Palace of Greed, El Dorado (Library of Ruina)

Glancing down to your crowbar, it takes you a good couple minutes to decide where to go. All of them would give you a good leg-up, but Symmetral sounds complicated, and you're not exactly keen on getting blood all over either. You'd pick a shiv, not a crowbar, if that's the case. Talos sounds a bit wasted, considerin' the crowbar you got is sturdy enough, and while Goliath calls to you – that "fight" with Ran flashes onto the front of your mind. Yeah. "Knock Workshop," you eventually say, glancing to Mao. "Sounds like that's what I need."

Some oomph to keep your enemies stumbling, so you could smack them more.

Mao smirks that annoying cat-like smirk of her. "Yup, I hear you, Lily," she nods sagely, before throwing her arm around your shoulders. You grunt as she pulls you close – that smell of blood, iron, and papers returning; you don't think they'll ever go, even if she takes a shower – and leans her body down onto you. She's not heavy, not really, but it feels fucking awkward. You shrug her arm off, but it doesn't work.

There's a knowing glint in her eyes, and you grumble. "You gotta fucking stop this," you glare. "It's –" pride's a privilege you don't got, not yet. You can't afford shit like shame, right? But that don't mean "—this is embarrassing."

Fuck. You don't like how you sound right then.

Mao's smirk widens into a grin. "Wellll," she says, stretching out the word as she moves, forcing you to follow. "You coouuld try."

You narrow your eyes at her, and then – you shrug your arm off, hard. It doesn't budge. You might have ended up hurting yourself more. Growling, you put your hand over hers, and try to pry them off. You manage to get a finger off, but they're stiff as steel – and suddenly, you drop into a squat, only to squawk as her entire body weight falls on you. You almost plant your face to the ground – then you're lifted off the ground, and for a moment, you panic, your feet touching empty air, before you return back to earth.

You're breathing hard, heart beating fast. Your face feels uncomfortably warm. Mao laughs, and you groan covering your face with a hand. "One day, I fucking swear," you grumble, and that's a fucking promise. "You win for now."

"Heh," Mao snorts. She doesn't laugh, but her shoulders are shaking. "I'd like to see that," you mumble out a long string of curses at her. Mao giggles at that. "Well, onward to Knock Workshop then, Lily!"




Knock Workshop sits comfortably on the edge of the Workshop Streets, in the quieter part of the complex. The building is a squat one-storied thing, and compared to the other Workshops you've passed, Knock Workshop sits somewhere in the middle of the road; neither large, nor small. A sign hangs on its front; the image of a door with a cracked center. On either side of the entry – an opaque glass door not unlike the one back at the Office – a pair of Fixers stand on guard. They wear a zipped-up brown jacket, both its collar, and the wrists of its sleeves lined with white fuzzy fluffs. On their chest, you notice a patch with the same image as the Workshop's sign. Fancy-looking sledgehammers the length of an arm hang loosely by their waist; its shaft carved, and the head an unblemished silver. They look strong, you think. They're well equipped – something that you suppose comes with being a Workshop Fixer. 8th​ – no, maybe 7th​ Grades at best.

They straighten at your approach, eyes narrow – and you stiffen reflexively, glaring, hackles rising. You've been here before, standing a little too close to places you're not supposed to be. Syndicate territories, and rat nests. Sometimes they let you go, or you let them go – sometimes they don't, and sometimes you got out on top, but most times you got beat up. That's that. This is now. You feel a pat on your shoulders, and you twitch, scowling at Mao.

She returns it with a relaxed smile. "Chill, you all. We're just here to get my junior a little something nice."

The Fixers sag quietly, leaning back to the wall. As Mao steps forward, the arm around your shoulders pulling you with her, the Fixers stop neither of you. The door lets out a beep, and you hear a hissing click as it swings open.

The moment you step inside, the smell of iron, oil, and smoke assault your nose. You're led into a small room, maybe a bit larger than your own apartment. Here, the walls, and floor are a featureless, and unpainted grey concrete, lit by the bright yellow lamps. A large counter cuts the room into half; thick glass case, and metal bars separating the two sides proper. There's another entry there, leading back into the Workshop. Three Fixers straighten their back slightly. Two of them sit on a chair, guarding the gated door leading to the back of the counter – meanwhile, another sits behind the counter.

"Knock knock," Mao says. The Fixers groan, and Mao laughs. "C'mon, you all are way too tense."

"Yeah, yeah," one of the Fixers behind t, moving to the back. "I'll go call the Meister. You two wait here."

That leaves you with two Fixers. They eye the both of you with half-lidded looks. There's a warning there – promises of consequences for certain acts.

You couldn't take them – but you could try.

You blink, scrunching your brows. You don't get it. "What's so funny?"

Mao blinks back, raising an eyebrow. "Really."

You turn your face, glaring at her. "What? Don't look at me like that – it's probably something fucking stupid ain't it."

"Well, I mean, it is stupid," Mao admits, chuckling. "But 'knock knock' jokes are pretty universal – were," she corrects. "Universal, I guess."

You roll your eyes. "… It's the noise you make when you knock at the door – yeah, I get that part. What's so funny about it?"

Mao sighs, and you grimace. "Okay, okay," she nods, after a moment. "I say 'knock knock', and you say, 'who's there?', got it? Knock knock."

You narrow your eyes. Mao returns it with that grin of hers. "… No, I'm not gonna do that."

"Boo," Mao shakes her head, chuckling. "Oh fine," and you blink as she takes her arm off you. "Guess we'll just wait for the Meister to come, then."

You roll your shoulders, looking around. "Is it supposed to be this empty?" you wonder aloud.

"Hmm?" Mao tilts her head, before blinking. "Oh. Well, Workshops aren't any run-of-the-mill stores to begin with – they work more like Offices than anything else," she explains, and you nod slowly. "Even got the Tres Association to act as their Hana – make sure they don't break the Head's rules, and all that jazz."

The Head. Even the mention of it makes you shiver. "Right," you mutter. "Guess that'd be bad."

"Worse than bad," someone grunts, and you look towards the counter. Wifebeater shirt drenched in sweat, and a pair of long rough-looking trousers. Curt jet black hair slick with oil, and narrow grey eyes behind a pair of square glasses; a thick beard that hides the entirety of his lower face. Instead of flesh, his arms are made from metal. They shine like bronze under the light, and as the man crosses them across his chest, you could hear something audible inside them. His fingers are segmented narrow thing, twitching stiffly like the recent dead. They tap against his elbow; trat-tap-tap, the noise echoes. "Breaking the rule might as well mean death to us," he continues, voice gruff, and heavy. "Sure, we got three strikes 'fore we're out – but even the first strike's fine is high enough you'd have to start from scratch. And if you can't pay that fine in time…" his eyes lower, darkening. "You're out."

You purse your lips, eyeing the man. "Sounds rough, man," you snort. You already know that. You've spent years learning it.

"Bah!" the man snorts, throwing his arms up. "Enough of that. I am Tor, Meister of this Workshop. What do you want?"

"Well, I –" Mao says, grinning. "Want to buy my junior something nice," and at that, she pats you on the back. "And what my junior wants is…" she trails off.

You roll your eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I got it," stepping up to the counter, you're forced to look up to properly stare at the dude. "Mao told me that Knock Workshops specialize in making weapons with oomph," you say, placing your crowbar onto the counter. "I want get my crowbar modded with it."

"Oomph," Tor repeats, blankly. He inhales, and then exhales. "It's more than just oomph, girl. It's Impact. Impact," he stresses the word, before huffing. "If you paid me enough, I could make weapons that could send even a car flying," he grounds out. "My works aren't just art – they're practical, without being so overcompensating like that idiot at Goliath –" he cuts himself off, taking a deep breath. He glares. "Don't call it oomph."

"Alright, alright, whatever, man," you roll your eyes. "But can you though?"

For some reason, Mao lets out a snort. Taking another deep breath, Tor takes your crowbar. You really don't like how his arm dwarves your weapon. "Mass produced stuff, huh," he muses, eyeing it. "It's sturdy. Practical. That's Hana for you –" he snorts, his bushy beard twitching. "Sure, I could mod it easy, but at that point," he slides the crowbar back to you. You blink. "It'd just be better for me to build you a new one – not to let you down kid, but this is 9th​ Grade stuff."

"I am 9th​ Grade."

Tor shoots you a look.

You grimace. Okay, that sounds like shit. "Yeah, yeah, I got it," you grumble back. But shit, you're here to get your weapon modded – if you're requesting for a new weapon, that's gonna cost a whole lot more, and – and you're not the one paying. "How much does it cost?"

"And how long's it gonna take to make?" Mao chimes in, stepping to your side.

"Something like this?" Tor frowns. Or at least, you think he's frowning. "I could have it done by tomorrow, even, as long as you don't want anything fancy?"

"Yeah," you nod carefully. "Simple's better for now."

He grunts, nodding, almost approving. "See if you get used to it first," he says, before lowering his eyes. "It's gonna cost you two mills."

Your eyes bulge. "Two mills – " you nearly choke on your own spit. Twenty hundred thousand; that's two one million. That's fucking two followed up by five more zeroes That's nearly thrice your goddamn rent. "Like hell that's –"

"Finish it by tomorrow morning, and you got a deal."

You sputter.

"I'll get it done tonight," he nods, pulling out a piece of paper. He begins to fill it in. Fuck, he's ignoring you. "I'm not an idiot," he says, sliding the paper over.

"Good to know," Mao comments idly, looking over the paper – the contract, you realize, catching the title.

You turn to her. "You're insane."

"It ain't cheap," Mao admits. She takes out a pen from her pocket. Hana Fountain Pen, the same that you have. You glance down to the contract, and immediately give up reading it. The words might as well be fucking gibberish to you. "But Workshop products aren't supposed to be cheap, Lily. 'Sides, I meant what I said – I want to give something nice for my junior, and Mori's probably thinking the same thing too," there's a pause as she finishes reading the paper, signing it down. "Remember what I said last night?"

You open your mouth, and then closes it. Scarecrows have each other's back, you recall. "That's…" you trail off, looking away. "That's different."

"Aww," Mao giggles, and you stiffen. "Did I embarrass you too much, Lily?"

You growl under your breath. "Fuck off."

"If it makes you feel any better," Mao says, and in the corner of your eyes, you see her pull out a card from her wallet. Tor takes out a machine, and – beep. And the deed is done. You feel a knot form inside your throat. "Two million's a lot, but I've spent ten times more on my rifle here," she shrugs her shoulder at that, jostling the rifle slightly. "And triple that for the machete."

"It doesn't," you grumble, grimacing as Mao hands you your crowbar. "That's still way too much for me."

Mao frowns, before turning to Tor. "Tomorrow morning, then. Don't forget, Meister Tor," she says, waving her copy of the contract.

"Yes, of course," he grunts. "You can pick it up whenever tomorrow."

And just like that, the two of you leave the Workshop, stepping back into the Streets proper once again. There's a pause as Mao takes the lead. "That bothered you this much, huh," Mao eventually muses.

"Well yeah, no shit, Mao," you glare, shoving your hands to your pockets. "It's just. Fuck. I don't know," you grumble, trailing off. "That's a lot of money that you put into me, Mao."

"Ah," Mao intones. "You think what – that you can't meet my expectation?"

"No, nothing like that," you shake your head, grumbling. "I'm not that much of a loser to need you damn approval," Mao smirks at that. "It's just…" you want to say that it's the same as Landlord Lin, but that's not right either. It's similar. Landlord Lin housed you because he (apparently) owed your parents, but he also saw you as something of an investment. A tool to make his money back – you reckon that if he didn't, he would've kicked you out. But Mao? You don't know why Mao would put that much money into you. "I'll pay you back, alright?"

"You really don't have to."

"I know," you grumble. "But I gotta, or I'll feel weird about it."

Mao sighs, throwing her arm back around your shoulders. You grunt. "… If it makes you feel better, Lily."

"It does," you're forced to admit. Sighing, you shove your hands deep into your pockets, kicking an errant pebble aside. "I guess."

That's the end of that, and eventually, you step in the busier part of the streets – before crossing it to the less busy part of it, stopping in front of a nondescript-looking building. Peeled off paint, and cracked concrete – it looks run-down; practically desolate compared to the other shops around here. It's a "fashion statement" thing, or something stupid like that, Mao said. Karrion Bouquet, the sign says, hanging crookedly on the storefront, leading into a thick-looking wooden door – and ain't that a hell of a name. Regardless, it's where you're gonna be getting your new uniform. Considering what you're wearing right now, you don't have much hope. You'll live.

"Yo," you glance to the side, down to the streets. Mori, and Kai walk up to you, his hand raised in greetings, and – you blink. "You guys got here early, huh."

Mao snorts. "Well, you two sure took your time. So how did it go?"

Mori smiles slightly, shrugging his shoulders. "As well as it could, I suppose."

Your attention locks into Kai's face – more precisely, her eyes; previously bandaged, now a pearl-like metallic thing. "Your eye," you mutter, catching her blank attention. You shiver. "You replaced it."

Her hand raises but stops halfway through. "Yes," Kai responses, nodding. "It helps me see. So much. Too much," she adds quietly, and the fake eye twitches. "I would have to wear an eyepatch, but I am breaking it in," there's a pause, and pearl-like eye focuses on your face. Meanwhile, her other eye stares. "Is something wrong?"

Fuck. If Kai wasn't already unsettling before, she is now. "Nah," you grunt, shaking your head. "You just caught me off guard, is all."

She hums.

She's still staring. "… What?"

"Your weapon," she adds stiffly. "How did it go?"

You grimace, remembering the two million. How much did her eye cost, you wonder, and who paid for it? You reckon Kai got way more money than you ever had. "… I'm picking it up tomorrow," you answer.

Her real eye blinks – and you don't miss the twitches on her eyelid as she tries to blink the other one. "I see."




Dark.

The impression echoes inside your head when you enter Karrion Bouquet – dark enough that you could only see the silhouette of your hand. The boards under your feet creak ever so slightly, and a familiar unpleasant smell lingers in the air, a floral scent clashing with that musty smell of wrongly dried laundry. You hear rapid skittering, and you snap your head forward – a small candle glows on a table, its flame tiny, but stable thing. Next to it, a pair of yellow glowing floating orbs – oh, they're eyes.

Wait, they're eyes.

You tense up –

"Scarecrows!" it – she? – exclaims, a buzzing quality to her voice, like speaking in doubles. The orbs then move; bobbing up and down, and closer, accompanied by sharp skittering against the floor. "Hmph. I had thought all of you have forgotten our appointment – I'm a busy girl, don't you see?!"

"Oh, I'm sure," Mori drawls out. " – But can you do something about the light first, Karrion?"

"Hmph!" the orbs halt suddenly, before turning elsewhere. You didn't realize you were holding your breath until now. If you use those eyes as indicator, she wouldn't be any taller than Sun. "I did not miss your little sarcastic insinuation, Scarecrow Mori, and I will not tolerate –" there's a pause, followed by a droning grumble. "… Where did I place that thing…"

"It's under the mannequin," you almost jump when Kai speaks up. Her eye glows a faint whitish-blue. "I believe."

"Oh?" the orbs swerve – and you blink, catching a silhouette of 'Karrion' as your eyes grow accustomed to the darkness. It does the opposite of relaxing you – the silhouette does no appear human. "Ohoh!" Karrion exclaims, skittering to a spot. "Quite the beautiful eye you have there, Scarecrow White! I swear, my customers are a bunch of sissies – it's not my fault the electricity bill is expensive, you hear me? And it's not as though I need them in the first place! Hmph!"

There's a click, and like that – bright light. You hiss as it hits your eyes. It emits from a round lamp device, the kind that was normally used for emergency. It floats off in the air, held by a pair of sharp bladed things. You blink again, and you could finally see Karrion.

The face of a young woman – porcelain white, with a pair of unmoving yellow eyes. Red hair reaching down to her shoulders; a pair of buns tied above her head. Her lips frozen into a small smile, and a black dress covers her body – and that might be where the similarity to 'human' ends. Black jet – almost bluish under the light – sharp blade-like appendages poking out where the arms should be, and her torso seems to stretch to accommodate the dozens of sharp spider-like limbs replacing her legs.

Oh what the fuck –

You open your mouth, and then closes it. You've heard, of course, people who'd go far with augmenting their body – you've even encountered those schmucks who had to sell their whole body to settle their debt. But seeing is different, and this? This is on a whole 'nother level.

Karrion's eyes don't move, but her head does snap to your direction. "Oh my, darling," she chirps, and you realize, belatedly, that her lips do not move. "Is this the first time you see a body like this?" she twirls around, revealing that round thing that spider got on their butt. "Don't I look beautiful?"

"Uh –" you feel an elbow – two elbows nudging both your sides. Mori, and Mao. "Yeah. Very cool."

Karrion giggles, flapping her bladed arm around, before placing the lamp onto a table – illuminating the whole boutique. That's a lot of mannequins, you think quietly, dozens of them lined up against the wall, wearing similar style of outfits that the Scarecrow wears, if without the ratty quality. Rolls of cloth, and strings, and fabrics engulfing the tables, and almost exploding out of the cupboards. Glasses, metal, and a few mannequin heads rolling around the floor.

"Oh, I do always appreciate the lip service!"

"Girls, meet Karrion," Mao says, smiling. She waves at Karrion, and Karrion beams. "She's the great seamstress who made these amazing outfits," she gestures at herself.

Karrion titters. "It's true, these are amazing outfits – oh, Scarecrow Mao, how is Daniel doing? It has been a very long while since he visits."

"Boss is fine, Kar," Mao chuckles. "Think time really turned him lazy – we can talk about him later, aight?"

"Oh," Karrion pauses, tilting her head. Finally, she sighs, pressing a bladed limb against her cheek. "Alright then."

You frown, eyeing the two. Something about that doesn't feel right – the way Mao said it, and the way Karrion reacted. In the corner of your eyes, you catch Mori frown. There's a history here, about the Boss – something about the Boss – that you're not in on with.

But the way the way she responded… Is the Boss sick or something?

"Well, enough dilly-dallying," Karrion announces, her voice peaking. "You are here for a reason, and I am here to cater those reasons. You, Scarecrow Red," you straighten up as Karrion points a limb at you, before… curling it around. "Come to the back. I shall measure your size."

Reflexively, you turn to your side.

Mao smirks. "Karrion's not gonna bite, Lily."

You narrow your eyes at her, before moving after Karrion with a grumble. The seamstress leads you to the back of the shop, into a candle-lit box-like room; a large mirror hung against the wall. Behind you, Karrion steps in, and the door clicks shut behind her. You stiffen slightly. You know – you know that Karrion's not gonna attack you, and you're beginning to suspect that, now that you've become a Fixer, a being with her appearance is something that you're gonna have to get used to. But fuck, it's unsettling, alright? And now you're inside a tight room with her, and with the amount of mods she put her body in, you reckon you're not gonna go out on top.

Not that you wouldn't take her on –

"Now, spread your hands to the side, Scarecrow Red –"

"It's Lily," you shoot back, scowling as you do as she said. "My name's Lily."

"Scarecrow Lily then," there's a pause, and you shiver as you feel her bladed limbs press against your sides. Sharp, you think – and if she tries to dig 'em into flesh, you're definitely not gonna be having a fine time. "What a surprisingly beautiful name."

Your eye twitches. "It ain't beautiful," you bristle. "… Fuck is it with everybody thinking it's cute, or beautiful?"

"It's a compliment, darling."

You couldn't turn your head over to glare at her, but you could glower at her reflection just fine.

Karrion sniffs. "Honestly, is there something so wrong with being cute, and beautiful, Scarecrow Lily?" her limbs move from your side, and down to your legs. "They are fine qualities to have, no?"

"Being cute, and beautiful means you're weak – I sure as fuck ain't weak."

Karrion sighs. "I see no reason why they have to be diametrically opposed – Mao is beautiful, but she's also strong."

"Wrong," you shake your head. "Mao's strong – so she got to be beautiful."

There's a hum. "I would dare you say that in front of Mao's face, and see what happens."

You narrow your eyes. "… Maybe I will."

"Your funeral, darling," Karrion giggles, before stepping back. "I am done."

You blink, turning around – and face to face to Karrion. You almost step back, before you force yourself to step forward. "That's it?"

At that, as if on cue, Karrion perks up. "Of course, that's it!" she chirps. "My eyes, and my arms," she wiggles them around. "They have been augmented to be able to measure sizes within a second, and these legs," at that, they chitter against the floor. "I could put any beautiful, and gorgeous designs I have crafted in my mind into reality! With this body, I am practically the perfect seamstress!"

"… It's worth it, then?"

There's a glint in her eyes. "Of course," she straightens up, pressing a bladed limb over her chest. "It's my dream to create the most beautiful clothes, that even the Stars and Colors would come begging to my doorstep – if I would let my human body's limitation to drag me back, then I shouldn't have bothered with having such a dream."

If you're not willing to sacrifice yourself, then don't bother – you fidget slightly, before shrugging. "Makes sense, I guess," you say, quietly under your breath.

"It does? I mean," Karrion perks up. "Of course, it does! So, any design you have in mind, darling? Naturally," she scoffs, waving her bladed limb. "My vision triumphs all, but I am willing to consider such preferences. Additionally, what attribute to do you want your outfit to have?"

"Attribute?"

"Why yes," Karrion nods. "I'm not some run-of-the-mill seamstress, you hear me. I source all of my resources – especially the threads," for some reason, that makes you shiver. "Strong threads. Weak threads. Threads that make you strong. Threads that make you quick. Even threads that make you smart, and empathetic, or even charismatic. Of course, I will not give you the best threads – it would be a shame to waste them if you're gonna die immediately."

Huh.

Article:

New Outfit – this will grant you a +2 Armor. Of course, you get to choose with how it looks – this vote is optional, and if you prefer the current look, you can't vote so.

[] Write in Appearance

Special Attribute – these threads are special. One might argue they're not 'dead'. [Choose 1 Skill to Boost. Chosen Skill will receive a +1 as long as the outfit is worn]

[] Choose Skill (Melee, Insight, etc)