"Wait," I ask, "who's killing you?"

"Nobody," the child grabs a teddy bear and holds it in his arms, "I'm just... gonna die."

"Isn't there anything I can do?" I ask, "there has to be something."

"Nah," the child sighs, "you know The Technician, right? When things really got bad with that... demon, was when the Author turned ten, when he didn't know better. When he was inoccent. My name is Innocence, and I am going to die any minute now. Listen to me. The truth you seek is deeper down. Go back to the dungeon, look under Edgar's desk. Chase the truth Fando."

Innocence begins to fade in and out of the room, and begins to cry.

"And I tell you this," he struggles to breath, "not as a symbol, but as my own being, a character. Thank you for being my friend Fando. Goodbye."

Innocence fades out. He's...

He's gone. The room disappears around me. I collapse, crying. He's gone, and there was nothing I could do. Character or symbol, I failed him as both.

"Fando," I hear the voice, "you have to keep going. You have to chase the truth. Go get the others."

The voice in my head is right. I have to figure out what's under that desk...

I have to go deeper.

Breaker.

(Fando? Are you OK? You sound a bit choked up.)

We haven't found the truth. Go get the others and meet me on the bottom floor.

(What happened?)

Well...

(I break contact, sitting in my lab, thinking. Dammit. How many of my children have I fucked over? Three? Can't I be a good father to one of them?)

("Hello I.T.," a voice chuckles. I turn around and see an aparation of The Beast before me, wearing a dark cloak.)

("Leave Beast," I growl, "you are not welcome here.")

("I have come to bargain," the Beast smirks, "the Author has acquired a third mask. We both know what it is I.T. We are the same. The ones you've created, your children if you will, you've treated them just as I would. Just as I have treated Wolf. Like the scum they are. I know you understand my goals. They can't be unmasked, and won't be.")

("We are not the same! I'm going to warn Fando! I'm gonna stop you!")

("And how do you intend to do that? You'd have to gather a lot of mana you know. You wanna kill the Author? Now's your chance.")

("Beast you son of a bitch! I wish only to return to this world to what it was! Saving his world is not my intent, but knowing you're there is enough for me to step in. I will stop you Beast!")

("Good luck. Even if you start trying now, you won't be able to make contact until Fando is much deeper. Farewell I.T., but know, you're just like me.")

(The Beast leaves. I think about The Kin, my first child. How I've treated them... could I really be as bad as him?...)

(And now back to Fando. Contact.)

"Move!" Wolf and Armored yell as they try to lift the desk.

"Where is he?" Breaker asks.

"I don't know," I sigh, "but he's down there, and he's hiding something..."

"You still got your power?" Armored asks.

"Nah," I sigh, "it's gone."

"Come on!" Wolf is consumed by his dark power, "move!"

"Rest before you hurt yourself," Armored demands, "you're gonna run out of mana."

"Alright," Wolf sighs, sitting down.

"You guys can mess around with that desk all day," Abby walks in, sighing, "but it's not going to move."

"And why not?" Breaker asks.

"It's made of raw ink," Abby sighs, "and only a powerful writer can move it."

"Hey Abby," I greet.

They turn away, they seem upset and ashamed.

"I can move the desk for you," Abby approaches it, "but, I want to know, why do you seek the truth?"

"Because the truth will bring me closer to proving to Reaper he can be OK," Armored explains.

"Reaper is a genocidal maniac with no regard for those he kills!" Wolf exclaims, "but as for me, I just wanna stop my father. This may be my chance to confront The Beast."

"At this point I'm just helping my freinds and Fando," Breaker admits.

"I want to know my past," I explain, "and the truth."

"Alright," Abby sighs, still refusing to look me in the eye, "but you're not gonna like what you see."

Abby touches the desk, melting it into ink.

"Good luck," she turns to leave.

"Is it just me or did they seem upset?" Breaker asks.

"Should one of us go check on them?" Wolf inquires.

"Armored," I ask, "wanna come with me?"

"Sure," Armored smiles.

We head up two floors back to the dining hall where Gen is eating some lemon cake with Sour.

"Have either of you seen Abby?" Armored asks.

"They went by just a moment ago," Sour sighs, "seemed really upset but they wouldn't talk to us about it. Mumbled something about mistakes and masks. I dunno. I'm kinda worried."

"We'll look into it," I reply, "don't worry."

Sour cuddles Gen, kissing his cheek and pulling him closer to her, out of his seat and into hers. It's cute. Not gonna lie, but it makes me think about Abby and Edgar. They don't get along like that...

I become more worried as we continue upwards...

(I decide to break contact while I chat with Wolf for a while.)

("Hey Breaker?" Wolf asks.)

("Yeah?" I reply.)

("Why'd you join the Author Slayers?" Wolf inquires.)

("I dunno man," I sigh, "I just kinda... did.")

("I hate them," Wolf growls, "a fair number of those I repersent are writers. Writers write for a reason, and sometimes, they have good reason. Some of them write to numb their pain or because it's their passion. Like The Author.")

("I see what you're saying," I reply.)

("I don't know about you, but when I'm outta here, I'm going to wipe out the Author Slayers. I'll shatter Reaper's soul like glass. It'll be easy.")

("Dude that's not OK! How will you be any better than him!?!")

("Would I be any worse!?! Riddle me that!")

("OK OK. Come on dude, we're friends, we're both writers here. Can't we agree to disagree?")

("Let's settle this in the war. Otherwise, yeah. I'd hate to lose a friend.")

("Agreed. Until then, back to Fando!")

We reach around the twelfth floor. A floor filled with notes on ships, where Sour's room is found.

"Do you hear someone crying?" Armored asks.

I hear it to, coming from a room on the left. It sounds like Abby.

"Let me take this one," Armored smiles, "I know what's wrong. Trust me."

Choice: I don't trust Abby

Choice: Be careful