[center][h1]Nasaraph Sana[/h1][/center]

The ghost boy didn't understand how right he was. In this world even the friendliest of faces was but a mask. Bearing that in mind, he put on his friendliest face and stepped forward, past his companions, to meet the ghost boy. "I think we've heard just about enough of this nonsense. You can't just walk up and smear a name as reputable as Alto's without any proof, and it's honestly disgusting that you think we're that stupid."

This man had a grudge against Alto. Something had happened between them, something terrible to inspire the hatred that came poking through his facade. This guy was a rank amateur when it came to falsifying his emotions. Hatred like that inspired obsession, and obsession led to the gathering of information. Information that could prove vital to Nasaraph own ascension. He needed that information. He needed this guys help, but he couldn't let the Vigilantes see his carefully concealed true face. To get rid of them so they could talk, he would have to play the fool.

He threw out his arm, cape billowing dramatically behind him, blocking the two of them, physically blocking his two companions. He turned, smiling back at them. "This one is clearly unhinged, and is intent on wasting our time. My friends, if you still intend to rescue these lost students yourselves follow after the robot girl. The other I found was down that hallway behind us, in the room next to the stairwell up. In return I will take on your old responsibilities," he turned back to Vittorio, letting a bit of viciousness creep into his eyes, "and tidy up all these old ghosts." 

If he was being honest with himself, he was actually hoping the ghost boy was completely unreasonable. Clara's refusal earlier had left him feeling ancy.
[@Dezuel][@Bartimaeus][@rawkhawk64][@RoflsMazoy]

[hr]

[center][h1]Bak Tsarevna[/h1][/center]

Bak could hear them talking, but she wasn't sure what they were saying. Except, of course, for Vittorio's answer. 

[b][color=6ecff6]"The world is a sad place. The real world is not like the world in the storybooks, Bak. This is a world where monsters can win. Wouldn't you know that better than most?"[/color][/b]

She wanted to argue but she couldn't. The world was sad, and she had won things because she was a monster. She was only here because she was a terrible monster. She'd made her first friend acting as a terrible monster. She was accepted by Clara because she was a terrible monster. She was the happiest she had ever been because of the fact that she was a monster. The thought made her kind of mad, and she had no idea why. 

Bah! He could keep his poetry and those ghost puppet shows he was so fond of, she had work to do. She turned back to follow after Clara...only to find Clara was gone. "Gah! Why does she move so quickly?" Had she gone upstairs already or what? Bak started stomping back down the hallway, head swiveling left and right in case Clara had ducked into one of the rooms or become invisible or maybe was on the ceiling or something. 

She didn't get far before she heard the sound of the floor crumbling behind her. She turned back for the third time to spot a circular hole had been punched in the floor. She looked down at her feet guiltily, before shaking off that notion. No, no, if it was going to do that it would have done so when she stepped on it. Besides, the hole looked way too circular. She'd caused buildings to crumble before, they didn't crumble like that. She could hear sounds too, voices. Was there some kind of fight going on down there?

She took one last forlorn look toward the stairwell door at the end of the hall before creeping as close as she was comfortable to the crumbling edge, which was still pretty far away. Just to listen. Just to make sure everyone was okay. 

[hr]

[center][h1]Gilliam DeWitt[/h1][/center]

Gilliam was completely lost. He was a big enough man to admit that. It had been a mistake to pursue that last imp into the ventilation system, flattening out his body, smoothing it out, and slithering his elongated form into vent after it. He understood now why this building had been condemned, the vents were an inefficient labyrinth mess designed by some bloody stupid modern Daedalus. How anyone had ever gotten any heat to their homes was beyond him. He had hit actual dead ends, for goodness sake. It was in one where he'd finally caught that imp.

The terror the thing had experienced had made it all gamy and tough, but the flavor was still succulent. Like sulfur, or ash. It was a nostalgic taste, like when he'd used to heat rocks as a kid and swallow them to keep warm at night. Now wasn't the time for reminiscence, however. Now was the time to find his friends, or another of those tasty morsels, or maybe just another vent so he could get his bearing because he hadn't actually seen another vent since he slithered in here and [i]who designed this building!?[/i]

Suddenly he felt the entire system shake behind him. With a flick of his nose and the feeling of sneezing in reverse he folded his face in on itself and felt his entire tube-like body rearrange so his front was his back and his back was his front. The sudden light stung his eyes, but when they adjusted it became apparent that someone had taken a whole chunk out of the building. Dim light flooded the shaft like Theseus shining thread guiding him out of Daedalus trap, but as he slithered forward he chuckled to himself for it was not Theseus the thread was rescuing.

It was the Minotaur.