Scaramouche traversed the ruins with a small party of Fatui. There had been reports of a fire here, a large one that wiped out the whole town. This was a special town, though, one whose residents were entirely Fatui operatives. The snow plane had little coverage, and Scaramouche was wrapped in his thick Harbinger’s cloak, his hat providing additional coverage from the biting winds. He scowled at the strewn-about bodies, gingerly scuffing one to the side like stray paraphernalia.

“Fan out.”

His order led to immediate obedience. He began searching the ruins further, until a while later, he came across a building that looked like it had exploded from the inside. It was a larger one, and as he stepped inside the barely remaining wreckage, he noticed a figure. Their legs were pulled to their chest, but they were not shivering, even though they were wearing nothing but a hospital gown.

“What the…” Then it hit him. Dottore had mentioned this town was harboring a dark secret- the reason he had been sent was to retrieve it. The dangerous secret, the one that likely burned down this entire village, was this small figure before him. And more than that. The reason they were so important is that they were a puppet.

Scaramouche stepped forward, into the person’s line of sight. “You.. you’re like me.”