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The battle was over. And with it, came Dante crawling out from their hiding spot. They always dreaded this part; getting to see just how many sinners had fallen just made them feel utterly sick with dread. And today was no exception.
< Did we win? Hmm... it looks like there's no clashing going on... ah, let's see... > Dante murmured, and fetched a small notepad out of their pocket. They'd found it handy after a battle, especially one as large as they had just fought, to remind themselves who was left. They flipped it open to a fresh page, one already set up with a list of each name to check off. Dante stepped forward out to see, and cringed internally when they saw only two were remaining, and drenched in red. They soon came shuffling over to attend to their executive manager.
< Hmmm, so it's just Don and Sincla- Wait, Don?! > Dante couldn't believe it, but sure enough, there she was! < Don, you... you managed to survive? But how?! > They seemed absolutely bewildered as Don Quixote stood right before them, with Sinclair standing by her side looking squeamish. Typically, as is her nature, Don Quixote had gained the deserved reputation of being the first to lead the charge, and the first to fall, sometimes before anyone else had even arrived.
"Hoho! Did thou not expect this, Manager Esquire?! 'Tis a rare precedent, yet I have triumphed over my enemies on this just day! Does this impress you?" She cried in utter glee. She gave a big wide grin, clearly proud of being the exception for once.
< ...Well, I didn't expect this... and I suppose it does impress me, yes. How did this happen? >
"Ah! 'Twas a case of hysteria amidst their ranks! The sight of mine galloping caused chaos as I skewered them to pieces! I was but a raging bull, shining as mine lance vanquished our enduring foes! Ahaha!" Her dazzling eyes fluttered around as she recounted her heroic tale with such vigour. Dante was found rubbing their arm as she did, trying to imagine it all. The way she described it was just like out of a fairy tale... they quickly ticked her off, and then remembered they were not alone.
< And what about you, Sinclair? I almost knew you'd make it through, like always. Staying in the backlines is a good position for you, right? > Yet he didn't respond. Sinclair had a look on him as if he was zoned out. He was still trying to process all the sights and sounds from Don's account. That, or he was trying not to be sick. Dante saw a small flinch of the head, before he looked up to them.
"Oh, uhm... yes, that is... a r-rather good position for me. Sorry, Dante... My mind was just processing it all." He looked at Don, wearily, "S-she really did create a lot of space f-for us." To this compliment, she spared no hesitation in wrapping her arm around his shoulders and giving him a light squeeze as she squealed with joy, making Sinclair look even weaker than he had looked before.
< Well, I'm just glad you two made it. Makes it a little more bearable for me. > Dante turned their clock head to face Don in particular, < Don, I don't believe you've really had the chance to see me revive them all that often, have you? > They latched on to the moment to potentially educate, in their ever-struggling aspiration to properly fit the title of 'Executive Manager'. < Just watch, okay? It'll all make sense... >
And with that, Dante began to unwind the clock with a careful poise. It was an uncomfortable process for sure, but one that they couldn't exactly slack on either. It wasn't just the fallen sinners that were relying on them, no matter how much they were dismissed. It was also the rest of the company, as there were seemingly always more jobs and tasks waiting to be handed down to their shoulders. And the less said about Vergilius' expectations of carrying out their role, the better.
The two sinners stood there, watching this all unfold. It was a common sight for Sinclair, and he found it helped to distract from any intrusive thoughts at looking back at the carnage that had unfolded. That, tied in to his more cowardly and careful nature made him probably the most likely to survive unless he found himself overwhelmed, to which he'd easily crumple. But Don had never been fortunate enough to witness the dark ritual after combat. Her eyes widened with amazement, but soon fell to an intense boredom, seeing as it lasted for more than ten seconds. Her usual attention span with anything not related to Fixers.
"Ay... what's taking so long?! Is the Manager broken?" She flashes a quick glance to Sinclair, but before he could correct her, a strong sense of a potential injustice was detected. "Ah! Manager Esquire is under a terrible spell!" She began bolting towards Dante, "Thou shan’t suffer much longer! Thine saving grace has cometh!" and, before Sinclair could grab a hand of her jacket tail, she whacked Dante's clock hands with a surprising amount of force! They fell to the ground, too busy focusing on such a delicate matter to stop her, and their world became darkness.
How long had it been? Ah... this pounding headache confused Dante as they found themselves on the floor. Had something gone wrong? And why did they feel so... funny? Their vision returned to reality, and saw Sinclair's arm reaching down to help them up.
< What... what just happened? Sinclair? Why do I feel all... mixed up? > He seemed rather embarrassed to answer, despite not being the guilty party.
"Sorry, Dante! I... I tried to stop her, but... Don thought something was w-wrong with you, and... she ended up hitting your clock hands. It's okay now though, right? You seem a bit off..." He looked his manager up and down, yet nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. Maybe it was just a hunch, or maybe nothing was wrong at all, as Dante held their hands on their clock head. That's what they both thought, until an excessively loud hark came from where Don was standing, looking back at the former battlefield
"Ohhhhhhh! MANAGER ESQUIRE! Please, witness thine miracle!" Even for her normal volume, it was as if she was set to the max. Both Dante and Sinclair began trudging back to see what all her commotion was about.
< Don, don't yell so much, please? And yeah, I just brough them all back. It's my thing, remember? And I need to speak with you abou- > Dante's speech ended rather abruptly when the three of them were standing side by side. A large whimper came out of Sinclair as he held his hands to his mouth.
Before them, right where each sinner had fallen was... child versions of each one of them?! They seemed to be quite confused themselves, as they looked down to find their now baggy clothing dragging to the floor all around them. It wasn't long before they began to panic. It was as if Dante had fallen into a nightmare, and for a brief moment before they all began crying, they wondered if they were still retrieving their souls back from Hell.
< What... what?! What happened?! Why are they all five-year-olds?! > Dante muttered, in almost a tone too quiet for Sinclair to hear.
"She... y-you... t-they're children? D-dante?!" Sinclair sounded terrified, "O-oh no... no, no no no..." his hands raised up from his mouth to his temples, and he clutched down on his hair as he uttered, "Don... Don did h-hit you, Dante... while you were resurrecting them! S-she touched your clock hands..."
A moment of utter embarrassment flushed through Dante's body. In their mixture of emotions, they ended up grabbing Don's jacket from the back of her neck and pulled her so they could stare directly at her. < Don Quixote... what have you done?! Didn't I tell you to not touch me while I revived them!? I told you... to just watch... > To an outside listener, the sounds of angry and bewildered chiming rang through the closed walls of the facility they found themselves in. They held their own hands on their clock head, now mimicking Sinclair's reaction. How the hell were they going to explain this?! Oh God, oh God... this is an utter nightmare!
"But look!" as her eyes gleamed at the sight of them, "Are they not just so precious? So pure and innocent! So cuuute!" She squealed once more, and then it came to her. The need to protect the innocent from such a dangerous environment overwrote any other thoughts she had in her remaining brain cells.
With haste, Dante began running towards the small sinners and fished out their notepad to do an inventory before they all got lost. Of all the places that something like this could happen, an abandoned corporation facility was likely the worst. If anybody... anything, came to hunt them down, they'd all be gone for good.
<Sinclair! Please, gather up all their weapons! I don't want them to hurt themselves! Don, just... > Dante hesitated. Oh no... Don was going to be the absolute worst at this. It was going to be hard enough to look after all these kids, Dante didn't have the energy to micromanage Don at the same time. < ... Don, listen to me carefully. Please, and be very gentle... pick up the sinners and begin to line them up while I ensure they're all here. You can't fail at this, do you understand? >
"At once, Manager!" Surprisingly, even Don looked rather concerned as the situation sank in. That concern was only brief, as she found collecting her teammates to be a blast, picking them all up one by one and taking them away from a place no child should be. Sure enough, with her excellent speed, she rounded them all up, giggling as she picked them up each time. In only a few moments, each child had been lined up in a rough line. Dante turned to Sinclair, who was struggling to carry the assorted armoury, and lent a hand to him, dumping them all out of reach. The three gazed at the children as they all sat on the floor, looking around rather unbothered. If there was ever a time for Dante to become a leader for them, it was surely now. A massive sigh of relief came out from all three, as all sinners were accounted for.
"Manager!" Called out Don, as she nearly thrust little Gregor up in their face, "What do we do with poor Gregor?" It's not like we could exactly put him with the rest of the weapons pile, after all... Dante took a look at Gregor, and found a little humour in his now clean-shaven chin. His bug arm twitched slightly, but he didn't even react to it.
< He doesn't seem to even be aware of what his arm does. He should be fine... put him in the line, but keep an eye on him, okay? > And with a large nod, Don took the expression far too literally and gave a cold stare at Gregor for as long as she could, not even blinking. Little Gregor was unnerved, but otherwise fine. He looked like he needed something to take the edge off.
< Alright... I see that they're all here. Great work. Now... where is Faust? > Dante's mind immediately raced to the first rational head they could think of. As soon as her name was called, she immediately raised her hand, as if it weren't obvious by her jumper. Despite raising her hand, only the shape of her arm could be seen, as the hand was still wrapped up in her baggy clothes.
"Faust is here. Faust is a... child."
< That's right... Faust, listen. > They knelt down to her level, < Don interfered when I was bringing you all back... and she touched my clock hands. I think I pulled you all a bit too far back, so... what do we do?! > Faust contemplated for a while. Well, it was hard to tell if she was thinking or if she just got bored and let her mind wander. Eventually, she looked up to Dante who was waiting with such bated breath.
"Faust is hungry."
The response caught them all off guard, except for Don, who once again squealed as she revelled in how cute they all looked.
< Sinclair... > Dante whispered to him, < I think you're the only sane one left. Do you agree that... their mental ages have also been shifted down? >
He nodded, regretfully. "It seems like it, Dante... Faust is normally supposed to say something important when she speaks. I've never heard her say anything so mundane..."
"Stop it!"
"No, you stop it!"
"Stop it before I make you stop it!"
The squabbling was heard at the end of the line. It was Heathcliff and Ishmael, fighting against each other. It hadn't yet come to blows, but they were engaged in shoving each other, with each push getting a bit harder. Dante and Sinclair rushed to break it up. Before they could get to either of them, Heathcliff sprinted off to the pile of weapons, and found his trusty worn bat.
"Oh yeah?! You'll regret this!" He raised the bat above his head ready to strike, but... it was a little too heavy for him, and he fell backwards with his hands still firmly wrapped around it.
< Hey, stop it, you two! Please? > Dante's wimpy suggestion went unheard, and they had no choice but to separate them physically. As they reached to pick Heathcliff up, they found a sharp pain in their arm and looked down, and saw Heathcliff's teeth firmly fixed like a dog onto their uniform.
< Ouch! Heathcliff, don't do that! Stop it! > Yet he wouldn't let go. With much annoyance and frustration already brewing, Dante set him down at the opposite end of the line before waving their finger in front of his face, < That's not nice! Now, behave, will you? > The presence of sitting next to Meursault, who still towered above the other kids, was enough to get Heathcliff to stop his antics. For now. Dante turned to look at the other end, and saw Sinclair calming Ishmael down yet being extremely cautious. I think he just didn't want to even risk the chance of getting bit... the two of them met in the middle, unsure of how to proceed.
< If they're all mentally like children now, then... I'm going to have to work with what we've got. Sinclair, could you keep an eye on them for a while? I need to get a better scope of how deep this problem is... >
"Of course, Dante... I'll t-try my best." He gave a little nod and stood tall for once over the rest of the crew. It was quite the feeling. For once, Sinclair was looking down on all of them, like a mad power fantasy. To be honest, it felt pretty good for him. He gave a slight smile to them, until Rodya cried out.
"Sinclair is tall!"
"Wow..." exclaimed Hong Lu, "So tall..."
"But how?" muttered Gregor, "Did he have a growth spurt...?"
All this attention and inevitable chatter amongst them turned Sinclair into a flustered mess. He knew that working for this company would put him in a lot of weird positions, but he never could've anticipated one like this. He had to cover his face with his hands to try to save face. He was praying they'd all forget about this in the future, to save some embarrassment...
Behind all this, Dante had picked out some of the finest minds they could muster. They knelt before Yi Sang, Faust, Meursault and Outis as they sat around them in a makeshift circle to hear what they had to say. Although their brief interaction with Faust had proved disappointing, Dante was praying that it was but a lapse in judgement.
< Okay... > Dante took a deep breath, < We think we know why this happened, but... how do I reverse this? Does anyone have any ideas? >
Outis was the first to proclaim her observations. "We need to turn the Exec... the exicu..." she gave up struggling to find the word, "The manager's clock hands back! That may return us to our correct forms. Besides, they would look... cuter like that."
< What? >
"That won't work." chimed in Yi Sang before Dante could form a response, "The manager's clock hands are a piece of him, turning them back may make us even younger. It may turn us to nothing more than... specks in our ancestor's eyes..." he continued muttering on, getting quieter into his own thoughts until he fell back into silence. It was as if becoming a child had seemingly no effect on his manner of speech, and he still somehow held bags underneath his eyes. With that helpful contribution, Dante sighed.
"Faust is still hungry."
< Yes, I know! Please Faust, can you just think about how we can revert this first? Then, I promise I'll go get you something to eat, okay? > She shrugged, and looked away to the surroundings. Damn it... being a parent or a guardian to all these kids was starting to get a bit too much for Dante. < Meursault? Do you have any suggestions? >
"Non."
< Of course. >
Out of their immediate view, another squabble had begun among the children. This time, it was Gregor and Ryōshū, seemingly fighting over a packet of cigarettes. Dante looked between then and got an idea.
< Meursault, would you please sort out their fighting? >
And without a word, Meursault nodded firmly and stomped on over to them. It was amazing to see just how effortlessly he grabbed them both and brought them back to Dante, as they both flailed helplessly underneath his arms. Dante reached over to Ryōshū, and snatched the packet from her, sliding it down into a pocket as they watched them both reach out their arms to try and get a hand on one.
< Neither of you should even be thinking to smoke like this! Come on... can we try to be reasonable? And give me your lighter while we're at it! > Dante's pleas were met with the sound of pouting, which only increased as they took her lighter. They swore they could've heard Ryōshū mutter.
"C.H.O.P.S"
It was at this moment that Sinclair inevitably came to inform Dante, "I think she means 'Clock Head Often Proving Stupid'?" How did he even hear that from so far away?!
<... Thanks, Sinclair. You don't have to translate all the time, okay? > If Dante had a brow to furrow, they would be doing that right now. < Anyway, where is Don? She's been awful quiet ever since I told her- >
Dante was stopped in their thought as they felt absolute terror strike at their heart. They were witnessing Don squatting down and letting the children board onto her back, holding them in a piggy-back position.
< Don! What are you thinking?! Please, stop that this instant! > Dante's cries went unheard as they tried to run over to stop her, only garnering the look of some of the kids.
"Ahah! Are we all ready? Giddy up, Rocinante!" And just like that, Don began running around at full speed as the children naive enough to trust her held onto her jacket for dear life. So proceeded the wild goose chase as Dante was left scrambling, dreading one of them would fall off and hit their head. Thankfully, from her excursion earlier, Don quickly fell into fatigue and Dante was able to apprehend her again, safely dismounting the sinners from her back.
< Don, I don't know what you're playing at, but that was totally unsafe! Will you please think about the children for once?! >
"Ay! But I was, Manager Dante! Mine fellows were bored sitting around doing nothing! They crave for justice just as I do, so I gave unto them a little horsey ride!"
Dante was just about ready to reach their boiling point. Their anxiety was through the roof, and it felt like they wouldn't be able to manage for much longer. After carrying the sinners back to their formation, they nearly dropped dead when they saw Sinclair lying on the floor. He was being poked and prodded by the remaining sinners. He simply couldn't cope keeping control of so many adoring faces, who were all eager to play with him. So, there he lay, letting them play with him as he trembled and shook, as if powerless to say no to them. It was hard to tell if he was super embarrassed, or if he was just overloading on the cuteness factor. Even when he was the designated adult for once, he couldn’t deal with the responsibility, it seemed. Dante had to admit, he did make for a rather delightful sight to see them focused on him. Even the ones that had previously been fighting seemed almost entranced in trying to get Sinclair to play with them, or get his attention.
< Great work, Sinclair! Just... keep them like that for a bit longer, okay? > Poor Sinclair couldn't even give a thumbs up or a nod of the head, as they proceeded to crawl all over him. Dante was keen to play roundup with the children, and soon, they had them all swarming around Sinclair. Dante knew they were probably making things worse for him, but at the sake of their own sanity, it was a small price to pay. They made a mental note to thank Sinclair once this was all resolved. Rather pensively, Dante took a deep breath as Don sat next to them.
< I... I don't know what else to do. We all just don't know enough on how to fix this... > With apprehension, Dante hung their head low. < We're just going to have to get Vergilius to help. There's no other way... I'm sure he knows something about this, right? He's my guide for a reason... although he might not be too happy to hear all this. > The mention of Vergilius was enough to make Don match the sombre mood. The memories of when she got punished came flooding back into her mind, enough to make her calm down. She nodded along.
"I see... Manager? We should seek to return to thine carriage before dusk falls upon us."
Dante nodded, < Finally, you're starting to make sense. We better go. > They both stood up, and walked over to Sinclair who was still being dog-piled. A laugh was heard, along with a small ticking noise as Don and Dante took in the sight, before helping the poor boy up.
< I think they like you, Sinclair. We're going back to the bus to Vergilius. Are you alright to lead them there? > With a still blushing face, Sinclair nodded meekly.
"Yeah... I'll t-try."
The journey back to the bus was a relatively tame one. Now that each of the children had a hand firmly wrapped around each one of Sinclair's fingers as he led them back, Dante did what they could to try to prepare themselves for Vergilius' inevitable judgement. They dreaded the thought that not even he would be able to revert them back to their proper ages. The thoughts were mostly shared for Don, as she began to stress over another painful reminder of her contract.
The bus shortly came into sight, and Dante lead the charge, ready to face the music. As the doors shook open, they climbed onboard and met the steely gaze of Vergilius. Without saying a word, they continued to their seat as Don followed suite. Eventually, Sinclair encouraged the rest of the sinners to go on, having to pick some of them up to reach the top step.
"Clockhead messed up." whispered Charon. Dante swore they could see the faintest glimmer of a smug smirk in her face, which was quickly lost as she resumed looking back at the wheel.
"Dante."
It was Vergilius. Dante felt beads of sweat already preparing to drip down their body at just the call of their name.
< ... Sinclair? > Dante called out. And with much hesitation, Sinclair crept up from his seat and stood timidly in front of Vergilius. Though Dante didn't instruct him to explain, he could sense that was what he was called up to do.
"I-It's..." His stutter grew worse, "It's n-not Dante's fault, Sir Vergilius! They did nothing w-wrong, uhm... s-sadly, Don Quixote interrupted them while they were winding b-back the clock... s-sorry..."
Silence fell into the bus. Not even the child sinners dared to cry or grumble about their situation. They were all found to be tugging on Sinclair's jacket, as if hiding from Vergilius. Then, one by one... they all stumbled towards him and began tugging at his tattered clothing. The tugging quickly became a rather fond hug, as he found his legs adorned with miniature sinners all around him.
Dante watched this all unfold. They looked up to Vergilius' eyes, expecting frustration and wrath. Yet... they swore they glimpsed at a deep sadness within. As if he was about to cry, almost. It confused Dante, but it made sense to Vergilius. And that was what was important. The red glow was gone, and it was for once his turn to have the memories come flooding back. He looked back down at the children, and saw them all nuzzling up closer to him, with their eyes closed. Clearly exhausted from a long day out. It was as if they were all naturally drawn to his presence, as unmoving as always... even Charon had turned around to see what was going on.
"Dante..."
"I will fix this for you. For the company. Sit still."
With much care, Vergilius slowly and almost painfully for him loosened his legs from the children's embrace, which almost looked like it broke his cold, dead heart in the process. He sat down next to Dante, and firmly placed his hands to Dante's clock hands.
"This will hurt."
With a sudden application of force, Vergilius' hands tightened to the point where Dante thought he was going to rip him apart at the seams. Yet that didn't happen. An engulfing pain surged through Dante's body, and the visions of Hell came flooding back in an even greater intensity. Through it all, the silhouette of Vergilius lingered in front of all they saw. Like a speck on a camera lens. Always at the forefront. And suddenly, their vision returned, and Dante looked around. Vergilius' hands had receded back to his sides, and he was gazing at the reformed sinners, all looking around in confusion. Vergilius got up, and walked past them without saying a word.
"Executive Manager? What happened to us? I was just fighting, and the last thing I remember was falling down... and disappointing you. I am remorseful of my failure in today's skirmish! But why are we on the bus?" Outis questioned. It was rare for her to question Dante, but even today something felt off. So, they didn't recall being children... There was a pause, as Dante contemplated telling the truth. But before they could, they were interrupted.
"Ah, I have pieced it together. The threat must have been too great for you to rewind, so you heroically returned us here to safety! You are truly a master tactician."
< ... >
< ...Yeah. You're very welcome, Outis. >
Apart from a few headaches and the usual groaning associated with being resurrected, the rest of the bunch didn't seem to question much, and returned to their seats. A regular chatter began, and it was like nothing had even happened at all. And as Dante felt a weight in their pocket, they remembered. They got up, and walked over to Ryōshū.
< Here, Ryōshū, I believe these are yours. > No hard feelings were felt by Dante about her name-calling as they handed her cigarettes and lighter back.
"Hmph." Was all she managed to get out, before she took one out and lit it immediately, blowing the smoke to Dante's head. That's the thanks they get, for protecting them when they were at their most vulnerable. If only she knew.
Just a few seats ahead of all this, Sinclair managed to get Rodya and Gregor's attention, as they expectantly looked down at him.
"Rodya, Gregor... do you, uhm... think there's still time f-for me to grow a little? Like... height wise?"
The two of them glanced at each other, and a small laugh was all he heard as they took their seats, but not before Rodya gave him a playful ruffling of his hair. That answered that for him, then... as if to make him feel a bit better, Dante pat Sinclair on the back.
< Thank you for today, Sinclair. You'll make a fine parent one day... > To which, Sinclair turned beet red at the thought, looking out the window as a distraction.
Don averted her eyes when Vergilius walked past her. He of course noticed this, and looked down at her.
"Don Quixote. Look at me." Such a wave of emotion was injected into her as she did as he commanded, before he gave the smallest of smirks for her eyes only.
"Thank you. But don't ever interrupt Dante again." as he wandered off to sit back down, solemn as always.
Meanwhile, Heathcliff couldn't resist from joking about the chunk missing out of Dante's jacket.
"Hey, what happened, manager? Got a bit caught up by something?" Heathcliff grinned from ear to ear. "Heh... bloody hell, you're gonna get killed one day, you idiot! What was it this time, a mad dog?"
< You could say that, yeah... > And with a light shove onto Dante's shoulder, Heathcliff obliviously fell to the back of the bus still gritting his teeth in pride. All of a sudden, Dante remembered the one request as their mind raced through the events of the day.
< Faust? > She seemed deep in thought, but their calling had interrupted that as she looked up to Dante.
"Yes, Dante?" And slowly, Dante pulled out some rations kept on the bus, mostly for an emergency, but they felt so guilty about not being able to satisfy her previous desire. They held it up in front of her, shaking it a little to suggest she could take it.
"Faust is not hungry, Dante."
< ... >
Dante sat back down, tossing the rationed food back in its case, and sliding it underneath their seat. Dante would get the idea to keep some in their jacket pockets. Partially as a method of keeping the sinner's attention in case it happened again, and partially as a little reminder of how adorable they all looked as they walked back to the bus.