You are Charlotte Fawkins, dashing heroine, detective, adventuress, heiress, sorceress, etcetera. Three years ago, you drowned yourself in a quest to find a long-lost family heirloom; nowadays, you're just nobly c̶a̶u̶s̶i̶n̶g̶ solving problems with the help of trusty retainer Gil and un-trusty mind-snake Richard. Inexplicably, many people tend to "dislike" you, though you've never done anything wrong in your life.

Right now, you have finally escaped the ruins of the Namway facility (plus your murderous alter ego, the explosion of your worm, etc.)... only to run face-to-face into two women, one of whom looks awfully like your kidnapped frenemy Madrigal.

Which makes no damn sense. Not only was she kidnapped, at gunpoint, <span class="mu-i">before your very eyes</span>— she was a tiny snake back then. Her real body, last you checked, is back at camp gaunt and catatonic. This "Madrigal" looks healthy, is running around with some woman you don't recognize at all, and is wearing leather pants.

In other words, you're up to your second Madrigal gooplicate today. Incredible. You draw The Sword with a flourish (thank God it's back on your hip, or this would've been embarrassing) and thrust it into Not Madrigal's face. "Yield, foul imposter! Your tricksy guise cannot fool mine—"

"What the <span class="mu-i">fuck</span> is she doing here," the other woman hisses. "Let me guess. This was the plan all along. You soften me up, bait me here—"

"Holy shit, shut up!" Not Madrigal jabs her spear in the other woman's direction, and it's a <span class="mu-i">proper</span> spear, glossy and gilded and jet-black— maybe you can put down this foul imposter and steal it? Or gift it to the real Madrigal in return for her undying devotion, etcetera? That'd be more heroic, probably. "I don't know what the fuck she's doing here. What the fuck are you doing here, Charlotte?"

It knows your name. Impressive. But Guppy <span class="mu-i">did</span> say she was being influenced somehow, so not at all impossible. "Um, obviously rescuing the fair damsel Madrigal Fitzpa—"

"<span class="mu-i">Rescuing</span> me?" Not Madrigal's brow furrows. "By <span class="mu-i">yourself?</span> Fucking why?"

"Um," you say, "<span class="mu-i">not</span> you, and <span class="mu-i">not</span> by myself— I'll have you know that I had a <span class="mu-i">complete</span> adventuring party, who disbanded recently for their own—"

"Because you drove them all off?"

"No?" Not Madrigal is not only foul but rude, apparently. "One of them exploded, if you have to know, but it doesn't matter. My only objective is <span class="mu-i">rescuing</span> the damsel Madrigal, blah blah blah. Now yield, foul—!"

"Fucking hell." Not Madrigal attempts to pry the tip of The Sword away with her spear, but your heroic strength keeps it in place. "I'm fucking Madrigal, okay? You fucking— you found me. Somehow. Good job. Where's Ellery?"

"What?" you say.

"Did <span class="mu-i">he</span> explode? Don't tell me he— he <span class="mu-i">would,</span> but—"

"No? I didn't bring him? Why would I—" You squint. "Stop trying to distract me! I am filledeth with heroic fervor, and am therefore undistractable—"

(1/5)