblivious to the destruction around her.
Sputnik: humming Hmm?!
Sputnik: Hey. Where are the badges?! They were here just now!
Sputnik: Mr. Pioneer! Mr. Pioneer!
He is already gone.
"Buzz, buzz—buzz!"
