"I'm sorry," Javors whimpers, "I don't know what you mean."

"What were you just doing?" Ava demands. "You were carving up the air with that knife of yours. I saw light shining in from – someplace!"

"No, Miss," he swears, "I've been sleeping, I don't have any idea what you're talking about."

The other members of their party begin to stir and rouse.

"What's going on?" Uri asks.

"I was talking in my sleep," Javors explains, "I do it from time to time. Sometimes my tongue has a mind of its—"

"You weren't talking. It was some kind of ritual. You drew weird runes with your dagger.”

“Miss Ava, not to be rude,” he says coyly, “but could it be that you were simply dreaming?”

“No.” She thrusts out her open, glowing hand. “Give me the knife.”

“Stiletto,” he corrects.

“Just give it.”

“Okay,” the ratman relents, “ but be careful – it's terribly sharp!”

Ava takes the stiletto. Upon closer inspection the metal is gold in color and decorated with diodes and circuitry. It feels out of place—as though the design aesthetic simply doesn't mesh with this world in ruins—as though it is an armament from the future or an alien planet. She looks closer still and finds the label she seeks:

“The Omega Key?” Ava wonders.

“I'm sorry?”

“Your knife,” Ava says, “is called the Omega Key – what is that?”

“I'm not sure.”

“Omega?” Bach perks up.

“Where did you get it?” Ava wants to know.

“I... I don't know.” The ratman is perplexed. “I can't remember.”

“Likely story,” Ellie sneers, “we can't trust this one, I don't care if he 'saved us' from the drill – we can't trust him.”

“I'm sorry, I just can't remember! It's like I have a hole in my mind where these memories ought be.”

Ava frowns. She knows what that's like. The hopeless, helpless feeling. The feeling of being a burden to those around you simply because you can't remember the recent past.

“I believe you,” she says.

“Sweet mother of piss and shit,” Ellie curses fantastically and throws her hands in the air.

“You want to believe him, “ Uri says, “but maybe you hallucinated whatever you say you saw him doing with his knife. Maybe your chip is just becoming more and more corrupt.”

She has to admit: the question of her ongoing corruption is always on her mind. Every time she views some hidden data detailing an item or ability – she has to wonder.

“Ava's don't corrupt,” Bach says, interrupting her morbid train of thought, “they don't have chips – just brains. I let you all believe that she was malfunctioning so we could get to Sara without argument.”

“We can't trust any of you,” Ellie deduces, moving to be beside Uri.

Ava sighs. But she has a plan.

“Bach,” she says, “give me your flask.”

“Drink up.” Ava shoves the flask at Javors. He tilts it back and chugs. “Okay, that's enough.”

He puts a finger up to keep her at bay and continues to gulp the flask. Ava looks to Bach for guidance but he just shrugs helplessly. Finally, the ratman finishes his drink and sighs in contentment.

“Cherry wine,” he sings while licking his lips. He gives the flask back to Ava and she turns it upside down. It's empty. That shouldn't be possible. Javors laughs. “If every dog must have his day, then it stands that every drunk must have his drink!”

“How?” she says to Bach. He shifts uncomfortably, shaking his head quickly, clearly bewildered by the empty flask.

“How what?” Ellie asks.

“Nevermind,” Ava says, turning to Javors, “how do you feel?”

“Like a smoke,” he says, producing his pipe and light, “you mind?”

She looks at Bach and all he does is shrug again.

“Alright,” she begins, “I'm going to ask you some questions.”

“Fire away.” He sparks his bowl.

“What is your name?”

“I'm Javors.”

“Where are you from?”

“I'm home wherever I roam,” he rhymes, “but originally? I hail from the Isle of Rattus.”

“Rattus?” She looks at Bach. “You ever heard of the Isle of Rattus?”

“I have not.”

“Where is that, exactly?”

“It's in the Big Lake.” He puffs his fragrant pipe-stuff. “Technically it's the starter town.”

“The Big Lake,” Ava repeats, full of skepticism, “and the starter town, you say?”

“Yes, that's right. By the way, could I get some more of that splendid wine?”

“In a minute.” She squats beside Bach and whispers, “what do you think? Could he be lying?”

“It shouldn't be possible. But then again, he shouldn't have been able to empty the flask, either.”

“I don't know what to believe.”

“He might have some special resistance which could make the wine unreliable,” Bach suggest, “we may have to decide for ourselves whether or not his claims are true.”

She returns to Javors. Returns to the interrogation to find him relaxed, puffing his bowl.

“So,” he asks again, “the wine?”

“In a minute,” Ava repeats, “when we're done.”

“That's fine.” He produces his own flask and has a quick swig. “I've got it covered.”

“Javors.”

“Yes?”

“What are you doing down here?”

His red eyes suddenly shift—becoming completely and perfectly black—same as when Ava found him carving extra-dimensional portals in his sleep. He hunches over, suddenly becoming even more rodent-like, speaking in a monotone and oddly auto-tuned voice:

“Activate ability [Catchy Tune],” he says, “target: Bach Jadeson.”

Ava looks at Bach and his jaw is agape. The ratman has entered some sort of trance.

“What does that mean?” Bach asks.

“Javors is programmed to use his [Catchy Tune] ability to locate the target: Bach Jadeson.”

“Programmed by who?” Ava wonders.

“By you.”

Then the ratman blinks and his eyes return to their normal, blood red hue.

“What should we make of that?” Ava asks Bach.

“Well,” he furrows his brow, “maybe you should tell me what you make of the ratman's tale?”

“What? You don't believe him, do you?”

“Why shouldn't he?” Ellie interjects, as is her custom.

“Because I don't even know who I really am. You think what, exactly? That I've somehow been behind all of this? How could that even be possible?”

“Dr. Sara is your mother,” Uri adds.

“Bach—“

“I don't know what I think.”

“Compadres,” Javors asks, “what are we talking about?”

“You,” says Uri.

“Oh?” He smiles and claps. “My favorite subject!”

“You don't remember telling us about your 'programming'?” Ava asks.

“I'm sorry.” He shuffles his feet, embarrassed. “I occasionally lose time when I'm on the wine. I'm trying to do better.”

“It's okay,” Ava commiserates, “I know what it's like when you want to but you just can't remember.”

“Maybe you should have some of the wine,” Bach suggests – like a punch in the gut. He suspects her of.... something. “It helped Ratman remember.”

Ava had thought of drinking the [Vino Veritas] before, that very first night back in the cave. The night Bach killed Sawyer. Back then she wanted answers – but now she is almost scared to have them. Learning all she has – does she still want to know more about herself? Does she want to know if Javors is telling the truth?

“Give me the flask.”

“It's empty,” Bach reminds her.

“Fine,” Ava grumps, “I'll just make another.”

She visualizes the ItemID. The act of summoning items has become somewhat mundane. She knows to expect it to materialize out of pixels in the palm of her hand. She visualizes the ItemID. But nothing happens. She squeezes her eyes shut and tries once more – but the flask does not appear.

“Why isn't it working?” she wonders.

“Maybe you don't want it to,” Uri says.

“Maybe,” Ellie agrees.

And deep down Ava is unsure. Is she somehow sabotaging the summon?

“The wine is truth serum,” Uri explains as the party walks, “I knew that first night. When one is in touch with one's mind one knows when that mind is being messed with.”

“So you drugged me?” Ellie sneers at Bach.

“You had no problem drugging yourself,” he retorts, “and I wasn't after information from you. I just needed to know what Sawyer had in his heart.”

“He had murder in it,” Ava says.

“Yeah,” Ellie says, “and what about yours?”

“I told you. I don't remember ever meeting Javors before and I don't think I'd forget” She looks him up and down. “He's.... unique. No offense.”

“Why would that offend me?” Javors asks, genuinely confused.

“We have to trust each other, “ Bach says, “we don't have anyone else.”

“How can you say that? We have to trust each other?” Uri argues. “Her mother dissected you! Killed my sister! How do we know they haven't been working together this entire time?”

“The mutant could be in on it with them, too,” Ellie surmises.

“Mutant?” Javors asks, “do you mean me?”

“Alright, enough.” Ava stops walking. The others follow suit. “Bach, give me the flask.”

“It's still empty.” He demonstrates by tipping it upside and showing how not a drop escapes. Ava takes it from his hand.

She bows her head. This time she visualizes the ItemID not for the [Flask of Friending] but for the [Vino Veritas] within it, instead. She imagines it filling the flask to its brim. And in the next moment she feels it become a little heavier.

She has summoned the truth wine like some sort of Polygraph Machine Messiah. What does it mean? Why can she make wine but she couldn't conjure an entirely new flask? Is there some sort of limitation to her summoning abilities? Regardless, she has the wine. The truth serum. And maybe, some answers.

She tilts the flask at her lips and drinks. It is warm where the cold void of the motor has cramped her. She has another sip.

“Okay,” she says, capping the flask, “ask me anything.”

“Are you working for your mother?” Uri fires first.

“No.”

“How can we believe that?” Ellie asks rhetorically.

“You just have to.”

“Is what Javors said true?” Bach asks, “did you program him in some way to find me?”

“Yes.” She is shocked by her own tongue, shaking her head at Bach as if to say, I don't know. But he just asks:

“Why?”

“Because in the entire multiverse there is no better tracker than Javors.” She touches her own lips. The words come out automatically, with no thought given nor required to produce them.

“In the multiverse?” Uri scoffs.

“Yes.”

“Because of my Catchy Tune,” Javors explains, sounding awestruck, “I use it to locate lost things – usually my lighter. You brought me here to sing it for you?”

“The Omega Key brought you,” she explains automatically, “I only asked it to.”

“Funny,” he laughs, examining his stiletto, “here I was thinking I found it, when it sounds like it was always the other way around.”

“This doesn't make any sense,” Ellie complains, “why would you supposedly go through all this trouble to find Bach?”

“Because I have to rescue him,” Ava says. She looks at Bach, her face twisted with perplexion. She shrugs and says, “I don't understand.”

Bach takes the flask with his lone hand and uses his stump to awkwardly twist the cap back on. He stashes it beneath his poncho. He doesn't look at Ava. Doesn't say a word. He just starts plodding away in the direction they had already been heading, further into darkness.

Sometimes there is danger in knowing. Sometimes shining a light on the subject can kill. Like an adventurer exploring deep underground. He must have a torch by which to see his surroundings, but the fire slowly eats away at the oxygen he needs to survive. Sometimes it might be safer to stumble along in the dark.

The companions march under this atmosphere of mutual distrust. Ava leads the pack, with Javors alongside – he's decided she's his new best friend. Uri and Ellie walk together a short ways back, while Bach trails even further behind. They don't speak among themselves. Javors doesn't even sing nor whistle.

Here the tunnel curves to the left, and rounding the corner Ava and Javors find the way is blocked by massive, oaken double doors bound and adorned with black iron, kept shut by an ornate steel lock.