Euphoric Escape IV.

Newspapers scattered about the dirtied ground, pebbles and miniature debris sliding off, purples eyes analyzed the written truth before her. The girl couldn't shake the feeling that she was stuck to strings, that anxious sensation at the pit of her stomach, day to day moving about, hoping to have some purpose in her life. The paper tore apart at the center, leaving her to scoff, her partner's head then turning. She hadn't even noticed he'd leaped over the counter of the market they infiltrated before he spoke.

"Something wrong?" Queried Ace of his lover.

"No, just… thinking back, we spent so much time here. Doing nothing, hoping to have some semblance of a normal life. But that all changed when Katie returned. I'd been masking the truth of myself for so long. Wanting to be useful, desiring to be needed. I didn't want to admit it to myself- that I felt so chained by others, that, for once, I wanted to be myself. But even then, I was still a puppet even when I tried to do that."

Kima's admission left the Ginger's eyes to wander, not over any internals scattered about the interior of the storefront, but at her. Suffering from unavoidable nature at the core of her being, Ace hid his head and continued searching throughout the kitchen cabinets. She followed his action and slid her rear over the counter.

"However, there was one time I felt sort of… free. I wasn't restrained by the chains of expectation, instead, I moved for myself. I didn't care if I lived or I died, that was the truth of the matter. And because of that, I was happy. I was happy to be myself in those final moments, whether I perished or not. Fighting the Jester, I didn't think about you or Natalia at the time, I just felt at peace with myself. That everything was right and omnipotence surrounded me. Is that a bad thing?"

Maybe her head was hung too low, or maybe the memory of the battle was so vivid she was oblivious. Either way, after she finished her speech, his eyes locked her in place. At first, a sting pierced her heart, feeling the cracks scatter about from the source with every passing second, just as her heart was about to shatter, his chuckle replaced that agony with only curiosity.

"Heh. I never realized how identical we both are. I… I never really cared for the people of this city. I don't feel guilty anymore, neither about killing the people I did on Thanksgiving nor about abandoning the Capital. The only way for me to truly be at peace with my freedom was to tear down theirs. Whether it was The Jester or me, I knew I had some effect on the world. I wanted to prove to myself that I deserved to live, just like my father told me. You and I are selfish people. I guess that's why we're so perfect for one another."

Ace inched closer with a whisper at the end, her breath hitching, she instinctively stepped back, pinned against the counter.

That look in her eyes said the same as his, in mere seconds, they embraced, others' lips interlocking. However, this brief moment of bliss could never drive away the guilty demon rapturing the heart of hearts. Only revealing its hideous features at wretched times, saliva's taste started to subside. An outcast to the infiltrating sorrows of his gasping sobs, the sparkle in crimson orbs reflecting into violet spheres. The way a magnet was pulled to metal, no matter who stared, or what occurred, they stood together, the warmth of the other sustaining their temperature… slowly, the world turned cold around them.

Though the consequences of their sins surrounded them all, that chill was comforting, but what soothed them more was the resonating warmth of the other's body. Nothing more mattered, as long as they were together… they could face anything. After all, the King was nothing without his Queen.

However, back at the Nest, the second commander's father, Azazel Karlo, was met with a meek sight. The sound of a closing door was louder than the muffled rushing of active water. Turning his head, the bathroom door, chocolate in its engraving, was shut closed. Meaning…

"So, you've come to visit me. I can't say I'm not honored. I've always wanted to meet you face to face… Detective Karlo."

That sickly intonation riddled with a lowly rasp, it couldn't be mistaken, for there he was. Chained to the headboard by handcuffs, the fallen Founder of Riverton waved with a nod, but even this smug action couldn't warrant a sinister smirk over his lips. Karlo turned his head, inching closer, hand on hip.

"I understand my New World equivalent was a member of your Frontier; I have his memories. Meaning, I can judge for myself just what kind of person you are."

"You're the only person who can judge what kind of person I am. But, if we're going to chat, can you at least take these chains off?" Callum's question was accompanied by a gesture to the bonds entangling his wrists.

Azazel took a second to analyze them, then he obeyed, watching as Rivers rubbed his wrist with a gratified moan, then turning it into a chortle.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

While Callum assumed a comfortable position, hands resting in his lap with legs dangling over the edge, a chair unfolded to seat right across from the Founder. Needless to say, the Detective sat in it, letting his arms slouch over his legs, Rivers scratched behind his ear with one finger. The tension of their imminent conversation was preceded by quiet, only faint sounds of rushing water from the shower behind the Detective, but, eventually… there was silence.

The silence's reign was almost eternal, a limbo of waiting shared between the two before one of them finally decided to speak up.

"I'm surprised you're being so… kind to me. After everything that's happened, especially regarding your daughter, I thought you'd hate me the most," Callum's head hung following his statement, sending Azazel to vent a sigh.

"The only reason I'm being this way is because of my understanding of you. You have been possessed by Naraku since the beginning of your conquest. After all, I'm sure when he told you the future, you were reluctant, at first. A person like you, who holds the innocence of his subjects in high regard. Alone, he could never make the sacrifice to slaughter them for the sake of tricking our strongest asset. Am I wrong?"

It seemed unintentional, but even after that interrogating ask, Azazel didn't raise his head, for it was maybe a miracle Callum had heard him so clearly, enough to shake his head. Another silent moment like a descending knife mere instances away from slicing through flesh in the heat of battle, the way everything moves, it felt like an epoch before the next words filled the room. In reality, the clock had only moved five times before Callum's signature voice rang out through the chambers of his cell.

"You're not wrong. I'd rather not go to the beginning, but I'm sure you have the memories of what Rizia told you, and Kelly, too. You are right. I am not the type of person to sacrifice innocent lives for the sake of a lofty goal such as that. In truth, ever since that day, when Riverton became to form, I hated myself. And because of that loathing, I neglected to dig my fangs deeper into the studies of my New World. I ignored education, I let corruption spread- oppression resurge. But worse of all, I'd become the biggest hypocrite of all. I'm just as foolish as those cursed people I call fools myself. I want to repent. Lamenting the sins of my past, the people I've killed, the potential I've squashed; that's why I sought out the Requiem Artifact. I wanted to remake the world I distorted, but I was a novice. Even the other's influence didn't help, instead, I accidentally opened a rift in the world, thus allowing me to bring forth resting spirits from the Old World into their New World bodies. If I could use them to test the power of the subjects I named, I could get control back... I felt it slipping away from me. I had to do something. Then, Katie captured you, and Ace dispelled the Reaper. I knew if I allowed you to reside there, something would go wrong because- of that thing's plan."

The very mention of this dark orchestration sent chills up and down his spine, a flashback reverting his memory to just days prior on the battlefield, that younger voice so much older communicating the potential risk of a possible desolate future.

'Naraku and Callum must've argued. Naraku wants chaos, meaning he doesn't care about the lives of Riverton. However, Callum wants the opposite, since he worked to claim this island, he cherishes the inhabitants and wishes for them not to die. Since their personalities differ, I doubt Naraku actually can think of a genuine strategy.

So, what do you assume Callum's plan to be?'

Ed's beginning to his deadly theory resonated in his mind, leaving Az to hold his head in hands, fingers sliding down his fair-skinned face to scratch wildly-placed facial hair plastering his chin.

'Ed's theory is a good one, believing Callum to be the mastermind of this orchestration, but the more I thought about it, and the more I sunk into my New World memories of Riverton's founding, it seems unlikely. Furthermore, stating Naraku to be unintelligent is incorrect, if he's the other half of the Emperor, there's no doubt a bit of his intellect resides within that demon. No matter how little, the more I think about Ed's theory, it'd make more sense for Naraku to authorize its occurrence. Asking Callum about it would only prompt him to appear, so, I should keep quiet about this for now. And, if Ed's right about this, he's the one I should keep this from, most of all.'

"Something wrong? You've been quiet for a while."

Azazel's head raised after this swift consideration, but what his eyes were met with was not the regularly-scarred features of the Founder, rather, a horrifying distortion with spiraling white spheres that illuminated the darkness of his wretched existence. The indifferent expression staining Rivers' lips had all but faded, for all that remained was an uncanny grin, mouth's tips fully carved to make for a frightening sight that'd sent even the unwavering Crow Detective to think of chill-inducing nightmares.

"Something on your mind..?"

Back then, in the trenches of the Old World's final war, it was like a dreadful burden. Those white strands flowing with heated wings, different-colored eyes shining through the darkness to illuminate the path ahead. He'd been selfish to appraise only that man. Everyone else, the next thing he knew, didn't get to say goodbye. All that existed was darkness, and the most prevalent source of that bottomless night was none other than he. The Chosen One, he whom he trusted to lead him down the righteous path, consumed by the same tormenting demons that plagued his youth forever. To think that the very one responsible for attempting to end the World would be that savior Emperor he dedicated his heart to...

"Heh."

The next thing he knew, the avatar of that past was pinned to a wall by sharp metal claws pointing inward at the throat of the perpetrator. A scowl hissed out clenched teeth, with only rage flaring in his eyes, the culprit, so inhumane in the way it chuckled at his victims' despair, could only continue to smirk. Naraku. A fitting name for a monster.

"Haha! You and I never really got the chance to formally meet, not even back then, huh? Azazel Karlo, the cursed son of the Karlo bloodline. To think you'd live and continue to birth, even with your tainted legacy. It makes sense you'd create such a monster: Katie Karlo, Source of Death. But that's not the only thing. You've... figured it out, haven't you? The reason Callum set out for Alex's blood, the Requiem Artifact. The same one who'd been whispering in his ear to build Riverton. Did you truly think I were someone too incapable I wouldn't use my other self's intelligence to formulate a plan from beyond the cosmos? It brings me such woe to hear you underestimate me so."

Naraku's taunting words were accompanied by the threat of death, but even chained by a superhuman's strength without a path of escaping, he didn't murmur nor stutter. Neither did his heart sway. That sight in his eyes was none other than of the Requiem Emperors'... that lifeless look, like an unforeseeable heartache, laid ahead to the road of the future. Had he been so obvious to ignore it from the beginning?

"The hatred that burnt ablaze in the center of Callum's heart on that day. From the beyond, you caused it to spiral, so it would begin to engulf everything in its flames. A second vessel for you to unleash the chaos you didn't get to properly bestow upon the Old World. All that struggle, all that fighting, all that death- it was all for nothing. After all that bloodshed, to be met with a farce like this."

Inadvertently faced with complete weakness, the strength in his legs shook about, wobbling just enough for him to collapse to his knees. The instinct to suppress had immediately failed, now, with Naraku freed of Azazel's grasp, he rubbed his wrist as the Detective's consumed chunks splattered onto the floor with a wretched smell and a disgusting shade.

"Yes, it truly was all for nothing. But that's the least of 'Riot's' concerns. Until Rivers brought me out from the sealed Requiem Artifact, I wouldn't be truly free. I could appear in short bursts and influence certain events when causality was at its strongest. Before that time comes, however, there are questions I'm sure you have. Ask me them, I will respond truthfully to the best of my ability," Naraku assumed the seated position his vessel formerly took, this time, with his legs crossed and crossed arms.

What the Detective was seeing, had it been laid out so visibly before those sparkling eyes? Their penultimate enemy, responsible for orchestrating events that'll lead to a future disaster, would be cooperative? Vanishing the stinking puddle to his feet with an olden rag, coat's collar properly pointing upright, Karlo followed the Demon's movements. What this sight was couldn't be described, for when the sunlight shined on their darkly-dressed figures, only fate would be resigned to the next conversation. An exchange of information so powerful it could alter the shape of the entire world as they knew it.

To any bystander, unknowing in the world's imminent alteration, peering in through the cracked window, it would give off the illusion of not a devious scheme, but instead...

An unimitable painting.

To Be Continued.