(AN: HELLO AND WELCOME TO whatever the hell this is

A few notes before getting into the story - a lot of Moriarty's characterization in this fic relies on stuff that hasn't been translated in English (particularly, his bio from FGO's Extra Mats 4 book, and the Event 'The Old Spider spins it's Thread with Nostalgia'.) His dialogue is also a mix of the English and Japanese, since he sounds properly british in English, but they majorly tone down how goofy and bombastic the guy actually is (at least, the original shinjuku translation does), which is a shame. Moriarty's appearance - well, his mask - is pretty much straight up taken from his Lady Reines case files collab sprites. It's very fancy, go look it up. The 'casual cut' description is when he has his hair down, which is another set of sprites from the white day event.

Also, the title comes from the song Lose Your Way by Round Table, which is Shinjuku's image song. It's also very p5, so it works. Go take a listen!

I also have a Twitter, if you'd like to listen to me babble more.

Anyway, enjoy!)

'Come to mementos alone tonight. Tell no one.

If you tell anyone, you will regret it.

-A'

Funny how a single piece of paper can make you break out into a cold sweat.

At least, that was what a corner of Akira's mind mused as he ran over the note again, his mouth set into a hard line, eyes scanning every single kanji for what had to be the thousandth time since he'd found it in his pants pocket.

The handwriting... no, no matter how long he looked at it, he definitely hadn't seen it before. Oddly clean and neat, though.

...Okay.

So it wasn't some kind of weird, offputting prank by Ryuji or Ann - not that they were the kind of people to do something like this anyway. Or at least, it'd be a little more obvious.

...Actually, does Morgana know how to write? He'd have a hard time with just cat paws and his mouth, though if he went in the metaverse -

...He really wished that little corner in his brain would just shut up already, because there were much bigger issues at hand than just wondering if a cat (self-proclaimed human) had the ability to take notes.

Like, say... the fact that someone else - not a member of Phantom Thieves - knew about Mementos. And even worse...they knew that he was a part of it. Probably even knew he was the leader, if he was the only one who had gotten this note, which was the most likely outcome.

After all, neither Ann nor Ryuji had texted him in a panic - and while Ann might stay quiet, there was no way Ryuji would.

He was sure of it.

...Okay, reasonably sure.

People could still be unpredictable at times, and they had only been working together for almost a month...

Still, he was pretty sure that he knew the two of them by now, since you don't go changing the heart of a molesting asshole and not learn a few things about the people you're working with.

...Well, reasonably sure.

You're getting off track, Kurusu, chimed that corner of his brain.

Right.

The note.

Rubbing his eyes, he ran over the situation in his head once more.

Assuming he was the only person in the Phantom Thieves who had gotten this note, then he was the only target. And whoever had given him the note had done it in such a way that he didn't even notice them slipping it into his pants pocket, of all things. He'd tried to think back to earlier that day, but...for fuck's sake, he went on the Shibuya railway. A better question would be to ask who didn't bump into him.

Still, he didn't notice. And that...

That took experience, right?

...Experience in being a thief.

And that thought led to a single conclusion, one that couldn't be denied -

We might not be the only ones with the ability to go into the Metaverse.

Akira let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, as an involuntary smirk began to spread across his face. With a single deft movement, he folded the note back up, placing it back in his pocket.

Sure, this was from an unknown sender, from this mysterious 'A'.

Sure, this might be a trap just for him, and he might not come back.

But, deep inside...there wasn't an inch of hesitation, or fear. There was only a sense of curiosity and excitement roiling in his gut, reveling in the feeling of involuntary tension settling into every inch of his body.

And why wouldn't he be excited?

This was an invitation - a red carpet laid out just for him, taunting him with a mystery person in the shadows - demanding a meeting.

And he'd be damned if he wasn't going to show up for it.

Whoever A was, they'd been busy.

As soon as he could - which was basically as soon as school was over - Akira practically threw himself into Mementos, almost flying from the adrenaline running in his system. Running down the steps two at a time, leaping off the platform and landing on his feet on the rails -

Whoa.

The ruined, bullet riddled corpses of shadows littered the ground, leaking dark sludge from their wounds. There was one every few feet, leaving a clear impression of a trail of death and destruction in the wake of this mysterious note-writer.

A path of breadcrumbs, so to speak. 'Come follow me' was less of a suggestion and more of a command when you were pointing to your location with the bodies of your defeated enemies, with an added on 'if you dare'.

I dare alright, 'A'.

Flashing his razor-sharp grin at the path he was being led on, Akira - no, Joker, slipping on his Phantom Thief personae on, feeling dangerous and powerful and rebellious - broke into a jog, weaving his way between the defeated shadows effortlessly.

The tunnels of Mementos - what did Mona call it? The shared Palace of the public? - wove long, winding paths, so he hoped that 'A' wasn't too far in.

Not that he couldn't run for a while - he absolutely could, honest - but the railway was stupidly long, and he didn't have a cozy catbus to ride on. 'A' was also probably on foot, unless he also had a way of fast travel...

The glimmer of something knocked him out of his thoughts, stopping him from going forward.

Wait.

What was that in the distance?

There, fluttering gently...was a blue butterfly, a pale yet beautiful azure glow around it, lighting it up against the darkness. Unbidden, Joker's mind flashed to the moment before he gained his Persona - but that had been with a different shape, and it had glimmered with a bright light, flying in front of him and away.

This was very different. This...it was waiting for him, as if it was put there on purpose...and it was primarily black, only showing a bright, brilliant blue with every flap of its wings as it hovered in the air.

...Was 'A'...maybe another member of the Velvet Room? Like Caroline and Justine?

Briefly, Joker thought about calling out for the twins - but ultimately decided against it, deciding wariness was the better option as he walked up to the glimmering insect.

But when he got close enough - the butterfly moved, flying down a side path before hovering in the air once more.

Ah. Now he got it.

"You're my guide, huh?", he found himself saying, breaking the silence of Mementos - and surprising even himself. "Lead the way."

A delicate flutter was the only indication that the small creature heard, and as soon as he got close enough once more, it took off yet again. Kicking back up into a jog, he followed it wherever it went, noting that they were heading towards a more enclosed area of Mementos.

A perfect place for an ambush, he thought to himself - and quietly double checked that his knife and gun were in a position to be easily grabbed. As long as he kept himself in clear view of an exit...well, even if the worst happened, he could try to get the hell out of there.

Or at least go down swinging, the thought bringing a faint grimace to his face before he forced it back to a more neutral look. Letting the thought go, he shook his worries out of his head as he focused on memorizing the path they were taking, trying to remember every turn and crossroad.

Just in case.

Eventually, the butterfly led him to a larger space, open in all four cardinal directions. Fluttering in the very center of the room, it stayed there until Joker walked up to it directly - and then fluttered onto his shoulder, seemingly resting for a moment.

Despite himself, he couldn't help but lift a red-gloved finger towards it - and blinked in surprise as it daintily climbed onto the offered digit, wings slowly closing and opening. His lips quirked up in a small smile as he watched it, slowly turning his hand this way and that to catch it from different angles.

It really was beautiful -

Clink. Clink. Clink.

- What the hell was that?

Joker only had enough time to think that before the butterfly suddenly exploded into a burst of blue light, the shimmering motes fading into the darkness around him. Taking a defensive, ready stance, the leader of the Phantom Thieves strained his ears, gray eyes darting around under his domino mask as he tried to pinpoint where the sound came from.

Yet, from all four paths...all he could see was darkness, and the sound of approaching footsteps ringing in time with the rattle of a chain.

Chains...Mona had said something about not wanting to stay too long in one place in Mementos, but there was no way he'd been in here that long. Time could be a little nebulous in the Metaverse, but...

Closing his eyes, he activated Third Eye, hoping that it might at least give him an idea of where he was being approached from - and what kind of threat he was facing.

Almost instantly, the surroundings dimmed, and a remarkably human-like outline shone from the exit directly in front of him.

But...

Oh, shit.

Whoever - or whatever - it was, they were glowing a bright, dangerous red - brighter than he'd ever seen before on a shadow. It practically screamed that if he tried to go up against whatever this was, he'd be destroyed. Completely and utterly - he'd be turned into a red smear on Mementos' floor in no time at all.

An icy chill ran down his spine, settled in the pit of his stomach as he ran through his options and came to a decision.

And honestly? It was the only sane decision he could make.

You couldn't keep stealing Hearts if you were dead, after all.

So, as quickly as he could, Joker turned tail and ran for his goddamn life.

And as he did -

"...Ah?"

- he could have sworn that he heard someone.

He was running.

The boy he'd called to this place had, upon hearing the well timed and (in his mind) impressive and imposing sound effects, closed his eyes, opened them again, gone pale - and shot out of the area as if he feared for his life.

And yes, considering the position he was in... it was the only intelligent decision to make. He'd clearly accurately accessed that he would stand no chance against someone like himself, and acted accordingly.

...But that didn't make it any less annoying. Because now, instead of sliding out of the darkness like the shadowy figure he was - to impose the perfect amount of shock, awe, and intimidation - he'd have to manually chase down the teenage thief and probably tackle him to the ground like a damned rugby player.

Pressing gloved fingertips to the bridge of his nose - or, more accurately, to the mask that had appeared on his face once he had stepped foot in this place - he let his weapon vanish, the rattle of chains dissipating into the air as he began to head down in a different direction than the Phantom Thief, intent on getting ahead of him. Luckily, he'd figured out the layout before their meeting was set to take place - and though it tended to shift, this time, at least, it was staying stable enough. There was a way to end up in front of the boy, and it would only take a few moments for him to run over there and wait.

With a sigh, he set off - and the tunnels of Mementos zoomed by him as he casually avoided any shadows in his path, the poor things too slow to react to the way he sped by.

Really, even making that trail of bodies had been incredibly simple - in comparison to the things he'd faced down in the most recent past (for him, anyway), it was like shooting fish in a barrel. Insultingly easy, and almost made him feel sorry for the things.

Skidding to a stop in the shadows in the area the thief would be coming by, he listened for the tale-tell sound of hurried footsteps heading his way. After a few seconds, he could clearly hear it - and frowned slightly.

Hm. Faster than he'd expected, and a bit faster than a normal human. Clearly, he'd have to figure out the accepted 'human limits' in this 'part' of the world, in order to seem as if he were a perfectly ordinary human being himself.

Taking a quick moment to adjust his mask (where did the thing spring from, anyway? Ah, no matter) and straighten his clothing and cape, he waited - counting by the steps, calculating when to lunge.

One...

...Two...

...Three!

And he lept forward, hand outstretched.

Something pulled at Joker's back - held onto his trenchcoat with an iron hand, stopping him in his tracks.

Shit, Shit Shit Shit!

Whatever that thing, that person was - had they caught up to him already?! Was it that fast?! If it was, then -

He was doomed. Absolutely and totally doomed, but - damn it, he refused to go down without a fight!

Gritting his teeth, his eyes flashed a bright red for a moment as he whipped around as much as the grip on his jacket would allow, his fist striking towards whatever the hell this was with all of his strength...!

"GAH!"

The jarring feeling of fist meeting flesh and bone (and something else?) hurt, but in his panicked state, he didn't notice how odd it was to have punched something that was absolutely not a shadow in the slightest, or that it made a clearly pained noise. Instead, he pulled his fist back again -

"Calm down! For the love of - if I'd meant to hurt you, I'd have shot you from the moment you started running!"

...What?

Through the panic and adrenaline, the sound of another human voice made him pause, arm still hovering halfway in the air. And now that he was - temporarily - not fearing for his life, he was able to look at the man who'd grabbed him.

It was a much older man, with slicked back gray hair -and a well trimmed, matching mustache. His eyes - a piercing, grayish-blue set in an intense gaze - stared at Joker from behind a black Domino mask, though it had a massive black filigree on the right side, extending up towards his hair. He was wearing a brownish-red pinstripe suit, with a gold and purple epaulet on his right shoulder, and a deep red cravat around his neck.

A large cape - gray on the outside and a vibrant blue on the inside - was draped over his left shoulder, though the cape itself had a strange, almost ragged-looking form. It was clipped to his shoulder with what looked like a belt buckle near his neck, and the cape itself flared out into a wide neck collar that looked like a collection of blue butterfly wings - much like the butterfly Joker'd met before he took off. There were golden cords that extended from the bottom of the epaulet and tied themselves around the first button of his suit, along with a pair of what looked like heavy golden spikes. Finally, he was wearing short black gloves that just barely covered his entire hand, and near his neck and wrists, a hint of his white undershirt could be easily seen.

All in all, while the appearance was grand - if a bit archaic - but there was something about this man that made him feel as if he'd met him before.

But where...?

...Oh.

It had been right after Kamoshida had confessed, during Golden Week - the day Sojiro called him down to help at the cafe.

...Well, more like be a glorified dishwasher.

"What? Don't give me that look. I can't sell your coffee to the customers - they'd stop coming."

It was the truth - he wasn't at Sojiro's level of expertise - but it still galled him, in a way. One day, he'd make a cup of coffee Sojiro would approve of.

Nearby, Morgana lay on the floor, whining about how this was boring and that they still needed to pawn that medal when they were done, but he tuned most of it out as he got into what he liked to call the Cleaning Zone™. That special place where the world fell away, and all that you needed to focus on was the task at hand - no, your world itself turned into nothing more than the dishes in your hands and the suds in the sink, washing and drying and placing on the side. A place of satisfaction and comfort, and also a place where your mind could blank out and think of nothing for a little while.

Some people meditated by sitting very still among nature - others by making a humming noise and closing their eyes.

For Akira? It was washing dishes.

Vaguely, he could hear the jingle of the cafe door opening - another customer, probably - and Sojiro saying something, but he paid it just as much attention as anything else, letting the minor interruption flow out of his mind. Returning to the stream of warm, soapy water, and the endless cups and plates -

"And now to our next topic… Fall from Grace: The story of a dishonored Olympic medalist. Just recently, a high school coach admitted to his school that he had been perpetually abusing students."

And with those tinny words, Akira slipped right out of the Zone and back into reality, hard. Pausing from his work, he glanced at Morgana - whose ears were now upright and alert, quiet as he carefully licked a front paw - and out at the customers that were still there.

"Given his prior Olympic achievements, this has caused quite a stir. What caused this habitual offender to suddenly confess these heinous crimes to his entire school?"

A few - the man in one of the booths, for example - appeared to be tuning out the broadcast on the television. Others, like the lady who often came in for the curry and coffee set, were listening with a sympathetic, pitying gaze at their coffee.

But his attention slid directly to the one person - beyond Sojiro - who was watching the tv directly, sitting at the bar right behind the owner of the cafe.

He was an older looking man - a clear foreigner with gray hair in a casual cut, a mustache, and blue eyes - wearing a comfortable looking sweater as he quietly nursed his cup of coffee.

"The police are hoping that the upcoming interrogations will bring light to this question."

"Hm? Isn't this...?" Sojiro questioned, trailing off.

The old foreigner's eyes flicked to Sojiro before returning back to the tv, just in time for the screen to change to images of students (faces carefully cropped out, of course) being interviewed.

"My friends would come back from practice with bruises all the time...It was scary, but I'm relieved that the abuse is finally going to end now."

"He would touch me and stuff all the time...I'm glad I don't have to deal with that sexual harassment anymore..."

"There were always rumors, sure. Not many people believed them, though. Like, I'm totally shocked they were actually true. At least now I can go to school without worrying."

A 'tsk' echoed in the silence between the interviews.

"I knew it. This is your school, isn't it?" Sojiro asked, looking...

...Honestly, Akira couldn't exactly pinpoint what Sojiro was feeling at the moment. That expression...seemed intensely complicated, and he didn't feel like he had the knowledge or experience to give it a name.

So, he just answered truthfully.

"Seems like it."

A sigh was what he immediately got in response - again, too hard to figure out if it was a 'I'm tired of this bullshit' sigh, or a sympathetic 'you shouldn't have had to go through this' sigh. Maybe it was both, or neither.

"...Things might be getting turbulent at school, but you need to just keep your head down, all right?" Sojiro sounded...almost sympathetic for a moment, before a slightly hard edge returned to his voice. "...More importantly, keep those hands moving. I've got some more stuff I need you to do."

"Got it."

A return to the Zone? Yes please.

But just as Akira picked up the next plate -

"A shame that students had to go through that, isn't it?"

His hands stilled - for just a moment - before realizing that the voice (older, fluent but with a british accent) wasn't addressing him, but Sojiro. At least, that's what he thought...and, apparently, what Sojiro thought as well, as the owner immediately responded.

"There are some pretty terrible people all around, you know. Not a surprise that some of 'em go after kids."

The older man gave a soft 'hm' as he seemed to consider it, before speaking again. "I suppose, but...well. It's still a shame - a school is meant to be a safe place for young minds to learn, not a place for an arrogant man to make his own personal palace."

What?!

"Akira, the plate!"

Thanks to Morgana's quick hiss, he just managed to grab the slippery dishware before it entirely slid out of his hand. Which was good, because otherwise, it would have fallen on the floor and probably broken into slippery, soapy shards. Saying nothing - trying to keep his face neutral - Akira quickly cleaned it, though he internally cursed his own shocked reaction.

It was odd phrasing and too close to the truth - but the old guy was a foreigner, after all. Maybe something like that was more common in English? Yeah, that had to be it.

Get a grip, Kurusu. You're the leader of Phantom Thieves - you've got to learn to hide your reactions better.

From the floor, Morgana blinked at him. "You okay? They can't be that slippery."

Of course, he couldn't talk back with everyone around - and he wanted to shoot back 'okay, then you try cleaning with your paws if you think it's so easy' - but the foreigner suddenly saying something stopped his internal snark instantly.

"...Hm? What was that?" the old man questioned, looking around.

...Did he hear Morgana?

Sojiro shrugged, then scratched the back of his head in a sheepish manner as he replied. "You heard that, huh...kid's got a cat he picked up. I would've tossed it out, but he just kept giving those cute meows...If it bothers you -"

The foreigner laughed, shaking his head. "Oh no, please! I rather like cats, and you're right - he does have a cute little voice. Besides, aren't those cat cafes quite popular nowadays? You're merely embracing a trend!"

"Yeah, no - those places barely know how to prepare an average cup of coffee," Sojiro grumbled, looking cross - well, a little crosser than he normally did.

"Oh, I was merely teasing. This coffee is quite good- you have a deft hand."

That comment lightened up the cafe owner, and he nodded. "It takes experience to get the variety you're drinking just right - You can literally taste the difference. Plenty of my regulars say I've spoiled them in regards to coffee -"

Suddenly, the conversation was drowned out by a long whine from Morgana as he stretched in the long, luxurious way that only a cat could.

"Ugh, now they're just talking about boring junk...Akira, I'm taking a nap. Wake me up when you're done, okay?"

Yawning, he curled up into a comfortable looking ball - and having lost the thread of the older men's conversation, all Akira could do was shrug and slide blissfully back into the Zone, letting the sounds of the cafe swirl around him meaninglessly once again.

No.

No fucking way.

"...Ojii-san?" Joker said breathlessly, his eyes wide under his domino mask as he made the connection.

The old foreigner from Leblanc? Here? In Mementos? What the hell kind of weird plot twist was this?

However, though Joker was busy trying to comprehend it all, he had just insulted the man who was currently holding onto him - and he was yanked back from his shock and confusion when the masked man suddenly gave an angry bellow, nearly breaking his eardrums for how loud it was.

"Don't call me old! I'm only fiftyish, for god's sake!"

He's angry about that? Joker thought - and lurched a few steps forward as the man let go of his trenchcoat while sighing in a way he was certain he'd heard from disappointed teachers before. Twirling totally around to face the old man - who was old, regardless of his protests to the contrary - the Phantom Thief watched him carefully as he grumbled and huffed under his breath before apparently letting it go.

"Anyway! There was no need to run from me in the first place," he declared. " I was merely coming to greet you, but you took off as if all of Scotland Yard was on your back!"

Wait - from him? He'd seen something humanoid walking towards him, but...Was it really just the old man?

Without breaking eye contact, Joker activated his Third Eye for the second time - and was greeted with that screamingly red outline, still making every sense he had beg to run run run as fast as he could away from the threat that would pulp him into dust.

But this time, he was able to resist - because after all, the threat was talking to him, and if he was really that powerful...the old man could have killed him long before he ever needed to grab him by his coat.

That at least made things a little clearer...

...But Joker wasn't about to relax for a single goddamn second in front of him. Wary - ever so wary, red irises fading into gray as he deactivated his ability - the thief made the decision to see this out to the end.

"...Sorry. Things are pretty dangerous around here." Not a lie, but also not hinting at his true abilities. "And you're 'A', right?

The man gave a sharp laugh, before nodding. "Dangerous is an understatement, but yes! I am, indeed, the one who slipped that note into your pocket."

Well. That was easy confirmation, and he even gave information that only he and 'A' would know. Still - he had to keep on his toes. There was way more to him than just an odd old man, after all. And in the worst case, he knew what he looked like outside of Mementos, and where he'd be easily found.

"...Alright. So - what do you want?"

'A' laughed again, before shaking his head. "Ah, not much at all - so you needn't tense so! Allow to me to introduce myself!"

With a flourish, he placed one foot in front of the other - bowing deeply in a way that reminded Joker of some old movies he'd seen on TV when channel surfing - before looking up and shooting the younger man with a devilish grin. "You may call me 'Archer', young man! As for what I want from you..."

He let the words trail off, letting the tension build before suddenly straightening up and outstretching a hand towards the thief, as dramatic as any actor on the stage.

"...I wish to join your ragtag band of thieves!"

"What."

The old man - Archer - raised an eyebrow at the flat response. "Did I not say it clearly enough? I wish to join-"

Joker raised a hand, the other slipping behind his mask slightly so he could pinch the bridge of his nose. "No, no, I got that. But - Why?"

"Why? Is it not obvious?"

Of course it isn't!

Biting back the exasperated words, the leader of the Phantom Thieves took a breath before speaking again. "Not really."

"A man of few words, are you? No matter. I am an old hand at working within the shadows, you see." Pausing, Archer's eyes glittered in the relative gloom of the surrounding area, all of his attention focused only on Joker - something that made the thief feel as if his every breath and slight facial twitch was being scrutinized. "With my guidance, you'll be able to continue avoiding detection by those who would seek to stop you."

Yeah, right. Another adult coming in and saying he can help them if they'd just listen to him? A roil of anger - of rebellion - rose inside of him, hot and undeniable. His eyes involuntarily narrowed as he spoke, just barely managing to keep the strong emotion out of his voice when he replied. "And what do you get out of this?"

A confused blink - looking like a befuddled old man instead of the dangerous being he truly was, rising Joker's hackles even more. "Ah? Why, I don't know what you mean-"

"Cut it out. " The words came out in a deep growl, as he took a step forward - and Archer's face went from confusion to something instantly more neutral. "You set up this entire thing in Mementos - you even came to Leblanc before you ever gave me the note! And you-"

'...he does have a cute little voice...'

"...You..."

Hang on. Sojiro had only said 'cute meows,' but Archer had said 'voice.' Not only that, he responded to what Morgana said - above the general buzz of the cafe, when most people would ignore a meow or two, since ringtones could be anything nowadays.

And that meant - well, it meant something very, very obvious, since he was standing in Mementos in an outlandish outfit and a mask on his face. So he probably had a Persona, but also -

"...You heard Morgana. That's how you knew I was a Phantom thief."

Taking another step - nearly getting into the older man's personal bubble - gray eyes bore into blue with an intensity that belied his age, voice firm and confidant. "It's how you knew to put the note in my pocket - because you realized that since I could hear him talking, I could get into the Metaverse, and Mementos."

For a moment, neither spoke - the tension between them rising, like some kind of standoff, either one waiting for the other one to make the first move.

...Then, Archer...smiled.

Impressive. Truly, quite impressive...!

Even in front of the man who had clearly staked him out and brought him to an area fraught with danger - the teenager in front of him never wavered, never stood down. He had downplayed the reason he had run from someone who hadn't been pursuing him - even if the true reason was blatantly obvious. After all, it practically screamed out to him from the way that the lines of tension never left the minute movements of his body, or the way his eyes had flashed from gray to red and back again when he'd managed to catch the boy and calm him down.

Most likely some sort of scan, Moriarty mused. Though it doesn't seem to have given specifics, at least.

Which was good, because even though Joker was clearly above human limits in this space - The Metaverse, the knowledge given to him pointed out - a Servant was even farther beyond that, stepping into the realms that mortal humans would never be able to reach.

And yet, even knowing that, he stayed. In fact, he became indignant when Moriarty suggested becoming part of his band, clearly assuming that the older gentleman's true goal was to take over the thieves and use them to his own ends.

...And, in truth, if Akira had proved himself to be a normal and half-brained teenager? Then he absolutely would have grasped the reins of the Phantom Thieves and tugged them along, to fulfill the desperate order that had been imposed on him the moment he had been summoned in this world. After all, he truly was more experienced in the shadows and the darker underbelly of society than someone of Joker's age could ever be, and would lead the thieves to his ultimate goal.

...But, obviously, such an action wasn't needed. The boy was green - gave away a bit too much in his reactions, in his body language and eyes - but there was clearly something worth working with. A mind bright enough to remember minute details, and the natural inclination to be able to become unseen and unnoticed in crowds, if his surveillance of the teenager in his school and in the city was anything to go off of.

And most importantly...the will to do things off of the beaten path, to slide into the darkness when the more accepted side of the world refused to do anything about the corrupted status quo.

Yes, this was more than acceptable. A decision had been made, and a test had been passed with high marks.

Still smiling, he raised his gloved hands, clapping to celebrate Joker's accomplishment - which merely made the boy look confused, yet still wary.

"Wonderful, simply wonderful! You're correct on all accounts - I did, indeed, hear your feline companion speak. However! You've come to a slightly flawed conclusion."

Pausing for dramatic effect, he raised a finger as he spoke. "Firstly, the Cafe was not my only lead - merely a confirmation of what I knew. After all, the only 'victim' of the Phantom Thieves was that despicable man, and as such, the ones that caused him to confess must have been in Shujin itself. I'd briefly considered it perhaps being some of the teachers working there...if it were not for a simple mistake that you all made."

Joker shifted, slightly. "And that was?"

"You spoke of your activities in a public place, where anyone could easily overhear."

The statement had the intended effect - as the thief winced slightly, no doubt flashing back to the hotel's buffet and their discussion there. Of course, he had been there, listening along - merely in spirit form, of course, studying who was the most likely of the four of them to be the group's leader. Then there was the school's roof - which was child's play to jump across rooftops and listen in on their plans.

After all, he was a Servant - and even if he didn't have a Master at the moment, the rank of his Independent Action skill guaranteed that he would be able to persist in this world for quite a while, despite being bereft of a mana source.

Giving a wide grin, he continued. "Lesson one for anyone who works in shadows! Never have important conversations in a public area! Especially one easily accessible and wide open!"

In response, Joker groaned - pinching the bridge of his nose for the second time. "Damn it..."

Good. He's taking it in stride - a needed talent for any leader.

Lowering his hand, Moriarty continued on, seemingly ignoring his reaction. "If you must speak in public, then it is best to speak in coded terms - to come up with a language and vocabulary only you and your cohorts will know, yet one that still fits easily into normal conversation. An example would be Thieves' Cant-"

"You didn't answer my question."

Halting in mid-sentence - and mid lecture - Moriarty slowly blinked. "Pardon?"

"What do you get out of this?" Joker asked, his tone making it clear that he wanted a firm answer. "And why do you even want to help us?"

Don't dodge the question, those eyes of his said - and yet again, Moriarty found himself impressed with the teenager before him. Many times in the past, he'd been able to take people off track, make it so they paid little attention to how he switched subjects with his charisma and charm as easily as could be - but this boy had cut through his obfuscation and attempted to pin him down.

It was different, of course - so very different from the last time he was in this situation, standing in front of a youth that had such a clear, determined, focused gaze.

But, for just a moment...it was as if he was back in that closed off city, staring down into golden eyes.

This was...hm. If not fate - a notion he couldn't quite entertain in good faith, despite his status as a living ghost - then it was, at least, certainly serendipitous.

...Very well. While he would not reveal what he was - he would, at least, give a little of the truth.

"...Do you know the role of a teacher, Joker?" Moriarty asked, his voice softer than it had been before. In response, Joker shrugged - shortly, and quickly.

"To teach students."

...Ah, what a sad reply. The kind of reply one would get from someone who had never had a teacher reach out to them, or pay attention to them in any particular way.

"Yes, that is correct - in the barest sense, a teacher is there to teach students of many, many subjects. However...that is not all a teacher should strive to be."

Standing a little straighter, Moriarty turned to the side, taking a few steps forward before whirling around to face the teenage thief once more. "A teacher is meant to be a guide - not just in studies, but in morals and standing. None should be more aware of this than those who choose to teach the younger generation - those like yourself, who are approaching the cusp of adulthood. A proper teacher should be aware of such a delicate time for their students, and lead by example - by their manner, words, and bearing."

And then, his voice - and his very expression - turned to one of sheer anger and disgust. "The man who you changed - was none of that. Instead, he was a mere tyrant, using his position of power and the weakness of his peers to torment students who had come to him for his guidance and molest those that had the misfortune to catch his eye! Using violence to silence those that would speak out against him, never being reprimanded by the very institution that had hired him due to his high status...while the youth that suffered under his hands had no way to stop the flagrant abuse of power! That rotten shell of man should have never once deigned to call himself a teacher!"

Pausing to take in a breath, he took a moment to actually look at Joker - and noted that his eyebrows were nearly approaching his hairline in sheer surprise.

Ah. He'd gotten a bit carried away...but he couldn't help it. The situation, once he had found out about it, made his blood boil - and if Kamoshida hadn't been reduced to a sobbing wreck in front of the entire school, he would have most likely dragged the man to a dark alley and executed him with a bullet to the brain.

Though he was no stranger to Evil - after all, he was the Old Spider, the Napoleon of Crime - even he had limits. Children were one of those - certainly, he'd made orphans of quite a few of them in his time, but to involve them in his schemes was unthinkable. Those who traveled down the Path of Evil should be those prepared for the end of it, old enough to make the decision to walk willingly into the darkness of their own accord.

But to abuse teenagers - in a myriad of ways - to merely satisfy himself? That was an Evil that was a toxic sludge, seeping and corroding whatever it touched in ways that would inevitably bring utter ruin.

And it was not one that he would allow to exist.

...More than that...he had been a Professor, a teacher himself, though that time was long since gone. Yet...the pride, the code of that profession had yet to fade from his being.

Taking a moment to straighten his thoughts, he began to speak again - firmly, but not with the anger he'd shown before. "...I have before mentioned that I am experienced at working in the shadows - and I am very familiar with the darkness that lies in the hearts of men. Though I cannot claim to be a Good man - no, I am anything but - one does not have to be on the side of justice to wish to change the minds and hearts of those that hold far too much power over those who cannot resist it."

Lifting his hands up, palms outstretched, he continued. "I do not mind if you do not trust me - with what you have gone through, I expected resistance and distrust. But believe me when I say that I wish to ensure that you can continue your work and goals - by using the expertise and strength that I have to offer you, as a partner and member of your thieves."

Never breaking eye contact, Moriarty stepped forward - the footfalls somehow sounding loud and resounding in the silence surrounding them - and outstretched his right hand, the black leather creaking softly.

"...If you would have me, then I will walk by your side without fail - wherever your path may lead."

For a long, long moment - there was no movement, the world around them seeming to have held its breath for Joker's decision. For whatever the leader of the Phantom Thieves - the Trickster, the knowledge in Moriarty's mind whispered - would choose. Would he take the hand of this mysterious man, or scorn him?

Those gray eyes (the color of storm clouds, the color the sky was stained with on his last day of life ) bore into Moriarty as if trying to peer into his very core - moving only slightly as thoughts came and went inside of his head. The calculations of the mind written through the windows of the soul - until, finally, a solution was reached.

A inhale of breath broke the silence - before a red-gloved hand gripped black, firmly and with a finite air.

"...Okay. Then - we're partners."

"Yes - partners in crime," Moriarty added, that grin he'd sported previously returning.

Joker nodded, once - and said the final words that would set everything into motion.

"Welcome to the Phantom Thieves, Archer."

Moriarty opened his mouth to speak - but no words came out.

Why?

Well, the answer was incredibly simple.

Because as Joker said those words - as he accepted that he and Moriarty were now on the same side, now truly partners - two sets of magic flared to life.

A Servant is, at their base level, a very complicated familiar made from the myths and legends of humanity. A Shadow is, at their base level, parts of the human collective subconscious given form through myths and legends that Humanity has told. Though a Shadow did not come from a higher place containing them - as Servants did, coming from the Throne of Heroes - the two were similar enough to be considered the same in the Metaverse.

In fact, Moriarty had never stopped to consider that the Shadows around him in the Metaverse didn't see him as an enemy - as their forms were very reminiscent of shadow servants, which would almost always attack on sight. The only time the Shadows had fought back against him was when he had attacked them first, as a form of self-defense.

And Joker was the Wildcard, the Trickster - someone able to wield multiple Personas by making Shadows his own. Though Moriarty could never become a Persona for Joker to put on - the acceptance on both of their parts was enough to connect the Criminal Mastermind to the thief, taking one of the 'slots' available to him.

And with that connection in place, the mutual intent between them became the contract between Master and Servant.

All of this took place in a matter of seconds - and all that Joker felt was a small jolt, enough to make him look around a bit in confusion at the surrounding area. Static Electricity?

But for Moriarty...

There was only shock and disbelief, though he kept his face pleasant and closed his mouth with a click. Fighting to keep his composure, he let go of the teenager's hand, and cleared his throat. "So, shall we leave? I do believe we're done here for the moment."

Nodding, Joker silently turned around - and in that brief moment, his hair and trenchcoat moved just enough to slam the final nail in Moriarty's futile struggle for an answer beyond what he already knew had happened.

There, when that thick hair of his moved just so, and the collar of the coat fell to the side...

...Was a Command Seal on the back of his neck, the glow of its appearance fading to the bright crimson mark it normally was.

And with that, Moriarty could only think one single thing.

...WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?!

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Golden light filtered down from the ceiling, throwing the surroundings into sharp relief - turning the blue of the velvet on the floor under the ruler of the room into a curious almost-purple color, while bringing out every crack in the stone paving covering the rest. All around were the cells, wreathed in fog and holding no prisoners - and the two wardens, idly spending their time doing whatever came to mind.

In the center of it all, the desk and chair of its ruler sat - paper and inkwell sitting, as if waiting to be used. Yet, the man seated there - staring towards a certain cell - made no move to touch them, though there was clearly writing on the topmost paper in front of him.

"...Oh!"

The soft sound of a young girl's voice broke the silence, as the twin that spoke quickly flipped through the papers on her clipboard.

"What is it, Justine?"

"...How strange. There appears to be a new entry in the compendium, but the entry itself is blank."

Caroline huffed, rolling her eyes. "So the Inmate messed up a Persona?"

"...I'm not sure. Master, what do you believe happened?"

The man in the chair moved his head, finally tearing his wide eyed, unnerving gaze away from the cell and onto Justine. "Hm? Ah, it is of no concern. The entry will most likely fill in, given enough time."

That answer seemed to be enough for Justine, who quietly nodded and began to flip through the pages - and Caroline, who shrugged and continued what she was doing before they had noticed the odd entry.

Yet, the ruler of the Velvet Room did not go back to staring at the empty cell. Instead, he turned his gaze down - towards the paper with incomplete writing on it. Taking the quill from its golden stand and dipping it into the inkwell, he wrote down something onto the parchment - his permanent grin somehow growing wider with every stroke.

When it was finished, the writing - looking like no written language on earth - seemed to faintly glow with an odd, off-putting sheen. Setting the quill back into it's holder, he carefully studied it, the tip of his long nose nearly touching the paper...before a low, delighted chuckle rose from him.

With a voice filled with glee and satisfaction - as if he had found a long-lost toy - the man spoke.

"...There you are."