city outskirts

@⬙ ﹕ puppeteer. Yuanbin's smile was bitter, a little forced, but nonetheless he puts what little remained of his soul into the gesture as he shook his head.

"No one else knows, but they're honestly better off not knowing. It's not safe for them to be looking into the Archon's Gate anyway. They're all the way back in China, and even I don't remember how to get there."

Yuanbin decides to leave out the part that he wasn't exactly taken there by means people would most expect. It was one of the things he feared the most, because contrary to the evidence of kidnapping they'd found in his bedroom at the orphanage—he never made it out of the open window, it had all been staged. Instead, that dream he'd had about a mysterious man reaching a hand out to him in a snowstorm was what brought him into the facility. Dreamwalking was The Artifex's only known ability, carefully mastered and honed over years? Decades? Centuries? Yuanbin realizes he doesn't even know how old this guy is. Regardless, he knows The Artifex had used it for so long that he'd somehow developed an ability to physically take people from their dreams. Yuanbin hasn't dreamt of people in so long, and he's glad that he hasn't.

"The Artifex is running out of options—ones that won't hurt me, that is. I still have the longest experiment records under his name, he just doesn't want me to return as a damaged product after putting in so much work."

Talking about himself as if he were some kind of object pained him in ways he couldn't explain, but it was a reality he'd learned to come to terms with. It was how he'd been treated his entire life anyway.

"Remember when I said his own work backfired on him? He was the one who conditioned my guardian to protect me from any and all threats. In the end, he became the biggest one." There's a small smile on Yuanbin's face then, a genuine one this time, even if it didn't make the memory of it any less painful. "Sungie wouldn't let The Artifex near me after that guy almost killed me in the testing room, said he'd rip his head clean off if he tried. Of course, he's not strong enough to overpower him—no one is, not even his brother—but I appreciated the sentiment." And just like that, Yuanbin's smile goes back to feeling forced, as if a new weight had just settled upon his shoulders. All warmth and hope quickly bleeds from his face, and his lips quiver with the effort to keep speaking.

"He's all I have," he confesses, "I know he sounds more like a hazard than a guardian, but he's not my enemy here. The Artifex took his brother, so we've both lost something to him. He'd somehow deviated from his conditioning, so he's on my side." Yuanbin finally decides to lift his gaze to meet the other's eyes, and for a moment there's a spark of hope in them. But like all hopes he's ever had, it dies out just as quickly. The truth was bitter—there was no saving Yuanbin from the inevitable. The only way for him to be safe was to kill The Artifex, and that wasn't even a possible option right now. Not by a long shot.

"I appreciate the offer, I really really do—but I'm afraid you don't know who you're up against. It's only a matter of time before he sends out his dogs. I don't—I can't—let you into this mess."

@⬙ ﹕ snow angel. Puppeteer would be lying if he claimed that he wasn’t surprised by how quickly Yuanbin seemed to have let his guard down; he watches as the man settles on the sidewalk, leaving a wide enough space Puppeteer can only assume is for him. He supposes this is where the line blurs, if it isn’t already—he’s hardly in costume, his stamina is as replenished as it can be, and he hasn’t lifted a single finger to do his shadow business. Dalbit would’ve taken up the offer in a heartbeat, and that is if he wasn’t the one to initiate it; trust someone as much as you want them to trust you, he supposes. But Puppeteer can’t do that. Puppeteer is trained to anticipate danger, even if it doesn’t present itself as clearly. Even if it isn’t there.

He joins Yuanbin by the sidewalk and sits.

His eyes land on the scar on the other man’s nape, gaze hardening to only allow a flicker of anger in his pupils. Forget the serrated lines—the fact that it has an X-like shape is enough to tell him that someone has deliberately carved it into Yuanbin’s skin, and it certainly isn’t for proper medical surgeries or anything of the sort. He’s got battle scars of his own littered around his body, but almost none of them had that kind of texture. “And that is The Artifex’s doing?” he asks, even though there is no need to. Not that he’s looking for an answer to that, to be fair. What he wants to know, however, is what kind of twisted ing experiment that man is running—and how on Earth no one has caught on to it yet.

Puppeteer’s expression twists into a grimace. He might have an inkling about the latter, but he can’t get all cynical in front of this poor lad.

Instead he listens, like how Dalbit would listen to one of his kindergarteners confide to him about how lonely it is at home because Dad is long gone and Mom has to work two jobs every single day to feed them. Yuanbin doesn’t look at him as he speaks, and that’s fine—every word seems like a painful struggle to force out of his lips, and it’s not as if Puppeteer is in a rush anyway. Quite the contrary, in fact. He needs time to think of a way to get out of this crossfire, or at least, to get Yuanbin to safety.

There’s the rented car parked uphill, about twenty minutes from where they are by foot, but he wouldn’t be surprised if The Artifex had planted some kind of tracker in it. Take him home another way? He supposes it depends on which home—this… guardian Yuanbin speaks of is pretty much an extension of his contractor, and Puppeteer can only assume that they are the closest thing to a “home” he has right now. Dalbit’s residence? It’s as safe as it could be, but he’s not about to cross that line. So both definitions of home are out of the question. Seek out The Artifex and/or Yuanbin’s guardian and settle it with force? He’s not a hero—scratch that, *no longer* a hero, for goodness’ sake.

“I can get someone to look into your case, if you want,” is the offer he settles with after a long pause. He could send off an anonymous tip to one of the government agencies, but whether or not they’d actually deal with it is a whole different story. Puppeteer wouldn’t count on it, to be honest. He doesn’t voice the thought out. “Does anyone else know about this?” he asks instead.

A pup, huh? He’s not here, Yuanbin had said, but it doesn’t stop him from looking around their surroundings. Whatever shadows have remained in the dark are still, quiet, almost peaceful—it really is just the two of them, at least for now. He lets out a soft chuckle to diffuse the tension in the air. “I’d like to think that I can handle pups just fine.” Yuanbin probably wasn’t referring to the word as its literal meaning, but he can’t help but think how ironic it is that this all started because he needed to pay for Mario’s vet bills. At least he’s got his money upfront (it’s his number one policy when it comes to jobs like this, and thank ing God for it) from The Artifex. He’ll think about the aftermath of not returning Yuanbin to him… later.

“But somehow you’re able to convince that pup of yours to keep out of your business. There’s a reason why The Artifex had to resort to strangers to bring you back, isn’t there?” he points out. “Look, I’m a nobody. I don’t with heroic business if it wasn’t for the pay and it just so happens that The Artifex got to me first with a good enough sum.” More than enough, in fact. “I’m under no obligation to help you beyond this but…” He has to make a conscious effort to keep his voice even amidst the bubbling anger in his throat. “But I cannot in good conscience leave you alone to fend for yourself after this. Let me help you, Yuanbin. I will make sure no one can harm you ever again.”

@⬙ ﹕ puppeteer. The ice beneath Yuanbin's shoes crack softly as he shifted his weight, a little more relaxed but undoubtedly still bothered by the situation. Considering the other man had not immediately gone for his throat like some of the ones that came before him, he figured he could let his walls down just a little bit more, low enough that he could appease the other's curiosity without having to expose the core of his very being for the sake of truth. He hesitates, blinking rapidly as he always did when he panicked, but eventually his shoulders slump forward in defeat. Maybe he was letting the walls down a little too quickly, but he was so incredibly tired.

Yuanbin moves carefully, suddenly made aware of how sore his feet had gotten from standing. He doesn't run nor resort to offense, and instead he sits at the edge of the sidewalk with a heavy sigh, leaving the spot beside him open should the other decide to trust him that much. It wasn't a direct offer, but it was there nonetheless. He was risking himself quite a bit here, as ice no longer followed his steps as his heels made contact with the cracked asphalt of the road. He was still capable of bringing it back to defend himself if he needed to, but he'd have to spare a few seconds to build it up again.

Yuanbin first responds with an affirmative hum, and next thing he knew he was reaching behind him to tug his jacket a little lower. "Got a scar to prove it too," he added as he bent his head forward enough, exposing the white X on his nape, its lines messy and serrated, like it had been carved into his skin with something that wasn't even made to cut into flesh. "And this isn't the only one." Yuanbin releases the cloth he'd pinched under his fingers, shrugging his jacket back into place.

"I was 18 when they took me, spent my 19th in a godforsaken cell." There's a restrained bitterness in his tone, but all because he knew—although at this point, they both knew—what would happen if his emotions got the best of him. Yuanbin's gaze had been glued to the empty road now, unmoving, afraid he'd shed a tear if he so much as blinked. "You know for a while I genuinely thought he loved me, but I was just another doll in his stupid ing collection. He got bored of me and I was thrown aside—to think that he wants me back there sounds like bull. I don't believe him." And maybe in the back of his head he just knew he was going to be put through hell for escaping, or maybe he'd meet a gruesome end with that terrifying monster of a brother Sungjae had.

"I ran away because he stopped paying attention to me, because I knew I was just one failure away from being discarded like the rest of the rejects. I—," Yuanbin almost chokes on his own words as the memories flash before his eyes. It was unpleasant. Horrifying. "I didn't make it very far...or so I was told. The Artifex gave me a guardian, you know? Maybe he thought it would keep me from leaving. And as much as I hate to say it, I'm glad it backfired on him." If it weren't for that so-called 'guard dog' of his, Yuanbin might have long been dead, or perhaps trapped in the facility forever. "He's still with me... my guardian, I mean. Follows me around like a puppy because he's been conditioned that way. I don't bring him with me often nowadays, 'cause he—he's a little too dangerous to keep around," the last part comes out in a very hushed whisper, afraid he'd accidentally said too much.

"Fortunately for you, he isn't here. That pup's extremely violent, won't listen to a word I say sometimes, and I'm not strong enough to stop him—The Artifex made sure of that."

@⬙ ﹕ snow angel. The remaining snowfall melts into his skin as the temperature shifts again, the bitter cold reverting back to the mild evening breeze Puppeteer is more accustomed to. The boy has responded to his first question with a nod, which is always a good start. He notices the apprehension, of course—if not for the way Yuanbin keeps his body guarded, the fact that the ice beneath him has yet to melt into a puddle despite the warmth is a more than obvious indicator to it. Fair enough, he thinks. He figures that he should be the one letting his guard down first if he wants Yuanbin to do the same. It’s not the best strategy had it been someone else (and Puppeteer, despite acting otherwise, still can’t put his full trust on the other man just yet), so he leaves it be for now. He lets his arms down and rests them on his sides, fairly relaxed, but still as functional and prepared as they could be. Step one had been a success.

Step two: figure out what the hell is going on from what fragmented information he has. The Artifex, unknown everything sans the pseudonym, is looking for a Zheng Yuanbin (given name confirmed), twenty-three (he looks somewhere around Puppeteer’s age, so sure), and every other basic information about the man seems to be a good enough match. And now Yuanbin is telling him that this contractor of his has lied to him (which he has considered at least once, but was regretfully blinded by the money and bills he had to settle), and apparently “likes to lie”. He considers the opposite as well—what if Yuanbin is the one lying to him? But between a seemingly genuine name and some codename even Puppeteer is not familiar with…

Nope. It’s still too early to draw conclusions.

But Yuanbin *is* more than familiar with the person Puppeteer is referring to, so perhaps he should go down that line of questioning. “How long have you been away from this… The Artifex?” he asks, after leaving a brief pause between them. Judging based on the exhaustion in Yuanbin’s voice, he’s guessing that this isn’t the first time he’s been in this kind of situation. If what he said was true, Puppeteer has sure been played for a fool. Oh, the things he does to survive in this ing capitalist society.

His inner disdain for the system, however, is cut short by what he hears next. Guardian? Runaway experiment? Puppeteer is no stranger to unethical human experiments, having been assigned to such cases when the government agency deems it safe to send his teenage self after the vilest, most inhumane ers—but it still makes his stomach churn all the same. “Yuanbin…” he calls softly. “Can you answer one thing for me?” To be fair, the other man has been nothing but candid, or so he seems, but the last thing he wants is another emotionally-charged snowstorm he’d have to fight his way out of. “Is The Artifex… experimenting on you?”

He’d wait for an answer, but screw that. Albeit not the same, he too, can vividly recall too many times in which he had people exploiting him for his powers. Where he had no choice but to hurt, to fight—all to ensure his survival. And look where that has led him. “Talk to me.” He’s not about to become complicit in the same twisted act that still haunts him to this day. “Tell me everything about you and The Artifex.”

@⬙ ﹕ puppeteer. This would not have been the first time Yuanbin had run into The Artifex's attempts to have him return to the Archon's Gate, but it was getting increasingly concerning how far he'd gone just looking for people to do that job for him—to keep convincing him because The Artifex knew that Yuanbin's obsession hadn't completely died out when he left the facility. It was just dormant, he'd say, because he believes his precious little Snow Angel was 'just angry' at the lack of attention, and the fact that none of his dedication was ever reciprocated. Though that part was true to some extent, he'd never mention any of the disappointment and arguments in between. Only when Yuanbin had grown tired of it all did he realize that he'd made yet another mistake in his supposedly perfect career as a researcher.

He hated being pursued like this, which was ironic considering he would have loved this kind of attention from The Artifex prior to the months leading up to his escape. Their 'love' was absolute poison, but to think all he'd ever wanted before was to drink from that cup made him feel all the more disgusted with himself.

Normally by this point, Yuanbin was expecting to see blood, usually his own—because that's how it always went with these kinds of situations. But to his pleasant surprise, they were both still standing at a safe enough distance from each other, neither of them wishing to attack unless necessary. Yuanbin felt skeptical answering the guy's questions, but he eventually nods at an inquiry of his name. Despite this, his body language grows even more reserved, pulling his arms and hands closer to his chest and rubbing nervously at his own knuckles. The chill in the air slowly warmed back to a normal temperature as Yuanbin calmed down, but the sheets of ice beneath him remained as a last resort should the man before him try anything.

"Sorry," is the first thing that leaves his lips when it finally stops snowing around them, a word said so often that it had become second instinct. Yuanbin eyed the man once more—Puppeteer, was it?—unfortunately, he wasn't quite familiar with the codename. But it's not like it would really help him much anyway even if he did.

"I don't know what he's told you, but The Artifex likes to lie," Yuanbin breathes out, sounding more tired than anything. "We weren't sticking together for . I left because I couldn't stand him anymore." That was also partially a lie—the obsession he had wouldn't die so easily—thankfully he'd had enough sense to see past it for the time-being. "I risked my life trying to escape him, if my guardian hadn't gone after me I would have-," Yuanbin cuts himself off quickly, shaking his head and deciding he wouldn't continue that sentence.

"I—I don't know what you were expecting, I'm sure he's warned you about me and whatever. But The Artifex is not my lover—he never was, and he never will be. I'm just some runaway experiment, and I'm sure as that I won't survive if you hand me over." Yuanbin had half the mind to start pleading on his knees, but he figured he already looked pathetic enough as it is.

@⬙ ﹕ snow angel. Puppeteer has expected the startled reaction—who wouldn’t be, when you have a random stranger coming out of the shadows and telling you that they’re here to take you away?—but the spitefulness that follows immediately afterwards almost makes him want to roll his eyes. This sure is some lovers’ quarrel, isn’t it? He’s asked The Artifex about the details, of course—apparently they had to be separated after being attacked by some malicious mutant and they *did* ask Puppeteer to convey their apologies to Yuanbin because he’d probably think that The Artifex had abandoned him or anything of that sort. “Oh, well…” The only thing keeping him going at this point is the promised sum; maybe he should make it a point later on that he can’t simply be hired to be the middleman in other people’s relationships. “He did say he was sorry for leaving you out there. And, uh, not to defend him or anything, but sometimes it’s hard to stick together when you’re dealing with a supervillain. Been there, done that.”

Perhaps he’d spoken too soon, because just as he finished his little speech, the exposed skin on his face picks up a strange, chilly breeze—a tad too cold for it to be naturally occurring in this weather. There’s ice on the ground, or rather beneath the other man’s soles for the most part, cracking under his weight. Puppeteer’s gaze shuffles between it and Yuanbin’s alert stance—and then it starts making a little more sense. This is what that The Artifex person meant when he told him to be careful, isn’t it? And perhaps it’s also why he needed superpowers to resolve their fight—Yuanbin isn’t just a regular runaway lover of his.

He could technically start peeling off their shadows from the ground in preparation (and before it could get any worse), but he quickly decides against it. He’s not looking for a fight. The Artifex did want him to come home alive and unharmed, and even if that wasn’t the case, Puppeteer would rather not have to use his own powers against the young man. “Look, I *really* don’t want to hurt you,” he reiterates, hands still thrown up in the air. “I don’t know what happened between you two, but calm down. Please.”

What came out of Yuanbin’s mouth next, however, feels like another punch to his gut. The Artifex… lied to him? Well, the whole deal has been a tad too suspicious for his liking, and it’s not like Puppeteer could simply trust Yuanbin either, but this certainly is enough to throw him off guard. The next thing he knows, it’s snowing, albeit not too heavily—but still, he needs to work out the situation *fast*. “Yuanbin—” he says, in the same voice Dalbit would use to calm down a crying kindergartener throwing a tantrum because someone had claimed their favorite crayon first. “Your name is Yuanbin, right?” It’s a stupid question, but now he feels like he has to make sure of it. “I don’t want either of us to hurt each other and regret it later on. Look, can we just—can you tell me what’s going on between you and him? Preferably without us being in this winter wonderland, ‘cause I don’t have my coat on at the moment and it *is* starting to get a little cold.”

@⬙ ﹕ puppeteer. What little moisture had seeped into the cracks of the pavement had frozen into thin sheets of ice beneath Yuanbin's steps. As he whirled around, he makes immediate eye contact with the owner whose gaze had been weighing on him for the past few minutes.

For a brief moment, Yuanbin had actually considered this meeting to be of little concern—he wasn't foreign to the experience of strangers approaching him in the night. But the mention of The Artifex had him reeling back, his eyes widening just a slight bit, barely noticeable—though he figured his body language had already given him away at this point. His mouth opened to reply, but not a single word falls from his lips. The scar on his nape suddenly burns, and Yuanbin stumbles back a few steps as he tried to process what he had just heard.

The stranger's face sparked no familiarity of anyone he'd ever seen back in the facility, which only meant The Artifex had somehow followed his trail despite how often he moved around. The thought of it had sent immediate chills down Yuanbin's spine, fearing the possibility of being caught so quickly despite the fact that it truly hasn't been that long since he'd escaped. He had almost died then—and he doubts he could survive doing it a second time.

"Partner?" Yuanbin repeats, his senses narrowing in on that one word, suddenly finding his voice when it mattered. He sounded incredibly bitter, the disbelief evident. "Last time I checked, he wouldn't even look at me," he scoffed, more to himself than anything. He wanted to cry but knew he couldn't afford to get emotional, he didn't want to cause another blizzard, especially when he was standing out in the open instead of being contained in a cell. But he does quite horribly at regulating himself, his heart rate picking up, his panic ever growing.

He's anxious, afraid, lost and everything in between—it causes the air around them to turn unnaturally chilly, the sheet of ice beneath his heels splintering, spreading across the ground in uneven patterns. Yuanbin puts his hands up defensively, shaking his head, praying to himself that he wouldn't have to fight his way out of this.

"I'm- I'm sorry, you can't- I won't-," Yuanbin curses under his breath, inhaling sharply and taking another cautious step back. "I can't go with you. I—I can't go back there. He's lied to you." It hurts to say it, but he knew he'd be better off resisting. The air grew colder, and suddenly—snowflakes. Falling slowly and gently onto their clothes and hair. Oh. This was how those stupid blizzards always started. Yuanbin had to get away.

"I just—please don't make me do something that I'll regret later."

@⬙ ﹕ snow angel. This mission has been…. interesting, to say the least.

Puppeteer isn’t too bothered about the specifics—most of his clients would reach out to him under their codenames, and if even he refuses to divulge his civilian identity (he’d be lying if he claimed that it has never happened before; you’d think government heroes would know better than that but alas), it’s only fair that he doesn’t pry either. This particular client goes by The Artifex, whatever that’s supposed to mean, and apparently their so-called lover has been missing for a while now, and they’re desperate to bring him home. So much that they’d agreed to pay *thrice* the monthly salary Dalbit would earn as a kindergarten teacher, and while Puppeteer doesn’t normally take up requests from people he can’t search up in the government’s database (he assumes The Artifex is some sort of outer codename? That, or they’re as edgy as they are suspiciously resourceful—as far as the general public knows, Puppeteer has not made a public appearance in five years), his dog’s vet bills have made quite a dent on his bank account and he’s not sure if he could bring up his balance in time to pay rent by the end of the month. So here he is, in a rented car The Artifex has so kindly paid for, parked just before the road leading to what seems like an isolated manor housing some sort of multimillionaire.

He rests his hand on the steering wheel and lets out a soft sigh. There’s a reason why he hasn’t been to this side of town in a while, but that is a story for another day. He raises his other hand, closes one eye, and holds up his index finger against his windshield. Its length sits perfectly between the sun and horizon. The Artifex did warn him to be careful if he does find that lover of theirs. They didn’t elaborate when he asked why, and now Puppeteer can only hope that he does not have to resort to his powers—or lack thereof, once his fifteen minutes are up.

Oh, it definitely *will* be up.

Puppeteer makes sure of the young man’s identity as he inadvertently walks past the car: Zheng Yuanbin, 23, the picture seems to check out—come to think of it, why the heck does The Artifex have a mugshot-like photograph of him? A couple selfie or anything along that line would’ve been fine. He watches him disappear down the road through the rearview mirror, confirms the direction he’s heading to, and emerges from his car once he’s at a safe enough distance to not be seen. Every step he takes feels heavy on his stomach, a sort of uneasiness only his gut feeling could produce rather than fear. The mission goes like this: Find Zheng Yuanbin, make sure he’s alive and well, and him home to The Artifex, who has not been able to locate him for days.

And the strangest part? Zheng Yuanbin is in fact, easy to locate, even for a total stranger like Puppeteer.

Night has fallen. Puppeteer has now been rendered powerless without his shadows, so out of the shadows and under the streetlamp he goes, arms thrown up in the air to signal that he’s no threat (not that it matters because he normally doesn’t carry weapons anyway, but Yuanbin doesn’t need to know that).

“Hi. You’re Zheng Yuanbin, aren’t you? I’m Puppeteer.” he says. Figuring that his presence would probably come off as a surprise regardless, he’s chosen to don a simplified version of his Puppeteer costume: a plain black vest over a long-sleeved white shirt, black dress pants, and his usual pair of combat boots while on duty. He forgoes the face covering despite the risks—the last thing he wants is to be mistaken as a burglar. “I mean no harm. Your partner has sent me to find you—calls themself The Artifex, I believe. Said you’d be familiar with that name too.”

@⬙ ﹕ puppeteer. It was a little later after sunset when Yuanbin had finally been relieved of his escorting duties for the day. Never in his life had he been more glad to watch a wealthy man disappear behind the gates of whatever luxurious manor stood beyond the high walls of his suspiciously isolated property. He had actually been invited to stay just moments ago, but Yuanbin knew impure intentions when he saw them—or at the very least, it just seemed like his client wasn't very good at masking those intentions either when it was clear that the man couldn't keep his hands to himself the entire ride back.

Yuanbin had half the mind to freeze his arm off, but he wasn't here to make unnecessary trouble for himself, nor was it a wise decision on his end to injure his current employer. He had simply bid the man goodbye with a polite bow, all while avoiding his gaze as he declined the offer to stay past his working hours. With the escorting duties now in the hands of the man's home guards, Yuanbin found himself standing alone on an empty street with roughly fifteen minutes of daylight left to spare. He decides that maybe a long walk would do him some good as he walked off into the same direction they had come from earlier. He had no idea how far off he was from the center, but he figured it wouldn't hurt him to kill time until his next schedule.

All had been well for the first thirty minutes, even though the sidewalks were barely lit and the roads remained empty, save for the occasional driver trying to haul their half-busted car to the nearest gas station. It wasn't the darkness that bothered him either, as overbearing as it was when there was little light to be seen for miles. No, it was that feeling of being watched again. Yuanbin doesn't hear anything, doesn't see anything, nor does he feel the air around him shift either, but somehow he just knew that somebody out here was currently eyeing him. Only difference was that it didn't feel as heavy as the ones he'd experienced before.