Areum, Zone Five, Barovian Backdoor Special

I look over at the man approaching me, wondering if he could see through my disguise. I did the best I could, but honestly, subterfuge isn’t exactly my strong suit. Practically the entire city knows what my face looks like, and I have some pretty… huge boobs, to put it bluntly. I can change my outfit, height, and hair/eye color, but there’s a lot of things that I can’t. A lot that would still make my identity fairly obvious. Oh well. Worst comes to worst and he’s actually involved with these assassins, I’ll apprehend him. One sampling of my mind control voice or a punch to the chest should subdue him in short order. In the meantime, I need to stay calm and act natural.

“No,” I reassured him. “It’s fine, you can stay. And thank you.”

Who knows? Maybe he was just a random guy. There were a decent number of eyes on us right now, so the chance that he was trying to kill me in a place like this did admittedly seem lower.

“So you come here often, cowboy?"

Apparently acting natural meant acting like I was in a movie. Maybe because I often was when I wasn't singing.

Edited by HilarityEnsues on Jan 10th 2023 at 3:08:28 PM

Irvine; Zone Five, Barovian Backdoor Special

"You're thanking me for common courtesy? No need for that, though I do appreciate it." He means it somewhat, though at the same time, he's ever more certain that the woman is actually Areum and that accidentally insulting her would be a quick shortcut to certain death. Ah, well, such was life.

At her question, he grins, the expression even partially genuine. "You know, so many people have called me a cowboy since I got here, I feel like getting a horse. Cowboys have those, right?"

He wonders why, if this is really Areum, he feels just a tiny bit sorry for her. Sure, she was apparently having a crisis given her order and mere presence here, but why should he care about the feelings of someone who actively participates in making the city a worse place?

The bartender sets her drink down and bustles off, attending to the rest of the bar.

"Oh, I almost forgot. You still don't mind if I pay for your drink?"

After waiting for a possible refusal, and hearing none, he reaches into his coat, careful to keep his rifle hidden, and withdraws a fraying wallet. He takes out a good amount of marks, adds some more after a moment of deliberation, and pushes them in front of her drink, careful to not bump it or her.

"I'll do my best if seventy-five's not right, but I'm afraid I only have so much on me."

He takes a sip of his own beverage and thinks. Why would Areum come here, instead of taking advantage of Zone One's safety and lack of things like nosy patrons, and bother to disguise herself? He arrives at two conclusions. Either she was trying to spy on someone here - possible, given her discomfort at the attention they were attracting and her possibly-a-front poor try at casual conversation - or she didn't feel comfortable in Zone One. Disillusionment with her role in the Diet, perhaps, or her lifestyle in general - he knew firsthand that performing whenever there were people around was sometimes exhausting - and further discomfort with expressing the possibility of anything less than perfection.

Even if the most remote possibility were true and she was somehow displeased with the Diet, he decided, vigilance was still necessary. There was the obvious problem of her having immense magical power, but she hadn't given him any clear reason to care about her hypothetical problems with the governing body that seemed to have a vested interest in making the city worse. He could concede the Diet's stubbornness and intractability, of course, but she still had immense power from her status as Concordia's one and only social idol. If she refused to do anything with it, he couldn't afford to feel sorry for her.

All of it was conjecture, of course, but it was always useful to prepare for contingencies.

"You don't mind my talking so much, do you? I promise I'm trying not to be too irritating, but if I am, my earlier offer still stands."

Areum, Zone Five, Barovian Backdoor Special

Just who is this guy? I get the feeling that he’s seeing right through me and it’s frankly unsettling me right now.

But if I have an overreaction out of fear, my magic could misfire and cause nothing short of a tragedy.

I must keep my cool. If anything, I’m likely the more dangerous party here.

“Common courtesy isn’t always common in a city like this. I don’t take anything for granted.”

I take a hefty swig of my drink. Damn, what’s with this guy and why does it feel like he’s on edge? Can he sense my magical power or something? It’s subtle, but there’s small little body language clues that make me think that if he doesn’t know who I am, he can sense what I can do.

“It’s fine,” I reassure the man. “No, I don’t mind if you pay for my drink. Also, you can relax a little bit. I can tell you’re nervous, but… to put it plainly, I’m just here to get shitfaced. Same as many who pass through these doors, ‘cowboy’.”

I don’t even hide that I’m aware he’s more perceptive than he’s letting on, and that he is most certainly not just some ladykiller who is looking for women to chat up. I don’t think my threadbare fiction was working, anyways.

Zima – Zone 5, First Floor Barovian Backdoor Fire Escape

“How bad?”

Zima stifled a bitter little chuckle with the butt of her cigarette, tilting her head back and blowing a plume of smoke up into the darkness. Staring past the damp brick of the Backdoor’s wall.

“Here’s how it’s going to go. You think it’ll be fine, you’re in a city full of food and useful stuff. You can ride it out. Then the power goes. Fuel runs out. Nothing is being moved, everything and everyone is stuck where they are, and then…”

“Then you realise, you’re not in a city any more, you’re in a block. A street. You try and gather as much stuff as you can, but everyone else is doing the same thing. There isn’t enough. You start to team up. Form groups, work together, pool your stuff. There still isn’t enough. You start stealing. Fighting the other groups. The police don’t care any more, they’re just as fucked as you are.”

“Eventually, you’re not even in a street. You’re in a building. The whole world shrinks. Building versus building. Fighting for food, weapons, boots... You try and break out, take what you can and leave, but it’s happening everywhere you go. The entire city crumbling into tinier and tinier pieces.”

Zima realised, too late, the question her little prophecy was going to raise. Could see it on Asuka’s face already. How do you know all this?

She scowled, then sighed. She’d managed to talk herself into this corner, may as well get it over with. If it meant Asuka took this seriously.

“I’ve seen it happen. Back home. Chernobog. We were attacked. The city bled to death.” Another bitter snort. “Or it would have, if the Catastrophe hadn’t come along and put us out of our misery.”

Even thinking about it now still hurt.

“Whatever. It was a shithole anyway.” She added with a mutter, looking down and away. Cover the wound and pretend it’s not real. As if she’d ever give a shit about Chernobog. It’s not like it had encompassed the entirety of her life or anything.

“What's important is, me and my friends survived. But only because we ran. Climbed down the superstructure, took our chances in the desert. None of that is going to happen here. There’s nowhere to go. We’re bottled in.”

She finally clicked the cigarette pack shut and stuffed it back in her pocket, glancing back up to meet Asuka’s gaze again. All of a sudden she just felt so tired.

“If things don’t pick up soon, we are completely fucked.”

Edited by LittleMako on Jan 15th 2023 at 11:39:56 PM

Zone Five, Streets - With V and Johnny

"An 'engram construct'... a construct made of a biological being's memories?" I ask for confirmation, tilting my head to the side, then nod. "I see. A technology such as that did not exist where I am from originally, but I suppose the multiverse is full of surprises. It is nice to meet the both of you properly, V and Johnny."

"Say, Johnny, if you're digitized memories, and V doesn't want you in his head, what do you say to the possibility of being transferred into another body?" Matsumoto asks, bobbing up and down in the air beside me. "I mean, not that we have one immediately on hand, or anything, and it would probably have to be a robot body, so you wouldn't be able to do things like eat or drink, but as something to work towards, what do you think of the idea?"

Zone Five, Barovian Backdoor - The No Longer Girls' Night Intruding On Boys' Night

The noise that came out of Prushka's throat as she hid herself around the corner from the bar was incredible, like the wheezing whine of an ancient dog, born of her combination of surprise and desperate desire to conceal her presence. Red as a tomato, she buried her face in her hands as she sagged against the wall.

"That's very kind of you to say, Leonardo," her papa said in reply, "I'm certain she would say that she lacks self-confidence, however. I have done my best to teach her kindness and honesty and openness towards others, and with that comes an ease of accepting others as they are, which is what leads to what you perceive as her confidence, but making friends and undertaking expeditions with the support of colleagues is... something entirely different to the kind of confidence that she wishes she had. There is one thing in particular that I know she wishes she could share with you, but so far, she hasn't seemed ready..."

At that, Prushka's stance stiffened up, almost as if she had taken it as a taunt. Did he know she was there?! No, it couldn't be... Regardless, hearing her father's words seemed to solidify something in her, and she lowered her hands to her sides, still blushing scarlet, but revealing her ruby-red eyes filled with determination. Taking a deep breath, she rounded the corner and strode over to Leo's other side.

"Leo!" she began, a bit louder than she intended, then faltered, stammering. "I-I mean... that is - I, um, I want to say... need to t-tell you s-s-some-something!"

The girl with the curly green hair took another deep breath, and then let it all out in a shout, lest her courage fail her:

"I REALLY, REALLY LIKE YOU, LEO!"

"So, um, that is, I was wondering if we could, maybe, uh..." she floundered, not having planned to get even this far.

Zone Five, The Dappled Passages

"Hmmmm, I see..."

If the monk found the use of booster packs to save a civilization strange, he didn't show it, simply shrugging in acceptance.

"I only need one of those; you can keep the rest," he said, taking a single torn pack and stowing it somewhere in his robes. "However, it's unfortunate I can't have some of your hair. I was hoping to use a few strands of it to make a small gift for you, something that would make it easier for us to keep in touch. But that's alright! We can just set a time and place to meet again each time we see one another until our business is concluded."

"That said..." he concluded, putting a hand to his chin. "What address do you live at here in the city, Yuudias, my boy? I may need to come by to drop off a message or see you in person if something particularly urgent comes up."

Edited by darksidevoid on Jan 16th 2023 at 6:38:44 AM

"Not that easy to just rip me out," Johnny said inexplicably smoking a cigarette. He seemed to distort visually in a glitch as he flicked it away. "Only thing that can get me out is the same thing that got me in here, Soulkiller. If neither of you have heard of it."

"Then there's the problem that the chip is eating into my systems, Johnny is stuck there," V added.

"If it were that easy to just transfer me out, V would have done so and I would have gone willingly," Johnny said with a shrug.

"That aside, Johnny here is a terrorist back where I'm from," V said.

"I prefer Rockerboy. I was a musician and a fucking good one," Johnny said. "Even got my chords tempered just the way I like em."

Johnny let out a cough and then, struck a pose as if he was still strumming a guitar and singing.

"A thing of beauty, I know! Will never fade away!"

V frowned as Johnny finished the lyric and coughed again. "This choom here never even practiced campfire songs."

Zone Five, Barovian Backdoor - J.J. Macfield, Girls Night 2

"You've been placed in great danger."

You nearly laugh. You feel it blossom suddenly in your stomach and shoot up your throat like a hiccup. You stop it there with a judder and hide the oddity with a sip of your drink. Lord, what is wrong with you? You can't even put it down to the inherent absurdity of the obvious (of course you're in danger, you've lived every day in this city with that miserable specter looming over your head). No, it's something altogether different: something you may very well take to your grave, because you already have enough on your plate without even considering that there's an even deeper layer beneath it all.

This is no time to be laughing. You've found a new companion to accompany you back down to the underworld, and this one even has the manners to bring a comically large sword instead of a head stuffed with wool. Everything you want and also everything you never wanted to deal with again, all wrapped up in a pretty little bow that's been down this road too many times before - or, at least, that's what you gauge from Witch's reaction.

She seems the sort, doesn't she? The kind of person who's vowed never to love again after losing it all once before. Or maybe it's just easier for you to fit her in a category like that.

You take her proffered hand. It's larger than yours, of course. Silly of you to notice it, and sillier still for it to set you at ease. "I know there are people in this city who've courted death and left with nought but a rap on their knuckles, but I'm not one of them. I have never died." In spite of it all, lingers unpleasantly between the words, dancing across your fingertips as you retreat from the handshake to instead tuck away a strand of hair. Against all perseverance. "You could say I've lived more lives than most, but none of them were really lives at all. Not for me, and certainly not for others."

wow, so deep, much angst.

shut up FK.

"You could even say it's something of a habit," you say, and toss the parchment over for Witch to take. Should she undo the twine binding it, she would find a design just barely scrutable by the layman: an artificial replacement for missing fingers, focused not on the delicacy of the design but rather the deliberations of its material. Tirelessly finding the balance between what was affordable for those forced to seek help behind closed doors, and what would ultimately be more expensive in the long-run; metal that would rust too quickly, wood that would chip, synthetics that would wear if flexible and be worthless if rigid. In the corner were two initials, the ones you'd borrowed from the entity you so often claimed to hate.

Familiarity with the signature wasn't needed. It was obvious what the parchment was for, and just as clear that it hadn't come from the official channels - what should've been the "only" channels.

"My coworker will take over reporting for Kayné's story." You've kept your hobby secret thus far, but you don't have confidence enough in your dealings to believe that the discovery of your subterfuge is an "if" and not a "when". And when it did come to light that you were in bed with the illegal craftspeople? You might as well take the firearm out your handbag and load Kayné up with lead yourself. "He's sharp, and a good deal more honest than me. I wouldn't trust anyone else with the job."

Lest you make it too obvious that you're changing the subject, you swerve back so you're perpendicular and paint a surreptitious smile on your face as you pass Witch on the road. "Which leaves me free to poke my nose wherever you'd like me to. And while I appreciate the concern for my well-being, do know that I'm more resilient than most to getting it snipped off for the trouble."

Wouldn't it be funny if you actually pulled off your nose right now?

Focus, J.J.

"But just as I'm sure that you have your secrets, I have mine. And I'm not exactly of the mind to give them out all at once." You steal a glance at the blueprint, aware that you're getting dangerously close to an unironic level of vulnerability. You curl your lip slightly as you take drink in hand and retreat, posture moving from the table back to the couch. "Unless you're in the mood for the three questions game? If we're to walk together into the depths, I think it's only fair that we do so on equal footing."

Witch - Zone Five - The Barovian Backdoor Special

Never died, you say? you muse to yourself. Perhaps you should've been more direct with your words, so easily was she able to sidestep your meaning. Not that you would expect her to answer honestly. Not yet, at least. Trust would come with time. "Forgive my presumption, then. Death... isn't so bad. Dying, however, tends to be quite unpleasant." Your deaths were no secret. There was little point in pretending.

You did your best to keep an even face to mask your surprise as she shook your hand and then retracted her own as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Had she not noticed, or did she merely consider it unworthy of attention? There was a reason you kept your gloves on in most public circumstances. Most would be shocked by such a chill touch; She didn't so much as flinch.

"Nevertheless, you carry yourself as one who has survived much. You have no doubt seen things most scarcely dream of. But if you do not wish to speak of them, I won't pry. Memories are not always pleasant to relive." And didn't you know it.

She tossed the parchment she'd retrieved from her pack towards you, listening to her speak as you unfurled and examined the contents. It didn't take long to get the point across. "Clever girl," you muttered to yourself as you glanced through the paper, your surprised expression morphing into a conspiratorial smile. Would wonders never cease? You'd have to add 'guildless craftswoman' to her list of accomplishments.

"That is perhaps wise," you said, binding the paper once more before returning it to her. "I must admit, I'm impressed, J.J. It would seem your rebellious streak extends further than I anticipated. Although while I have no doubt you can take care of yourself, I must still insist you be careful. We live in interesting times. If I were feeling dramatic I would wager I've watched more people die than the number of faces you can remember."

That was, in fact, what you found so interesting about her. Fascinating, even. She wasn't a soldier, ostensibly never seen violent conflict. But she wasn't just a student. What had she seen? What had she survived? This was not simple curiosity, or an unwillingness to allow such privacy. It simply didn't matter.

"I'm not here for your secrets, J.J." you said, leaning forward and joining your hands together again. "I have no need of them. Why do you think I asked you here? Not merely asked you to meet, but meet here specifically? And why do you think the Commune is so fond of you?" You opened a pouch on your belt and removed a bundle of cloth, then placed it on the table and unwrapped it. Within sat your silver locket, housing the picture of you and your comrades, of you and your beloved. You gently pushed it across the table towards her, feeling the sting of silver upon your hand from even the briefest contact. You didn't care if she noticed the fresh mark or not.

"Everything I ever had was taken from me. Everyone in that picture is dead. I'm the only one left. Even if we were able to find a way home, I have nothing to return to. I never even got a chance to raise my son. And it took me a very long time, until I arrived here, to find anything worth latching onto again. But finally, I found something." Or rather, it would be more accurate to say it found you.

"The Commune fancies you because they can see it, too. You're a freak like me. It doesn't matter why you belong here. I asked you here in the hopes that we might help each other, that we might count on each other as allies." More. You still needed more. Friends, allies, everything. But you couldn't jump straight from a professional relationship to being friends. Just another thing that couldn't afford to be rushed.

"My only interest is ensuring that you have someone you can share your secrets with, for I know all too well how holding such things in can eat away at you. But I am not so bold as to pretend I am that person. I am satisfied enough to see you do well."

Zone 5, Streets of Previous Impalement; Dr. Nathan Grey

"...look, in my defense, I don't really have that much experience with healing magic and I couldn't really tell that was what you were doing when I took the shot." I quickly replied, a tad frustrated.

Was this how other people felt when I expected them to know what a rimworld is?

Whatever, it's not the time to reach into the memories of those early days at the UUU.

However, if the situation is about to be resolved, might as well go up and look a little.

I stood up from behind cover, and moved over near where Amaterasu and... whoever that was who told me off for shooting.

"...so, what exactly are you doing?"

Zone 5, Barovian Backdoor Special; A Very Drunk Alexi Vult

"Fuck my life and all of you people!" I yellowed to ale those bastards in the bar.

Oooh wow, everyzhing is getting really-

Alexi then passed out, managing to avoid getting involved in everything going on at the Barovian. Somehow.

Zone Five, Barovian Backdoor

Leonardo Watch - Doki Doki Love Confession

As Leo listened to Bondrewd, he tugged his drink closer to him, preventing the errant ghost that had suddenly appeared from dumping fresh ice into it. Not that he had a problem with strangers putting stuff in his drinks - no, hang on, he had a very big problem with that - but Sonic was staring at the thing with eyes about to erupt from their sockets and his fur as hackled as a porcupine. He skittered down into Leo's lap to escape from the specter, his chittering no less intense even when he was distanced from it. If nothing else, it was a nice reminder that Leo wasn't quite as cowardly as he could be.

He didn't have the chance to question the ghost's appearance - or, likewise, why Areum had sidled up to the bar in a disguise that Leo didn't even need to squint to see through - because no sooner had Bondrewd finished than his daughter burst onto the scene, almost as if summoned by his words. "Prush?! H-hey, uh..." His face growing as maroon as his hair, Leo was saved from his awkward attempt at a greeting by Prushka steamrolling over it entirely. And as she puffed up her chest, summoned every ounce of courage, and blurted out her confession, Leo realised quickly that "save" was not the right word for it at all.

Now, he wasn't dense. He'd been round this circuit before and learned the painful way that beating around the bush was just a hassle for everyone involved. He knew exactly what kind of "like" Prushka meant, even if it took the world's fastest beatdown of every self-conscious internal barrier to accept it.

But... maybe it was exactly because of White that he still hesitated. His jaw stuttered open but only broken syllables tumbled out, the heat that'd set his skin aflame growing worse in the murk of the bar. The myriad of lights and glasses and people crept out from his subconscious vision and grew almost too overwhelming to bear. And that on top of the music and the chatter, the stench of sweat and monkey vomit, the-

Huh?

"Sonic!!"

The simian whimpered pitifully as tears and bile dripped from his face down onto the mess he'd made of Leo's jumper, his tiny body still wracked with stress and alcohol-induced nausea. Leo clattered out of his seat, balking at his ruined clothes as he gripped Sonic by the scruff of his neck. "You idiot, I keep telling you to run outside if you feel sick!"

"Reeeh..."

Any other time he would've departed for the men's room to clean up the both of them, but... his head craned back to Prushka, red now from an entirely different kind of embarrassment. Dammit, he couldn't be the sort of jerk who left someone hanging after a confession like that, even if the perfect excuse dropped almost literally onto his lap. "H-hey," he said to her, forcing a weak smile as if he wasn't covered in vomit and desperately wanting to sink into the floorboards, "can you, uhm... can we talk outside? I need to get this jumper off and this jerk some fresh air."

J.J. Macfield - Girls Night 2

How many people must know a secret before it stops being one?

One person has to be fine. You can trust one person to take that knowledge to their grave - and even if you can't, it's not hard to keep one person in line. If it's between suffering the burden of a secret alone, shaving off a part of yourself and tucking it away where it will never be found, or allowing one other person in the world to sneak a peek inside the box, then surely most would fall for the temptation of sharing.

So one is fine. Two is iffier, but not at first blush. For what reason do you have two eyes if not to follow two people? A nuclear family has a son and a daughter and a father who doesn't care about either, so if a mother can look after two children as God intended, then surely anyone else can handle a secret split between two.

But say that the secret isn't "shared", but rather "revealed". Say the second person thinks they know what's best for the version of you that exists solely in their mind's eye. Say the second person tells a third person, who tells a fourth, who scatters the secret to the wind so every Dick and Jane knows your secret without ever even knowing you. Not so much of a secret anymore, is it?

There is one person in this entire city who knows your secrets, and that's because they're paid well to keep them and punished severely if they don't. "You know I already have someone who knows me better than I know myself," you say, tapping your temple with a light smile. "They're even paid to make sense of all the nonsense in my head."

You're being disingenuous. You both know that telling a therapist about your sordid tale is an altogether different beast from having a community who can support you in a much broader (perhaps even more important) way. But you've never had a community, and maybe the thought of it scares you. Shouldn't Emily be enough for you? Just one person has to be fine.

(What really crinkles is that you're gonna have to take this all to your precious shrink later, and you just know how they'll adore the idea of you escaping your hermitude.)

Your smile slips, because while it's easy and comfortable to pretend that you don't care, it starts to feel abominable when your counter is baring her all. You wonder how much of Witch's countenance is natural - how much comfort she feels in her skin even when it burns and chills where it shouldn't - and how much is her willingness to play along with your game of chicken. To bare her all and open the doors of her family wide to lure out the part of you hidden so deep that you occasionally forget where you put it.

thats not how normal ppl think u kno

and what would a stupid doll like you know?

i think she cares, and u shuld stop bein weird & be friends w/ her

You take another sip so you can hide your grimace at the annoying little voice that always beseeches you to take the simple path. When you bring the mug away, you're surprised to find that your lips don't move back up. That little bastard could really get to you sometimes. "I'm..." Digging into the box for another sugar rush, because it's already hard enough being honest when it's been ten whole minutes since your last one. Once your tongue is sweetened, you continue. "I'm happy you found something to keep you going. I know how hard it is to move forward when you can't find any reason to... and harder still to build it all back up once you've hit rock bottom."

"And... thank you, for your offer." You keep your eyes trained on the locket as you finish your doughnut off, the slight sourness of nail polish dotting your tongue as you clean your fingers of sugar. "As I've already said, I'd be happy to ally with you. As for the rest of it..." You move your gaze away, settling on a crack in the leather sofa that's suddenly become the most interesting deformity in the world. "I'd like some time to think, if you'd give me it. Assuming the city doesn't implode in the meantime, then I'd be willing to have another talk later."

Zone Five, Happy Eggy Confectionery Warehouse (Defunct) - Ichiban Kasuga

"Don't give me that bullshit!"

With two against one and Ichiban throwing most of his weight against the immovable, it should be inevitable that the women will succeed in pulling him away. And it is - primed though he is for these sort of physical altercations, Ichiban is still only a man against the unknown wonders of cybernetics and dragons. For all that he can trick himself into thinking they'd been real before, facing off against the actual thing is an entirely different ballpark.

Even so...

"You're so old and powerful but you can't take down one kid without blasting her brains out? Without making another kid do the dirty work for you? How fucking pathetic are you?!"

There's a harsh edge to his outburst that isn't aimed at Jengbish, not entirely; rancorous instead at the structure that props up the commander, that'll sweep the kid's death under the rug like it's done for so many before. All the undesirables and nobodies filtered down into the dregs where they can safely rot away where the strong and the rich don't have to see it. It's always the same: whether it's politicians or the Diet, whether it's a spaceship billions of miles away or the squalid streets that Ichiban calls home.

It makes him angry because he's not strong enough to change it. Because he's not even smart enough to understand what he's angry about.

And just for a second, that rage manifests. Idunn and Becca will both feel it, the split second that he shifts from blistering to ice cold and his body tenses like an immeasurably tight spring. Something feral and unknown and altogether human has but a second to rear its head before steel is snapped over his wrists and the beast is cowed back into its slumber. This isn't his first time under arrest, and a nightmare stretching eighteen years isn't so easily forgotten. It's not fear that tempers him, because he's not a person that gets scared, but it's something close to it and equally impossible for him to describe.

About six hours from now, while lying on a concrete floor staring at a concrete ceiling, Ichiban will concede to the idea that he fucked up. Until then, it's only the cuffs and what they represent that keep him from snapping at the others as Idunn leads him away from the sorry scene.

Fuck. Witch isn't gonna be happy about this.

Irvine; Zone 5, Barovian Backdoor Special

Wow, he thinks. This is terrible.

He had underestimated her, clearly - beginner's mistake. There were, thankfully, still options, and he settles on one quickly. Playing the amateur - smart enough to notice details and body language, but too full of themselves to notice that the other person is smart, too. Able to see the forest, but still focusing on the trees. Not as terrible.

"I do apologize if I seem nervous," he says, letting some of his all-too-real wariness creep into his tone. "With all the unrest lately, it's hard not to be." It was a decent lie. Plausible enough to not raise suspicion from any listeners, but also a deflection from someone who was - ostensibly - trying not to flounder in the midst of the realization that they'd been had. "I'll do my best to relax, if that's what you'd like."

He breaks eye contact for just a second too long for it to be an accident, then refocuses on her. "Still, I seem to have given you the wrong impression, and I do apologize for that."

Elimo; Zone 5, Streets

"To use what I presume is your vocabulary - stop interrupting and stay out of the way."

She hadn't felt so helpless in quite a while. Wasn't it funny? The one time she did, it was of because something she had steadfastly refused to know more about.

She still struggled to think about it - about her - for too long. She didn't want to, because otherwise she would have had to grapple with the fact that there was a problem she couldn't even start to fix. Still- was this what it had been like- was like? Having altogether too much time to think, knowing that some other version of yourself was free to experience the world like you once had? Was there even a point in wondering, given that yes, you could ask, but I'm touched. Really.

She would have jerked back in shock, certainly, if she could have. I apologize- She could feel the hesitation- and I misjudged you. Now go help.

It was no quiet library or tranquil cove, to be sure. The sound of the water was roaring in her ears, the boy-turned-monster was making unpleasant thumping sort of sounds, and the apparent doctor was asking her irrelevant questions. But it was as if she had stumbled upon a moment of perfect silence. It was just her. She valiantly succeeded in trying not to cry - such a silly thing, to cry over being able to! - it certainly wouldn't be appropriate to laugh.

She turned back to the doctor, who was still talking somehow.

"We are trying to help the boy," she said, "and I understand that you are to help when you can. Am I correct?"

Rebecca - Zone Five - Happy Eggy Confectionery Warehouse (Defunct)

He kept shouting at Jengbish. She knew he was an idiot, but he wasn't insane; They both knew what he could do. Her friend wouldn't stand a chance if the mountain of metal actually wished him harm. Fortunately for all involved parties, Ichiban's bat was merely knocked from his hands, and his arrest ordered. Big man was big on principle, she'd heard. Apparently this was how that manifested.

Eventually Ichiban relented, but not by choice. She noticed the other woman doing quite a lot more work in restraining him, before between the two of them he'd been pinned enough for her to get the cuffs on. He was bristling right up until the instant the metal clacked shut around his wrists. Another unusual experience for her; NCPD didn't bring many people in alive, not that they often had opportunity to.

As Idunn began to lead her friend away, Rebecca shouldered her shotgun, looked up at Jengbish and said "Looks like you got this on lock, samurai. I ain't chromed enough to deal with whatever the fuck that shit was." She thumbed her free hand towards Ichiban. "Gonna keep an eye on the gonk. Make sure he doesn't do anythin' else stupid." She shot one last glance towards the warehouse to make sure there was enough of a break in the action to get away safely, then headed off after the pair.

She'd have to ask about the skulls another time.

Once they were well out of range of danger, she spoke up again. "The fuck was that about?" He'd gotten really worked up about that kid getting killed. It was something that still surprised her. It didn't add up. Ichiban had seem some shit in his time. Plenty of things didn't even faze him. And he'd joined with the Peacekeepers for some reason, so she'd assumed that seeing people die would be one of those things. Stray casualties, even kids, were common back home. If you knew them, you either got on with your life or got your revenge. But this was just some kid. So what about this scene was special?

She spent the rest of the trip to Precinct Nine wracking her brain trying to piece together what she was missing, only finally snapping out of it when the building loomed in front of them. She stopped in front of the door. Turning towards Ichiban, she said "I'll come find ya in the morning, choom. Drag ya somewhere fun if I hafta." She turned around to leave before glancing back at Idunn, half-scowling in frustration. "Look after him for me, wouldya?"

With that, she shouldered her shotgun and set off in the direction of the nearest bar.

Witch - Zone Five - The Barovian Backdoor Special

You smiled, faintly.

Finally. Finally, you got what you were looking for. A crack in the facade, something, anything, to indicate that J.J. could remember what her real face looked like. You treasured your steel mirror for that daily gift, the ability to see yourself as you wanted desperately to be seen by others. But you could never completely remove the mask; To do so would be to invite ruin. Even as you gathered some few close, the world must be kept at arm's length.

You chuckled and answered "Yes, I suppose that's true." She was right, you had to hand it to her. You both had a professional to confide in. But, even as they sought to untangle the knotted messes of your lives, it wasn't quite the same. The understanding was there, but the camaraderie was not. It was comfort, but it was distant nonetheless.

You bristled slightly, as she mentioned moving forward. You'd never let yourself stop moving, nor ceased attempting to climb back up. But it was not for reasons most would expect.

"I wouldn't know," you said, glancing away from her, sheepishly. "I can't say I ever hit rock bottom. Every time I thought I had, I discovered there were further depths yet to sink to." Your stubbornness had borne out the cavernous maw you'd wallowed in. You'd never stopped moving. You'd had five long years to reckon with that notion. The furrows you'd carved into the Earth were monstrous and filled with blood.

"I'm not still here due to my efforts alone. But I'm still here. Is that enough?" You shook your head. "I don't know." Maybe you never would. Deep down, part of you felt like it didn't matter. That such truths were meaningless. You could feel the growing weight of something in your hand, something worthwhile. You just didn't know what to call it yet. Hope? Perseverance?

Would you forge it into a weapon, or a shield? Or perhaps something else entirely?

"I look forward to it," you said, a smile growing on your face. You couldn't quite place it, the burning in your chest, the fondness for the young woman before you. But you didn't need to understand it. You didn't need to be her confidant, you just needed to be an anchor, for her and others to know you could be relied upon.

"Given the mess I have to clean up, I doubt I'll be straying from Zone Five much over the coming months. I should be easy to find." You frowned and rolled your eyes as an errant thought crossed your mind, and you sighed. "But if you have trouble getting ahold of me, Lyudmila seems to have an uncanny knack for keeping tabs on me." That she of all people thought you needed to lighten up was frustrating, but hers was undeniably better company than most.

You stood up and moved to open the door. "Stay as long as you like, my treat." You started to turn the handle, then stopped just before opening the door and turned back to look at your guest. "And thank you, J.J. For everything."

Zone Five, Barovian Backdoor, At The Bar -> Front of the Backdoor

Prushka winced, half in disgust and half in sympathy, as Sonic puked all over her crush's front. "Y-Yeah, I'll, uh..." she stammered and averted her eyes, scratching her head and still pink in the face, "I'll... wait out front. Right."

For his part, Bondrewd said nothing and showed no reaction except a slight smile as he sipped his drink.

Turning stiffly in the other direction, the scientist's daughter marched out through the front door and then sighed, sagging against the outer wall as she clasped her hands in a silent prayer and nervously rubbed her thumbs together.

Please let him like me too... Please let him like me too...

Zone Five, Streets

"Ah, I see. That is unfortunate," I say as Johnny and V explain that removing the former from the latter's head is not so simple. "I am afraid I have not heard of 'Soulkiller', no. That said, terrorist and musician is an odd blend of professions. I hope that you are not planning any terrorism in this city, at least... but are you saying that your neuron companion cannot sing? Would you like me to teach you, V? I would be happy to!"

"Oooooh, singing lessons from the famous idol AI, the artist formerly known as Diva!" Matsumoto bobs up and down enthusiastically. "That sounds like an interesting prospect!"

"Trust me, it wasn't both careers at once. First it was speaking truth to power through music, turns out power doesn't give a shit about truth or music, so there was only one solution left. Blow it up. A several megaton nuclear device called the Demolitron helped clear that little bug up," Johnny explained, rocking devil horns on his silver hand.

"Or so he thinks, learned that his memories may not be accurate, and bombing Arasaka didn't actually fix anything. They just got back up," V pointed out.

At the offer of vocal work... V rubbed his neck. "My vocal chords... could use the work."

Johnny pulled off his shades, staring right at Vivy. "If you can get this sun baked Nomad to actually sing in tune... I'll buy you so many pizzas and be your dipping sauce bitch."

V just stared. "Johnny the fuck does that mean?"

"I live in an age where I'm the only one who gets these references. The shame."

Being tossed in the air was not a problem for Marie, most likely due to the fact that she could fly and the ground could not hurt her. She instead took the opportunity to do a few spins in the air before spreading her arms and allowing herself to fall back to Dimitri. The short ghost somehow grinned even larger than before upon being asked about her tricks and nodded her headbody.

The Gengar flew out of his arms and moved towards a window before seemingly fading away in the air. After a few moments of silence every single window in the building violently flew open, creating quite the racket. Any drapes or blinds would start flowing in a wind that did not exist. After a few moments the windows closed again and Marie reappeared with a bow.

Helena failed to stifle her giggle at her pokemon's demonstration before turning back to the bartender. She smiled at the mention of the legendary Rat King and tilted sideways to get a peek at Dimitri's display. "I think it looks wonderful D!" came the support from a known weirdo. "Oh I think he would love to have his own little nest here, thank you. Hes very tidy so you do not need to worry about a thing."

Meanwhile, Marie was striking many a pose with her new fabulous hat.

Areum, Zone 5, Barovian Backdoor Special

Ok well that really just made the situation worse and he probably wants to leave even more than he did a few seconds ago and honestly I don’t even know why I said that now? Good job Areum.

“You don’t have to apologize - you didn’t really do anything wrong. It was just an observation that, in hindsight, I should’ve kept to myself but didn’t really have the tact to do so. I’m sorry about that.”

I’d offer to pull some strings to get him a free meal from Pang Pang’s BBQ, but I’m certain he would take this as some sort of act of passive aggression. A shame really - there are few places in this city that compare.

“I know what you’re getting at - things have been rough for everyone. It’s been difficult enough for me to really come to terms with living here irrespective of recent events, honestly. From the very beginning, we were all torn from our homes, our friends, our families, our worlds without our consent. There’s a huge amount of trauma that comes with even being brought to and living in this place to begin with, trauma that for various reasons people have done their damndest to try to completely ignore or discount entirely. Then you consider how everything in this ship is fake - there’s no real sunlight, no real animals, no real nature, no real anything, everything just feels completely sterile. And then, finally, you add in what is happening now, all of the cracks that are starting to show in this supposedly well-oiled machine that you alluded to, and it just coalesces together in this awful stew makes what could frankly probably never really be a particularly pleasant place to live even worse.”

I take another drink. I honestly consider telling him right here and now that I’m Areum because I seriously don’t care at this point, but I can’t do that because that’d cause a huge scene. Hell, I can barely do anything without causing a scene. I can’t hang out with anyone really because I’m risking them being put in danger just by being around me, I can’t use my real name most of the time because that’s also risky, I can’t be honest with the Diet about how I feel about things because they’d think I was hysterical or dismiss everything I have to say out of hand, I can’t even fucking play music anymore without it becoming this huge dramatic production with Mikudayo. I can’t do anything! I supposedly am one of the most powerful people in this city but what the fuck can I actually DO?!

“...Sorry, I got off on a rant there. Um… yeah, it's understandable you're a bit on edge.”

Alex Mercer - Zone Five - Adjacent Rooftops

"More of their handiwork, huh?" you muttered to yourself. You'd just been passing through, but that much commotion was hard to miss, so you'd gone to investigate from a safe distance. And so here you stood, carefully balanced on the sturdiest rooftop edge you could find, just close enough to get a read on what was going on, and just far enough away to avoid immediate suspicion. Cross didn't have any significant experience with nonlethal weaponry, and you weren't about to assume the punk was durable enough to withstand your own blows. You certainly weren't willing to risk such an attempt with Amaterasu herself present. It was a full time job keeping the more fantastical citizens of Concordia off your trail without brutalizing people in broad daylight. And you'd been very careful to avoid drawing too much attention to Cross, whose face you still wore.

Some distance ahead and below you, you caught sight of a familiar head of hair, directing scraggly individuals away from the conflict. You half-smirked, unsurprised to find her here. She had a reputation for this sort of thing, or so you'd been told. You directed your eyes and ears back towards the ongoing conflict. There were more ordinary humans involved than you would've expected. None of them could be residents of the area; Otherwise, they'd have bolted at the first sign of trouble. The stupid and the bold didn't last long here without firepower to back them up.

There was the other presence, too. You couldn't pinpoint exactly where it was, but you could practically smell it. You weren't worried for yourself. If they wanted to kill you, they would've already done so. The standoff hadn't been broken yet. "You gave that vial to him, didn't you?" you mused aloud, idly. "So eager are we to guide the exploited into the jaws of death."

The Revelry Commune - Zone Five - The Barovian Backdoor Special

"Okay, show me what you've got!" Dmitri said as Marie nodded back at him. His grin spread further as she vanished from sight, and he burst into uproarious laughter and applause as the windows slammed open in unison. "Ahahahaha! Oh, that's what I'm talking about! You're a natural!"

When she reappeared looking rather pleased with herself, he crouched down in front of her and said "I think that hat suits you quite well, darling. Keep it, it's yours. As thanks for humoring this old bat."

"Good thing we dusted recently," Lyudmila muttered to herself, gathering up glasses and passing out another round of drinks. Areum was back in disguise again, this time being entertained by a rather less animated guest than the usual fare. Much more high-strung, too. If anyone in the building needed a drink it was this man, but he'd adamantly declined. He must be one of those military types who takes himself seriously. All the more interesting that he chose the Backdoor of all places. Maybe he was just trying to lie low rather than unwind?

"Keep it," she said, glancing at Irvine. "Appreciate the thought, but Aurica's a regular, and you're a new face. First round's free. But if you're really looking to offload that charity somewhere," she pointed towards a jar on the counter. It bore a hand-written note that said 'Donations' with several smiley faces drawn in different colored inks. "We'll make sure it gets put to good use." She nodded to the pop star with a small, wry smile and said "Let me know if I can get you anything else, dear."

"Then the spot's his," she said to Helena. "He spends enough time up there anyway, might as well make it official."

As the suddenly-fragrant young man moved towards the door to leave, Ratka stepped forward and held out an open hand. "Let me take that for you, we'll get it cleaned up and bring out some water for your little friend." She said, smiling in an attempt to hide her amusement. Should Leo relinquish it, when he returned he'd find his jumper hanging from a rack behind the bar, cleaner than it was when he'd first arrived.

Danika, meanwhile, took interest in the most recent patron to pass out- although not without fanfare of her own first- and got to work carefully carrying the unconscious woman to a clean room next door so she could sleep in peace.

Edited by lynkzero13 on Jan 28th 2023 at 10:33:49 AM

Irvine; Zone 5, Barovian Backdoor Special

"No need to apologize," he says, and then falls silent as definitely-not-Areum vents about the city. He maintains an expression of polite concern that, after a moment, he decides is at least partially genuine. She really does seem upset with the state of things, he thinks, and he's beginning to grasp why she hasn't done anything in the Diet to try and change things for the better. Her public image and apparent difficulty with expressing her true feelings would probably make any effort worthless.

Still, he pushes his sympathy down to appropriately low levels. She's being honest right now, he thinks, and she certainly has her reasons, but her inaction-at-best brought about some of the consequences and unrest she's talking about right now. Would what she was doing - getting drunk in Zone Five and ranting to random strangers - really change anything?

"I feel like this is the wrong way around," he says. "I'm not going to be offended that you're upset, or anything like that. You have good reason to be."

The bartender sweeps by and informs him of the existence of the donation jar. "Ah, I see. I do hope I haven't offended," and he sweeps the marks inside the jar with the fake-uneasy confidence of someone who totally meant to do that in the first place, honest. She had given him a look as she had been passing rounds earlier, and he was slightly irritated that he had overplayed, but oh, well. Next time Asuka decided this was the best place to do drugs with her friends, he could just say that this was one of the few places he'd found with a cozy atmosphere that didn't also try to drug you and harvest your organs.

"I appreciate that you're willing to open up," he says. "And I'm sorry if I come off as, ah, a little high-strung. Not all of us can hold our alcohol well, and I haven't had anything but the watered-down stuff in a while." Of course, very high alcohol tolerance was apparently one of the fringe benefits of having a magical being stuffed into your head - he'd checked, obviously in private. It was, in all its absurdity, one of the consistently funny aspects of his life.

"Don't mean to distract you from yours, though. Really, I'm the one who should be apologizing."

Zone Five; Happy (?) Eggy (?) Confectionery (?) Warehouse - Tsukino Usagi

In Tsukino Usagi’s world, monsters do not die. They are obliterated, reduced to a fine spray of dust and ill-wishes, but they do not die. They are simply removed from the world in a vaguely comical fashion. There is a scream and a flash of light, perhaps pink in color like Rosy Bastet. There is no blood. The innocent human, who was perhaps possessed by or ensconced inside the monster’s chalky remains, falls out and is revived with little more than a light headache.

Humans do not die. They cannot be destroyed by the power of love.

Tsukino Usagi has died exactly one time, in a pink explosion visible from space. She was reincarnated almost instantaneously by the power of love, and returned to the world with little more than a light headache and a mild case of amnesia. Her four closest friends spent an equally short time on the karmic carnival wheel, and resurfaced post-haste, to be brought back together by a staring, puerile sense of fate.

Good people do not die. They return to the world because destiny wills it.

When considered dispassionately and from an oblique angle, it is very simple to understand how Tsukino Usagi, former schoolgirl and Peacekeeper-on-probation, was able to destroy Magical Girl Rosy Bastet with such a resounding lack of hesitation. From long experience, she knows that it is quite impossible for her to purify anything which didn’t technically deserve it. Only monsters disappear, not good people, and good people always come back.

But despite this, she is starting to realize that something is wrong.

"Mister Ichiban? Why are you yelling? We won, I... hey! Don’t hurt him!"

Violet grabs Usagi by the shoulder.

"You killed Rosy Bastet," says Violet. "You fulfilled your mission."

Usagi stares at her. Her eyes are clear and blue and filled with dread.

"Killed? I didn’t... I hit her with the Moon Spiral Heart Attack. That only works on monsters. She wouldn’t disappear if she wasn't bad. Right?"

Violet considers this for a moment. She has thought through all the same questions that her colleague is just beginning to consider. She is no longer looking for answers.

"You fulfilled your mission," she says.

Usagi chokes and flashes once, like lightning, and then she's back in her Peacekeeper outfit, a stupid blond girl in a stupid blue uniform. She shakes her head, her face completely white.

"I didn’t want to hurt her."

You realize suddenly that she is too scared to cry.

Zone Five; Streets - Maggie, Kiel, Amaterasu, Elimo

The young man struggles, caught in the whirlpool of divine energy. Spikes of black erupt from his skin like pus, but dissipate harmlessly in your light. It seems, just like the Concordanite, that your divinity is something quite difficult for darkness to resist.

At length his strength gives out. He falls to his knees, shrinking and turning a regular color, until he is just a sad and skinny body on the floor of the alleyway, clad in a pathetic hoodie and what passes for jeans.

The thin sound of clapping echoes past brick and stone.

"Well done," says a thin voice. "I appreciate the effort. But we are stronger than you think."

There is a tall figure in a black cloak, with a voice that rings like a bell. It is completely sexless, and around its bare feet is a liquid shadow that gleams like silver. Its voice is cold and rational, but suffused all through with dark urgency, the aura of knowing that curves up like a moonlit smile.

"We will not be crushed in the name of good order, or silenced in the name of consideration. Do you think you serve the side of justice, goddesses? What disease are you curing, doctor? And you, witch's daughter, what do you seek to gain with these dalliances?"

There is power in the black cloak. You don't know what kind, but it's there. It clings to the walls like scented mud.

"I will make one submission," says the black cloak. "None of you understand your circumstances. You think you can preserve the order. You think that you can heal. You think that you can delay the inevitable. You do not understand that you must join the United Front, because there is no other way to see justice done."

The figure raises a long elegant finger.

"I will forgive you for that. If you wish to join the cause of righteousness and revolution, then I will accept you now. We do not need to be enemies."

At that moment, only one set of stamping feet echoed through the rear halls, the stairs and the narrow backstage passageways of the Barovian Backdoor. Seija leaned forward and grasped at rails, her head craned upward like her smile, as she appeared almost like an astronaut with her defiance of gravity. Rare was it that Seija floated about; something about the way that so few people seemed blessed with flight kept her grounded. She fed on pride and envy like anyone else, yes, but she seemed to be content with being a mere earthbound demon. She had wondered prior why so many people seem to be fine with such hellish folk in this city, but people just aren't good judges of character, are they?

Speaking of poor judges of character, Seija looked back at Susie, briefly resting on her back as she floated down one long stretch of empty hallway. Her expression still betrayed her excitement, but she took a moment to look at the strange lizard girl and her physique before speaking.

"So. You ever do this before?"

Susie was fiddling with her familiar joker card. She was leaning against a wall with her arms crossed, tapping the card against her shoulder, clearly itching to summon her ax and swing it.

"Not really. I've killed guys, but it was always in a fight. I've never, y'know, whacked someone." Despite her nervous tic, Susie looked surprisingly relaxed, given the situation. The edible must have kicked in. "Doesn't bother me, though. I know Satsuki's killed people for less. She's hardcore."

Susie flashed a grin, wide and sharp. "Hell, maybe she'll give me a promotion after this."

Seija was perhaps a little laggardly, but not too affected yet. She never seem that concerned anyway, not that she let on. "Promotion?" She tilted her head back and let out a specific kind of short, stilted laugh. "I think you're gonna get, like, famous. Nobody likes this guy. Everyone except the pigs are going to think you're great, you know, you helped everyone. A public service!"

She almost headbutted the second-to-last door, though a quick rotation of herself allowed a last-second opening. "It takes a lot to get this level of hatred. You can do so much and get away with most people just ignoring you; that's somebody else's problem. Then you just do it over and over again until there's no one left to be someone else's…"

The youkai girl looked down at her from up in the air, briefly disturbed by something, though a quick wave of the hand like she was dismissing an unpleasant smell got her through that. "Yeah, uhh, it's a real wonder it took this long. But still! We're gonna do it before anyone else does, and we'll be fucking praised."

"Hell yeah!" Susie's excitement was almost visible, now. It was barely hidden, glimpsed only in the slight twitch of her claws, the hot air puffing from her nostrils. Seija knew exactly what to say to rile up the dinosaur within. "Let's make this a night to fuckin' remember."

She followed Seija through the final door, looking around to make sure there wasn't anyone watching. "So, what's the plan? Want me to jump him first, then you hit him from behind?"

There's the distant noise of a more busy street somewhere else, and perhaps a strange pigeon or two. Despite the near-infinite variance in realities that are represented in Concordia's wildlife, it seems that everything pigeon-shaped is about as hospitable to other pigeon-shaped species as they can be. So, aside from the grey and white and chartreuse feathered observers, they were alone. They were several blocks away from the Barovian already, too far for anyone there to see them. It was still mostly alleyway.

"No, no," she said, returning to solid ground with a clack from her boots, "I will—I mean, uhh, yeah, you're gonna…hit him first." She held up a hand to try and work it out in a visual way, but after a few finger twirls she returned to the verbal method. "I've got that I do, you know? Where I"

"Fwuh. Do that." She holds out her hand, pointing her middle and pointer finger downward.

"Then I, fwhip! Do that." She reverses it, pointing both skyward.

"Fwuh fwhip fwuh fwhip. Just repeat until he's suffering from whiplash. THEN you go start beating his shit in and I'll come behind." A plan as solid as stone, and as polished as a diamond.

"Oh yeah, that makes sense." Susie nodded. At present she was perhaps the only person who would think that, but between her building excitement and the drugs, she didn't have enough brain cells left to find any flaws in Seija's logic.

She went back to leaning on the wall, attempting to look casual so that their mark wouldn't get suspicious.

"Remember: if you've got anything to say to him," she said as she started floating upward towards the rooftops, "you do it BEFORE and then like TEN SECONDS after you hit him in the head!" She baps the back of her own one, but perhaps puts a little too much oomph into it, given how she says 'ow' afterward. "Otherwise he won't hear shit!"

By that point, she was up on the roof, angling herself to be just within vision of the ground below, and waited. Oh, some people are impetuous and terrible with waiting; Seija reveled in it! Many other things she could not wait upon, but this? She almost wished that it could go on forever.

It didn't, which was probably just as well. There was a shuffling of feet, and along came one Theophilus Shinkansen Houraisan, also known as the cop bastard. He looked the same as he had on the second floor – like a penguin, perhaps, stuffed in an overly decorated straitjacket and complete with sword. It was difficult to tell from above.

There was just one problem, though. He was walking way too fast.

"Hey, fuckface." Susie greeted, waving at him. "You needed some fresh air too, huh? What, did you catch a whiff of your own breath or somethin'?"

And the cop bastard stopped. It was a miracle, really.

"Haven't learned your lesson, I see," he said. "I thought I was doing a favor by ignoring you. Get out of my way, and we'll continue the arrangement."

It would sound much more badass if he didn't talk like his mouth was full of spaghetti.

There was a faint clack above him, and that second's warning was all he was going to get.

How did Seija pull off this strange ability of hers? When did she figure it out? Why did she get a power that is utterly useless in a world where everyone of importance could simply ignore being turned upside down? Seija had no answers to these questions beyond some kind of cheeky dismissal, like a middle finger or a request to go copulate in another location. What mattered is that she could.

She didn't even need to do the cool hand signals, she just thought it looked right when she did it. Maybe it helped her focus.

Theo's feet slid out to the left from underneath him, then went straight above him. His head and his long, unkempt hair dragged across the dismal pavement below before he was gently lifted a few inches above it, and then unceremoniously dropped head-first. He went up, then down, then up, repeatedly for about 10 solid seconds, increasing in speed until he was dumped on his side.

"Ack!" said Theo, and then nothing else, because his tongue had gone through his teeth.

Susie had the Devilsknife ready the moment Theo's feet left the ground. She was on him in an instant, bringing the wicked blade down as hard as she could. She wasn't aiming for anything in particular, just swinging wildly with the intent to fuck him up before he could get his bearings.

In her head she heard Jevil laughing wildly. WHO KEEPS SPINNING THE WORLD AROUND?

Theophilus Shinkansen Houraisan was a good hand with a blade, but that didn't matter when you were upside down. As the scythe went in and out of him, he grasped at his scabbard, his mouth dribbling blood, but his hands kept slipping and every time he tried the purple monster shoved him back through the air and kept on slashing. It didn't even hurt. He was just aware of a ridiculous curved object going in and out of him, pushing into places it wasn't supposed to go.

There was a little devil girl leering at him from the roof. She was clearly spinning him. She looked like she was having a blast. She'd been in the booth, too.

He didn't understand. Why was this happening? He was the Guardian of this Zone. No-one had ever laid hands on him. If he'd known this would happen, he'd have arrested all of them on the spot. This had happened because he was too merciful. He'd been too kind, he'd come to a bar without protection, and now he'd paid the price for his kindness.

He was probably supposed to be dead by now. Good thing he had Houraisan blood.

All he needed was to line this up and –

He drew the beam pistol with his left hand, pointed it at the devil girl, and fired a round of stun knots in a suppressive burst pattern. The little blue knots went off like firecrackers, covering the entire roof in smoke and creating a cacophony of noise and blinding light. The smoke poured down into the alleyway, dense and thick like mist.

As Theophilus fell, back under gravity's thrall, the blade went between ribs and struck pavement. He rolled over and grabbed the shaft with both hands. The purple monster smirked and tossed him over her shoulder like a bale of hay, smashing him against the far wall, but that was exactly what he wanted, because even though that was two more ribs gone, it gave him enough space to scramble to his feet and draw his sword.

The sword, as swords went, was relatively normal. The only thing it did was blaze like a star. It was a plain vanilla sword.

The first note of pain went through his gut. He grimaced. His whole mouth was wet and salty. It swished around like the world's worst mouthwash. He spat, spraying red all across his shoes. His tongue was already healing, but it was slow. Far too slow for his liking.

How long had it been since he'd actually been in a fight? He couldn't remember.

"Can't kill me with that," he mumbled. "Should've tried harder."

He couldn't remember, but his body did.

"Now you're both dead."

He leapt off the wall, whirled, and came down at the purple monster, his plain vanilla sword singing a very standard tuning note.

Beams of light, motes of electric power bound by something Seija could never bother to understand, or bundles of mysterious 'stun', flew at her from below - the first one managed to detonate right by her leg, and there was a yelp from up on the roof, short and clipped. She could feel the singe of the explosion scraping across her thigh immediately, the thick pants she wore not being armor enough to keep her unscathed. She would've stopped to grasp at the burn, except…

The next few volleys, even with the smoke and noise, were seen - and this happened to be one of a handful of persons within the whole of Concordia expertly skilled in dodging such things. Not since the days of Andreus "Nevaletemtachyu" Siculus early in Shipboard history had there been one as qualified as her, even with the pain and the blinding. The first one coasted past her waist, exploding behind her - the second detonated in front and she slid backward in the same moment - the third and fourth were further behind, and she weaved through them like a snake through piles of stone.

Then, with herself being out in the air above the two, the acrid smoke burning her lungs, she resisted the urge to announce her intentions.

Dropping from the air and aided by the downward momentum of her flight, she aimed to place a heavy boot directly onto the base of his neck from above. Not an easy task, understandably, but better than whatever else she had in mind.

Susie, for her part, was getting annoyed. More so than usual, anyway. She'd been having fun, at first, but the fucker just wouldn't die, and it was getting old.

Her lizard-brain had at some point managed to put two dots together, and through a thought process that involved jumping from old slasher films to 'this guy is like a zombie' she came to the conclusion that she should aim for the head.

Her ax-scythe began to glow purple, and in a characteristic Susie move, she met the singing sword straight on, with a giant swing. However, she wasn't aiming to hit him with the blade.

For a half-instant it looked as though she'd swung far too early - until the purple energy blast launched itself from the Devilsknife like a cannonball, packing enough punch that Susie hoped it would just splatter him outright.

Naturally, she shouted "Eat shit!" as she launched it.

"Language, you beast!" said Theo, and fell over like a ragdoll.

It was quite possibly the only move which could have saved him. Susie's blast sailed clean over his back, tearing his coat in half and peeling the skin off the nape of his neck. Seija came down to kick him in the head and missed, landing instead in the middle of Susie's blast and going up like a rubber chicken.There was a dull explosion in the back of the alleyway.

Susie mumbled "Oh fuck."

Theo scrambled for his sword, got up, and pressed the attack. It was easier when they were in the same place. He was much slower than he'd been ten years ago, but he remembered more than he cared to admit, and he was still faster than they were. He didn't think he could actually win, but if he tried hard, he would probably last long enough to heal up and run away.

Susie mumbled "fuck goddamn shit" as she brought her ax up to block, suddenly on the backfoot. Growling like an angry mastiff, she swung wildly, following it up by lunging forward, maw open with full intent to chomp her opponent.

The singing sword clashed against the Devilsknife, screeched as it slid, and then released its own burst of blinding light, scant inches from Susie's face.

The beast roared, and threw her ax in a random direction, where it embedded itself halfway into a wall. She rubbed her eyes furiously to clear the spots from them. When the ringing was gone from her ears and eyes, the only thing left was a sprinting trail of blood.

Yanking her ax from the wall, Susie snarled and sprinted after the trail of blood, popping out of the alleyway and into the street, but the trail went cold surprisingly fast. Presumably because the immortal asshole had run out of blood.

She stomped back into the alleyway, growling out more curses as she went to yell at Seija.

"He got away! Motherfucker!" She slammed her ax into the wall again, leaving another gash in the stonework. "Why didn't you spin him more, dammit?!"

"murgh" replied Seija, providing a convincing defense of her actions.

Laying on the pavement with her face half-submerged in a puddle, her body was singed all over. It didn't splatter her, as some may wish, but it didn't take more than a passing glance to figure she was in a bad state. Her body spasmed, splashing in the stagnant water like a fish in its last moments.

"Oh." Susie blinked, looking down at Seija. Then she sighed. "This was a shitshow."

Her ax turned back into a card, which she slipped into her pocket, ignoring Jevil's mental guffawing. Kneeling down, she scooped up Seija into a bridal carry. She noted scratches on her own arms, faintly visible against her scales, but she was hardly inconvenienced, and hardly anyone would notice given that Susie didn't bleed.

Seija, on the other hand, looked bad. Her arms were burnt, her face wasn't any better, and perhaps it was just how she landed but her right horn had its tip snapped off. Where the remainder of that tip was, who knows? Finding a fine bit of keratin in the gutter wasn't worth the effort.

Huffing angrily, Susie stomped heavily out of the alley. "Great. Now Asuka's never going to let us hear the end of it."

"...did we get him?" Her voice sounded even more gravelly.

"No." Susie said. Her snout was twisted into a scowl. "He got away. But we'll find him, and finish him off. And I'll take that stupid flashy sword of his and shove it up his ass."

"...heh." Her body heaved a little bit with an attempt at a laugh, and then a spasm of reactionary pain. "Up his ass... that'd be funny..."

As the anger and adrenaline faded, the pleasant buzz from the edibles seemed to intensify, and Susie exhaled, her muzzle twisting into a smile at Seija's laugh.

"Yeah. Really funny. Now let's get you to a doctor before you bleed to death."

With her friend's broken body in her arms, Susie walked off into the night.

Edited by troydenite on Feb 21st 2023 at 11:44:53 PM

Zone Five; Streets - Maggie

I look back at the mysterious figure and sigh. I’m not sure I can even give a real counterargument here. Yes, on a certain level, this is about reuniting a son with his mother from people who are willing to use dangerous supernatural drugs on their members. Who could object to what we’re doing here, if that’s all this was?

But clearly this is bigger than that. This is about the Diet, the threat their tyranny poses to all life on Concordia, and what lengths we’re comfortable with going to to stop them. And the others gathered with me are fundamentally conservative, fundamentally afraid of a big shakeup with how society is ordered. In a way, I guess it’d be naive to expect anything else. The peacekeepers are ultimately the footsoldiers of the Diet at the end of the day, so Kiel’s interests are necessarily at odds with anyone who would seek revolutionary change. I believe Amaterasu and Elimo to be good people at heart, but… they’re not really people in the same sense as everyone else, are they? They’re gods. Their concerns are not mortal concerns. They cannot truly understand the plight of Concordia’s underclass.

…Obviously, I of all people can’t either. I’m fully aware of the hypocrisy. But there’s nothing I can really do about that, is there? I still try, in my own flawed way.

…Wait, who was the cloaked figure referring to when they said ‘doctor’? Kiel is not a doctor, and there’s no one else here. Who are they…

My eyes dart around until eventually they lock onto someone I don’t recognize. Who is this guy? Why is he here? Why does he not seem concerned at all by the danger surrounding him? This is bad. I don’t know who this is, but I am confident they are bad news.

But I need to focus on the mysterious cloaked figure for now.

“Look,” I address the black cloak. “I don’t really care about maintaining the current order. The Diet are petty tyrants who have done nothing good for Concordia. They have created a city in which gang violence runs rampant in the zone they’re explicitly supposed to be the stewards of. The justice system is a farce in which everyone who isn’t already part of the Diet or the upper crust of society is convicted nearly 100% of the time. People have to live with the fear that they might be assaulted by rogue peacekeepers. The order that created this city doesn’t deserve preservation, and it’s ridiculous that there are so many people who blindly defend it, who act like there isn’t a better way. I agree with the United Front on that much. No, my issue with your organization has to do with a suspicion of mine. My suspicion is that…”

I doubt myself for a moment. Without any real evidence, this is just a conspiracy theory Xantcha threw at the wall while trying to take Darien down a peg. But somehow, it just makes too much sense for me to ignore.

“...you are in some way affiliated with Darien Brand - a man who went out of his way to make himself my enemy. A man who has forced me into a situation where I have no choice but to oppose him. Now maybe I’m wrong about this. Maybe it’s a coincidence that your organization showed up pretty much exactly when he opened up his factory. Maybe he didn’t supply you with whatever was in that syringe. Maybe he’s not trying to take advantage of the anger boiling in this city for his own ambitions. And maybe all these random people who showed up basically 20 minutes ago got their hands on weapons capable of harming the likes of Alex Mercer without the help of Brand’s vast inventory. But you know what? I’m just not buying it. Everything about you guys reeks of contrived bullshit that doesn’t make any sense.”

I’ve been more nervous, more paranoid, more angry in general since Brand came into the picture. That I can’t deny. I’m not sure I will truly feel at peace again until he is a mangled corpse at my feet.

“I’d like to believe my assumption is wrong, that you are not being manipulated by him. Because if that were the case… I could probably join you. But you know what? Even if I’m totally wrong and Brand has nothing to do with any of this… many of your men would see me and my mother as enemies of the people because, well, we’re part of this same shitty system too because of our wealth, right? They’d probably try to stab me in the back the second the Diet was out of the picture. That’s how it’d play out in reality, wouldn’t it?”

I give a sad sigh. My resolve to even try arguing with the United Front or complete the task given to me has waived. What am I even supposed to say? On its face, they’re right. The Diet needs to die for real progress to happen. The only reason I can’t join them is that I can’t trust them. And even if they aren’t up to something nefarious, then I have to deal with the reality that they’re right but I’ll probably never be accepted into whatever sort of new world they create. Because to most people, I’m not Maggie. I’m not the sum of my actions. I’m just Blair’s hellspawn. I feel the weight of the hatred this city has for my mother, the frustration I feel when I try to get her to be better and can’t, and the nagging feeling that I’ll never be able to truly escape her long and winding shadow. It all combines into a poisonous miasma that suffocates me.

…

I look back at the boy. I had nearly forgotten about why I was here in the first place.

“Look, just… go back to your mother. Or don’t. I can’t make you do anything. You have to choose this for yourself. You’ll just end up running away again later if we drag you back by force. And whatever I could say about how there’s some ‘right way’ to do things contrary to the United Front’s methods, I don’t actually know what it is, or if there is. Frankly, I strongly doubt anyone else does either. So… yeah, I guess I ultimately really have nothing to say at all. Sorry.”

I really didn’t even know what I was supposed to do. I want to help. But I just can’t go along with what I bet the other three are about to do. I cannot give some attempt to comfort him and tell him that everything will be ok if he just leaves and lets the status quo play out, because that’s fucking bullshit.

I consider just leaving unceremoniously then and there, but I decide to at least wait to hear what everyone else has to say.

Zone 5, streets ~ Kiel

If I didn’t know any better, I'll say the black cloak person is the one that cause the boy to look like some monster earlier. But, there's might be a chance that the black cloak might not be the one that started the whole reuniting the son to be with his mother. But, then again, he could be the one. Huh? Doctor? I look around and see a person I never met. I just wave at him as a greeting since I find that not waving isn't a good thing, at least to me. I don’t know if they're bad or good, but who knows?

"Listen, black cloak person," I begin to speak, "I know you made some good points there, but is it that necessary to the point where you have to use some kind of illegal drug to do some kind of revolution? Now, don't get me wrong, I know the Diet has made some...choices that are not good for Concordia as a whole, but the way you're doing it is way worse. You can't just create some kind of illegal drug or whatever you have in your inventory to do some revolution. Also, joining whatever group you're leading sounds...pretty sketchy, judging by what happened earlier. Now, I know this is coming from me, a Peacekeeper, but I didn't join the Peacekeepers for fame or anything like that. I only join the Peacekeepers cause I wanted to help those in need and make Concordia a better place. I know that sounds naive of me to say, but I can't just stand around and not use my magic to help others. I doubt the other Peacekeepers have the same reason as me as to why they become part of the Peacekeepers, but I think that they're good people. But, as for you..."

I have to pause for a moment as I want to ask this carefully. Sure, I'm not the brightest tool in the shed, but this is just a gut feeling and this guy just gives me bad feelings about this.

"...Aren't you the one who causes the boy to separate from his mother and use his opinion about the Diet for your own goals? I want to be wrong about this, but the fact that not only you're there during all of that, have the boy used some kind of illegal drug, and just outright told us that if any of us wants to join in this righteousness and revolution just gives me this impression that you have bigger plans that are just plain bad. It's almost as if you want something from the Diet that's not revolutionary changes."

Honestly, I don't mind revolutionary changes and all, but the black cloak person could be using that as an excuse for something. I mean, that's what I want to think, but...

"...But, who should I know. I'm just a Peacekeeper, who only joins over the fact I want to make a better place. I don't like being useless when it comes to problems I can't control. But, no matter what, some problems can't be solved, right?"

...What's the point of all of this? What I said is true and all, but in the end, I'm still useless. I couldn’t do anything. I'm not like any of the Peacekeepers. I'm not like my older sister. I'm not like anyone here. I'm just...useless. Even if I decided to get it done, it was too late for me. Just like how Frey was confess her feelings to Arthur in Selphia.

... Oh, right, the boy, I almost forgot about him. At least he's back to normal.

"Um, so, I won't report you to Diet since your mom is worried about you and if anything worse happens to you, she would be devastated. Just, go back to your mother, please..."

I could be just saying this as I was pretty close to my mom before her death, but outliving your child is worse than getting your child convicted. Sure, I only said what I want to say after the girl gives her piece to the black coat, but who on earth wants to attack the black coat if none of us don't know how powerful they are?

Normally, I would leave, but just in case something bad is going to happen, I'm just going to stay and see if there's something I need to stop.

Elimo; Zone Five, Streets

The boy collapsed, free of the dark that had taken him. He looked so small, she thought, and so young. Fragile, even. She could almost ignore the new voice that had just congratulated them.

It went on and on, its owner puddling into shadow at the end of its cloak, and she wondered whether to bother feigning interest. The boy was still alive and breathing - she guessed that the cold alleyway wasn't doing him any favors. She would speak with Amaterasu and decide what was to be done before the boy was returned to his mother. It certainly wouldn't do if he died of exposure.

If you don't respond, it's never going to stop talking.

Yes, she knew the type, and so she refocused on the figure, who had just invited them to join the United Front. Its presence was somewhat like mud - murky and easy to get stuck in. Still, she doubted that it would fight them now, not with Amaterasu and whatever else was watching them present.

Ordinarily, she would have thought more about the figure's questions, about being on the side of justice and preserving order. They hadn't been much different than what she had asked herself - or, on occasion, been screaming such. Now, though, she found herself newly possessed of clarity of mind.

She was also not terribly surprised by Maggie being unsatisfied with the current order, even to the point of overthrowing it and agreeing with the Front, but she was mildly so that Darien Brand could be involved. It seemed rather random, really, but then Maggie had probably been privy to other exciting events also probably involving Brand. No one can catch a break in this city, it seems. Poor girl. Still, she was clearly working through some of her own issues. The Peacekeeper spoke next, describing her desire to make Concordia a better place and questioning the figure's motives, though she lost some of her confidence at the end. Both of them seemed reluctant to stay.

"Surely you understand that calling people fools is, for most, quite insulting," she says. "That aside, I do understand your concerns, but I would ask why you choose to address us. Either you knew that we of ...skeptical attitudes towards the Diet would be present, or else you gambled and got lucky."

"More to the point." She could feel the confidence ringing in her voice. You haven't sounded like that in a long time. She felt surety, yes, but also power - the acoustics were not the best, as to be expected of an alleyway, but she could hear the faint echo of her voice bouncing off the walls.

"Yes, we all have done wrong, despite our best intentions. We do the best we can, or like to think we do, and sometimes it amounts to harm. You mean to strike at our fears that we maintain that harm, but- twisting children to be your puppets? Causing terror and death? You say you strive for justice and righteousness, but you seem unwilling to extend them to others."

The boy, in response, said "bleurgh," and rolled over on his side before expelling a small quantity of bile onto the street. It was evident that he did not think much of the dialogue that was occurring.

Zone Five - Streets - Amaterasu

When the boy turned back to normal, Amaterasu rushed to his side, nuzzling him gently and letting her soothing light wash over him. The appearance of the living shadow raised her hackles, but she merely observed him with quiet disdain.

"If you wish us to be allies, then you should not transform children into demons." She said, firmly. "I understand that this place is full of darkness, full of fear. I wish to help. But I will not allow innocents to be sacrificed, even in the name of destroying evil."

Solar Flare rose slightly from her back, as she shifted her position to interpose herself between the boy and the shadowy figure. "If the United Front sees people as something to be exploited, then we will always be enemies."

Robert Cross nee Alex Mercer - Zone Five - Back Alley

Well, they did it. The few of them able to contribute managed to neutralize whatever drug the kid had injected himself with. Now that he had returned to something resembling normal, you thought you recognized him, but you weren't quite close enough to be certain.

The puppetmaster finally made his appearance. Or its, in this case. Another familiar face. It didn't matter how they got here, only that they'd been there the entire time, and chose now to make themselves known. You decided to, as well. You took a short leap off the roof, angled to hook over the top edge of the alley wall and slide down gently. It was not subtle; Your fingers scraped brick and your feet made a heavy thud as they met the ground. The grooves from your descent would be obvious. This, too, was expected. Cross himself was superhuman; Anyone who had seen him in action knew as much. You weren't visibly armed, aside from the baton at your waist, but Cross' attire would nevertheless give the unmistakable impression of seasoned military.

You landed nearly ten feet from the cloaked figure, then leaned shoulder-first against the wall to avoid the impression of blocking the alley. Getting in the way wasn't part of the plan. They stood in between you and Maggie, who in turn stood between you and the kid. Amaterasu had moved up to serve as an additional bulwark between the boy and the United Front emissary. You kept your arms crossed in front of you, and looked directly at him, now heaving on the ground from the exertion and the come down. The connection hit you.

"Richards," you said. "His name is Joshua Richards. Lives with his mother Molly in a small apartment near Dock Six. Both used to be employed by Robotnik in his factories, but his mother holds two additional jobs as a waitress and clerk to help make ends' meet. Isn't that right, boy? She's waiting for you."

There was no point addressing the cloaked figure specifically, for they hadn't addressed you. But the moralizing was beginning to grate on your ears.

"Proclaim whatever you want, but don't pretend justice exists anywhere except behind the barrel of a gun. No peasant revolt has ever succeeded with pitchforks alone."

Edited by lynkzero13 on Feb 23rd 2023 at 10:31:42 AM

Zone Five; Barovian Backdoor Special, First Floor Barovian Fire Escape- Asuka Langley Soryu

The cigarette's stuck to my lip bottom lip. It wicked out the moisture and now it's welded at the molecular level like a brand new organ, burned down to nothing but filter before I could notice, so all I get is the vaguest taste of stench. There is a fascinating revulsion in the texture of the damp, tar-stained fibres.

I say "fuck". There doesn't seem to be much else. I say it quietly, because there's a habit, sneaking swears around filtertips like someone might jump out and confiscate them. Like the Russian guy and his dogs. I can’t stand that, not right now, so I say it a little louder instead.

I don’t know what Zima’s seeing at the bottom of the alleyway.

The real thing is that Tokyo-3 died all at once, and it didn’t change a damn thing. The First went up and took downtown with her, and that was the end of that. No blocks, no streets. We were never meant to save much more than staff housing anyway. Everything else was just collateral, ablative, economy and councils erected for convenience, camouflage for the launch buildings. They buried everything vital deep enough that there was nothing on the surface to bleed.

I don’t know if that’s callous. I just know that it works. I grew up in places like that, bases and the cities repurposed to service them. It’s not like a parasite, not quite, more like something in a shell, self-sufficient and buried safe. Berlin and Hamburg made for easy housing and a port out to the sea, easy grant money and a few million deterrents to strategic bombing. Something handy to go and look at on leave. Someone could have burned them to the ground and all it would have done is pissed us off and got dad seconded to the Bundeswehr.

I was never from there. I never lived there. I lived at the third branch, or the fifth, or headquarters. I can’t imagine the world shrinking past that kind of perimeter. I don’t live in Concordia. I don’t even live in Zone 5. I live in the Shrinewell. I can’t imagine it. I mean it. I hear the words and I just can’t see how.

You don’t need to ride it out. You don’t need to try and outlast it. You just need to outlast everyone else.

I think that this must be how Satsuki thinks. I know she’s military, she's never even tried to hide that, and because of that despite what she pretends I know exactly what it is she’s doing out there. Street-by-street, building-by-building, every piece of territory she can pull from someone else’s hands is room for the Shrinewell to breath. Space to mount delaying action and counteroffensives, safehouses for the militia, self-sufficient infrastructure. All of it. She’s building the shell.

“She’s planning for it,” I say. I think I knew already. “Christ, Zima, she’s been planning for it all along.”

The butt goes over the railing, along with the skin where it was welded on. I barely notice.

“She was waiting for something like this,” I say. I know I should try to be worried, or feel sorry for her, or at least try not to sound so fucking happy about it, but I can’t. Now that I can see it, I just feel a dirty, cruel kind of pride. “You need to get to the Shrinewell. The Shrinewell or somewhere near it, somewhere she’s in charge of. Just, just make it so it’s somewhere close. Before it gets worse, okay? I dunno if she’s gonna have to stop letting people in at some point. Fuck, Zima. I think she’s gonna try and fight it out.”

It sounds stupid and hollow and unbearably naive, even as I say it, but I don’t care. I don’t care about shrinking cities and stealing food, because those cities aren’t here. I’m not from there. I know about the armories I’m not allowed to see and the stockpiles I’m not stupid enough to ask about. I know about spent casings in the gutter and Sam being out on his rounds every night some slumlord big enough to make the headlines turns up in five pieces. I know she’s got the manpower spare to send Irvine out to follow me.

“God,” I say. “I think she’s gonna win.”

Edited by OG-Sama on Feb 27th 2023 at 6:23:52 PM