#26

You makes sure Your simple clothes are free of blood. You's disposed of the Fennec uniform; wearing such a thing would be pure poison in this town. It's when You looks down at Yourself that You realizes something—if E is Susie's stepdad, he may be able to recognize You if You doesn't keep a low profile. This is the first time You's thought about how Your enemy—if indeed You has an enemy, and if that enemy is singular—would think about You if he ever learned of Your existence. If he is Susie's dad, he'll know You's still out there somewhere. It's still a little strange to think of the man You's known all Your life kidnapping people, murdering towns, and apparently commanding some sort of monster, but there's so, so much You doesn't know. It's not a complete story by far. Which means You could easily fuck something up.

Maybe there was no monster. Maybe E isn't Earl Sanford, Susie's stepdad. Maybe Madame Levingt is crazy, and Klaus was, You doesn't know, behind a curtain this whole time. Maybe Klaus works for the Empire. Maybe You misheard what the soldiers said, and the Empire was just killing the Fennecs to deal with a legitimate criminal element. And that's not even factoring in things like the Brotherhood of Kletus, or the prison-ghosts, or anything else.

You must be a detective. There can only be deduction, even if it's totally subjective, and could easily turn out to be false.

You and Klaus are walking to the city. There's a walkway from the airport—now clogged by a plane full of corpses—into the town borders. As You approaches, the sounds of cars get louder and louder, and Your head starts to hurt. Klaus sees Your pain, but doesn't really care. There's not much he can do, anyway.

When You gets into town, You sees even more people than from New Cenabum. It's almost too much for You to take; there's all sorts of strange fashions, bizarre smells, horrific sounds, someof them fantastic,some of them unnerving. You feels extraordinary nervous, but this time Klaus intervenes. He pulls You into a cantina, where You sits down in a booth in the back and tries to relax.

In the cantina, You notices, for the first time, a number of posters that You'll later learn recur endlessly throughout the city. They have a painting of a woman on them, wearing the armor of the New Cenabum soldiers, but there are no words. You doesn't recognize her, for now—You assumes that people who live in the greater spheres of Imperial influence know her easily, and thus need no labels. You considers asking about the woman, but that would definitely mark You as a stranger—which could lead You to arrest; torture; execution.

With that image in Your mind, You looks over at Klaus. Nothing is really said between the two of You, but there isn't anything that needs saying. Instead You decides this would be a good time to scan the notebook You stole from Zorro City.

The entries are terribly long, but You knows You can't stay in one place for prolonged periods of time. To be fair, the text is pretty explicit and doesn't need any deep analysis. It is, however, flowery and metaphorical to an irksome extent, while obnoxiously cutting sometimes to a raw, precise, scientific style. In total, here's what You finds out—or, rather, what is written.

• The Fennecs were born in “The House”, which does not appear to be a literal location. The House seems to be some sort of cloning facility, because the “Originals” were “born from one of the templates”. The templates, in their normal lives, were once scientists, exiles from a “War in Heaven” (which is about as trite as it gets, You thinks).
• The Fennecs originally served as scientists until The House abandoned them on Earth. They had limited cloning knowledge but were able to successfully clone themselves.
• Using some sort of “Art”, they survived through the decades by transferring their “souls” into cloned bodies. The writer of the notebook claims to be centuries old.
• They mastered “other Arts”, including the ability to manipulate biomass derived from intentionally flawed clones. This explanation is accompanied by a drawing of one of the creepy flesh-buildings from the City.
• Eventually, after centuries of boredom, the group ended up experimenting with several methods of entertainment, which became more and more grisly as time went on. They seem to have adopted the “bandit gang” motif primarily for “purposes of irony”. Outside of murder, kidnapping, graft, gambling, and robbery, the Gang also practiced human sacrifice.
• The sacrifices were typically of either outside victims or clones, and eventually became more religious, geared towards calling The House back to Earth. However, the writer admits these sacrifices were mainly stage pieces intended to be ironic.
• After awhile, the Gang entered a contract with the Empire through “E”. E's name is never given in the entire notebook. The nature of the contract isn't properly described either, frustratingly, though it is said that the Gang is allowed to commit any and all of their crimes freely, in exchange for service to E.
• There is an illustration of the medical cyborg next to the description of the contract, which has a caption: “Part of the promise”. It could be that they used what scientific knowledge they do have to start producing those things for the Empire. You still doesn't know the advantage of having those, though—cutting costs? Not paying humans for medical services? Does the Empire have, what, a budgetary problem or something? The idea almost makes You laugh, but You's still unsettled by the whole affair.
• The drawing of the armored figure is identified as the Old Man, who owned The House.

It's incredibly difficult to tell what's bullshit and what's not. Frankly, it's a little too incredible to believe, though to be fair, You now knows that magic is real; and You has been told since birth that the fuel can really accomplish anything. A combination of both, which seems to be at play here, could perhaps really make this stuff happen, however laughable it is. (And it could be, really, that these things are all the same anyway.) There are, however, a few things that You can deduce for certain, that are worth listing, if anything for summary's sake.

• The Fennecs do have to be clones. You means, they could all be wearing identical masks or something, but that doesn't seem right. Plus, You saw the cloning pod, so there's that.
• Boredom does make an interesting motivational factor for such a vicious gang. At the same time, so does insanity. This could all be the product of a hallucination brought on by the failures of cloning. Clones cloning clones cloning clones has to lead to some problems down the line.
• The Gang did serve the Empire at some point, and paid for it in blood. But for what reason, You doesn't know.
• You gets the impression the Old Man, however mysterious he is, did exist. The fact that he was mentioned by two different parties that—as far as You knows—have no connection to each other seems to lend credence to the idea of him being real.
• The Fennec clones don't have to be from some sort of unearthly “House”, though. They could be a failed government experiment; or an unnaturally successful government experiment. Or some sort of third or fourth possibility, perhaps.

That's probably all that You has to know about the Fennecs—for now, at least. Unfortunately, You didn't learn much about the Empire, which was Your goal.

However, You is presently in Imperial Central, meaning...You could learn whatever You wants about them, theoretically. You could even question some of the locals, but You doesn't know how good of an idea that is.

Your head is a little more calmed now. You could probably venture into the streets and poke around.

You and Klaus exit the cantina; the bartender doesn't seem to care that You didn't order anything. You keeps Your face pointed low, and Klaus does likewise. You isn't aware that Madame Levingt killed Your almost-captors; if they succeeded in their mission, You realizes, they could have sent word of the two other fugitives—accomplices to a magic-user—to this city. Presumably those guards answer to the authorities here; or their commanders do. It wouldn't be likely for You to find another mage or whatever to aid You. Not here, in the center of Imperial law.

The Empire doesn't seem too efficient—You was never educated about Imperial legal codes, really, which suggests they're not too big on making their rule known. But You thinks about such legal codes. Theft, murder, racketeering—those must be illegal, because of how Your parents talked about them. But some other things, like jaywalking or even speaking certain words, could be punishable offenses too. It might be best to even try to find the shadier parts of the city, if those exist; not knowing the law could get You into some unneeded trouble.

You decides, however, to head to one of the sunnier areas first. You walked past the ocean when You entered the city, but You can see some docks in the distance that You wants to check out. You heads there, and takes in the sight for a little bit. Here, You does some pondering, but on the somewhat more simple pleasure of the meaning of life, rather than on this adventure. And this pondering may be the best of all.

You must stay there for some time, because when You snaps out of Your pondering the sun has begun to set. It's time to find some place to stay; but as You turn, something shocking greets Your eyes. It's a caravan, but its cargo strikes a chord in Your mind.

In a bunch of cages, You sees several hunched forms. They're not people—they're not even mutilated cyborgs, like the doctor (or doctors). They look like humans, but they're hairless; their bodies are grey and cancerous, and their eyes glow in the low twilight. Their stench is familiar, but far too overwhelming to permit guessing. And most tellingly, their long hands terminate in wicked-looking claws.

You knows those claws. One of these things ended up attacking You in the field.

The caravan is being protected by a cadre of soldiers. You feels the inclination to escape at all costs, but curiosity overwhelms You. You approaches them as Klaus tries to stop You; You shakes his hand off Your shoulder and step next to a suddenly-irritated guard.

“Excuse me,” You says. “What are these things?”

“Who is You to inquire?” he replies. He then grits his teeth. “Aside from an apple?”

“Um. A traveler. I've never seen such a wonder in all my born days.” You tries to take on an accent, to make Yourself seem different.

“Well, if You must know, these are new beast creatures intended for service in the Empire. The Europeans are itching for war again, and we'll need every advantage we can get. And so that's what they are. Advantages.”

“Very well. Thank you.”

You turns around and begins to walk back to Klaus. You feels the soldier's eyes on Your back, but the caravan keeps moving, and soon he and his eyes are gone.

It's when they're gone that You acknowledge a thought nagging at the back of Your head. This thought continues to nag and continues to grow even as You walks to an inn, and pays with some money stolen from the Fennec member You killed. And when You starts to fall asleep in bed, Klaus snoring on the floor next to You, You knows that the creatures smelled of the fuel.

You think of the strange fuel-scented bats in the abandoned house of that Incomputare, and now those strange monsters, under the command of the Empire; and under the command of E. You think of the slight hint of fuel covering the tortured cyborg-medic, and You thinks of all those who complained about the fuel; people near home, the Brotherhood of Kletus, and Madame Levingt. You harvested all of it mindlessly, an unwitting servant of the Empire—and You begins to think about it. A miracle substance: the ultimate power source, with the ability to cleanse wounds and induce healing. What else could it do?

In the hands of someone perpetuating an enormous conspiracy, the fuel could be even more powerful than suspected. Perhaps some of its properties could be hidden, masked from the public. Like its power to alter and warp living tissue into...something else.

You must decide now where Your trust lies. You can choose some barely-known criminal sorcerers and barbarian cultists; or a government that could well be employing slaves, as well as bandits, for reasons unknown.

You decides to hide from the question, and sleep until morning.