Dragan bobbed and weaved through the darkness, approaching the needlepoint tower in the center of the Cradle.

He hadn't trusted his Gemini World to get him all the way up here, so he'd liberated a moped and was using it to fly up to the top of the tower. The trip was mostly uneventful, discounting the occasional swerve to avoid one of the flying billboards that littered the skies. During that time, Dragan's mind was mostly focused on how exactly he'd get inside the tower.

Things didn't seem right, though. Surely this tower should have been restricted airspace? Why weren't any security automatics coming after him for being too close?

Dragan was unused to things being this easy. He didn't trust it.

"Potential answers to your question," the Archivist popped out of his subconscious, sitting cross-legged on the back of the moped, looking out over the city as he talked. "I gave it more than a second of thought -- unlike you -- and there's two possibilities. Either you've overestimated the defenses such a facility should have, or someone's already disabled the automatics defending this place.”

"Who would do that?" Dragan muttered. He didn't bother asking why: the Hunter Game provided a convenient motive for nearly everything that happened here.

The Archivist laughed. "I see you're congratulating yourself on not asking a stupid question -- right after asking a stupid question. It's not who would -- there's no shortage of people -- but who could?"

Dragan adjusted his course, circling the top of the tower in search of a convenient entrance. "Someone with access to the Cradle's systems. They'd have to be familiar with how the whole thing worked. Maybe they're even using Silver Vision to help with the Hunter Game: I've been wondering how exactly they're tracking kills."

"Could be," the Archivist shrugged. "In that case, it'd be an inside job. By the way… how are you planning on getting in there? This place is meant to be staffed with automatics -- there won't be an entrance for you."

Dragan's eyes scanned the smooth exterior of the tower. "Even so, there should be a maintenance hatch or something."

"What if there isn't?"

"Then I'll make a maintenance hatch or something."

"How violent of you. Am I perhaps getting under your skin?"

Dragan ignored his needly subconscious as he continued to observe the tower. It really was looking like he'd have to make his own entrance here, so he was trying to identify the best spot to blast through with a Gemini Shotgun. There wasn't much in terms of indicators when it came to structural instability, but…

Boom.

The tip of the tower exploded outwards in a hail of metal and dust, with such force that Dragan was almost knocked off the moped. He clung on as the vehicle spun, his eyes fixed on the hole in the tower as he tried to regain control. Through the cloud of ash, he could see Aether raging -- orange, red, pink… a veritable rainbow of colours.

Had the fight started already? If so, he couldn't waste any more time. He was close enough now, after all.

Gemini World.

Ruth slapped a flying chunk of rock out of the air in the moment before it would have smashed into her skull.

The room had become crowded very quickly. In an instant, Cott had burst out of the jellyfish thing he'd been trapped in -- and now he wasn't alone. Including the original, there were now five copies of the young man, each utterly identical.

They didn't wait even a moment. The Cott's scattered, each charging towards the other people in the room with obvious hostile intent. In the confusion, all they could do was defend themselves as best they could.

One Cott flew leisurely through the air towards Ruth, his orange eyes -- blazing like miniature suns -- fixed straight on her.

"Out of curiosity," he said as he came within speaking distance. "What is the purpose of your armour? Is it solely a defensive measure? What other benefits does it grant you? Is it the only set of armour you have, or do you have more? If so --"

Ruth kept her claws up, ignoring the continued rambling of the Cott. She had to get her bearings before anyone else. She and Serena had been separated in the explosion and the resultant chaos, same with Rico.

"Why is it you're here with Yakob del Sed?" asked the Cott. "Are you allies of convenience, or close friends? Perhaps I've misinterpreted things, and you don't actually know each other? How long have you known them? Where did you first meet?"

The young girl who'd been commanding the jellyfish was unconscious not far away, lying flat on her face. Some of the debris must have hit her when the jellyfish had exploded. She wasn't moving at all, save for very shallow breathing.

Ruth clicked her tongue: she'd been hoping to make a tactical retreat, but she couldn't very well leave a kid like that in danger, could she?

"Why is it you're ignoring me? Are you afraid that my ability is connected to my questioning? Are you that cautious of a person? How cautious would you say you are, on a scale of one-to-ten? What kind of past experiences would you say led to that?"

To hell with it. She'd never been the type to run away, anyway. Ruth turned her body fully to face the incoming threat.

"Why did your body language change? Have you come to some sort of decision in your head? What kind of decision have you made?"

Ruth grinned, red Aether coiling around her Skeletal claws. "Yeah. I decided I'm gonna kick your ass."

The Cott cocked his head, face as expressionless as ever. The light from his eyes was so bright that Ruth almost had to squint to look at him.

"Okay," he said. "Die, then."

The orange glow burst forth from his sockets as twin beams, carving through the space Ruth had just been occupying -- if she hadn't rolled to dodge, she was sure that attack would have brought her to her knees. Spinning on the spot to avoid another eye-beam, Ruth continued to charge.

The great thing about an asshole like Cott del Sed was that a dozen people could have revenge on him at once.

"Hey," Roy asked, cleaning out his ear with one finger. "Why the hell are we fighting, guy? If this is about money, I can just transfer you some. You don't gotta get your face smashed in."

He stood on a mountain of debris, the remnant of the floor that had collapsed under him. He and his enemy -- one of these orange-haired clones that had appeared -- stood across from each other. Red emergency lights danced dangerously across the blade of the rapier Roy's adversary was holding up. They'd landed in some kind of maintenance chamber below the control center, so the only light sources were those red bulbs and the glow pouring from the hole in the ceiling.

The young man chuckled. "The value of the coin is the value of the hand that holds it," he drawled, gesticulating flamboyantly with one hand as he spoke. "Are you familiar?"

Roy frowned. "What now?"

"I didn't expect you would be -- to be blunt, you seem something of an ignoramus." The young man smirked as he strode through the room, slowly circling Roy's elevated position. "It's a quotation from the novelist Joan Maldruk. You haven't read her?"

"Can't say I have," Roy tracked the boy with his eyes, cracking his knuckles as he prepared for combat. "Doesn't sound like my kinda thing."

"Mm, I'd agree with you there!" the boy laughed, putting a hand to his chest. "Oh, but where are my manners? I was about to slay you without even letting you know the identity of your undoing! My name is Arrogance, centurion, but personally I prefer to be called Confidence. It lacks the… unfortunate negative connotation, wouldn't you agree?"

"Funny," Roy sniffed, lime-coloured Aether already brewing around his forearms. "I was thinking it fits you pretty well."

Arrogance frowned, orange Aether focusing around the tip of his rapier. "Your limited understanding may only barely scrape the surface," he said, annoyance evident in his tone. "But -- as director Alan Corloon said -- there can be wisdom in the rambling of beasts as well. For instance, let's see your take on the slaughterhouse."

Well, that was an opener if Roy ever heard one. His grin widening, he thrust his hands out in front of him, palms wide open. Lime Aether burst forth from his skin, radiating out in front of him in an aurora of light.

Save The Day.

He wondered what he'd managed to roll today.

Rico coughed violently, hacking up swallowed spittle, as he picked himself up.

What had happened? They'd spotted Cott inside Midnight Disobedience, he'd spotted them, and then the whole place had exploded. All he could see around him was dust and ash, swirling through the air like a heavy fog. He could hear sounds of violence in the distance, fists and weapons clashing against flesh and metal.

"Ruth?" he called out, fumbling for names. "Keiko? Ruth's friend?!"

The answer didn't come in words as such. Instead, Ruth's friend -- Serena, that was her name -- came leaping out of the smog, narrowly avoiding a hefty swing from a black-and-red mace. She landed next to Rico, her feet kicking up sparks on the ground as she came to a halt.

"What's going on?" Rico asked, like a dumbass.

"Fighting!" was the only reply.

High-pitched laughter rang out from within the fog -- and a second later, Serena's pursuer came forth too. In terms of appearance, they were mostly identical to the original Cott he'd seen, with the exception of the wide smile on his face. It was so huge Rico could even see cracks forming on the young man's cheeks.

"Hey, hey!" he was cheerfully calling out even as he swung his mace. "Hey, it's me, Serena! Do you remember? It's me, Joy! It's been way too long! Hi!"

Serena ignored the greetings, instead continuing to swing the metal sword in her hand to block and parry every attempted blow. Even more sparks rained down from every clash, smoke drifting up from where they landed.

She was doing well, but the force of those mace swings was enormous. It would only take one mistake to be crushed by that thing.

Rico clenched his fists. He'd come too far just to sit down and watch now.

Deceit smiled thinly as he watched the chaos ensue down below. In all the destruction, he'd managed to climb up the shattered infrastructure and make his way to a balcony overlooking the room. Through the smog below, he could only see the occasional flares of Aether as a sign of combat, but still…

Best seat in the house.

There was no way they could have known, but it was a mistake to think that only the source Cott was capable of splitting himself using Monophobia. In this case, the original had split a number of his own aspects into a single body, allowing Deceit to act as something of a troop carrier and bring them all here.

He vaguely reached out in his head for that urge to betray Cott he'd experienced, but it was nowhere to be found. Guess that really had been coming from Arrogance, then.

His eyes scanned over the debris below. Nobody was launching attacks at him, so it was safe to say he'd slipped out undetected. Well, no point in sticking around -- he wasn't much of a fighter, after all.

Deceit went to turn.

"Gemini Shotgun."

If Deceit hadn't chosen that very moment to turn around, he was certain that his body would have been destroyed by the blast of light that slammed into him. Instead, it struck his left hand, shattering his fingers into scraps of wood and leaving him with little more than a useless, smoking stump.

He raised an eyebrow at the ruined limb before glancing up at the white-haired boy who'd fired the attack.

"Oh," he said lightly, recognising him from Ruthlessness's memories. "You're Yakob's friend."

The Cogitant narrowed his eyes. "Who?"

"Nevermind," Deceit chuckled, turning fully to his opponent. "I guess we're fighting, then?"

He'd caused that explosion to open up an exit for himself, but it seemed he'd opened up an entrance for this bastard in the process. How annoying. Well, it didn't take much to correct the issue, anyway.

The light of that attack -- Gemini Shotgun -- flared again over the Cogitant's shoulder. How cute. He actually thought he'd get to attack here.

"Down," Deceit snapped -- the entirety of an encyclopedia packed into the word.

Dragan's brain exploded into pain as intolerable amounts of information flowed into his mind. A yelp of pain escaping his lips, he collapsed to his knees, barely even noticing the throwing knife that thudded into the joint of his arm. His Archive was like a melting skyscraper as it attempted to organize and sort through all the data it had just received.

His eyes twitched and blinked chaotically. His limbs wouldn't move as he wanted them to. Nausea swirled through the back of his throat.

Above him, the Cott variant smirked.

"That's the thing with you Cogitants," he said smugly. "It's like the old story about vampires -- how they have to count every grain of rice if they find it on the ground. If I pump a whole load of data into your head, you just can't help but analyze it all right there and then. It's hilarious."

Dragan's teeth chattered so hard that they hurt, but he still forced out words. "Fuck…you…"

The Cott ignored the taunt. "I don't get to do this often, you know, but I really do enjoy this."

He crouched down to be eye-level with the prone Dragan.

"I don't know how much Bruno and Serena have told you about their life," he said quietly. "So I'll enlighten you. The Sed -- the place we grew up in -- was a research facility to try and get us Crownless to match the mental abilities of you Cogitants using mundane means. I don't think I have to tell you just how unpleasant 'mundane means' can be. So, as I'm sure you understand, seeing a blue-eyed bastard like you writhing on the floor…"

He grinned wickedly.

"...there's nothing better in the world."