[Limbus Company] Knight (Meursault, Don Quixote)

“MEURSAULT~~~! MY VALIANT KNIGHT HAS APPEARED!”

Meursault didn’t look forward to much in his day. He could probably list what he actually liked about his day to day life on his hand, in all honesty. The first would be the morning chat with the Manager over coffee, even if Meursault was the only one able to indulge in the liquid. The second would be the rumble of the bus when nobody else was up yet, with Lapis only just turning the infernal machine on.

There was no third thing on that list.

One thing that he had to quickly grow used to was that some of his new “co-workers” were quite loud creatures. The loudest of them all seems to have appeared before him – Ms. Don Quixote. Her blonde hair looked rather frazzled, and her golden eyes were brimming with excitement and an odd sentiment of rage. The knuckles on her hand were stark white with how hard she was gripping her lance.

“Quixote.” Meursault’s voice is as cold as ice. “What is the matter with you?”

“You wouldn’t believe what I hath gone through on this day, my valiant knight! Verily, listen to my tale! I was simply minding my business on the street, observing the area as Manager Esquire dictated, before I was set upon by a group of lowly Rats! They asked me for my money, and I obliterated them on the spot, the lowly curs! The problem, however, was that one of them got away...and nobody else is around to stand up to that INJUSTICE! AND SO, MY KNIGHT, WILL YOU--”

Meursault moves in front of her, takes off his gauntlet, and clamps a thick hand over her mouth. She instantly tries to retract, but his grip around her jawbones keeps her damn well in place.

“You wish for me to kill the survivor? Nod or shake your head.”

After trying unsuccessfully to pry her face away from his palm, Don deflates like she’s a cat being grabbed by the scruff and slowly nods her head. He removes the hand and re-equips his gauntlet, which is just enough time for Don to shoot out a retort as he begins to leave.

“IF YOU WERE ANYONE ELSE, KNIGHT, I WOULD HAVE YOUR HEAD FOR SUCH IMPROPRIETY!” Her voice has taken an offended tone, but Meursault couldn’t care less. He was given a job to do – and so he would.

Thankfully, a trail presented itself to him immediately – Don’s footprints leading to the bus are stark red, and when he follows them to an alleyway, he is treated to a gruesome scene. Three men lay dead on the ground – two are impaled and have their intestines strewn like confetti, while one has been hit with the pommel of Don’s lance so hard that his neck broke from the whiplash.

“Efficient, despite her delusional tongue. Now, where has the other gone?” Meursault murmurs, tapping a staccato rhythm on his gauntlets.

An answer shows itself very quickly in the form of dried blood streaks on the wall. They could have belonged to anyone realistically, but they had just enough color to show how recent they were – and Meursault followed them for a mile, until he reached a rough and tumble door nestled between a butchery and a workshop. The door handle is covered in the claret-like substance, meaning that he has found his target.

“Time to get to work.” He removes his coat and folds it neatly, leaving it outside of the door.

Meursault knew he would be under fire if this was traced back to the Company.