Zone Five, Barovian Backdoor, Front of the Back - Leonardo Watch

When his hurried trot out of the bar was interrupted by one of its workers, Leo froze on the spot and a polite smile crept unconsciously up his face as he took to his hair with his free hand and mumbled "Oh, no, you don't need to..." At which Sonic's chest heaved with the threat of further chaos, and Leo's jumper was stripped and deposited into Ratka's waiting hands at a speed almost too fast to see. Leo yelled something between an apology and a thanks over his shoulder as he burst out of the building, sweat-drenched mirth giving way to the almost oppressive silence of outside.

Silent, that is, except for the cacophony of lights and explosions happening a few blocks away, but the rule of Hellsalem's Lot née New York (if it's not killing you right at this very moment then it's not your business) applied doubly so to the back-alleys of Concordia, and so Leo ignored the sting of his ears and only said "Shit, it's cold out here..." He deposited Sonic on his shoulder, where the simian sprawled as best he could and snorted up the fresh air, and rubbed at the goosebumps now peppering his bare arms. He never felt as small as he did without his jumper - its shapeless quality disguising his twig-like constitution - and as he fumbled and stared off somewhere that wasn't where Prushka was standing, he couldn't help but feel the Are you sure?'s and Why me?'s itching at his mind.

Yeah, it was stupid. The same stupid part of him that thought White only said yes because she didn't have anyone else in her life besides her brother and the doctors. He'd gotten better at ignoring it, but it never truly shut up. Leo harumphed at himself and turned to Prushka, his burst of resolve stuttering in the face of her doe-eyed hope. "So, listen, uh... I've not thought about this - about anything to do with this - at all, cause it's only been... what, a month since I got here? And honestly, I was kinda hoping to be gone from here sooner rather than later, but..."

He couldn't stomach the thought of being trapped here for months. For years, even. He'd certainly never think of this place as anything close to home. Would he be happy with someone who never settled down and only wanted out? Someone who struggled with heavy boxes, spent more time in the hospital than out, and cowered even at bad zombie films?

But that wasn't who Prushka was. Leo remembered when he first arrived and Prushka held his hand while walking him out of the Incoherence because he was too overstimulated to see. He remembered her squeak of joy when Sonic first popped out of his jumper, the smell of the flowers she brought when he'd first ended up at the clinic, the song she sometimes liked to hum when they made their way down the Edge, the way her eyes lit up when her father talked about something scientific that flew over Leo's head...

There was a small patch of Leo's shoulder that was colder than the rest, and he realised it was because Sonic was drooling on it. Something thumped inside the Barovian and was met with a round of cheering. The moment was so exceedingly, painfully normal that Leo, all at once, came to realise that maybe it didn't have to be as deep as he was making it. "But... I am still here, so... until I'm not..."

He didn't finish, but his mouth quirked up bashfully - in itself, an answer.

Zone Five, Barovian Backdoor

Prushka's nervousness only increased as Leo stepped outside and began his reply. In spite of her ineffectual attempts to remain calm so that the subject of her affection wouldn't feel bad about it in the case of rejection, her pulse quickened until she could feel the beating in her chest and ears like a drum, culminating in her silently mouthing the last word before his first pause with an intense mixture of fear and hope:

But?

When he trailed off at the end and his lips turned upwards in affirmation, Prushka's worried countenance morphed into a brilliant, sun-like smile as she let out a breath and felt a tide of emotions overflow and burst out of her heart. Relief so palpable she could sense all the tension departing her body at once, leaving her light-headed. Joy so powerful she was certain she'd never been so happy before in her entire life. And a hot, burning passion for the cute, handsome, adorable, sensitive, caring, lovable, and deceptively ordinary man in front of her.

Still, a little water prickled at the corner of her eyes as she moved over and stretched her arms under his to press against him in a tight hug, resting her head on his shoulder. "Oh, Leo..." she said into his ear, sniffing slightly. "I love you so much! I'm so glad! I was so worried you would say no, or... or... I've never done this before, but anyway, I'm going to be the best girlfriend I can be, I promise!"

"U-Um..." she began shyly, leaning back a little to look into his eyes, but still holding him close. "My supposed new friends I was going to hang out with at the Barovian kind of ditched me earlier, so if you're done drinking, could we maybe... walk home together...?"

At his agreement, she seemed to brighten even more, if such a thing was even possible. "Okay! I'll grab your jumper and let Papa know real quick, alright?" She leaned in and gave him a quick, surprise peck on the lips.

"That was a preview~!" she sang with a sultry grin as she pulled out of the embrace. "So you can look forward to the real thing later~!" Giggling gaily, she all but skipped back inside and over to her father at the bar.

"Papa! He agreed to it!" she announced jubilantly, giving Bondrewd a quick hug as well.

"Congratulations, Prushka!" he replied in his usual soft, yet sonorous voice. "You did it! I'm so happy for the two of you... and I couldn't be more proud of you for taking that first step."

"Thanks, Papa!" his daughter said sincerely, planting a chaste kiss on the side of his mask, where his cheek would be. "Leo and I are gonna head home now, alright?"

"Alright," he confirmed with a nod. "I think I'll stay here a bit longer, and let you two enjoy your walk together. Be careful on the streets, Prushka."

"I will, Papa!"

A short couple minutes later, she was out the door again with Leo's jumper in her arms, and handed it back to her new boyfriend with a faux air of ceremony. And then, after his outer top was securely back on, she hugged his arm, intertwined her fingers in her love's, and the pair began the trek back home.

Witch - Zone Five - Barovian Backdoor Special Second Floor Fire Escape

"Hope you girls don't mind if I join you," you said after pushing open the fire escape door, and pulled a cigarette out of the pack you always carried.

It'd started as a subconscious reaction, at first. Kim had run out, once, and that was all it took to inject the habit into your routine; Not for you, but for him. Eventually, you took up the practice yourself, again. Something to help occupy your attention when you couldn't keep your mind from racing, and as a reminder of who you once were. You'd smoked when you were alive, too; One of the side-effects of the continent-spanning war was the reassessment of trade lines and introduction of new trade goods. England had attempted to ban it, you'd heard, but most other nations embraced the practice. And tobacco had brought many things along with it, including a much more widespread adoption of smoking hemp, rather than eating it.

On the nights you didn't drink with your team - and on many nights you did - you smoked with them, with her especially. It took the edge off. It gave you hope that perhaps one day the two of you might be able to enjoy the peace again.

Neither did anything for you anymore, but the effects of habit were strong, and it helped you blend in besides. The tighter you clung to what you'd lost, the more it felt like it slipped through your fingers, but that didn't stop you from trying. You'd never stopped pretending you were still human. Maybe one day you might actually believe it again.

Just seconds prior the other two occupants of the fire escape platform had been discussing the uncertain future of the city. You doubted they would've shared such had they reason to believe anyone else was listening in. You hadn't intended to pry. You'd overheard more than you wanted, and less than you needed. But you weren't here to question or detain them, not that Zima would let you anyway. The door shut behind you, and you moved along the wallspace it had just occupied, leaned back, and struck the lighter. Both the stairs down and the door inside were clear of your obstruction and reach. You were only here as brief companion by happenstance, nothing more.

You'd pieced together enough of Zima regardless that you weren't surprised by her story. Yet anticipating the intensity of her suffering did nothing to dull the sting of confirmation. She handled her past much the same way as you, by bottling it up and avoiding talking about it. You still had a lot of work to do to live up to her trust, to give her a reason to accept yours. She reminded you far too much of your eldest sister to fail to follow through.

As you took the first drag, you could see Asuka was wearing the boots. That was a good sign, at least. In a way, so was the rest of what you'd heard her say. Proof that she was clever, observant. But it was also an unpleasant reminder of how bad things were getting, and how much worse they would grow. Of how many people would be affected. Of how much you cared, despite pretending to be unaffected by it all. You still weren't certain of Satsuki's plans, but you'd learned enough to narrow it down to intent. People like her didn't just accept the rule of groups like the Diet. You hadn't either, once. You'd told yourself times were different, now. That you were out of your element, that you couldn't hope to accomplish anything on your own. You didn't have your team, or the financial backing of other nobles, so how could you?

Nobody changes anything on their own. And that very fact was why this was so important. Satsuki's ward had just confirmed your suspicions. You'd already started upon the path, but now you were more confident in your steps. There was a future down this path, even if it wasn't yours. You would secure it, somehow. But you could scarcely ignore the danger to those who would end up as casualties along the way.

You exhaled as you stared out into the darkness, settling your eyes on a cat on a nearby rooftop. You couldn't look at either of them, not yet. The sounds of a scuffle echoed from a few buildings away, and you sighed. "You girls should be careful, once you leave. Things are about to get... more complicated out there. Messier. I can't protect everyone by myself anymore."

You never could. No one could. That was why you'd failed back then. You'd convinced yourself that you could lead your team, your friends, by yourself. That you alone could get everyone back home safely. It'd worked for just over a decade, until it hadn't. In the aftermath, once you'd pieced together what had happened, you'd thought the fault rested entirely on your shoulders. That you'd let them down. You had, in a way. For being fool enough to think you could handle everything on your own. You should've trusted them more.

"But we'll get through this, somehow. I've lived through worse."

Things were going to be different this time. There was nothing you could say or do to prove this, to make it reality. But you weren't alone anymore.

"Zima", you said, lowering the cigarette and glancing in her direction. "I know tomorrow's your day off, but I could use your help with something if you want to pick up some overtime. I don't need an answer now, just... show up tomorrow if you feel like it. I'd really appreciate it."

You took another drag as you glanced briefly towards Asuka, then down the alley behind her and into the smoky blackness beyond. She didn't seem to recognize you yet. That was good, for now. With any luck if she recognized you later, it would be for a better reason than getting assaulted in an alley. Her lip hadn't completely healed yet, you noticed.

"Stay as long as you like. You know where the good shit is, just make sure to mark it off if you take anything." One last breath, and you snuffed the remains on the railing beside you, then flicked the butt into a trash can on the ground below. "Long as I'm around, this place will be safe until the rest of the city isn't."

You vaulted over the railing and landed casually on the ground below, and began walking off into the darkness of Zone Five. You still had business to attend to.

Zone Five; Alleyway - Leonardo Watch

A few blocks out the moon winks back on, like a stagelight powering back up. It's nice. You can see it's not the same moon, of course, not really, and you can make out every strut of the scaffold keeping it in place, the power lines if you really squint, stage rigging and everything, but the light itself's still pretty enough. It's something nice for Prushka to look at. There's a certain atmosphere the warmth invading you appreciates. A sort of fuzzy sentimental resonance.

Instinctively, it means you're safe.

Which is weird, right? It's a weird thing to think. You'd think that you'd outgrow that. That's an instinct for back before Hellsalem's Lot, back when every back alley was still a private mundane gamble and you couldn't just take a detour half a block away, back when to see the danger you still had to try. Somewhere on the way from the Barovian you caught a stupid little urge in you, coiling in your stomach like an ancient reptile and hissing out the odds, and it wants so bluntly to put that to the test. It's the drinks, maybe, like a faulty Dutch courage, or maybe it's the slender warmth of Prushka's hand and the fascinating knot embedded in your chest conspiring to reverse the last few million years of evolution. Maybe this is that protective instinct you were always promised you'd develop, virile and atavistic, from when Men were Real Men and not like you.

Sonic makes a noise a bit like a ferret backfiring and Prushka squeezes your hand, brief but energetic, as if she's been worried you might fall off. All faculty for language fails, so you just squeeze her firmly back. Aren't we masculine today? Maybe you should buy a coat, champ. You could drape it over a puddle, slugger. You could be a nine stone John Wayne in a ten gallon hoody.

Still, it's not like you've actually seen anyone. There was a lizard walking his dog a few blocks back and whatever the hell was going on by the Barovian, but that's it. Nobody wants to be out in this if they're not drinking (or exploding, you guess), and anyone who's drinking won't be going home for hours yet. You've had the streets all to yourselves.

So when something clacks loudly against the concrete directly behind you, echoing between the tenements, something like a supersonic Cuban heel, it's to your credit that you manage not to have a heart attack. The squeal jams somewhere in your throat. Your body locks mid-step, just for a heartbeat, something spinal, involuntary, lizard brain half plugged in, waiting for the signal to go.

"Leonardo Watch," it says. He says. It's not a question.

You catch the briefest blur as you swivel on your heels and Sonic explodes away from your shoulder, flashes of an aura, implicit in the shade the vaguest sense of teeth enmeshing and ratchets catching, and then before your brain can make the sense of it it simply is not there. You're looking down an empty alley and Prushka is gone from your hand.

You find her crumpled in a heap against the wall.

She's breathing. There is cold logic here, cutting through the indescribable, observation too urgent to accommodate compassion. There's no blood, no bruising yet that you can see. She's definitely breathing. Ergo, so forth, if-then-so. She's alive, you idiot. It is recommended that you stop experiencing paralysis.

Sonic stares at you trembling from the top of someone's air con, eyes like big wet squash balls. You become aware of an impeccable manicure resting on your vacant shoulder, a pulsing blood-red aura washing through you, and attached to both a pale-skinned hand. The pressure is indescribable. He could drive into you like a pickaxe into topsoil. Long before the thought can penetrate your mind, you know precisely what it is you're looking at.

"Be calm, Leo," says the vampire. That isn't Shipspeak, it's English. He speaks in cold enunciated baritone and says your name like he's Italian. "Be good. It's important to me that I'm not seen."

Prushka's nose squeaks every time she breathes, like a broken foot pump. You make heroic efforts.

"I'm told that you have special eyes," he says. There's a bangle dangling limply around his wrist. "I'm told that they've seen Greed. What exactly did they see, Leonardo Watch?"

Edited by OG-Sama on Mar 3rd 2023 at 8:51:33 PM

Zone 5, Alleyway of A Lot of People I Don't Know; Dr. Nathan Grey

I began to respond to the blue robed healer. "Well I-"

Then there was all that black stuff coming out of the subject like a blood bag hit with shotgun shells.

Shortly afterward, an enigmatic fellow in a cloak showed up and went on some kind of recruitment pitch for this United Front thing.

One of the other people about looked at me in shock for a moment. Why did they do that? Do they think I'm with this creep?

Anyway, so everyone made various speeches to the guy, refuting him. Amaterasu's was actually somewhat short, actually, compared to the other speeches given.

And some stern fellow popped out of nowhere and gave an brief biography of that kid for some reason, what?

Anyway. Guess it's my turn to speak.

"..."

I have no idea what to say.

...wing it.

"Fuck you. Fuck your organization. Fuck your... let me start over, didn't do that right."

Okay, pause to think of a starter.

Uh... talk about my life? Eh, I guess that'll work.

"My sister fed me our parents when I was 10."

Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope, bad choice, bad choice! Try again. Say anything else.

"...Uh, I mean... uh... tuberculosis."

Okay, now they're all looking at me. Respond, respond!

"Look, you try coming up with speeches on the fly like... that, oh wait, you did."

...Just try to save face.

"...look, a child!" I pointed in a random direction.

Then I ran in the complete opposite direction.

Then I tripped over a spine on the ground.

...ow.

"This is all your fault, front man. I hate you."

Zone 5, streets aka can anyone ask how to get to Sesame Street without tripping? ~ Kiel

The speeches everyone made always refuted the cloaked person. Some are short while others have a brief bio of the boy, but the speeches have one thing in common; they refuted the cloaked person. While my speech towards them also refuted as well, my speech was...not good in my opinion? Honestly, I don't want to know what the cloaked person thinks of me.

And then the doctor decided to make a speech as well. However, it's more of a...failed attempt. Or, just making a fool of himself? I don't know; I just met the guy. For some odd reason though, the doctor reminds me of Doug from back home. I guess that was enough to cheer me up a little. Sure, the doctor has made a botched speech and all, but from what I get is that he refuted the cloaked person as well.

Wait, there's another child? Didn't the lady say she has one child? As it turn out, the doctor was trying to run away after he made a botched speech and try to distract us. But, he tripped on something and got himself hurt in the process. "You okay there, Doctor person?" I asked.

Now, I know the cloaked person could be a bigger threat and all, but if the cloaked person doesn't attack at any moment, might as well do something. So, against what others say about this, I ended up walking over to the doctor and helping him get up. The others have the right to ignore him, but for me, I'm just too nice to everyone. "Here, let me help get yourself up from the ground. Oh, and if you have any injuries, let me know so I can heal them."

Zone 5 - Streets, Maggie

As the doctor has what appears to be some sort of episode before tripping and falling, I suddenly feel quite bad. My suspicion that something was off about them technically turned out to be true - he’s probably suffering from schizophrenic delusions, judging by that outlandish comment he made about eating his parents - but the reality is that most mentally ill people are far more of a danger to themselves than they are to others. I have to imagine that living in Concordia with his condition has been highly traumatic, and has only exacerbated whatever struggles he has. To not feel sympathetic at this point would be nothing short of heartless.

I nearly go to help him up to his feet, but Kiel beats me to it. I do not know what else to do for this man. This seems well beyond what I’m capable of helping with, frankly.

Then someone jumps off a roof and lands next to everyone else. Who is this? Why did they show up here? Are they dangerous?

I shouldn’t be this ready to accuse everyone of some sort of wrongdoing, but my brain has really been scrambled lately.

Mom has been… simultaneously despondent, enraged, and humiliated over and over again lately. It reached a particular fever pitch today, when she fumbled her attempt at the factory opening. And she had only gotten involved with Brand in the first place because she thought that if she didn’t, he was going to… I don’t even know. She doesn’t want to talk about it, but she clearly believes he is capable of much more terrible things than just taking her money. He will regret ever speaking to her once she comes back to her senses.

After that, because of course it didn’t stop there, Dio and Mercer showed up and pissed her off some more. At this point, I don’t even care what people have to say about my mother or how much she deserves this. This is just meaningless cruelty against an already emotionally distraught woman, and for what? What is being gained here? I want to bash Dio’s face into the pavement.

I consider using magic to unmask our mysterious newcomer to see if they’re disguising themselves or something, but I’m genuinely not sure I want to know. If he really is a more nefarious character, this just isn't the goddamn time to deal with him right now. And even besides that, he’s already kind of grating on me by acting like we’re - which of us I honestly don’t know in this situation - naive when I don’t even know who this guy is or what he does for this city. Also why is he quoting a communist that was from well before my time? I’m not even sure what this guy believes right now.

Whatever, it doesn’t matter. I ignore him. He’s not the reason I’m here.

I then shift my focus back to Joshua again. What exactly can I do to help in this situation?

It doesn’t feel like much frankly.

But actually… that’s not entirely true is it? It's true I cannot magically destroy the Diet or capitalism, but I can offer a helping hand.

“Before you go…” I addressed him.

I take out a considerable amount of money..

“I’m going to give this to your mother, because it really sounds like she needs a break. I know how you probably feel about her at the moment. But regardless of whether they hold opinions we disagree with, people deserve to not have to struggle like they do.”

After some consideration, I handed him a bit of money as well.

“I don’t know if you’re going to return to your mother or not, but… frankly, it seems like you need a break after today, too.”

I wonder if I’m being condescending, because this whole interaction feels incredibly awkward in a way that makes my skin crawl. But I want to do good. And you cannot achieve anything good by just standing around, thinking, and doing nothing as I would otherwise be doing right now.

Edited by HilarityEnsues on Mar 6th 2023 at 10:05:03 AM

Zone Five, Alleyway

The history of one Celeritas cercopithecidae, known more commonly as the sonic speed monkey, known more commonly as "Fuckin' rat stole my food", is something of a mystery outside of Beyondian zoological circles. A particular point of interest is the species' classification as urban wildlife; what was their native habitat, if they had one at all, and how long did it take them to evolve the biological necessities to survive in a city environment? Most notably, an enlarged cranium and orbits to evoke feelings of sympathy and mercy in sapient species, and enhanced mental faculties to encourance cognisance of sapient behaviors.

None of this matters to you, because your mental faculties are not so enhanced that you can claim to care much for scholarly pursuits. Sure, you can understand human languages if you try, but you tend to get lost in anything more complex than "Run", "It's okay, I won't shoot you", or "Mitochrondia is the powerhouse of the cell".

You don't understand what the beast is saying, but you understand that it can move faster than your already-impossible speed, and that its eyes and nails and smile glisten with power, and you understand, most importantly of all, that it frightens you.

Leo is also frightened. You are capable of pattern recognition but you weren't there when a god reached out his hand to the mortal and demanded that he choose. You weren't there to see how his knees knocked and his teeth rattled and his hands grew numb from fear on a scale too cosmic for your developed mental faculties to even imagine. As such, you miss the nuance of his clenched fists and pursed mouth.

(The knees, however, still shake.)

"You couldn't have just asked me like a normal person would, asshole?" he hisses. You recognise this behavior from the cats in the neighborhood who would puff out their fur when a creature five times their size encroached on them. You don't understand why Leo emulates them, especially given the palpable stench of his terror. It usually just gets him in more trouble.

His attention flickers to Prushka, unconscious against the wall. You know she's unconscious because her eyes are closed and her mouth is moving - Leo is the same, but you've known him long enough to spot the movement beneath his eyelids and the subtle cricks of his neck. You can recognise patterns, and you were at the hotel, but you aren't in Leo's head and thus you don't know that he looks at Prushka and he sees the invisible blade held to his sister's neck.

You do know that this is usually when he takes out his square and taps it a lot and that tells Klaus to come and save them from the threat, but you haven't seen Klaus in a long time, which is concerning to you as a creature that quite fancies survival.

(If you were the subject of the beast's scrutiny then you would run. If running didn't work then you would let the beast eat you and hope your misshapen skull lodged itself in its neck and choked it to death.)

"I saw Greed at Brand's place." Leo continues. His posturing has already petered out, as it always does, which is why it confuses you when he tries it. "I saw he was burnt half to death. And... I saw that he's not human. He's like a ton of different souls stitched together by some red rock in his chest. It almost... I dunno, I saw him a week or two before that, it looked like he had less of them when he was dropped in. A lot less souls."

You don't understand any of these words.

"Any of that what you're looking for?" Leo's voice is as weak as your stomach after being emptied of all content, but his eyebrows stitch together as he glares up, up at the beast. This action also confuses you, because what use is glaring when your eyes aren't open?

All this thinking hurts what little brain you have. You focus instead on your hind legs, primed to shoot you out of the alley at mach speed the instant that you sense more violence. You are a caring, loyal friend, and you are a marvel of evolution that will always discard what's needed to survive.

It's okay. Leo doesn't hold it against you when you run, because he's a coward too.

Zone Five - Another Place, Another Time

You knew you had plenty of time. The "moon" had flicked out, however, and thus you were forced to check your watch to be certain. Just a few streets further awaited the agreed-upon meeting place. A modest bar, just seedy enough and just busy enough that nobody could keep track of every soul that entered or left, the music just loud enough that nobody outside the private rooms could possibly overhear. There was much to discuss, and none of it could be allowed to reach the wrong ears.

You felt it the moment you entered the alley, like a chill wind blowing clean through you, raising goosebumps up your spine. With no moon and the streetlights gone to Eggman's final insult it was dark even without the fog settling in, but you no longer needed eyes to see. You knew this instinct intimately.

Sometimes you wondered if you'd ever forget.

"Dio Brando," you said.

"Guardian Witch," said Dio Brando. You could just about make out his silhouette, leant against a ventilator at the far end of the murk. "You're early. That's good. I don't intend to delay you."

You spread your senses out to the surrounding area, starting with a pulse at your feet. He was indeed alone, not that he needed help in making a statement. He knew where to wait; That was enough.

"So it's true, then. You are batting for her." You sighed. He had been careful for years, only to suddenly begin to act more openly. It couldn't mean anything good. "What do you want?"

"I want what you want," he said. "Greed is still alive. I want to remove a dangerous man."

You hmph'd and folded your arms across your chest. "Of course he is. His former associates are still squirming, trying to find and silence him before someone else can get their hands on him and pry the secrets from his flesh. I want to see them continue to squirm. Don't tell me you're not interested in learning precisely how deep his rot spread?"

"Not especially," he said. You could hear the smile. It was hideously grating in spite of its suaveness. "Greed would tell you nothing his men and Kiryuin haven't already. It's not his rot you're after. Theophilus will simply find another patron."

You narrowed your eyes. That name; Theophilus. Former Guardian Theophilus Houraisan. The Peacekeeper General kicking in the door of one of his own officers was certain not to go unnoticed. Word spread quickly, but how much was rumor and how much was knowledge? Your limited experience with Brando told you he was smart enough to be dangerous outside of arm's reach, but beyond that you couldn't say. You were, regrettably, dealing with someone who knew more of you than you did of them.

"He won't have a choice but to," you replied. "But surely you didn't come here to speak of hypotheticals. If someone had the means and knowledge to dispose of Greed, they would've already done so. So tell me, which is it that you are lacking and you think I possess? And why would I aid you?"

"His present location," he said. "You don't have it, but you will. I've a friend who enjoys reading police reports, but he can be very eccentric. By definition, you will find out before he does. You have an interest he lacks."

"Do I?"

"You do. You'll aid me because it will remove the greatest current danger to the woman you are about to meet, and because Greed has done nothing but disgust you. Am I wrong?"

"You..." Anger was getting the better of you. Stopping yourself before going any further, you tilted your head to one side and rolled your neck, then uncrossed your arms and hooked your thumbs through your belt webbing.

"So I help you find him and you make him disappear. You get rid of a threat to her and the rest of the Zone for the low, low price of silence. Have I got that right? What assurance do I have that you won't simply make this an even worse political incident than it already is?"

He chuckled twice, rich and strangely cold. You hated that sound.

"Do I strike you as incautious?" he said. "Dead men tell no tales, Guardian Witch. That has always been the logic of this city. What exactly would I stand to gain from making this a public affair?"

You clenched your jaw ever so slightly as you stared back at him. You were running out of time. You had failed to secure cause to investigate personally without drawing unwanted attention, and soon the Diet's interest would come down upon Darien Brand. In all likelihood Greed would be executed upon discovery, but you couldn't leave something like that up to chance. If you couldn't ensure he arrived into your custody, then perhaps you needed to make sure he didn't fall into anyone else's.

"Then dive into the maw of the capitalist. I understand you were present for his grand declaration this morning. His stench permeates the walls."

"The capitalist," he said. You could see his teeth glinting through the fog. "You really are a relic, aren't you? Thank you, Guardian Witch. This will proceed as we've discussed. I won't keep you any further."

He pushed away from the wall, and for an instant, from this close, you could see the measure of his soul. Something coiled tightly within your chest. Not just anger or fear or disgust, but something entirely more familiar, infuriatingly so.

You knew this.

"Were you always like this?" you replied as he started to leave. "Or was it not until after you tasted power that you chose to don the most monstrous mask that man has yet forged?"

The silhouette stopped and turned to study you, remote and cold, like a passing fancy with something pinned to a board of butterflies.

"The world is led by monstrosity, Guardian Witch," he said, eventually. "I think you know this very well. You said yes, didn't you?"

"If man has mastered anything in their short history," you said, "it is the ability to make concessions and claim them a necessity of circumstance. I am not fool enough to pretend I can manage everything myself."

"And there it is," he said. Eventually, you were sure, he would stop smiling. "When I raise this axe, I wish the sinner eternal life. Mask or not, you want the man dead. I'm sure you know the correct benedictions."

"I am familiar with the inscription. I knew its owner. I wielded that blade, once. Whoever sheds the blood of man, by man shall his blood be shed, for God made man in his own image."

"Yes, like that. Perhaps you should consider this nostalgic. It wouldn't be hard to convince the Diet to try his corpse."

"Perhaps. The Church was as fond of its show trials as the Diet, perhaps even more so. It would be just as much a waste of time. Monsters learned to call themselves man and proclaimed it enlightenment. They concern themselves only with control, all else is performance." You had enough experience to spot the viper in the flowerbed. There was a reason your kind were feared. The only difference was this one uniquely possessed the strength to enact his will. None of the men you'd met before could punch through steel.

"And you've tired of performing," he said. "Is that it?"

You clenched your fist tight. "Of fucking course I have, I was fucking born into it. I'd rather fuck a shotgun than go back. I sought my own path through force, and I nearly succeeded. I had a mountain of skulls and rivers of blood at my feet, and I could've toppled the empire if I kept pushing. But I was a fool, thought I could escape and live a quiet life hidden away in the mountains."

"And people like us don't get to live quiet and stay hidden, do we? Sooner or later, the world finds you again. Once swung, the blade does not stop until it breaks."

There was a pause as he regarded you again with crimson pinpricks, and you realized as the echoes left the alleyway just how close it was you'd come to shouting.

"People like us," he said. You didn't need to hear the finished thought; his tone said everything you could have required. "Keep ahold of that, Guardian Witch. Keep it close at hand. It won't be long before you'll find it is required of you. I think this honesty suits you very well."

He moved again, and this time you let him pass. There was nothing more to say. Not here, not now, not to him. And you still had an appointment to keep. Once he passed, you flipped open your pocketwatch again. You still had time.

It was then you noticed your hand was shaking. You had been forced to face down one more tiger than anticipated, and it wore you thin. You took a deep breath as the watch found its pocket, and began moving again.

There would be time for further rumination upon leaving the den of the tiger you still sought to court.

Leonardo Watch - Zone Five - Alleyway; The Present

Through your eyelids and the crimson haze you glimpse the shape of something cruel and regal looming in the air above you both, frowning with remote disdain, and then the manicure clamps firm across your eyes and you see only the inner workings of his hand. He pulls you into his bosom as if he's comforting a child, baring your throat to the world. You pick frantically at his fingers, body gone before your brain could stop it, but it's useless. You might as well pick at the teeth of a bear trap.

He's warm, is the awful thing. Somehow he's as warm as any other human being. His aura roils and pulses, but there is no heartbeat in his chest. There's a soft metallic thud as Sonic collides with something on his way out of the alleyway, hands and feet skittering on the walls, and then you're alone.

"That's exactly what I was looking for," he purrs, and his chin strokes the hair at the crown of your head. "I'm very grateful, Leo. There's one last thing I need from you, and then we will be finished. How does that sound?"

Whatever you're thinking, you don't have time to finish it. The aura convulses and there's the ratchets catching teeth again, a tension overwhelming and mechanical, and then there's nothing at all.

Witch - Zone Five - Inconspicuous Back-alley Bar

Finally, after many distractions and delays, the appointed time had nearly arrived. You were early, the first one to arrive. You knew this because none of the faces in the bar stood out. The booth was empty, and positioned close to the rear exit, as promised. After ordering a drink, you carefully palmed a tiny package to the bartender and left the counter. Nobody here would recognize you as you were, not that any of the clientele of this particular establishment would dare make a fuss over another patron. Everyone here kept their head down and their noses to themselves, because they knew what happened to those with loose lips.

You shut the heavy curtain behind you once you'd entered the booth, taking your seat against the back wall and setting your drink down. Two items found their way out of your pack and onto the table before you; A thick folder and a wand. This was all you required for this arrangement; One to get the point across, and the other to protect you both. Both light enough to quickly snatch up on your way out should the meeting be interrupted. But with the chaos that was about to sweep the Zone, that seemed especially unlikely.

Finally, you felt a familiar presence from beyond the curtain. You leaned forward to rest your arms on the table. A familiar face pushed through; She was without her bodyguard, again, but this time she was armed.

"You're here," you said, stern expression lingering still. "Good." Her arrival had eased your nerves to a degree, but it was of utmost importance that you convinced your opponent of the quality of your hand both before and after you played it. There wouldn't be a second chance to make such an impression.

You motioned to the wand before you. "Before we begin, I would grant us some additional privacy, if you'll allow it." By now she had a good idea of how you operated. But this was not to be a secret bought with blood, nor the outcome a foregone conclusion. You were not here to coerce, but to persuade.

Edited by lynkzero13 on Mar 9th 2023 at 8:56:57 AM

Satsuki - Zone Five - Inconspicuous Back-alley Bar

Satsuki stepped into the bar, sizing up the clientele with a practised sweep of her gaze. She’d left her usual escort of militiamen and intangible Servant behind for this outing. Witch had her penchant for secret meetings, and after her tip-off about Greed, her contributions to the war, Satsuki thought she’d earned the benefit of the doubt.

If she wasn’t careful, Rider was going to start taking this personally. It served her right, losing track of Asuka…

Suppressing the sigh that welled up at that thought, she slipped into the booth, leaning her sword against the table and folding her hands in front of her, fixing the Guardian opposite her with a level stare and a nod.

“Very well, proceed.”

Satsuki watched as Witch reached for the wand on the table, tilting her head slightly to follow the spell’s progress – a smoky translucent bubble expanding out until it contained the table and booth. A privacy spell, a secret meeting, a backwater speak-easy. Witch had spared no expense. What had she called her for, that required such caution?

The answer slid towards her. An innocuous cardboard folder, thick with papers. Satsuki gave Witch one more glance, then reached across to flip to the first page – and her eyebrows twitched in surprise.

A peacekeeper report. Penned by Witch herself, addressed to Diet internal affairs. Treasonously free of the censor’s pen.

She leaned forward, skimming the first few leaves, brows furrowing. In the wake of the gang war, Witch had probed Greed’s influence within Concordia’s establishment – and found a cancerous network of corruption and intimidation. This much Satsuki already knew, her own spies had handed her the lists of names and deeds, but the true scale of it…

Hundreds of peacekeepers. Thirty-two Diet members.

Satsuki closed the folder and leaned back, letting out a slow breath as she collected herself, catalogued the feelings welling up in her heart. Vindication. A familiar outrage. And over it all, a growing question.

“This is a powerful card to simply give away. What is it you want?”

Witch - Zone Five - Inconspicuous Back-alley Bar

For a mercy, you got exactly what you were expecting, exactly what you wanted. Her reaction said everything her words hadn't. You held the advantage; This wasn't your first time playing this game, but it was undoubtedly the most dangerous. Parley with political rivals and enemies was a crucial component of your service in the war, but critically it was much, much easier to pull the wool over a mark's eyes when you didn't live in the same ten square miles as them. Deception in Concordia rarely allowed more freedom than enough to slip a blade in someone's ribs and wipe out their underlings. You yet had no desire to cut her life short so.

And thus, you'd resorted to something so brutally direct that it could not be ignored, that there could be no doubt of your motivations. All such prior conversations had been incredibly risky, but this was by far the most. You were running out of options. You would either strike first, or not at all, and thus you chose the former.

She asked what you wanted, and for the briefest of seconds, many answers swam in your head. A future. A home. Help. Motivation. Belonging. Companionship. To taste beer again, to feel the sun again. These things and many more, all of them you wanted. But they were not your answer. You were running out of time.

You leaned back into the booth again and crossed your arms.

"I want your help fixing this fucking city. I wish to propose an alliance. Name your terms."

Maia - Zone Two; Underneath the Imperial Char Siew Roast Duck Restaurant

Torture rarely results in actionable intelligence. This is one of those things that Maia knew without having needed to be taught, like how to interpret a Hume count fluctuation or how to operate a light machine gun.

She had said as much to Councillor Cuan when she had entered his safehouse for the first time. He had assured her that wholesale torture was not on the agenda for this interrogation. Watching him use his magic to cause the Concordanite pain, she was beginning to suspect that she and the Counsellor operated on different definitions of the word ‘incentivise’.

The man’s screams were discordant and alarming. Maia had caused other beings to suffer before, but only when the tactical situation necessitated it. Was this moment necessary? What if it really did make the concordanite more compliant?

What if it had been Prushka screaming instead? Maia could not think of anything that would make that necessary.

She didn’t like this thought process, and she did not have time to explore the discomfort. The non-specific urgency she had been experiencing all week was spiking higher with each word the man spoke.

She had never felt so close to the answers she needed. It wouldn’t take much, just a few data points. Enough for her decryption programs to find purchase. Pattern recognition systems groping more input. Random flash-decodes from deep storage pinged her every time she thought about it. Memories. Too fragmented to use. Too clear to ignore.

1 051 219 hours and counting.

… take the Last Watch …

>>> Warning: Command channel handshake compromised.<<<

Mouths.

Biological infiltrates

The mouths.

It was exciting. It was intolerable. She could hardly think. Analysis paralysis. She knew the signs. She’d fallen into this trap before. After Father had reactivated her.

Break the cycle, like he taught her. Compartmentalize. Refocus. Back-burner everything but the essentials.

Maia focused her attention outward again, back to the Concordanite, stepping in as Myn stepped aside, getting down on one knee to be closer to the man’s eye view.

“Please describe what you saw regarding the other women like me.”

"They... they looked just like you. Different colours, different hair and some were... naked, but their faces were just the same. As yours."

Sisters.

She had sisters. Before Prushka. That was right.

It was also wrong. Forbidden, somehow. But the thought still… resonated.

The concordanite had a different reaction. He shuts his eyes, as if he didn’t want to remember. Maia gave him a moment before pressing on.

“What do you know about the Last Watch?”

"How would I know anything about that? That's just what they said! You're the one who's supposed to know, you tell me!"

His voice took on a pleading note. Out of the corner of her eye, Maia noticed Councillor Cuan’s lip curling slightly. Disgust reaction.

She was supposed to know. The other androids. Her sisters. They had said the words.

She had said the words. She remembered saying them. We are the last watch. They shall be purged.

She hadn’t said them. Something had said them. Through her.

An alarm without obvious cause lit up inside Maia’s mind. Another urgency. She leaned forward and placed a hand on the prisoner’s shoulder. Tighter than she meant to. She saw him flinch back. She continued anyway.

“’Let it be sorrow; let him love it; let him pursue it.’” She let the words hang in the air for a moment, seeing recognition light up in his eyes. “What does that mean?”

"I-"

The Concordanite freezes suddenly. He shakes his head, wincing, as if trying to get blood from his ears. He puts his head in his hands, then speaks at last in a quiet voice.

"You're asking the wrong person," he says. "I don't ask you what your dreams mean. I don't think you even have them."

That wasn’t right. She did have dreams. Dreams she could never remember.

Because dreams were forbidden. Dreams were superfluous to her function. Superfluous to the Watch.

She had only just started to dream when it happened…

The prisoner whimpered, and Maia released his shoulder, letting her arm fall.

He had barely answered her questions. Maybe he had still given her enough of a nudge. Or maybe her decoders had finally found the right combination by chance. Because, slowly at first, parts of her mind she had never accessed were lighting up.

She couldn’t remember everything. But for the first time in years, she remembered.

Getting to her feet, the android turned to face the Councillor, amber eyes flickering in the dim basement as new constellations of data unfurled in her mind.

“We were the Last Watch. We were the Crew. And something terrible happened to us.”

Zone Five, Dusk

It's a small mercy that most are asleep and the area of effect is only a block wide; nevertheless, its effect is not entirely unfelt. A flock of birds take to the now limitless sky and crash their hollow bones against the roof they should've known was there. A gutter creature foams at the mouth and collapses in a shuddering heap. A woman screams as her empty apartment is suddenly too full for her to comprehend, only to blink and find it vacant once more. Two friends slugging through a pub crawl fall to the ground and empty their stomachs of content.

There is a rhythm and a reason, but the Ship is but a far-distant speck to the conductor. The breach of contract is macrocosmically insignificant - any who suffer the penalty do so for but a brief moment, and most shrug it off as a strange quirk of the Coherence. Of those that remain, only one can even begin to parse the cause and effect. After all, they are the former.

Thump. A body slumps to the ground.

Zone Five, Dawn

This was not his first time waking up in an alleyway.

(Not gonna be the last, either. Up and at 'em Leo, gotta check all the pockets and hidey-holes and count up how much got taken)

One by one, the familiar sensations returned. The rock hardness of the ground and unsavoury taste of gravel against his lips. The chill that had steadily seeped in throughout the night and now rested uncomfortably under the skin. The twang of his neck, knee, and shoulder blade from where they'd been just slightly bent for too long. And, as always, the vaguely-definable buzz of Hey, This Is An Unordinary Situation.

Phillip Lenore is a proud member of the Reinharz Family Special Butler Corps, trained extensively in combat, manners, and personal assistance. You know most of this from his self-introduction. On the same day that you toured him around the city, Phillip had his brain torn out through his left eye socket.

He groaned and retracted all limbs into a foetal position that was only slightly less painful to deal with. With consciousness came a slow, painful pounding of the skull, a disgusting sourness that lined his throat, and a nauseating sense of unbalance, like the entire world was a swaying ship.

(That's what people in the biz call "a hangover")

With each beat of the migraine drum came another wave of unconscious thought, instincts and imperatives clicking into place while the conscious was still rising from slumber. He knew that Prushka was here. He knew that "here" was not home. He knew that a robbery was the least of his problems.

Phillip was fine - you all made a field day of tracking down his brain and lodging it back up where it belonged, but its one of those things that manage to give you pause even with the amount of crazy that comes in your line of work. Can you even imagine, what it's like to walk around without a brain?

With effort he managed to struggle up onto his hands and knees. He hacked and spit, dispelling the worst of the sourness. His head seemed to clear a little as a reward, offering him more tactile knowledge: a second wicked pain in his skull; a bruising pang along his leg like it'd taken a fall; rapid tugging on his sleeve by some caterwauling demon.

(Did you know that speed monkeys can make almost eighty different sounds? One time Sonic managed 36 of them when he tripped into the river)

"Quiet down," he tried his best to say. He raised a hand to rub his forehead.

How long, do you think, did it take Phillip to wake up and realise that his internal organs were not quite as internal as they should've been?

Shaking wasn't usually a hangover symptom, but he couldn't get his hand to stop. How strange. Even despite the overnight chill, he could feel the modulated warmth of the Ship as it accompanied the rising "sun".

Awfully dark for dawn, though.

How long has it been since you could see the dark?

Maybe the strangest part is that it wasn't the dread that bubbled up first, but a peal of laughter. It hurt his tender throat and came out more like a wheeze, but still he felt the untethered mania that came with disbelief. Really, who could believe it? Jumped by a vampire that came with tooth and claw and left with-

His hand still hovered. With herculean effort he brought it close, his laughter losing all merriment and delusion and breath, revulsion flooding his stomach at a half-formed memory of invasion.

(It was gonna happen eventually)

He pressed his fingertips against his eyelids, and they caved into empty sockets, and Leo screamed.

There was no grand procession this time.

Kaguya seemed to only ever move in secrecy, wearing plainclothes, a mask, glasses, whatever it took to keep the instantly recognizable icon that she was from the eyes of others - or in a way that could’ve only been devised to bring a great boost to the self-importance of kings, a line of retainers, palanquin bearers, and souls who had little other job than to orate the name of their originator in the grandiose tones of their voices. A woman of extremes, one could say.

This time, it was simple. A single carriage, a horse, a driver, one girl at her side who looked far less impressive than the woman beside her, and nothing more than that. No offerings, no expert calligraphy emblazoned onto red-poled signs. For once, it seemed, the Houraisan ego had been whisked away in the wind, carried off to the great well of opulence that Kaguya resided in and stored there as one puts away simple groceries in the shelf. If anyone would comment on this seeming strangeness, it was simple: Concordia is in turmoil. Could she spare such expenses when her people suffer?

Perhaps that was too telling. ‘Her’ people. Not ‘ours’.

She would decide when the time came.

Under a painted sun, her carriage was left behind at the nearest path, bringing the dwarf-like retainer who gave a cryptic smile as she walked beneath the paper parasol that Kaguya carried on her shoulder. As ever, as always, as seemingly incapable of anything else, the Princess’ expression was one of serenity and contemplation. Exactly what you would expect from her as she entered into the presence of a God.

From the branches of the great cherry tree emanated the whistling notes of a flute. A sound Kaguya would find quite familiar. As she and her attendant approached, she’d be able to spot him, a flash of blond amidst pink blossoms.

Amaterasu herself sat on a cushion beneath the cover of the shrine. Three more had been set out as well, one next to her own with two across from them. All of equal size. Were it anyone else, that might have been an intentional choice to indicate that both parties were on equal footing, but Amaterasu was not a subtle enough being for such things.

Waka descended with inhuman grace, floating gently to earth, taking the cushion next to the white wolf for himself. All the while, the flute did not leave his lips. He paused only when Kaguya and her attendant reached the shrine, sliding the flute up his sleeve where it promptly vanished to who-knows-where.

“Hello, Kaguya-hime. I am grateful you could take time to meet with us. It has been too long since we’ve had tea.” Amaterasu greeted. Indeed, a tea set had been laid out, with three cups and a wider saucer for the goddess with no opposable thumbs.

“Indeed. We find ourselves in interesting times, ma belle lune.” Waka flipped his hair out of his face and sparkled. He was one of the few with beauty to match the moon princess, and he knew it. “Amaterasu and I thought it prudent to catch up.”

He took the teapot in hand and began to pour. He started with Amaterasu’s saucer, of course, and although the look on his face is utterly casual, he somehow conveyed smugness through the motion.

“How have you been, my child?” Amaterasu opened the meeting with genuine concern. “I have heard the Diet is struggling with the increasing discord in the city. I know you need not fear physical harm, but I should hope you and your children are doing well.”

Kaguya offered a calm bow to the god of the sun once addressed, a deep and slow one that showed the requisite respect of one of her stature. Beyond those rare few times when Kaguya was just drunk enough to let the tight grip she held on her character loose - never offensive or aggressive, but one could get the impression that she is not one who follows that impressive sun. It never seemed to come up, though. To Waka, a bow of similar respect, though a more genuine smile. Unlike some not present here, relations had not soured between the two children of the Moon. Some might say those relations still lived and breathed, but that was the talk of tabloids - not fitting of the meeting of such important folk.

Greetings out of the way, she quietly set down on her knees before them - and her retainer joined behind a few feet behind her with a more audible ‘flump’ emitted.

“In truth, can it be said that I ever suffer, Amaterasu?” She took the cup of fine alcohol and raised it with both hands. “I am blessed among all of Concordia’s fortunate. I do not experience pain that I choose not to receive - even the shining stars of the city have their hardships unbidden and undesired. My peace is eternal…until I desire otherwise.”

She took a long drink.

“But it is, of course, foolish to suggest that our city’s condition has not given me unease in the current day. It has experienced hardship many times prior, but I feel as if there are few examples of…shall we say, converging issues in this fashion. Concordia is a risen tree without compare, a beautiful cherry that waxes and wanes much like the Sun in our presence…but illness strikes, and someday, it may bloom its last. A long decline…”

She held her head low, her eyes half closed as she considered the gravity of this. What an image she had painted, one that almost seemed more threatening than the reality of it all!

“...and now, I desire to hear the opinions of both of you. What lay in your heart…Waka?” She turned to him, giving a smile that belied a forlorn hope that things may yet improve.

“The sun always rises again.” Waka replied, sipping at his own cup. “Whether it rises over a blossoming field or a smoldering ruin remains to be seen, but I’m praying for the former. Call me an optimist. For all its faults, there are good people in Concordia. You should try meeting some.”

Kaguya laughed at her beloved’s joke, naturally. It was the sound of a ringing bell in the ears of many, one light and dainty, well kept, rarely rang. “Oh, Waka, perhaps that’d chase away the clouds from this sun! Perhaps I shall…”

“Oh, hush.” Amaterasu scolded him, though she still smiled at his joke. “There is light in all people. I know the people of this city will endure. And I am resolved to help them, however I can. Too long I have been complacent. Too long, I have been blind to their suffering. No more.”

“Well said, ma cherie. I must agree.” Here Waka looked forlorn. He met Amaterasu’s eyes as the wolf lapped from her saucer. “Back home, I had the ear of the Emperor himself. When we found ourselves here, I had no desire to keep playing politics. I allowed years to pass me by in the way only the ageless can. I regret it deeply. Another for the pile, I suppose.”

Waka had told her, once, of the moon tribe from his homeworld. They’d been nearly exterminated, after stumbling upon a terrible demon. And Waka had thereafter fled, only to realize too late the demon stowed away on his ship, crash landing on Earth.

Even now, that guilt haunted him, written plain on his face. Only for a moment, until he twisted his expression into quiet resolve. “This place will not become another hell. Even if it means standing up to a few corrupt politicians. I’m sure you understand, Kaguya?”

With the course of conversation, Kaguya watched with growing intent. It would be unmistakable, the look on her face once she was asked that question: that sort of half-lidded look reminiscent of a sleepwalker combined with a smile much wider than her usual mask of politeness. This look signaled that someone had cut through, straight to the point. This woman’s life was built on being indirect and coy, so for someone to get to what she intended was a rare treat.

“Yes. I would understand. In fact…that is why I came here, I believe. Let it be known that you seem to always have a compass when navigating my weary heart, Waka.” She took another long sip, this time draining the bowl completely.

“We can speak all we want of our lives, and if you wish to leave serious discussion until later, so as to not spoil our drink, I will be glad to oblige. However, I believe…something must be done about that.”

“I had a hunch. Call it a prophet’s vision.” Ages of ignoring politics had not dulled Waka’s sharp senses. “You never did fit in with the authoritarian crowd, love. The moon may look cold and distant, but it can’t help but reflect the sun.”

Amaterasu perked up. “I knew you would understand, Kaguya-hime. You, more than anyone, must know what it is like to worry about your children.”

The goddess was utterly earnest, in the way only a mother can be. Waka did a funny sort of eyebrow quirk, and flicked his gaze over to the attendant, then back to Kaguya, awaiting her response. She held her head up, nodded, and then looked off to the side - her sleeve moved to cover her mouth.

“I do. My heart is weighed down with their plights, which they often come to share…”

Her voice was clear, and direct, and held a certain conviction in its charming notes.

“...but only recently have I realized that I have not spent much time listening to the plights of those outside of my family. Those not given the name Houraisan. And, in doing so, I have found that for every pain my own descendent may endure…the common man suffers threefold.”

“What if my own progeny are the authoritarian crowd?”

“The moon cannot help but reflect the sun.” Waka repeated. “And to a child, their sun is the one who shows them the way. Benkei is exactly as bright and fluffy as Amaterasu, these days. Twice as impulsive, too. Part of the reason I didn’t want him present here.”

“He is one of my strongest samurai. I’m sure you would be proud of him.” Amaterasu added. Waka ‘hmm’d into his cup, at that.

“If your progeny have fallen astray, then you should try and help them to the right path. And address what pushed them off course to begin with.” Waka reached over to Amaterasu as he said his next words, running a hand along her silken fur. She smiled up at him, leaning into his affections. “Perhaps some hearts might be unreachable, but I find people are more open to change than they give themselves credit for.”

Kaguya’s eyes grow downcast in comparison to the bright demeanor of Waka. Her sleeve seems firmly glued to her hand, and she lowers her tone. “Benkei is not the problem. Ones like my dutiful Warewa,” the retainer in the back who bowed as she was mentioned, “they are not the problem. The few who have taken the gift of the Estate, a magnificent place of no hardship…of the family name, the support of their brothers and sisters…and not let it take over them. Not let them grow soft and reliant, and lordly..”

She took a deep sigh that seemed performed rather than genuine. Knowing Kaguya, this was intentionally meant to be noticed. “Amaterasu, Sun to my Moon. Among your children, the Gods of our chosen homeland, were there not those who had less of your favor than others? Those who did wrong by you and by humankind.”

“Susanoo took time to find his way. As did Oki and Issun.” Amaterasu reflected, gazing off into the distance. “Susanoo unwittingly unsealed a great evil. Issun fled his home to become a wandering lech. Oki stole a sacred sword.”

She turned to face Kaguya. “But each of them became heroes, in the end. Each of them conquered their demons, and saved those lives they put in danger. That is why I do not think less of my children for their failures. Not so long as they are willing to try again.”

“Who wouldn’t be with you around, ma cherie?” Waka smiled, and scratched her behind the ears. “If you really do think any of your own children have slipped too far, you can always send them our way. A week at a soup kitchen does wonders for one’s perspective on society.”

It wasn’t unthinkable. While Benkei was the most prominent, there were several other Houraisan descendants who lived in Amaterasu’s little haven. Unlike the central Zones, out here they were not nobility in any sense. Prettier than average, perhaps, but they shared a bunk in the hostels just like everyone else.

There were those who fell more under Kaguya’s grace and lay outside the government, naturally. Some sat out the world at the edge of civilization, some tried to live as normal people in normal houses and normal work with nothing to their names beyond a decade or two of life and a spark of charisma to their names. But this wasn’t about them.

“I believe there are those who wouldn’t want to, indeed. Some of my children do not look at this life of theirs and understand contentment, or gratitude toward their elders. They are people of ill-conscience that nevertheless do not lose a moment’s sleep over whatever they do. There are many of them.”

She lowered her sleeve. She was not smiling anymore, nor pensive. “I believe I have heard the lessers’ words well enough now - the people who say that change must occur within an instant…in their scale of time. Not ours, where months, years, pass by between a night’s sleep. How fast can your soup kitchens and your idle fields change a man? Break a man?”

Waka considered this. Amaterasu seemed slightly concerned at the phrase ‘break a man’, but he didn’t so much as blink. “Changes of heart don’t happen overnight, but I can at least drill into them what they’re doing wrong, and what might happen to them if they continue down the wrong path.”

Here he put a fist to his chin, gazing intently at his fellow Lunarian. “I’m not blind. I foresee violence in the city’s future, and as many of our kin are in the upper echelons of society, I know that they may become targets of those who cry for revolution. But I like to think we can steer things down a better path.”

“I wish we did not need to consider such things.” Amaterasu’s voice was almost a whimper. “I wish only that my children could find peace. I will save as many as I can. I only ask that you do the same, Kaguya-hime.”

“I seek peace.”

There, in that emphasis, would be found the ultimate point of splitting between the two of them. They did not need to speak any further on the topic if need be, for Kaguya’s hint of annoyance, and reservation toward the inevitable, had laid out her entire viewpoint. She would find it herself.

“There are few of them, Amaterasu-no-Okami. Their ranks are made of just a few souls, the ones who lie in the control of the Diet, who have held its power for decades. And, ultimately?” She holds up her sleeve over her heart. “It is only by my mistake that this ever came to pass. The City was young, nascent and barely molded at the time - I chose to have my children sit beside me. And, now, they represent the immovable root of the tree that hangs over our people, our children, blocking out the Sun and the Moon. I think, Amaterasu…Waka. That the impetus to correct this falls upon me.”

The great goddess was silent. Her eyes still held sadness, and she could only gaze at the floor. Waka met Kaguya’s firm eyes with his own.

“I doubt we’ll be able to change your mind.” He said, calm as ever. “But tell me this: what makes you so certain you’re not one of those roots? What makes you any different?”

That made Amaterasu look up. The directness of the question was unlike him. It reminded her of how he’d berated Issun.

But then, those cutting words had made Issun realize his destiny.

So Amaterasu trusted her friend, and affixed Kaguya with her own determined look. She did not immediately answer, but she did not look around or show any conflict coming from within, feigned or otherwise. Her eyes drifted forward, past the two of them, and then briefly, up toward the false blue sky that was nothing more than a ceiling here.

“I am one of these roots. I know this.”

She leaned forward until her head was touching the ground, and she placed both of her bare hands upon the ground as she bowed deeply to both of them. Her black, glistening bangs draped across her face like a morbid curtain across a stage, and she took a deep breath as she performed it. A display of obeisance that had barely ever been seen not only in Concordia, but the Mausoleum, Gensokyo, the Moon itself! Her life was never one that even allowed for the act of bowing to be performed in the first place, as there were so few people that could be considered her equal, let alone her better. And now, here she was, bowing as low as she could for the two in front of her. Her retainer, stoic prior (if not grim, she seemed to be placidly smiling throughout all of this up until now), seemed somewhat troubled by the maneuver herself and briefly moved a hand to stop her before returning to her position.

“I ask that you believe me, however, that I want to fix the mistakes I’ve made, and that will require the removal of power of the Diet in its entirety.”

She paused.

“I can only hope that this process goes peacefully…but even the most hopeful would doubt such chances.”

“There is no need to bow. I believe you, my child.” Amaterasu said. When Kaguya looked up, she would see those black doggy eyes had greatly softened, looking upon the moon princess with motherly love. “In turn, I would ask that you believe in your children to fix their own mistakes.”

“Some violence might be unavoidable.” Waka admitted. He gave her a winning smile. “But it might not be. People can surprise you. If you let them.”

“I will let them,” she said, her head still pressed to the ground, “but it will be a choice I will present. It is not a matter of simply abiding as part of their power to let them change within a point between now and eternity. There is only one decree I need to make: Anyone who abdicates now and never attempts to regain power shall be granted full clemency, and the protection of myself. That is fair, Amaterasu,” she looked up at her and her calming eyes, “that is fair.”

Amaterasu blinked first, which seemed to be the signal for Waka to say something. “That would depend on what you mean by ‘power’.” From his expression, he was mulling the decree over in his head. “Satsuki Kiryuin doesn’t hold any office, but she has quite a bit of power, both soft and hard. That kind of thing is difficult to simply remove. Even Jengbish can’t stamp out all rebellion unto eternity, great warrior though he may be.”

“But you know that.” Amaterasu was more pensive about this. Something in Kaguya’s tone played on her nerves. “You’ve seen the evils of the Diet firsthand. You know that attempting to silence cries of pain leads only to more suffering. I trust you, Houraisan Kaguya. Moon to my Sun.”

“As do I, love.” Waka added. “I’ll probably start popping by your place more often, to help with this whole ordeal. Need to get the lay of the land, as well; I haven’t been making enough appearances in the center recently. Let’s make sure not to mess this up. Don’t want to disappoint our mother, now do we?”

His tone was earnest and genuine, but the little twinkle in his eye gave away the real meaning: I’ll be keeping an eye on you, young lady. Don’t make Ammy sad.

In the end, though, Kaguya felt like she was going to. Their line of thought was idealistic, as much as she wished to think otherwise - the Diet was not going to go quietly, and the Houraisans are the Diet. She held her tongue for a few moments as she collected herself, pulling herself back up to her seated pose and returning to the previous elegance.

“I never wish to.”

She could only hope that they wouldn’t hold it against her once everything had been made right.

“I have soured this drink of ours with bad talk. If you don’t mind, my two gracious hosts, I could spend more time here tonight. It has been some time, and I have little to do - I might as well abuse your hospitality some more.” While I still have the opportunity.

She bowed, though brief, and asked “May I?”

“Of course, my child.” Amaterasu smiled, radiant and genuine. “You are always welcome here.”

“And hey, if your political aspirations don’t work out, there’s always a bed waiting here for you, baby.” Waka winked, smoothly transitioning from serious gaze to casual flirtatiousness. “Though I can’t promise it’ll be as fancy as your usual digs.”

He refilled her cup, and in the process turned to look at the attendant. “You as well, Warewa.” He addressed her by name; he’d gone to the trouble of learning all her attendants’ names, to make her look bad by comparison. He could be petty like that. “We really ought to have a family reunion one of these days. I hear Christoff signed up with the militia.”

The tense air was cut like a knife, giving way to idle chatter.

And from chatter to drinking, to reminiscing, to views of the trees and sampling of the gifts of the land, to stories told over fire to the sound of plucked strings, to a dance over the wood floor, to lovemaking, to a sleepless night.

Kaguya shouldn’t have come here.

This was like the idyllic times of her second home, when she had no concerns of unseen kidnappers or…anything of the other homes she’s taken before and since. Duty and regality, danger and endless wandering, politicking and incoherence.

Laying in bed next to a quietly snoring Waka and playing out what had happened earlier across the theater of the swirls in the paint on the ceiling, the simple joy of the day had proven tempting, more than anything else. She could learn to love this life, and in all truth, nobody would dare fault her for taking it…

…but what does it matter? All of this is going to burn to the ground with or without her.

Kaguya wouldn’t be able to run in the green hills and dance under petals anymore. Things would become hard again. Even if she could make things right, it was only going to put burdens on her that she had committed great sins to avoid at one point. Was a half-existent life of ennui and floating thought truly so bad in comparison to what she had set out for herself?

Kaguya did not have an answer to that until some time the next morning.

Kaguya was tired.

Edited by wikkit on Mar 17th 2023 at 9:16:31 AM

Question, where do I sign up for this? Is there an OOC discussion thread somewhere?

Edit: nvm, found the thread. Ignore this, please!

Edited by StepexNo2 on Mar 18th 2023 at 1:25:19 PM

The Concordia Concordance would like to apologize for the delay in this week's issue. We were unable to get the ink required for our printing press thanks to illegal labor agitation in Zone Six. Readers are advised that complaints about this issue's legibility will be reprinted in an equally illegible format.

WAREHOUSE REPURPOSED; EGGMAN'S PLOT THINS? HAVE YOUR CAKE AND EAT IT TOO!

The Happy Eggy Confectionery Warehouse was safely dismantled and its workforce relocated to productive positions. It is believed that Dr. Ivo Robotnik used this warehouse to smuggle parts for his illegal robot workers, which he seeded throughout the city in an attempt to cripple it. The Concordia Concordance would like to remind its readers that unemployment has never been lower, and that Robotnik's mean machines are well on their way to being replaced by reliable and cost-effective alternatives. Councilor Kaiba had this to say:

"Heh. Eggman's a loser. He didn't understand the game. We'll make him wish he was out here, soon enough. Too bad he's in jail."

When pressed for further comment, Councilor Kaiba pointed out that he was not only the fabulously wealthy head of KaibaCorp, but also the #1 toy manufacturer in the City. He refused to elaborate beyond this point.

GUARDIAN HOURAISAN DISGRACED! CHANGE OF GUARD IN ZONE FIVE?

For his crimes against the peace, Former Guardian Theophilus Shinkansen Houraisan has been stripped of all his legal powers, rights and privileges. This decision was reached unanimously by a sitting session of the Diet, in response to Guardian Houraisan's lack of civic responsibility and blatant abuse of power. It is believed that the attack on Kayne Ainsel, Master Draughtswoman, had much to do with this fall from grace, although observers also blame a shift in the views of the Houraisan clan.

"The family just didn't have his back," said our source, who wishes to remain anonymous. "Everyone wanted him gone, but it was the Houraisans stopping them. And Greed. I won't be surprised if Theo ends up dead in a ditch somewhere. And yes, I know he can heal."

Former Guardian Houraisan is currently on the run from authorities. He is considered armed and extremely dangerous, and is to be avoided at all costs. Please report any sightings to your nearest Peacekeeper. His replacement has yet to be announced.

ARTIFACTS INCORPORATED GOES BIG! BLESSING OR CURSE?

Darien Brand is undoubtedly the name on everyone's lips. He is the businessman who claims to be Eggman's replacement, and the only one capable of reorganizing labor in Zone Six. Already he has re-purposed many of Robotnik's former premises, centered mostly around a large factory called the Industrial Atelier. While many workers have already flocked to Artifacts Incorporated, Brand's ultimate goal is still unclear.

"It's really not that complicated," said Mr. Brand when approached for comment. "You have resources that aren't being used, people begging for a chance to feed their families. I'm giving them what they need."

The Concordia Concordance would like to remind its readers that all magical artifacts must pass inspection by the Mages' Guild in order to be considered safe for use. Any injuries sustained as a result of unauthorized magic will not be mended by Guild members.

Zone Six; Precinct Nine - Interrogation Room

The girl with the twin buns sits on the chair, blinking tearily into the light.

"I didn't mean it," she says. "Really."

There are bags under her eyes. You see that she does not entirely understand.

Fourth of Thirdmonth; Accord 143

Zone Six; Industrial Atelier - ???

You know this place; intuitively you know. The outward form is different, but its harsh angles, its unforgiving bleakness, its casual lack of humanity - all of them cohere, quite rationally, into the unmistakable inexorable shape of a factory. There lie the benches, all set up in neat little rows; there are the belts to bring the raw materials; there sit the white lines, which tell the workers where they can and cannot stand. There is a titanic clock on the wall, a monstrosity of gears and brass; the hands count the seconds with uncanny accuracy. It is the only moving part of the whole operation.

Streamers hang from the eaves; ticker-tape, no doubt strewn in celebration of the atelier's opening, or perhaps a successful lie or two. Little bits of successful celebration, crunching beneath your feet, mixed with the odd packing peanut and the occasional fallen sprue. Small banal things, but large and crass enough to consume lives.

You also consume lives, so to you this is neither here nor there. You only wish Brand was more subtle about it.

You have come here in search of something quite valuable. Your sources tell you that it has been moved to this location. The question is whether or not your sources can be trusted, and whether you can actually find your way in without alerting the one person you cannot afford to fight.

You don't have time. You need to find Greed.

Zone Five, Twenty-Ninth Street; Smith, Smith, and Smith (Magical Investigators)

The office of Smith, Smith and Smith, Magical Investigators, is not actually an office. Rather, it is a conference room pretending to be an office, with three whiteboards, two goldfish, and a single potted geranium in the center of the table. The whiteboards are completely bare, and so are the goldfish. The geranium, in contrast, is rather gaudy.

"I don't get it," whines Begonia Smith. "Why did we call them all the way here?"

Begonia is a young lad, perhaps no more than fourteen or fifteen. His hair is gold and wispy, clipped with a blue butterfly pin. He is wearing a blue cloak, a brown leather jerkin, and a pair of loose beige pants. He has the ability to step through space and move objects in an instant, although the City's strange nature tends to make it more difficult than it should be. His arms are bare, white, and decidedly scrawny.

"For work, idiot," says Petunia Smith. "Why else?"

Petunia is about five years older than his brother. He is also blond, but his hair is tied back into a ponytail instead. His eyes are bright green, his jacket is red and white, and his jeans have been ripped very carefully in the fashionable manner. He has the ability to read minds, conceal memories, and who knows what else, and is probably much more dangerous than Begonia. Looking closer, you realize that he is wearing a pink flower scrunchie.

"Okay," says Jim Smith. "Both of you shut up."

Despite what it may sound like, Jim Smith is actually a girl. She looks quite regular, all things considered, with brown hair and a sporty physique, although she walks with a limp that she barely manages to conceal. She is wearing the most formal outfit of the three Smiths, a white dress shirt and black pants. She claims to see the future, although this has never actually been proven and does not excuse her very boring fashion sense.

It takes a while, but Begonia and Petunia do shut up. Jim sweeps her eyes across the table.

"I'm not going to mince words," she says. "We'd much rather be investigating Darien Brand, but the Diet offered us a contract that's too good to pass up. And Brand probably has his fingers in this pie, too, so we'll get him right after you help us get these guys. Each of you has a particular reason to be here - I wouldn't have called you all together if I didn't believe in your reputations."

She looks at each of you in turn, and you get the feeling that if nothing else, she is very good at pretending.

"A few weeks ago," she says, "Councilor Areum was attacked by a remote-controlled wand. We helped the Peacekeepers trace the artifact to an ATM..."

"Automagic Teller Marten," says Begonia.

"A marten named Addward," says Jim, rolling her eyes. "The wand and the marten have the same magic on them."

"That was as far as we got before the Diet swamped us with paperwork," says Petunia. "But we started to draw some connections, and after a great deal of arguing we've come to suspect a few things."

Begonia snaps his fingers. A poster appears on the whiteboard. He grins, then jumps up and begins to exposit.

"The people who tried to kill Councilor Areum have a bone to pick with the Diet. The first incident was an assassination attempt in Founders' Park, by a person in a black cloak. Pax Primis burnt down on the same day, which was probably intentional. The second was the wand attack on the day of the People Died At Pax Primis Memorial Concert. But only one person died, and that was the assassin, so..."

"Wrong way around," says Petunia, pushing him back into his seat. "Anyway, if we assume that the first and second attacks were orchestrated by the same group, then we have to look at the clues they left behind."

Jim reaches and turns the poster over. Engraved on it is a woman impaled through with a signboard, in what appears to be Founders' Park. She reaches into her pocket and throws a tattered brochure on the table, marked with the raised fist of the United Front.

On both are the same words:

"Alright, people," says Jim. "How much do you know about the United Front?"

Zone Seven, The Edge; Lorem Ipsum Investigation Team

You are, ostensibly, the best that the Draughtsman's Guild has to offer. This is small comfort, given what lies ahead.

It began when an invader called Lorem Ipsum attacked Founders' Park, wreaking havoc and destroying vast swathes of public land. When finally captured and interrogated, Lorem Ipsum implied that it had been sent here by something outside the City, but refused to say much else, other than that the Diet must die. There was a second attack in Zone Two, this one abortive, but from the rumors and whispers you understand that the implications were much the same. Another Lorem Ipsum, sent here by the same outsiders. Another mystery inside an enigma.

Scientific opinion has held for a hundred years that there can be no civilization outside Concordia. A month ago it was made abundantly clear that scientific opinion was wrong. For that reason, you said goodbye to Amanda and Egbert at the Welcoming Guild, made the trek over the Edge, abseiled down into the disjointed wrongness of the Dissembling Wastes, and set off towards the Incoherence Proper.

Your mission is simple. For generations the Draughtsmen have drawn the map, taking deathly care to stay inside its boundaries or perish. You are going beyond the map, as far as you can, to find whatever clues exist of Lorem Ipsum's alien civilization. There is no protocol, no precedent. It is quite possible that you will all die in the process.

But you must do this, for Concordia's sake. It is time, at last, to confront the unknown.

Zone Six; The Egress Eternal

It is a regular day at the Egress Eternal, except that Addward is not here.

Rufus has gotten himself stuck between the atomic incinerator and the squewlb dispenser.

"Help!" says Rufus.

Edited by troydenite on Mar 29th 2023 at 6:36:51 AM

Edit: I'm retarded, sorry. Ignore this post

Edited by StepexNo2 on Mar 26th 2023 at 3:13:31 PM

Kayné Ainsel & Moloch "Moko" Kothys—Zone 7, Nameless Chapel

"But we ain't going to war," Kayne protested, looking up briefly from the not-war table to check the proceedings. "There's no need to reverse the panels for the thistles and nettles on the banners. 'Sides, wouldn't it take too long to redo all of them? I'se reconsidering having a wartime standard at all."

Some members of the Arborwatch insisted emphatically, pointing out that this was the biggest hunt that was ever organized in the history of the Arborwatch, and that whatever meagre amount of pomp they could afford should be included to boost morale. There was a murmur of assent from the huntsmen—and women—that were gathered in front of the Nameless Chapel in Zone 7, packing their weapons, stowing their gear, and making sure their mounts were ready.

"Alright, well, if y'all insist," Kayne eventually agreed, causing a ragged cheer to go up. "Just turn all them banners upside-down. Then the panels will be on opposite sides and nobody has to fuss over the damned needlework. Quickly, now, our guests'll be here any moment and the chuck wagons are just about ready to serve up some grub on the fine china I brought down from Zone 1, y'hear?"

As the Arborwatch intensified their work, sensing that they were in the last stretch before they could eat and head out, Kayne squinted at the sun, and went back to planning routes and paths at the not-war table. Really, it was several planks lashed together and propped up with barrels at either end. The guests would have to eat on it (preferably not staining the map in the process) and at the end of the day it would probably be taken apart for firewood.

Kothys' had been closed and sold in short order. That had brought a hefty chunk of Marks, as it had been in a thoroughly desirable mercantile position, along with the rest of the equipment that had been in use in the kitchen. Some of it had to be resold, mostly the heavy, mechanically-complicated affairs like the oven and the stove which wouldn't survive in the erosive environment of Zone 7. Some of it was being reused, like the hand-cranked dishwashers which had been loaded onto the chuck wagons. Still other pieces had been either cannibalized for parts or redistributed among the populace. Pots and pans had been in great demand, as well as the fine china plates.

There was talk of passing some of the more ornately-designed dishes down as family heirlooms, and the chuck wagoners were thrilled to have things to serve food on that weren't wooden trenchers or tin pannikins.

Out here, valuable things to have and to hold were rare, and things to take pride in were even rarer.

Edited by JumpingFruit on Apr 25th 2023 at 1:42:05 AM

Andy - Egress Eternal, Zone 6

"Thank you, come again~!"

For a few days there, things had gotten pretty hectic for the crew of the Egress Eternal. Andy had felt like he was going to abrade his feet down to sharp little stumps! With the only functioning espresso machine in the sector, Rufus convalescing after his surgery and Addward still missing, the gem had barely had enough time to squeeze in even a little panic attack about Darien Brand!

Now that all the broken Egg Tech in the city was being replaced, other cafes were getting back in business, and so things were starting to calm down. Although the sun has set on the Egress' days of being the most popular eatery in Zone 6, they had earned some new regular faces in a phenomenon Rufus called "customer retention" and Eupepsia called "having to fabricate more tables".

Andy just thought some of them were pretty cool to chat with! Sometimes people just need a friendly face to talk to over their morning macchiato, and you learn all sorts of interesting things! And they tip well, and come back the next day! That's what Rufus calls "service with a smile" and Addward used to call "grifting the lonely rubes."

In other Addward news, the rolled-up brown towel addward-in-effigy now has little felt legs and ears stitched on, and is wrapped around a tip jar - all proceeds go to printing missing marmot posters!

It's really not the same, is it? Andy has noticed Rufus looking at it sadly sometimes. Or maybe he's still getting used to his new kaguya-eye?

Speaking of which...

"Uhh Rufus, those nice guys over at table five are asking about their squewlbed eggs, how's it oh no not again!!!"

With a distressed squeak, the gem vaulted over the serving counter and started dragging his boss out from between the incandescent incinerator and the sizzling squewlb machine.

"Wahh! Rufuuuusss! I can't run the kitchen if you end up beef jerkyyy!!!"

Zone 7, Chapel

-Ayla moves through the crowd, looking in confusion at the activity around the banners. Another ritual she has never truly understood, much like the strange colored hairless furs Crono's mother (and many people outside of "zoan one-hand-two fingers") insisted she wear.-

Kay-ne! Ayla hear there is hunt, Ayla hunt too.

-As a testament to the danger the quarry poses, she has brought a wooden club, little more than a heavy branch, but swung with enough power to stun a charging dinosaur.-

Zone Five, Twenty-Ninth Street; Smith Meeting ~ Teto

I was brought to this place here since those three probably knew that I'm friends with Miku and Vivy and in the same idol group as them. Now, here's the problem though; I wasn't even there when that assassination mumbo jumbo happen! I have zero knowledge about the United Front, so why bring me here to a meeting where I have no hints whatsoever about the United Front?! As much as I don't know much about Aruem, she doesn't deserve to die! Like, killing someone isn't going to make the world a better place! For now, I'll just hurry up and answer their question in the most polite way possible.

"My apologies, but I have zero knowledge about the United Front nor have anything useful that might help you out in the right direction."

Tip number 401, always be calm and polite when dealing with questions like these. While I could be sassy and all, that would put me in the subject list, which is the last thing I need. In fact, it's better to stay calm than flip your shit over a burnt French baguette.

"Up until two months ago, I was in a coma for who knows how long in the hospital in Zone 1. I don't remember who brought me to the hospital, but I suppose I would not find that out. Before I fell into one, I was being burnt at the stakes and all I could remember was thinking to myself that I still wanted to sing. Oh, and in case you want proof, here's the paper that my boss gave me from that hospital for my discharges and stuff."

I gave the investigators said papers from the hospital in case they ever feel doubt about what I said. After this, I got to thank Teddie later for getting the papers from the hospital, cause otherwise I'll be falsely blamed for something I didn't do!

Maggie Nightshade, Zone Five, Twenty-Ninth Street; The Smiths meeting (Brand is Murder)

I know enough about the Smiths, I think. Not everything, but I know they don’t like Brand. And right now, when he is the single greatest annoyance in my life, that takes precedence over virtually everything else.

I sit across from them with a myriad group of people, including someone who not only doesn’t know anything about the United Front, but has been in a coma for the last two months. I take particular interest in the fact that she claims to have been burned at the stake. Now that’s a very particular method of execution associated with the killing of a very particular kind of people, so I have to wonder - is she a witch? Or is that fact completely unrelated? Who knows. Unfortunately, doesn't seem like she knows any relevant information. Looks like I'll have to pick up the slack.

“A couple things,” I reply from the other side of the table. “The first is that they apparently have some sort of serum that turns people into big, hulking monstrosities. Saw a kid inject himself with the stuff a while back. Some doctor managed to help him get back to normal, but without outside intervention, I’m not sure if the stuff wears off on its own. Needless to say, it’s going to be dangerous if that stuff starts spreading around the streets - if it hasn’t already.”

“Oh, and they’ve got weapons capable of dealing with even the most resilient people. One of them shot Mercer, and it took a hell of a long time for him to actually heal from it. If they had a little more follow-through and kept shooting him, I’m pretty sure he’d be dead right now.”

Real shame they didn’t succeed at that. According to mom, he was actually the same guy she met with earlier, and the same guy who appeared when we met the United Front’s mysterious leader. I don’t trust him, but I know that he has more resources to help with the rebuilding efforts, and it puts me in an incredibly uncomfortable situation where I don’t know what to do.

Though at least for now, he isn’t a direct obstacle like Brand is…

“I’m a little curious how they have all this stuff,” I admitted. “Maybe they did make it themselves, or maybe they had some help from the second most suspicious man in the multiverse. Anything I could say regarding that at this time would be nothing more than speculation, however.”

Zone Five, Twenty-Ninth Street; Smith, Smith, and Smith

Over the course of the past month, my efforts to make everyone happy by singing through my work in Concordia's idol industry alongside my colleagues, Teto and Mikudayo, and my boss, Jenny, have been going well. Thanks to Jenny's market acumen and a dedicated core of idol fans (though Jenny refers to them as 'stans'), we have been rising slightly in popularity. Besides Concordian Pop and J-Pop, I have been focusing on outputting both old Earth protest songs to accompany the ongoing socioeconomic upheaval and the Concordian equivalent of "World" music, trying to learn styles and techniques from different cultures and producing covers of some of their more popular vocal songs. I have not produced another original composition yet, but I am steadily working on a few different potential pieces.

My career aside, I have picked up what one might call a student or apprentice! V, or Vincent, as I have learned his name is, is originally from a place full of hardship called Night City. Given the difficulty of living in such a place, I can understand why he would have had no time or energy to learn to sing before, but he is eager to learn, and I am happy to teach. The fellow-traveler of V's neurons, Johnny Silverhand, is also helping in his own way during our sessions, and I am assured that he is making sure V keeps up his practice outside of our teaching time, but sometimes I have to stop him from being too rough when he castigates V's vocal abilities. Everyone must start somewhere, especially if learning the slow way, as humans do. Little by little, we are making progress, and V can hold a fairly decent tune now!

That said, today, Matsumoto, Teto, and I are at the office of Smith, Smith, and Smith. Smith, Smith, and Smith are a trio of siblings who call themselves 'Magical Investigators'. I believe this means that they are private investigators who specialize in cases involving magic. As investigators specializing in magic-related affairs, it is likely that they are not as familiar with methods for investigating using advanced computing technology. Therefore, beyond our prior association with each other and the fact that I was present for one of the assassination attempts ostensibly carried out by the United Front, it is probable that one of the reasons Matsumoto and I are here today is to remedy the Smiths' deficiency in the technological aspect. I am unsure why Teto is here, however.

The first of the Smith siblings whom I met, Jim, is a kind lady whom I first encountered at the gym. In retrospect, that particular choice of location was likely for the sake of a pun, or perhaps for a cover in the case of talking in vague code. She walks with a slight limp, which I believe is due to either a longtime injury or birth deformity. Jim is supposedly able to see the future, although I do not know the details of her ability in full. Nevertheless, I am eternally grateful to her for helping me to rediscover my ability to sing, and in doing so fulfill my mission, so I was glad to attend this meeting when I heard of it, and hope to be of assistance in any way I can.

The second of the Smith siblings whom I met, Petunia, is more reserved, less trusting, and at times more acerbic. After meeting Jim at the gym, we encountered Petunia, who had come to meet his sister there. Petunia's eyes are green, and very beautiful. I also think that he is quite handsome, and have told him so, although I am unsure how he feels about that. Petunia is a psychic, able to read, locate, and tamper with the minds of others, but he cannot read the minds of machines such as Matsumoto and myself, so he is likewise unsure of what the intent behind my words was, although I only meant what I said as a simple compliment. As he is someone used to being able to read the minds of others to divine their thoughts and feelings, I think that the fact that he cannot read my mind likely perturbs him somewhat.

The third and last of the Smith siblings whom I met, Begonia, was until a little over a month ago, a captive and unwilling employee of a man named Darien Brand, a sinister businessman whom all of the Smith siblings have worked for in the past. A number of people had gathered outside the gym on the day I met Jim and Petunia, for the sake of rescuing Begonia from Mr. Brand's clutches. Jim, Petunia, and I did not go to help, however, instead going to the People Died At Pax Primis Concert, where Jim executed a plan which she had apparently engineered through her foresight that involved me regaining my ability to sing. Her brother Begonia is smaller, more whiny, and more outwardly anxious than his siblings. Whenever I see him, I am always reminded that he is so young; he cannot be older than fourteen or fifteen years of age. I am so glad that he was able to be rescued from that environment. Human children Begonia's age deserve to have the time and space to grow up properly and figure out what they want to do with their lives without being forced into one profession or another. Humans are not like Matsumoto and I, after all. They are not born with a clear mission to complete, and must discover their purpose themselves. I hope that Begonia finds his life's purpose some day, and is content with it.

Jim calls the meeting to order and reassures us that each of us has a reason to be here. That is good. Perhaps my deduction was correct after all, or perhaps, like at the concert, Jim has foreseen something that will be affected by my presence or intervention. In any case, her brothers bicker a bit, and then the siblings eventually recap what information is known about the suspect group we are to investigate, ultimately drawing a connection between one of the attempts on Councilor Areum's life and the slogan of the group of revolutionaries known as the United Front.

While the others begin talking after Jim throws the United Front pamphlet on the table, I move to pick up said pamphlet and begin examining it in greater detail, sharing the image information wirelessly with Matsumoto as I do so. I make sure to consider the apparent wear and tear on the paper as well, and look for any possible indications as to how the pamphlet was made as I read it.

Teto seems frustrated because she thinks she cannot contribute to our investigatory endeavor, and mentions the circumstances of her arrival. Her frustration must be quite extreme, because she goes so far as to recount her very personal suffering prior to arriving in Concordia.

"Hey, hey!" Matsumoto interjects, in his usual less-than-sensitive way, "No need to relive all that burning stuff, Teto! It's not like anybody here in this city is going to burn you at the stake... probably."

"I think that you are undervaluing your own worth, Teto," I say frankly, having finished with the pamphlet, trying to give my co-worker and friend a kind smile and placing a hand on her shoulder. "I am sure that you are here for a reason and that there is something you can contribute. At the very least, having a diversity of perspectives, including your own, should help us to work out a better answer faster than if you were absent."

"That's right!" Matsumoto agrees cheerfully, smiling with his eye. "I, for one, am here because I'm a highly advanced supercomputer smarter than all of you put together! Just think of what we can accomplish with me on the team!"

"...That is not what I meant, Matsumoto."

Also with us today is Margaret Nightshade. I believe she is the daughter of a major manufacturer of magical artifacts, although I am not very familiar with magic or such artifacts, and thus not very familiar with her mother. Evidently, Maggie was a witness to an incident in which a child injected himself with something that turned him into a 'hulking monstrosity', although the process was thankfully reversed. She also notes that Director Mercer had been shot with some kind of advanced weapon that the United Front had access to, and follows up by noting that she wonders how the United Front could have access to all of these various troublesome pieces of equipment and concoctions.

"I believe that is a good place to start, Margaret," I say after she has finished speaking. "If we are able to trace where the United Front is getting their resources from, then we should find the United Front themselves there, as well. For example, this pamphlet may have clues as to how it was made."

"By the way, I am Vivy," I add to Miss Nightshade, extending my hand for a handshake. "I am not very familiar with magic or magical artifacts, but it is nice to meet you, Margaret."

"And I'm Matsumoto!" Matsumoto adds happily. "Pleasure to meet you as well, Miss Nightshade, superior intelligence though I may be! Not to worry; with me on the job, we'll crack this case in no time flat!"

"...Matsumoto."

"Hm?"

I deliver a karate chop to the top of his frame with my free hand, which resounds with a metallic CLANG!

"Do not be rude."

"Yeeeeeessssss, Maaaaaa'am..."

"Where did you find this, Jim?" I ask the eldest Smith sibling, indicating the pamphlet as I place it back on the table.

Edited by darksidevoid on Apr 2nd 2023 at 3:56:56 PM

Zone Four, Pedea Island Room

As the more rural but still stable and Cohered region of Concordia, Zone Four happened to be host to a number of scenic vacation spots, such as beaches, snow-capped mountains, forests, and nature preserves, in addition to Amaterasu's Sunspots and the Zone's primary function as the breadbasket of the city. One such towering mountain - or in this case, volcano - was a near-perfect replica of a certain Japanese national monument. Built into the side of this mountain was the aptly-named Fujiyama Onsen Ryokan, or Mount Fuji Hotsprings Inn, a luxury hotel affordable only for the richest and most high-priority citizens, such as Diet members or the heads of major Guilds. The Inn's heating and electricity were provided by the volcano's geothermal vents, which also provided power to thousands of nearby businesses and households.

More important to the matter at hand, this particular Inn had a large painting hanging from the inner side of the lobby, nearly large enough to span the entire length and height of the wall. It was a painting of a luxurious-looking white-sand beach backed by rocky cliffs, dotted with palm trees and bordered by clear, turquoise water. Unbeknownst to the general public, or even most of the Inn's elite patrons, this painting functioned as a sort of portal - or as Ship-Scientists would call it, a Hatch - leading to a replica of the beach that was the subject of the painting; a whole private island, in fact.

The island, Pedea Island, was, much like the replica of Mount Fuji, in turn a replica of a certain beach from a certain planet in the universe that a certain clan of First Farers hailed from. Uncommonly for people of their status, these particular First Farers had fallen out of favor with the rest of the Diet about halfway through Concordia's history, due to the clan's repeated, too-strident pushes for democratic reforms that were anathema to the ruling class. Thus, the clan had been ejected from the Diet, stricken from the history of the city, and had the vast majority of their assets seized, including Pedea Island. From there, Yukari had furtively taken great pains to make sure that the island ended up in her own possession, and had since been using it as a vacation spot, the passphrase-protected nature of the particular Hatch that was unknown to all but the serving staff and those Yukari chose to inform making it an ideal private getaway.

Thus did Areum find herself in her favorite swimwear, laying and sunning on a comfortable chair on the beach on Pedea Island, which was filled with the calming sounds of the waves and Ran Yakumo helping Chen to build some kind of sand sculpture. Presently, the K-Pop diva's moment of peaceful solitude was interrupted by Yukari herself getting up from her chair and approaching with a bottle of water in hand, which she'd grabbed from one of the coolers filled with ice and drinks near the chairs.

"You look like you could use this," the Gap Youkai said with a smile as she leaned in to her friend's sunlight and offered her the bottle. "Pleasant as the setting and weather are, we wouldn't want you getting dehydrated out here!"

Edited by darksidevoid on Apr 2nd 2023 at 6:49:59 AM

V (or rather Johnny judging by the specs resting on his face) stepped in, hands shoved into the pockets of the old coat. He looked around the chapel and let out a whistle at the sights. "So this is the sights we're seeing huh?"

"Johnny, I swear to god if you fuck up this job for us..." Vincent began, manifesting beside him.

"Relax Choom, I've got it under control," Johnny brushed off the concerns. "You need me for the charisma."

"Johnny I had jobs easily enough before this, I didn't exactly need you. I just agreed that you got a turn... remember that's still my brain and body and I want it back!"

Johnny shrugged and scratched at the stubble growing on V's face, the two of them needed to shave at some point.