An Ordinary Oddball
Kayné Ainsel & Moloch "Moko" Kothys—Zone 7, Flashmarket
"Messages get lost all the time around here, to be honest," Kayne mused quietly, seeming to consider the situation as she turned her gaze back to Mercer, absent-mindedly pushing her glasses back up as she did so. "Sometimes the crows get turned around, sometimes it's people. You can never be too sure. I've been working on a Pony Express for larger deliveries, but it's been slow going as it is."
"I have no objections to helping you if it's related to charity. We've worked together and I know you're on the up-and-up," she stated, folding her hands behind her back in a businesslike manner. "I've been working on developing a new algae-based medicine with Dr. Grey, and I have another spinning plate with him regarding reversing the effects of the Crystal Bombing, but putting that aside for now—I, me, personally, need assurances." This was followed by a glance at the Nightshades, meant to be a courtesy to allow them to agree or disagree on their own, as Kayne did not speak for them.
"You know what happened to me in one of my previous workshops," Kayne said, the question mark at the end excised for more blunt impact. "What makes you so sure that people will trust the place it's produced in? What's to prevent the destruction of our new enterprise? You've left the Diet, and I've left the Draughtsmen. Whatever lingering influence we have, it won't be much of a smokescreen. If people think we're cooking more drugs, then we've just created a trap for ourselves. It doesn't matter who's out to get us—Peacekeepers, rogue or otherwise, or gang members, or the desperate. This new atelier needs a chance at survival, so put some skin in the game. Tell me more about it. What do you hope it'll become?"
Edited by JumpingFruit on Feb 18th 2024 at 12:26:40 PM
I wear the skin of the Elder Things, having come unto my own.
A dogged fellow, aren't we?
Maia - Nursery
Maia had kept herself between the increasingly agitated Bloom and her comrades, as much as was possible for one android to cover an entire team. The effort seemed to be mostly unnecessary too. She had anticipated the Bloom reacting to her presence with hostility, but so far there had only been shouts and angry branch-pointing.
A tactical process started suggesting riot-control procedures, which she dismissed. As Father and the deities started to negotiate, she took her hand off the grip of her pistol and laid her glaive on the grassy street. Dismissing a tactical warning there too, as she kept her hands up and empty.
If the team had to fight their way out of here, she didn't need her weapons to be combat effective. But she very much did not want it to come to that. Every time she looked at Theca's head hanging from Pith's hand, it triggered something within her. Memories of the fight in the swamp, months ago. Simulations trying to extrapolate alternative resolutions, which she back-burnered. Regret. She didn't want to hurt these people any more.
It didn't seem productive to speak in her own defense just yet. Any Blooms not convinced by Bondrewd's words would likely dismiss hers as disinformation from the Eater. So, for now, she cocked her head slightly as she listened to Pith's story. It seemed to be mostly allegory and didn't actually provide much information about Lorem Ipsum's origins or motives, but she saved it for future analysis anyway.
Just as she was starting to turn her attention to the next objective - the Eater's castle - Heuronaut Est's reappearance set off a cascade of alarms.
Environmental hazard alerts. Bio-contaminant alerts.
The ceiling is smiling. Six hundred and twenty-eight distinguishable voices, screaming.
Alarms triaged. It will not happen here.
In an instant, Maia's plasma pistol was in her hand again. Father had begun to pray for the deities' success, but more practical matters filled her priority list.
"Draughtsmen, establish a perimeter. Enviro-hazard protocols in effect. I'm going to run a bio-scan."
Maia's eyes glowed, sending fans of amber light sweeping over the roiling sphere of water around Est, and then increasingly wide arcs of the area, the android walking an outward-spiraling path around the square. Searching for Lorem Ipsum's bio-signatures in the air and on the ground.
Elimo had acted fast, but the Bloom's warnings had been clear. Even a single spore was a threat. She set her pistol to short-range, high-intensity, and set about burning any traces with bright flashes of plasma fire.
sword of promised halp
Zone Three; Outside Jenny's Office
As Matsumoto plays the entire conversation, you watch the siblings carefully. Begonia looks shocked and slightly uncomfortable, but then again, he always looks like that, when he’s not being cheerful. He has the intestinal fortitude of a merengue.
Jim does not look like a merengue. She looks livid. Without saying a single word, she turns on her heel, limps back towards the crime scene, and then reappears several minutes later, dragging Petunia by the ponytail. What’s worse, Teto is still attached to him.
“I don’t want to meet hair drills, and I don’t want to meet chimera claws,” says Petunia. “Let me go.”
“Do it, Teto,” says Jim. “I’ll take things from here.”
With that, she grabs Petunia by the collar and slaps him in the face.
“Just wail on me without asking,” says Petunia. “Typical Jim.”
Jim slaps him again.
“The Front are terrorists,” she hisses. “We went through all that trouble just to track down that wand, and all this time you were with them, and you didn’t tell me? I’m your sister!”
Petunia coughs. He looks green and haggard, as if he never thought he’d get to this point.
“I couldn’t tell you,” he says. “How could I? You see one future and you think that’s all there is. Areum survived the Pax Primis concert because you were all there that night, but what if she’d died instead? Did you ever think of what would happen if you hadn’t taken the stage? If you’d just let things play out? We’d be down one problem.”
“Areum didn’t do anything!” says Begonia. “She was innocent!”
Petunia shrugs. He looks very tired.
“Weaver told me the truth about the Ship. He’s been studying the records for years. He knows what’s coming. That’s why I took control of the Concordanites. I put the spores in them, I helped him summon Lorem Ipsum. I needed to be with the Front before he would help me.”
“But... but Lorem Ipsum killed at least a hundred people,” says Begonia.
“Only a hundred. We did worse when we were working for Brand.”
“You did worse,” says Jim. “But I thought you had more brains than that.”
“I believe I do,” says Petunia. “Lorem Ipsum doesn’t only want the Diet. He wants Concordia. He wants to eat this city whole, and he knows that Brand will never let that happen. That’s why I needed to bring him here. To kill Brand.”
“To kill Brand?” says Jim through clenched teeth. “Petunia, we’re investigating Darien. We just sent J.J. and Idunn over there to...”
“TO WHAT?” yells Petunia. “Report him to death? He’s in my mind, Jim! My mind! Not Begonia’s! He knows where I am and those stupid pills won’t keep him off forever! He needs to die for what he did to us!”
“D-die?” stares Begonia. He’s clutching his cloak to him, and his eyes are swimming. “We can’t kill him, Petunia. It’s… it’s not right. And you didn’t have to… I thought you were looking out for me.”
“I am,” says Petunia. “I am, I am, can’t you see that? I saved you. I’m saving you. I’m stopping him from tracking you right now. I’m doing everything for you. For us.”
Jim shakes him up and down again, tossing him up and down and finally to the ground. She’s breathing heavily, leaning on her bad leg. Her jaw is so tight you can see her teeth shaking.
“Brand used all three of us,” she says. “He took us from Mom and Dad, forced us to do his dirty work. He may have said we were special, but for years he did nothing but treat us like slaves. I won’t deny that.”
“Then why won’t you help me?”
“Because it’s wrong!” says Jim. “Because you brought a man-eating flesh-tree into this city, and you’re working with terrorists who kill their enemies. Even Brand doesn’t kill. You’re worse than he is.”
Petunia shuts his eyes and takes a deep ragged breath. He sags.
“I thought you’d understand,” he says. “You of all people.”
Jim’s face melts in shock.
“Begonia, get -”
The scream dies in her throat. Her eyes go green, and she falls over limp, just like Jenny.
Begonia gapes and stretches his arm out. He keeps stretching and stretching, and stretching, until you realise that his eyes are green too, just like Jenny and Jim and the Concordanites, and that the spell he wanted to cast is caught in his mind, and that his mind belongs to his older brother.
“To Weaver,” says Petunia.
The street belches and you’re all tangled in a large bale of alfalfa, you and Teto and Jim and Jenny and your Matsumoto hoverbike. You’re in one of Four’s food warehouses. Silver flashes ten shelves away, mixed with the brown stench of burning. Battle-sounds churn thick like chyme, and black cloaks run in from all around you, streaming towards the source of the real commotion.
"I said to Weaver! Idiot! He's all the way over -"
Petunia is standing in front of you, with his red jacket and blonde ponytail, looking as if he’d much rather not be doing this at all. His two siblings are on either side of him, teetering like clowns.
Begonia tugs a wand out from his cloak. Jim pulls a ray-gun from her left boot. They swivel, then take aim at you.
“You did this,” says Petunia. “The three of you. You ruined everything. I was so close to making everything right. Why’d you have to stick your noses into it? They’re my family. Not yours.”
He sobs, a horrid snuffling noise, then hides his face in his hands. The wand and the gun go off together, lancing the air with red and ringed green.
Zone Four; Weaver's Warehouse
The black cloaks stumble and scream, falling one by one as Vult carves through them, but there are far too many. Despite all the bodies that pile up, more and more cloaks are coming, streaming into the warehouse, clambering over the bodies of their comrades. There’s a crash by Vult’s feet, and the same mist that filled the Egress roils up at her feet, covering her in noxious mist. Five cloaks barge into her, and she vanishes from sight. It’s hard to believe. What does it take for a man to hood himself, put a kill-spell on his tongue, and charge straight towards death? How many people has Weaver seduced with his talk of revolution?
Was Concordia this bad all along?
Kiel’s dark ball grinds slowly through the aisle, chewing up the giant pumpkin, several pallets, and a large inflatable cow. A black cloak tries to roll through it and is summarily exploded.
“Interesting spell,” says Weaver. “Dangerous, even. You should probably have made it faster.”
The needles halt a hair away from Violet’s face. They spin back around, then melt into a cascade of silver, splashing down to cover their owner in liquid metal. The silver twists up into a whelk-shell, and then the dark ball grates straight into it, throwing up a screeching din. For a moment, the shell shines like a star at night —
And then the dark ball is gone. In its place is Weaver, looking bruised but quite alive, and Weaver’s slug, half-formed around his feet and his right arm.
“Arion has never failed to protect me,” says Weaver. “I called him on the Edge, and he came to me at once. He knew that I was destined to be his master, and to destroy the aiders and abetters of the corrupt state. He has an excellent appetite.”
Violet chops at his neck, her metal arm swinging around like an iron lamppost. Weaver doesn’t even duck this time. He simply stands there with his bleeding shoulder.
Arion comes under and up. Violet goes up and over.
“Kkh,” says Violet.
Weaver shakes his head. His bulbous eye dips.
“Shame,” he says. “We could have used her. Just like the marten. But I don’t suppose you know anything about that.”
The black cloaks ring you at last, ragged and breathing desperately. Vult is still somewhere in the back of the warehouse. You’re not sure.
“As you can see,” says Weaver, “I will simply repel any further attacks. There is nothing you can do to stop me. I really meant it back there when I said I’d kill you, but I’m impressed. No-one has ever tried so hard to resist the inevitable. So before I kill you all, I’ll ask you a simple, philosophical question.”
Arion sticks to his feet, then limps up into his cloak. It hangs from his shoulder like a melting blade.
“Why are you fighting us? Don’t you love Concordia?”
??? - Nursery, Town Square
“What is on me?” struggles Est. “What are you doing?”
Trapped in your orb of sacred water, your heuronaut spins in horror, trying to shake the spores off his geometric form. And then they do come off. They slick right into the water and become a little red trickle, and then they vanish from sight.
The Bloom groan in horror, and a moan shakes the town square. Even Mother Root is lost for words.
It’s wrong. Everything is wrong. In Concordia your power was strong. You could cleanse the Concordanite with the combined faith of a hundred, with help from Everett, Myn, and Toyosatomimi-no-Miko. But Nursery is so far away from sense, and the Bloom do not pray, and these are only spores.
“Get out of here!” says Pith, leaping into action. “Now!”
“Fire!” cries Mother Root. “Use fire!”
Maia’s bioscans light the night, and her plasma pistol flicks out rapidly, striking the grass like a snake’s tongue. Bondrewd also adds his efforts to hers, firing bright light from his elbow. Amaterasu brushes her tail in the sign of infinity, sending god-fire through the square. Lacking fire, you hold up your light as a guiding tool, helping Pith with the Bloom as they try to escape. Together, you remove the spores.
But you only remove ten thousand spores, and it only takes one.
“We have to get them out of here,” says Pith, as his chest blossoms into five smiling mouths. Theca’s head falls from his hands. He gropes for it, crackling, and then falls.
The crowd freezes.
Mother Root looks at his body, then shuts her eyes.
“We are doomed,” she says. “Why did I let him go?”
Pith jerks. The mouths release their spores. The Bloom writhe all around, reaching out for each other as the mouths devour them. Only Mother Root stands in the middle, calm, until her face vanishes and she snaps clean in half.
Lorem Ipsum steps out of her, grinning amiably. He is in his humanoid form, with the many mouths all along his body. He is still bright red and black and lumpy all over.
“Ah, that feels fantastic,” says Lorem Ipsum. “My long-lost cousins have finally discovered the many advantages of communal living. It took them much too long, but I’m glad that they were able to put it to a vote. The process is what’s important, see.”
He kneels and takes Pith’s limp hand in his, shaking it heartily.
“Don’t feel too bad. I think he was a very smart tree. It was a test, and I do believe you tried your best to pass it. But we live and we learn! Until, ah, we don’t live anymore. In any case, before you get too excited, let me tell you the reason why you shouldn’t kill me right away. Ta-dah!”
He slides into Pith, then reproduces himself from Mother Root, twiddling his open palms. Half a minute passes.
“Well,” he says, “if you don’t like that one, I can give you a few more. Firstly, you need me to tell you what’s going on with your beloved spy. Secondly, you need me to get you out of here. Thirdly, you need me to destroy that enemy of democracy, Darien Brand. Fourthly, you need me to reveal all those secrets of the Ship I promised. Fifthly, you need me to bring lasting regime change to Concordia…”
He puts his hand on his chin. His hand grows another hand to put on his other chin.
“Oh,” he smiles, “and you can’t kill me anyway. Is that enough?”
Edited by troydenite on Feb 5th 2024 at 6:49:32 AM
'Being around you guys makes me go "wtf" instead of pondering the ever increasing dread of time' - EchoingSilence, 2023
Local idiot who is a sucker for cute 2d boys
Zone 3, Outside Jenny's Office ~ Teto
So, while I was too focused on injuring Petunia depending on how he responded, Jim dragged him out of the crime scene all while he was whining and I'm still attached to him. It kind of shows that I have my limits when it comes to things like this. As it turns out, Jim wasn't too happy about what happened either, so she let me do the thing. I was gonna do both on him, but I decided to hair drill him instead and let Jim do the slapping cause a hair drill is less dangerous than the chimera claws. After that, I just stand there, proud that nothing bad didn't happen and I'm going to get a baguette. Speaking of baguettes, I decided to phone my boss and tell him that I'd be heading to Donki to work.Zone 3 Don Quijote ~ Teddie
I was too busy working, I kind of forgot to mention what's been going on. I should at the very least write down the important good stuff and not the negative thoughts. Ever since the Eggman-tech stuff just stopped working, the business has been booming! Sure, I still didn't get a part-timer, but hey I'm not complaining. Thanks to Teto, I was able to get a jingle for Donki and it became an icon...at least that's what a few people told me. Once I waved goodbye to the customer, I got a phone call and it's from Teto. I answer the phone while I put items on the shelves."Hello?"
"Hey, Teddie, it's me, Teto. I got done with something here. So, I'm going to head to Donki and work."
I smiled when she said that. I mean, she was the one who suggested the whole phone call to keep us updated on stuff, so it's working so far. "I see," I replied, "that's great to hear."
"Oh, and by the way, can you get me three baguettes for myself?"
"Why?"
"I uh...won the bet."
I thought about it for a few seconds, but I decided that a baguette wouldn't harm anyone. "Sure thing! I'll get it ready for you."
"Perfect! Then, I'll- wait...wh-what...?!"
The moment I heard Teto's what, I suddenly had a bad feeling about this. She doesn't have to tell me what's going on, but something tells me that she did something that may or may not make things worse for herself. Before I could ask her, she said this before her phone was cut off.
"Wait, who is this Weaver guy-"
Oh dear, this is so bad, I mean, it's not none of my business, but it is really bad. I was going to book it and try to save her, but an old man, who was carrying a coffee cup, just walked in here. "Excuse me sir, but I heard that the prices here are cheaper and it won't sell eggy tech." Okay, how do I say that my fellow roommate and co-worker are in possible danger without sounding like a jerk? Besides, I need to teach my elders with respect. "You got it correct there sir, but I got a call from someone and I need to go since something bad might happen."
"I see... I understand that very well. However, I wasn't buying this for myself." He pointed at one of the items was holding while I was putting them on the shelves. Said item was a book of sorts, more specifically the Red Knight. As much as I wanted to find her, I decided to ask him, "Oh? This book? So, who were you buying this book for?"
The old man pondered as he drank some kind of coffee, before he looks at me and said,
"Kiel."
Zone Four, Weaver's Warehouse ~ Kiel
Thank goodness it was slow, otherwise I wouldn't forgive myself. Surely, I'm in- never mind, I just heard a tch from my mouth. I'm good as dead regardless if I'm in control or not. Plus, as much as I want Weaver to, at the very least stop, I want to control the rest of my body here. I don't know if anyone else knows, minus Weaver and black cloaks for good reason, that I'm not even in control at this point, so maybe this is their first time noticing it, right? Right!? In the middle of my own, uh, bad me problem, Weaver does his questions for the gang stuff. For the fighting them, well, uh, what they're doing is terrorism and therefore it is bad. While I didn't come from Concordia, I still love the place the same. And, to be frank, I would said it, but bad me decided to say it otherwise.
"I could've asked you the same thing if you didn't pull this off." He gestures to...well, everywhere, including where Vult disappeared, so he's right...well, except for the dark shadow ball from earlier, which he's very lucky since that worm thing, named Arion, decided to replace it with Weaver himself. But, that worm is why none of us isn't winning for the father or the boss of Peacekeepers, but you know I'm right. "However, I know very well that even if I asked you two questions you asked us, none of us wouldn't get any answers, now would we? But, I know very well you want my answers to them, right?"
I...don't get what's he saying, but maybe he's giving me a chance to answer them! Perfect, and here I thought I was doomed from the start. So, I was going to say the thing, but what came out of my mouth was this.
"But, for the first question, 'Why are we fighting us', doesn't suit me right. For as long as I can remember, all I have done is nothing but fight and threaten people, regardless if it's you, the front, or anyone else. Did I ask to be a part of the peacekeepers? No, but 'I' ended up joining regardless of what I felt."
Wait, is the 'I' referring to me? Just...what is happening right now? Regardless, he keeps on talking while I keep figuring out just who he is and why is he acting the opposite of me.
"The second question 'Do you love Concordia?' is like asking a total grumpy noob working at Wendy's and seeing if they love working there. Did I ever ask that I want to live in this crappy place known as Concordia? No, but 'I' ended up living this shitpost shithole. My opinions don't matter to 'him' as long as 'he's' happy and is useful to someone, like a goddamn fool. 'He' knows that the place here is fucked up, but 'he' does nothing but sit around and work 9-5!"
Has he...been here once I arrived in Concordia? And, if that's the case, how come no one told me about it?
"And, to be frank with you Weaver, I'm just too tired of fighting to the point that our lives are on the line. I didn't get asked and see if I wanted to battle you while knowing that we're all screwed the moment Ichiban san summon...I don't what that is either, but I know damn well that we're fucked from the beginning. I'm nothing but a tool to do nothing but senseless fighting. Sorry if my answer is not worth hearing about, but I...and 'him' don't want to die here. I just don't understand why you and your black cloaks are attacking everyone in Concordia. Just...give us the answer and 'he'll' do something about it as long as you don't kill all of us."
I could be the only one noticing this, but even with his act of being uh...bad, he's only doing this out of the fact he just wants someone that get his input on the matter while wanting to be treated as a person. Ah, jeez, me, how come I didn't notice him sooner? If anything, my luck is either run out or a miracle of sorts will come. But, I wonder if the latter makes him happy...
Zone Four, Weaver's Warehouse, somewhere far from the battle ~ Teto
Okay, so, calling your boss while the whole reveal about Petunia working with the Front to kill Brand and mind-control his siblings to lead where this Weaver guy is located is the worst thing I've ever done. To make things worse, Jim and his younger brother are going to attack us. Well, since I wasn't able to hang up and he could be very worried about me, I...decided not to fight 'cause let's be honest here, I don't want to attack either of them. But, once I looked at Petunia's face I was reminded of my master's face...who was sobbing at the same time when I was being burnt at the bonfire. If anything, my master considers me as a part of his family. He was so heartbroken that the vipers had to burn me since I was nothing but an April Fool's joke towards fans of Miku. It was like there was no other option besides that. I guess he and Petunia aren't too different. I look at Vivy and nod at her, telling her that she and Matsumoto that they need to defend themselves while making sure that Jenny isn't going to be taken away from anyone. Right as the air is lancing with red and ringed green, I fly with my chimera wings while doing my best to avoid anything that can hurt me while looking at Petunia.
"You know, Petunia, my master was in the same boots as you...well similar boots, but just hear me out, will you?"
If I didn't know anything better, he probably won't hear me out. But, hey, if I ever die, at least I was able to make a song for Donki.
"You see, my master created me for the vipers, but unlike the vipers, he treats me as if I'm his child. However, since he was close to me, he was the one who vetoed that the vipers should burn me as the clock strikes midnight as it was no longer April 1st. However, no matter how hard he tried, he knew that the bonfire was the only option he had left. Because of that, I was burned all while he had that face you made earlier."
Okay, maybe that wasn't so similar, but give me a break here alright! I'm trying my best to tell him the point of all of that.
"So, let's say that you did kill Brand, the Weaver guy you mentioned who knows the true nature of the ship, and he helps you and your siblings to go back home where your mother and father are, happy that you three are safe and sound. But, would doing all of this so you can your siblings go back home make you happy? The reason I ask this is that my master, at least before arriving in Concordia, thought that converting my voice as a voice bank for the internet to download on software would make him happy, but it didn't. So, I don't want you to feel unhappy for the things you have done...just to go back home before Brand took you three away from your parents."
“You bowl with 3 middle fingers” Oh hey, a troper wall
Blair and Maggie Nightshade, Zone 7, Flashmarket
"I don't do 'games'," Blair replied, looking briefly distracted as she noticed Mercer appeared to be struggling with something she wasn't privy to. "Your perception of me is off the mark."
"But you're correct in your assessment of this city. It is lacking in many respects, and there exists no greater system either willing or capable of addressing its various problems. The Diet is checked out and doesn't care about anything anymore, if they ever did in the first place."
"I cannot lie, your timing was very poor. After Darien weaseled his way into my life and proved himself to be little more than a thug with dangerous toys, after my encounter with that musclebound sophist, I suppose I was already primed to write you off as well. But if you really are leaving the Diet, that's a sign of something. Maybe it's just an indication you want to avoid becoming Kaguya's lackey. I've paid close attention to what the Diet's become over the years, how whatever pretense of it being some sort of meritocracy has dissolved as she has sunk her claws deeper into the veins of the bodypolitik through her bloodline. You would've been made to bend the knee to that woman in a way you'd find unpleasant sooner or later, such is the only conclusion that I can come to with how things are trending."
"Or... maybe you actually want to do things this ineffectual government wouldn't allow you to. Maybe you do genuinely want to make things better. I can't say. But this city is near and dear to my daughter's heart. If you really do want to help, it would feel petty to shut you down now. So while it's not as though I don't have reservations, I'm willing to at least see where this goes for now."
"As am I," Maggie concurred. "I want to help this city, and I won't turn away those who share the same desire. Though I must admit, Kayne has a point. Safeguarding our operation could be difficult..."
Edited by HilarityEnsues on Feb 5th 2024 at 1:17:29 PM
sword of promised halp
Zone Six; Industrial Atelier
"Oh, I handle mercury well enough," says Lora. "But I was trying to make more of a point than anything..."
The bench workers, each poised over their own particular lens, look up and then snap to attention. Lora turns around, and then her eyes brighten.
"Mr. Brand," she says. "So good to see you."
It is, in fact, Darien Brand. He is wearing what he always wears, a slick black suit with a pocket cravat. His face is unnaturally youthful, unlined, as if he was daubed in some kind of paste and left to dry. You expect to see some kind of smug look on his face, but strangely enough, there's something different.
Anger.
"Lora, who said you could bring them here?"
The color drains from Lora's face. She sags slightly.
"I didn't... I thought you wanted me to give them a tour of the premises."
"Not this room. Didn't I say that?"
"I'm sorry," quails Lora.
"Good for you," says Brand. "You're fired. Take your things and get out."
"No! Mr. Brand, I..."
"Out," says Brand, pointing towards the door.
Lora's tongue quivers. She swallows, sobs, then slinks out of the room without looking at you. Brand rubs his hands together, then takes a deep breath.
"Well," he says. "The investigation team from the Diet, and the ace reporter, Miss Macfield. I never expected you to be here, mostly because you weren't supposed to be. But since you are here, in this room, I suppose I'll have to tell you exactly what these are."
He takes one of the blue lenses from a tongue-tied worker and holds it to the light.
"This is an Oculus. One of my patented inventions. Rum-Eyed Rufus had one in his head recently, until I took it back. Outside, it lets you see the fabric of worlds. The only way to navigate the Multiversal Mausoleum is with one of these. It's one of our bestsellers, even if the installation process is... finicky."
He puts it back on the bench, carefully. It glints there on the wood, like a frozen star.
"As you know, the Ship is largely an unknown quantity to your scientists. You have heuristics, and you can guess at things. But you took your language from outside, from me. Because I invented the Oculus. I made all of this possible. You borrowed the language that my researchers came up with, used them to fumble in the dark. But you couldn't see."
He looks around at each of you, as if taking stock.
"With my Oculi, you'll be able to control and understand the Ship for the first time in your history. You'll be able to see for the first time how all of this works. You'll be able to find the Control Room, if there is such a thing, and you might even be able to find a way out."
He's saying all this so casually. As if he isn't telling you what you've all dreamed of, as if he hasn't just taken the history of Concordia and scrunched it into the palm of his hand.
"So I'm giving you an offer. Are you going to work with me? Or are you going to try and take what I've built, just like you've done with everyone else you fear? Because I'll fight back. You aren't the first government I've had to deal with, and you won't be the last."
He waves for a chair. After two seconds of awkward silence, a worker vacates his seat. Brand looks at it for a moment, annoyed, then pulls a folding chair from his breast pocket and sits down anyway.
"Miss Macfield, you will be recording this, of course. Now, your questions."
'Being around you guys makes me go "wtf" instead of pondering the ever increasing dread of time' - EchoingSilence, 2023
Anti-Gnosis Weapon
Zone Four, Weaver's Warehouse — With the Smiths
I immediately dismount as my combat program activates and Matsumoto quickly darts to the side to dump Jenny next to a pallet stacked high with gigantic, genetically enhanced vegetables. The two controlled siblings turn towards us and fire as Petunia buries his face in his hands and sobs, but Matsumoto is faster, forming a wall of single cubes between them and us. Their attacks cross the distance and impact his bodies with a bang. Some are knocked offline, but I do not pay attention to them, because Matsumoto has also used his cubes to create something essential on our side of the barrier: footholds, which I use to scale the cube-wall in a couple hops, and then leap over the heads of the Smiths to land at Petunia's back.
"Petunia..." I intone sadly, grabbing his arm to turn him toward me, even if he isn't already spinning to face me himself. Matsumoto's undamaged cubes surge forward and reform themselves into two barriers to separate the red-cloaked brother and I from his still-armed siblings. With heels, I am perhaps a couple centimeters taller than him, though we are almost the same height without them as well. Once he is facing me fully I—
Wrap my arms around his torso in a firm hug, leaning forward to push my forehead gently against his. Perhaps those unaware would be surprised, but my artificial flesh actually runs quite warm, even with the coolant that is my blood circulating the heat throughout my body.
"Although it will not work with a human, this is how AIs and androids of my kind share information, our feelings, with one another," I explain quietly, calmly. "Petunia, the only reason you are doing all of this is that you do not see another way for Brand to be defeated and for you and your siblings to live in peace. And the only reason you have gone so far as to control Jim and Begonia is that you are panicking and hurt over the words you exchanged. But we can find another way to stop Brand, together, Petunia. I will do my utmost to make certain that you and your siblings will be able to live happily and in peace as well, because I think of all of you as my friends, and I care about you. I do not want to hurt you, and I would not be able to bear it if any of you died, because my mission is to make everyone happy with my singing. I need you to live and be free, so that you can listen to my song and be happy.
I am sure that once your control over their minds ends, your brother and sister will be quite angry with you. But I know that the bonds of family are much, much stronger than that. Even if not immediately, I am sure they will come to forgive you for it with time. But please, can we try to stop Brand and overthrow the Diet without violence? My mission, my entire reason for existing, requires me to do all that I can to make sure that even our most despicable enemies live, so that they can hear my song as well."
I do my best to hold him there, even after I finish speaking, until he gives a proper response, as much for the sake of making sure he doesn't attack as anything else.
GM of AGOG S4: Frontiers RP; Sub-GM of TABA, SOTR, & UUA RPs
Alex Mercer - Zone Seven - Flashmarket
"Blah blah blah! Don't these two ever shut up! Why are you even giving them the time, eh? You don't have a dick, you dummy. You're not getting in her pants. They're still talking? I have half a mind to shoot myself in the head with the first gun I see."
"That wouldn't kill us, dumbass. Try harder."
You glanced at Kayné.
"If they find our operation, then the first step has failed. I'll handle protecting it. I'm not asking any of you to stick your necks out for the sake of my plan. I'll find the people and the resources needed, I just need your help getting things off the ground. But if it helps I'll make sure to pass the product by all of you first to make sure it's up to snuff. I'm avoiding Diet and Guild oversight because I know from experience it'll slow everything down, not because I want to cut corners. But I'll get back to that."
Blair mentioned something she'd said before, her aversion to "games". Part of you bristled at the notion, at the idea that she was pretending anything else was happening. Of course this was a game. Life was a game. Everything was a game once getting shanked in an alley wasn't a serious threat anymore. It was merely a matter of perspective, a difference in the valuation of costs. But you were never going to get anywhere without valuing the opinions of your potential associates.
You weren't used to having associates. That, too, was a difference in perspective.
"Correction. We're not associates. I'm temporarily lending my body to you. Once I figure out just what buttons to push up here, I'm sending you down a hole so deep you ain't ever gonna see the light of day. And then, just for wasting my time, I'm gonna kill cripple over here with the fake arm and leg. Fuckin' hate people with prosthetics."
"And here I thought I was an asshole."
You shrugged at Blair, and said "Lemme clarify. Call it my point of view, if you like, but I've gotten the impression you don't give a shit about this city. Your daughter, however, dear Maggie here, cares a lot about this city. And you care about her, and by extension the things she cares about. So it's in your best interest to care about the city, despite yourself, both because she does and because she has to live here. Anything that happens to the city can happen to her."
You brought up a hand, index finger raised, to head off the rebuttal you knew was coming. Blair valued her appearance perhaps more than she should, and you were going to respect that.
"And before you think that's an insult, or me getting a jab in at anyone's expense, lemme say that I get it. I really do. Because I don't care. That's what separates us. You have something you care about. The only thing I've ever cared about other than myself is my sister, who's living safe and sound back in my home world, no longer having to put up with my bullshit."
Fuck it. You'd already overplayed your hand merely by attempting to involve anyone else that you couldn't get to fall in line by force. You hated this city, so why not go whole hog? You'd never really accomplished anything without an enemy in your way or a goal you could chase.
"For over a decade I've been doing the things I told myself she would care about. But it's never really worked, because how the fuck could it? She's not here, and pretending to care won't lemme see her smile again. I ain't doing this for anyone else, I'm doing it for myself. Always have been. I don't have anything else."
Your forearm turned to armor as you clenched your fist and glanced back to Kayné, then Blair and Maggie. "You wanna know what I hope it'll become? Something I can fucking care about. 'Cause if it doesn't, I'm gonna need to find someone to make me care, or I'm gonna lose my fucking mind in this shithole."
He started to speak. You weren't sure how he'd figured it out, or even if it was entirely conscious on his part, but a mouth started to grow on your shoulder. Fear and anger welled up from deep within. And you don't wanna see me lose my fucking mind, you could feel him try to scream out. You were only barely fast enough to keep your armor creeping up further to mask it, to prevent the illusion you'd so carefully cultivated from shattering completely.
"Oh no you fucking DON'T!" you roared back internally as your hands went for his throat. "Listen here you fucking shit! There ain't a single fuckin' person in this whole goddamn city that has any idea what I can do, and I ain't gonna let you ruin fuckin' everything I've worked for just because you don't have any goddamn fuckin' self control!"
He was silent for a precious few seconds, overpowered but not cowed. Then, he chuckled. It pissed you off. Then, he spoke. That pissed you off more.
"You better sleep with one eye open, kid! I've been taking a look around your body. Seems like I'm not the only person you shoved in here. Would be a shame if I used that to my advantage, wouldn't it?"
"You still don't get it, do you? When we get back, we're gonna have a nice long chat to make sure you understand."
It had only taken a few seconds, but sure enough that'd been long enough to ruin your composure. Your armored right arm hung limp as you clutched your shoulder with your free arm. You straightened up and cracked your neck, before shaking your right arm to wake it up, and allowed the armor to fade away again.
"I should go," you said, before turning to leave. "I'll be in touch."
Edited by lynkzero13 on Apr 18th 2024 at 8:54:44 AM
An Ordinary Oddball
Kayné Ainsel & Moloch "Moko" Kothys—Zone 7, Flashmarket
"Well, that's a good enough reason for me," Kayne answered, after a moment where she radiated anxious but ultimately thoughtful consideration from her scholarly self. She glanced at Mercer's armored arm with her face carefully kept neutral and hands clasped neatly in front of her. "I guess I should wait until we see that it's viable before informing any of my other allies. They really need good medicine, but I don't want to count my eggs before they're hatched. Let's meet up later, maybe over food, and talk about how to put this dough into the oven, shall we?" There was a short, tense pause.
"Your condition, Mercer..." she trailed off, hesitating, and ultimately deciding against whatever she was going to add. "Never mind. Please get some rest. And don't die! Doctor's orders."
Edited by JumpingFruit on Mar 15th 2024 at 9:41:37 AM
I wear the skin of the Elder Things, having come unto my own.
Transcender of Gender
Zone Five, The Barovian Backdoor Special - Leonardo Watch
Stepping through a portal is strange to most people, but is so low on Leo's personal list of oddities that he's done it sometimes without realising. The entrances to Libra are technically portals, as are the myriad of hatches that stitch Concordia into a cohesive whole. They'd become as much of his daily routine as taking a shower, brushing his teeth, and pulling out weird clumps from Sonic's fur.
Without his eyes, however, the experience of stepping from one plane into another is just enough on the cusp of strange to give him pause. As he's ferried through, one arm wrapped around Prushka's, what strikes him first is the sudden rise in temperature, like stepping out of an air-conditioned building. Where the restaurant had been pleasantly cool, and its hustle of patrons a charming backdrop, this new locale is ripe with the stench and heat of too many bodies. Leo clutches Prushka tighter, subconsciously pressing himself closer to her, hyper aware of his personal space now that he has no warning for when it's about to be invaded.
So preoccupied by the new smorgasbord of sensation, it takes Leo a while to notice that it's all faintly familiar — to realise how Prushka freezes for a moment, and how Sonic retches like he has fur stuck in his throat. Leo casts his head about — a useless motion that he hasn't yet managed to shake — and tries to ignore his blossoming nerves. "Are we... where I think we are?" he asks Prushka, idly tapping his cane about to get a sense for where the bar and its seating are.
Zone Four, Warehouse - Ichiban Kasuga
Things aren't looking great right now.
Ichiban had been fending off the black cloaks as best as he could, dozens falling to the electrified might of his trusty slugger, but he'd taken too many blows in return, and now finds himself breathless, sweating, and unsteady on his feet. His hands are numb and shaking, his face and limbs are bloodied from errant cuts, and newborn bruises scream across his body like a demented opera. None of this would be enough to stop his assault, it never has before, but it isn't himself that Ichiban is worried about. Violet is incapacitated, Grey is bleeding, Vult is gone, Kiel is acting loopy, and Irvine has likely only escaped a similar fate by dint of his ranged weaponry. Ichiban isn't a quitter, but even he can recognise that trying to press the assault further will just net him a nap six feet under.
So Ichiban lowers his bat, he listens, and he tries his damndest to think of a way out of this mess. He can try summoning again (his phone had briefly flashed red, warning him that Taka was now unavailable until whatever magic that powered the device had patched him back up, but now it's silent and awaiting his command) but regardless of who he calls upon for aid, Ichiban isn't confident they can provide enough of a distraction for him to get everyone to safety. Now would be an excellent time for a beautiful Korean man to slink out from the shadows and save his ass, but Ichiban doubts that's gonna happen again. All he has are his wits, and he ain't too sure how well they're gonna work against a psycho like Weaver.
Still, what else can he really do? Kiel takes the floor first, surprising Ichiban with his vitriolic response. He'd never gotten the sense that Kiel had... well, any sort of anger in him, let alone the sort he's displaying now. It's hardly uncommon to be resentful towards the city, and especially towards the Peacekeepers, but still, Ichiban can't help but wonder how long and how badly Kiel has been keeping it bottled up.
But now isn't the time to be waylaid. Kiel has only barely finished speaking when Ichiban storms forward, arms flung wide, eyebrows knotted, and eyes blazing with anger. "You're asking us why we're fighting you?!" he yells, almost comical in his incredulity. "You're tryna kill us, asshole! You're the will of the people? The city's justice? Don't give me that bullshit!"
"We," Ichiban jerks a finger at himself, Grey, and Irvine, "are civvies. They," he points at Violet and, with a silent apology, at Kiel, "are kids. I'm only here because I wanted to know why some shitheads ruined my lunch, and you damn near took my head off for it!" Ichiban turns on the spot, arms still outstretched, appealing not just to Weaver but to the dozens of men under his command. "Do you really think you're helping the city by killing random people off the street? By offing kids who are too young to know any better? The hell is your problem?!"
Ichiban doesn't have any training in the fine art of acting, but he likes to think that he's better at it than not. But what he really has to sell isn't the indignant outrage, but the brazenness with which he storms up to Weaver and mad-dogs him like he's no better than a hapless thug off the street. "Now you pass over that girl so that I can take her to a medic," he says, thrusting his chin at Violet's crumpled body, not lingering for long lest his worry for her break through his facade, "or you kill us now, and you watch your shitty little group fall apart, cause you can bet your ass that no-one here signed up to kill a bunch of innocents for the crime of nosing around."
Ichiban doesn't have a whole lot of faith in this working, not after seeing how loyal these men are to their leader, but it's not like there's much else he can do. And hey, he might just distract Weaver long enough for someone else to rustle up their own plan. Crazier miracles have happened.
Zone Six, Industrial Atelier (Day Edition) - J.J. Macfield
"One moment, please."
Your smile is placid and your words are stale with honey. You spin on your heel and trot over to the door, no hurry in your step, wilfully ignorant to the eyes that burn into your back. A delightful anxiety dances in your stomach as you pull on the handle, soft skin against hard metal, and vacate the room.
It takes about a minute and a half for you to return. You push the door open with one arm and drag your quarry inside with the other, your skinny limb wrapped awkwardly around cheap plastic. You suspect the chair came from the cafeteria, or maybe some pokey little office space. You hadn't bothered to ask the worker who had been gracious enough to answer your request, and they had been too busy throwing soundbites your way to provide the answer themself. You had stopped them at the door and insisted you could take it the rest of the way yourself — the point was to deprive Brand of ammunition, not give him more. Even better if he thinks you hunted down the chair yourself.
You make a show of pausing once you've entered, closing the door behind you, hoisting the chair up by its seat, and carting it over like you've done this a hundred times before. You plonk it down in the middle of your gathered ensemble and drop yourself into the seat, legs crossing instinctively, handbag perched on your pelvis. More seconds drag by as you root around inside it, eventually procuring a voice recorder that, through your cultural lens, is an absolute relic. There's no doubt a better alternative kicking around the city, but the public are simply too enamoured with your boxy little friend for you to make the jump.
(Secretly, you like it too. The weighty click of the buttons and the spin of the microcassette are unfairly satisfying.)
You hoist your handbag under the chair and then lean forward, slightly, recorder clasped between your hands that rest atop your knee. It's easy, isn't it? To pretend that this little box is this little man's neck, and that it's your little thumb that holds all the power.
Why are you so angry, J.J.? You had only known Lora for five minutes.
You hit record.
"J.J. Macfield, for the Concordia Concordance, speaking with Mr. Darien Brand." You tilt your head up and back, your initial request for introductions dying as you're reminded of the two girls in attendance. "Peacekeepers presiding," is what you settle for instead. Whoever wants to talk can talk.
"Now, Mr. Brand, you've made some very bold claims about what you and your inventions can offer to the city," you say. You aren't smiling, but your countenance is pleasant, if meaningfully bland. "There are some points I'd like to clarify, and others I wish to know more about, but... given the circumstances, I think it's for the best that the groundwork is ceded to our guests."
You splay your palms, the recorder resting atop like a divine gift. An open invitation for any or all in attendance to say their piece.
they/them || "Forgive me, regent of queer amphibians" - Lt.BGob
Breath of the Sun
Nameless Desert, Nursery
"There is no such thing as an immortal being, Lorem Ipsum." Amaterasu said. "All lights fade. Even the sun. We will defeat you. The world always rights itself."
Nonetheless, she did not attack. It would be pointless, destroying the face of the thing. The creature before her was not bound to one shell. To purge it meant destroying it down to the soul, no doubt, and she would need preparation to exorcise such a demon.
For now, she was content to stare at the demon with judgment in her eyes. Judgment, and sorrow, for all that Lorem Ipsum had consumed.
"You will tell us all your secrets. But know that we do not need your help to return home, or to change Concordia, or to defeat Darien Brand. You bring nothing but sorrow, and we will always reject the false community you offer."
What is so amusing about this? Why do you take lives? How can you forget?
Local idiot who is a sucker for cute 2d boys
Zone Four, Weaver's Warehouse ~ Kiel
Well, I wasn't expecting Ichiban to get up and call them hypocrites, and neither did bad me...which I need to give him an name in order to make sure I don't get myself confused. Plus, I think Ichiban just want to eat lunch with the boys, not getting his head chopped off.
We are civves.
Huh, never heard that word before. I assumed that meant citizens, but I'll ask him about that once I'm in full control and out of this place. It seem like bad me knows that word as well, but there's has to be a way to communicate with him and understand him better cause if I let him be, then...
They are kids.
The moment he mention kids all while pointing at me and Violet, and the fact that bad me is in control of my body, the face of mine has an hurtful look, as if that word gave him bad memories. ...Wait, didn't I heard the word kid before?
Flashback - 7 years ago, Zone 3, ??? ~ Kiel
"...Hey kid, are you okay?"
I open my eyes and notice an old man looking at me, who looks very concerned. He just tsk and picks me up from the ground.
"You shouldn't be here. The peackeepers might assume the worse should you stay any longer."
"Peace...keepers?" I'm confused what he mean by that. Didn't I ran into the Yokmir's forest after I saw that Frey and Arthur are a couple now? Apparently, my question also confused the old man as well.
" Why, jolly! You never heard of the peacekeepers, whipper snapper? They usually keep Concordia safe!"
Okay, I'm getting more confused, so I better tell him about this. "Um, sir, I'm sorry, but I'm from Selphia, not...Concordia."
The old man blink a few times, but he smiled at me. " I see. And here I thought you got memory lost. So, yer like one of those people that came out of nowhere, right?"
Wait, there's people like me that didn't came from here? I don't know about this place, but...
" You would've love that boy I was taking care of. He's an bit of an rascal, but he went through some tough times and seem to be heavily tramuatized by it."
"What happened to him then?"
And that's where his face starts to look grim, as if he looks a bit scary. " He went missing a few weeks ago. No one has seen him since and he was last seen at the excat spot I found you here. But, I fear that kid might gone..."
I see, so he must've died...wait a minute. "Um, sir, you said you call me kid, right?"
" Yeah, you look like the same age as the boy. Why? You have a name or something?"
"Yeah, so I'm actually 18. But, I understand why you would assumed. Anyway, my name is..."
Zone Four, Weaver's Warehouse ~ Kiel
Right, the old man used to call me as kid. But, I'm never bother by that, so why he stopped? Before I could I'm able to ponder on about that, bad me looks like he's about to unleash his rageful pain towards Ichiban by using Big Fire, which hurls large fireballs and can hold up to two, which bad me decided to hold said two large fire balls and I realize just what's he's going to do; he's going to hurt Ichiban!
"How many times do I have to keep telling everyone that I'm not an kid...!"
Ah, this is so bad and I can't even tell Ichiban to dodge the large fireballs since bad me won't let me!
"If you still don't get it..."
Think, Kiel, think! I don't want him to be worse than Weaver, but there's has to be something I can do!
"...Then you can burned in hell for all I care!"
As soon as he said that, I'm able to control my left arm grabbed in ordered to grab my right arm, that his controling, as I try to speak to him internally.
" Kiki, stop! If you do this, you'll-"
"Let go of me! If you don't, we'll both-"
Well, he isn't into the talking internally, but he heard me, so I'm taking that as an win. I try to make sure that he wasn't aiming at Ichiban and try to aim at something else, but he kept on making sure that he's aiming at him, which I don't want nor I'm going to aim at Weaver and do an repeat of what Usagi did.
During the struggle of me and getting him to stop, the fireballs just outright starts to sizzle as we both realizd that we're going to be burnt dishes if we let the huge fireballs be on stand by, so while Kiki, which I nicknamed my bad me as, is too focus on that, I took the chance to throw the fireball away from Ichiban, Weaver, and Weaver's man to throw it somewhere else.
I feel relived that I somehow managed to make save the day, even though I was able to control my left arm, so that's good, right? However, due to Kiki using the Shadow Ball spell earlier and Huge Fire, my body couldn't stand, so it just collapse on the knees all while I'm almost as if I run out of breath. So, that means I'm back in control in my body.
At least, until my right hand of mine just punch me in the face.
"Would it kill you if you just let me kill Ichiban san over calling me an kid?!"
Well...so much for doing the right thing by making sure he won't make things worse. But hey, at least I found a way to talk to him and being able to control my left arm.
“You bowl with 3 middle fingers” Oh hey, a troper wall
Elimo; ???, Nursery
"One supposes so," the goddess said coolly. She felt no grief, no urge to cry. What reason for her was there to feel such things? Dimly she was drifting, away from her self, away from that bundle of loss and grief and pain. She did not think she was trying to, but she felt no real compulsion to return. Was it not wisdom to accept the things one could not change? Would it really be so terrible to do nothing, and float peacefully in a sunless sea?
Amaterasu spoke, judging Lorem Ipsum. She hardly heard. Even now, the other her had still found time to lecture her on their state. Do try to get over yourself - myself, rather, since I suppose that I'm the one in shock. I really will have to speak to whoever is in charge of the metaphysics around here.
Amaterasu was talking again, demanding Lorem Ipsum divulge its secrets. Not a terrible idea, all things considered. She certainly had the presence for it, out of all of them.
What a useless goddess you are, her voice said, fondly this time. I'm trying to self-compartmentalize, because public instability would hurt you. You, who can do something other than cry.
And then it was there, but not, the crashing waves pulling back to low tide.
"If you are so insistent on talking, then speak. Perhaps it will be of use. Perhaps, at last, you will be."
Irvine; Zone 4, Warehouse
It really is not the best time for speeches, he reflects. There must be something in the air. Kiel, at least, evidently has anger issues, but Ichiban seems to be genuinely indignant about Weaver's posturing. To his credit, he's pretty annoyed with it, too. Listening to demagogues' speeches is not a favorite pastime of his. He doubts it's anyone's.
He files away Vivy's sudden appearance as just another uniquely Concordian happenstance, though the thought of the whole thing can't help but bring a flash of a sad smile. He doubts that Selphie would have even bothered to construct cover, if she could. Wasn't- isn't, he hopes, her style.
More immediately concerning is Ichiban's blustering. Daring enemies to kill them was an interesting moral appeal, but not one he'd seen often used successfully, although he is slightly amused that he was excluded from the "kids" group in Ichiban's impromptu classification. He probably doesn't know, and is doing his best, but it's still a little funny. Maybe he can lobby to have "sixteen-year-olds are generally considered minors in Concordia, but it's understandable that you were unaware of that fact" inscribed on his gravestone. Also, Kiel looks to have a split personality, or whatever the term is now, but that's really par for the course. Maybe he'd fulfilled his "try to kill nearby friends" quota for the day.
All that aside, he gets the feeling that Ichiban is at least partly stalling. Well, the joke's on him, because what exactly did he expect after he walked up to Weaver and blocked his line of sight? Idiot. Not even Zell does that - not intentionally. Anyway, the point, lack of options. Except magic.
Well, damn.
At least he can blame Kiel later.
He shoulders his rifle, careful to leave it in a place where he can draw it easily. Focuses. The feedback screech is terrible - thanks again, Kiel, creepy slug guy - but he manages, he has to, he's always had to, and isn't that the best worst strangest thing? Weaver is still looking at them, insufferably smug. Irvine looks beyond it, closer, to the still-bleeding shoulder that he can't or won't mend. He's decided to flaunt his wound, probably as commentary on his indomitability or something. Irvine doesn't really care, except that it's more visible than his head is and his slug is close to it. Close enough? That's what gambles are for. He looks at it again - and wishes.
It's easy, a little too easy for his comfort, but it happens just the same. First, Weaver is splashed with water, which produces roughly the same effect as hurling a water balloon at him - not even enough to stagger someone, unless they were a six-year-old. He could have tried to stagger him with it, but that might have ruined it. What really matters is the jagged ice that cracks into existence above that wound a second after - only in addition to bursting into frigid shards, the sudden drop in temperature superchills the water into a sheet of more ice. Ichiban and Violet would have theoretically been safe from this, but if they had decided to take a swing at Weaver while this was happening, well, he wasn't responsible for anyone's lack of situational awareness.
Idunn; Zone 6, Industrial Atelier
Brand ushers Lora out of the room and her job. He discards her so casually. She is not even an afterthought to his real goals.
It becomes apparent that I can do nothing to make my feelings on it clear. Not now. Such a thing would involve a large area, peace and a large amount of destructible objects. At the moment I only possess the first, and the second steadily retreats from me - I suppose there are enough items in here to fulfill the third criterion, but there are also other people.
Instead, I wait. I wait and listen to this man and his - what should I call it? Recruitment? Yes, he seems determined to sway us to his side. Conveniently leaving out anything we may be pressured to do, or any side effects of his Oculi. I wait as J.J. leaves, then comes back with another folding chair. She comes back and folds out the chair, then sits down and takes out her microcassette. She has hardly had the moment she asked for, and I suspect that she really wants much more.
She introduces herself and leaves the floor open, such as it were, and I realize that I should probably ask Brand a question. I check that my hood is up and fix his gaze with mine. He is not the only one who can stare.
"Explain the details of this 'installation process' you refer to," I say. "You say that you were required to extract the original Oculus from this Rufus' eye, yet the current ones seem to act as lenses. Most lenses that I am aware of do not require the extraction of the eyeball prior to usage."
Renda-Rae; Zone 7, Flashmarket
She listened to Mercer give his little speech. At least he sounded honest - well, more honest than usual, she supposed. That sudden pause suggested a bit more was going on than he was ready to admit, as did the tightness in his voice when he announced that he was leaving.
"Before you leave, I have one more question," she said. "Let us say this plan works. Perfectly. There are no issues with production or distribution or any other factor."
She paused, considering her words. He clearly had something important currently happening to him, and she didn't believe for a second that it was simple indigestion. He had admitted to his selfishness, true, but that was not always a hard thing to do, especially when one had no interest in maintaining cordiality.
"You advertise this in part as a commercial activity - here, does that not imply expansion? Even setting that aside, I do not..." She hesitated. It would be easy to say she lacked some facet of understanding. That might even play to his assumptions - oh, think not of me, former Diet member, I am merely a backwoods hunter and a fool besides, not a witch or doctor.
"You profess that you have come here and told us this in your own self-interest, and you imply that such a thing makes you honest. As such, I will be as direct as I can. What happens after this? Surely more than a few healing potions are required to change the city."
Edited by Altris on Mar 5th 2024 at 12:23:05 PM
So, let's hang an anchor from the sun... also my Tumblr
Mad Scientist
Zone 4, Weaver's Warehouse; Nathan Grey
...ugh, my head.
And my legs.
And my arms.
And my blood.
The rafters are still up, so I must have just fallen off of them into this crate of... snowberries? Huh, did not think people grew that stuff.
Or stored it in open air crates for that matter. That actually seems like it would negatively affect their condition, like if a brilliant Doctor happened to suffer a perfectly rational bout of acrophobia right above the crate.
I mean I must have ruined a great deal of these berries by falling in here, berries that could have made a perfectly good pastry-
Oh right. There was a fight brewing before I passed out.
I grabbed the edges of the crate and pulled myself up to take a look.
Well that is quite the battle. At least a good few dozen fighters throughout the field, magic getting thrown about, and people all trying to pull off their own little strategies.
But where is Vult?
Ah. Right there, bursting out of a mass of men who seem to be futilely trying to subdue her.
She seems to have this handled, so I'll simply stay hidden in this crate and try to patch myself up.
If the worse ensues I could probably throw down one of my special formulas, perhaps the rage serum if things get truly desperate.
I only have two vials remaining, after all.
Mancunian Candidate
???; Nursery - Jengbish
"Change," you mumble, as if to hear it here is laughable. You place a hand on the drum-barrel of Maia's pistol and coax it gently down, still alight with witchfire, awash in the drums and the gaze of your ancestors. The embers of the spores choke and die. What once was Mother Root chars into something black and twisted, some part of her reabsorbed by the bristling teeth of the worm. The meadow is an inferno.
Things flicker in you bold and quickened from the roiling of your hindbrain, as brilliant as summer lightning, and now you see the light in everything that you survey. The veil has burned with everything else, perhaps. You should have killed Pith where he stood and let the wolf be damned.
Change, she says now, and speaks of the world self-righting. It has been long years since last you went this far afield, to where the logic of the world had not been set and the arch of heaven had yet to be enclosed. The Nursery is set so very from sense, and it is here at last that you remember what it is that you have lost. Your dao blazes, fed by the sweeping winds of the altak. The blood that runs in you can trace ten thousand generations to the stone of the mountain and the soil of the steppe.
The wolf must have forgotten too, you think. The world has never censured her.
"We have had a century and a half," you say, gripping Maia's pistol tight, "and we have changed nothing. Elimo is right. Let the worm speak. Let it speak first of this change in regime."
Edited by OG-Sama on Mar 5th 2024 at 6:26:32 PM
A dogged fellow, aren't we?
Zima - Industrial Atelier
"I'll handle the lock. Just keep watch."
It had become clear to Zima, around the time the twitchy-looking girl had tried to get them to go to the cafeteria, that she and Asuka were not contributing much by trailing after the Peeks like good little ducklings. They were supposed to be here to investigate, and they were never going to get the evidence that Witch was apparently after by following the tour guide.
That was why, at the first opportunity, she had snagged Asuka's elbow and slipped away from the group. With a nonchalant slouch, hands in her pockets, she'd led the other girl away from the bustle of the active factory floors and into the atelier's back rooms.
Now, five minutes later, she was standing in front of a likely-looking storage bay, sizing up the door with a practiced eye. Now...
Pl-lunk!
Somewhere along the way, she had picked up a crowbar, holding it low and half under her jacket. Now, it was the star of a physics demonstration - leverage and ursus strength vs concordia's finest padlock.
Zima glanced up and around as the shackle popped open, a faint smirk on her face as she met Asuka's gaze. This was almost nostalgic.
"Let's go."
Maggie and Blair, Zone 7, Flashmarket
For a moment, Blair feels an instinctual desire to protest Mercer's claim. Really, if only because her daughter is present. But then she thinks, why bother? What had that actually done for her up to this point?
"You're right," Blair replied. "Outside of my daughter, I don't care about this city."
"Concordia separated me from my wife, and took Maggie away from one of her parents. For a time I thought that maybe I'd just eventually move on from that painful reality, because that's what everyone else did. Everyone has transitioned away from their old lives and has now found whatever role they could eke out within Concordia, because they had no other real choice. But that never happened for me. I continue to feel as though I have no real place here, no real connection with its people. Perhaps that is unsurprising given that I don't share in the struggles of mortals - something they are all too quick to remind me of. Maybe it's better that way, frankly. It'd certainly give Darien and everyone else with an axe to grind against me more leverage against me if they had easier targets to hurt me through."
"But is that any way to live?" Maggie protested. "To close yourself off from other people so that you can't be hurt? That can't truly make you happy."
Blair paused for a while. As much as she wanted to say otherwise, that she was doing fine, she couldn't disagree with her daughter on this point.
"It doesn't," Blair admitted. "But even so, there are very few who'd be willing to take my hand in friendship if I were to extend it."
Maggie looks over to Kayne.
"Well, I can think of at least one person who is..."
"..."
Blair has no idea what to say to this either. What a strange turn of events today has been.
"Let's hope she isn't making a mistake," she said, though she didn't sound like she was being serious. Then she noticed Mercer walking away. "See you around."
She turned back to Kayne.
"Was there anything else you wished to discuss with me? Otherwise I too should probably prepare for the days ahead."
Zone Five, The Barovian Backdoor Special - Areum
As I enter the bar with Yukari and see Prushka and Leo from across the way, I'm also greeted by a familiar face.
Mikudayo.
There's a hologram bearing her visage, inexplicably present within the bar. At first I'm angry. What is she even doing here? Is trashing my concerts not good enough anymore? Does she have to ruin moments like this, too? But then I hear her speak, in her strange manner that only I and Jenny seem to be able to understand.
My dislike of you has always been strictly professional/
And I actually think/
You're probably not that bad
So I'd just like you to know/
That the asshole who tried to kill you at the concert/
That I tried to ruin but let's not get into that/
Is in a warehouse at Zone Four/
And we should probably go beat him up/
I would do it but I technically don't exist/
Go for it girl
Wait, what? Is this a trap? What is going on? Maybe it is, but honestly... I don't know. Somehow, it feels like Mikudayo is telling the truth. She did collaborate with me on I Can't Believe A Korean Girl Has a Body Like That Volume 2, and I do miss those days...
"I need to leave," I whisper to Yukari. "I know this is out of nowhere, but... Mikudayo just gave me the location of the bastard who tried to kill me. Don't worry, I'll be back."
With no further warning, I head out of the bar and towards the Warehouse.
Zone 4, Weaver's Warehouse - Areum
As I enter, I'm greeted with the sight of Ichiban, the blonde, probably mentally ill cop, the cop who looks like a child, some guy I kind of recognize, and someone I've never seen before. There's also some edgelord who is very clearly the guy Mikudayo was talking about, the one who tried to kill me. I'm not really sure what's going on here, but it seems clear that they are going to die unless I do something.
I'll do something, alright.
"You tried to jop with the best. But now you'll drop like the rest."
A wave of adrenaline washing over me, I rapidly fly towards Weaver. I scream as loud as I ever have, the ferocity of the soundwaves powerful enough to break through solid walls. For good measure, I also channel my magic into a giant laser to make sure this prick stays dead.
For now, I wait to see if anything emerges from that charred spot where my laser made impact. You can never be too careful.
Edited by HilarityEnsues on Mar 10th 2024 at 6:22:21 AM
sword of promised halp
Zone Six; Industrial Atelier - Brand's Oculus Bench
Brand settles back in his conjured chair and adjusts his belt. He looks unruffled — this is his element, after all — but the same tension that got him to send Lora packing is still evident in his lowered neck, in the way his hands are pressed together just so.
"That was the way things worked, yes. Several versions ago, you had to give up an eye. You also have to understand that Rum-Eyed Rufus stole his Oculus from me. He took a working prototype. He should count himself lucky that I let him give it back."
He makes as if to stand, then clearly thinks better of it. His chair squeaks.
"Now I've established my production facilities, we've been able to refine the construction of the new Oculus. It can be worn without sacrificing the eye. It can be taken off without driving the user mad. And most importantly, it comes in a range of delicious and trendy colors."
Every single lens on the workbench is blue. You're not exactly sure what Brand's idea of fashion is, but you hope there isn't a red chain color.
"The new Oculus slips over the eyeball with some lubrication, just like a regular contact. Training will still be needed, of course, to manage the new plane of vision, but there won't be nearly as many disadvantages. And I promise you, the advantages will be enormous. The fabric of the Ship will be open to you in ways that you've never even dreamed of. The weft and warp."
He leans forwards, fixing you all with his gaze.
"So. Now that Miss Macfield has this on the record, will you let me become your exclusive partner? Or should I release the neo-Oculus onto the free market, into the hands of anyone who might care to use it? Choose wisely."
Zone Four; Warehouse - Versus Weaver
Violet's right arm is missing. Arion punched its way through her shoulder, tearing the prosthetic to pieces, and underneath the scattered cogs and plates you see a winking nub of raw pink flesh. She is lying on the floor, her mouth still opening and closing, still struggling to stand.
Weaver takes Ichiban's whole tirade in silence. He folds his arms and listens, tilting his half-hideous head, his leg juddering like a cobra. Around you, the ring of black cloaks ripple in unease; despite your misgivings, something Ichiban has said is getting to them.
"Boss," says one of them at last. "You said they were trying to kill us."
Weaver's face twitches. It's a momentary spasm, but it turns his features into something completely hideous, from half-angel to all-fiend. He spins on his heel.
"Don't you dare question me," he hisses. "You think I'll put up with this betrayal?"
Arion swirls into a limpid spike, ready to attack, but the cloak's fellows step in front of him, as if his defiance has sparked something in them. The entire ring comes closer together.
"The afro man is right," says another cloak. "We joined the Front to save Concordia. Not to kill citizens."
"And I'm not fighting children," says a third. "I've got kids of my own."
The first cloak steps forward, removing his hood to reveal an unremarkable, paunchy man. His jowls quiver with courage.
"You've been feeding us to them, Weaver. If we're going to die anyway, then you might as well kill us!"
The desperate challenge hangs in the air, dying away by degrees, as everyone waits for Weaver to take up the offer and kill his subordinates immediately. But instead of doing anything of the sort, Weaver sighs.
"I see. You don't understand. I had hoped that you would be more amenable, but it seems that not all of you were educated properly. So let me explain to you."
Arion reverts to slug form. The entire circle relaxes.
"What is needed is sacrifice," says Weaver, intoning each word like a preacher. "Sacrifice your ideals. Place them on the pyre of necessity, and burn them up."
Arion flashes. The first cloak falls, headless. His fellows start, then bolt, running across the floor like rabbits, falling over each other in terror.
"Sacrifice your bodies. Give them to the cause, mingle them with the revolution. Mix your entrails with the dust of this great city."
Arion flickers, once, twice, thrice. Again and again. The cloaks scream as they fall.
"Sacrifice your lives. You are no longer yourselves. You belong to the Front. Concordia will live. Concordia must live. If you believe that the Diet must die, if you truly believe that no sacrifice is too great, then you belong to me, and if not, then you are dead! You are dead because you are still chattel, slaving away under the tyranny of the fat cows who rule this city, like the Chinese elf and the moon bitch and the jiggling pink singer, and therefore I am not killing you, I am setting you fre—"
Dark Kiel's Big Fire detonates off in the distance, like a dramatic aside. An entire rack of caramel cookies vanishes into dust.
"Oh, come on," says Weaver, before being completely and utterly soaked. Arion pauses in the middle of a cloak's back, as if in shock, and then bolts back.
But too late.
Cold explodes outwards, falling from the ceiling, dusting you with so many shards of white crystal. Weaver freezes instantly, stuck in a solid sheet of ice, his magical shields and magical slug no defense against a sudden drop in temperature. And then, in the midst of the winter explosion, bouncing through the air with her billowing heft, in bubblegum array —
"You tried to jop with the best. But now you'll drop like the rest."
Areum's sonic scream blows right through the ice, shattering it into tiny fragments. As she lands, she does a heart sign with her hands and fires a gigantic pink laser, lighting up the entire warehouse with the force of her neon fury, until finally the spots are gone from your eyes and you can see again.
"Holy cow, it's Areum," says one of the black cloaks. "What the hell is a jop?"
You gather around to where Weaver used to be, inside the pool of steaming ice. Within the charred circle is a broken body, frozen and singed, completely and utterly dead. His face is twisted in a mask of vitriol, of complete and utter hatred. His eyes stare wildly at nothing. A silver slug is draped over his skeletal chest, as if in mourning.
Zone Four; Warehouse - Versus Petunia
Petunia stands in your grasp without moving. His back is completely and utterly stiff, like a board. Jim and Begonia stand frozen like zombies, raygun and wand pointed at thin air.
You cannot understand the look on his face, twisted and vacant, until you remember that he cannot read your mind. You are the first person who has embraced him without revealing all of their darkest thoughts, the hidden disgust that lurks deep within every human heart. And that is something completely alien to him, as strange as the idea that there might be coolant in your veins.
"Violence?" he says. "What violence? I haven't even started. Vivy, do you know what I could do if I wanted to? I could make Maggie take her eyeballs out. I could make J.J. tell everyone how she really feels. I could give Leo the guts to do something. You keep talking about life. You're a robot. You don't have a mind. You aren't twisted up on the inside, like us. I should know. I can hear everything. And if you knew what Brand felt like on the inside, then you…"
He tears himself out of your grasp.
"Get away from me," he says. "Don't touch me, you hear? I don't want anything to do with you. I don't want to hear about your stupid song, I don't want you to talk about peace and love and all that hippy bullshit, and I don't want you to even mention my family. You're the same, Teto. You're not human, just a monster. What do you know about us? How could you even pretend to —"
It comes from the inside of the warehouse, an explosion of ice and a scream so loud that it shakes your skull. Petunia claps his hands over his ears, but in that moment, another scream streaks past, zipping through your feet like a little marten on speed.
"THE UNITED FRONT FOREVER! CAPITALISM FOREVER! DEATH TO ALL PEOPLE WHO MESS WITH MY IMMACULATE VIBES! DEATH TO EVERYONE WHO OPPOSES THE INTRODUCTION OF MY REVOLUTIONARY CURRENCY, UNITED FRONT ACCEPTABLE COIN!"
The marten, glowing bright red and throbbing with power, smacks Petunia in the face and takes him down in a scrabbling fit of rage.
"Addward?" yowls Petunia. "Wait, no, Addward! We're on the same team!"
"AHA!" screams Addward. "LITTLE BRAIN-BOY THINKS HE CAN TURN ME AGAINST MY NEW POLITICAL CONVICTIONS! WAIT UNTIL HE SEES THAT I HAVE OVERCOME HIS MASTER, DARIEN BRAND, WITH MY NEW REVOLUTIONARY FERVOR! I HAVE SURPASSED CAPITALISM! I HAVE OVERTHROWN THE SYSTEM BY BECOMING CAPITAL!"
"I said stop!"
Petunia smacks his hand against a rack for purchase, then shoves a finger to his temple. The air roils with the same psionic brain-blast that passed over you outside Jenny's office, but Addward simply turns redder in response. The blast wobbles, then goes inwards.
"Wuh," says Petunia, before collapsing like a sack. Jim and Begonia blink and shake themselves awake.
"Haha!" says Addward. "There was a time when that would have completely destroyed me. Fortunately, Weaver taught me to access my full and limitless potential as an enlightened being. I was never flesh and blood to begin with, you see, only the pure spirit of the financial system. So, now that Darien Brand's cronies are defeated…"
Addward winks out of existence, then reappears in Begonia's grasp.
"Apportation works on inanimate objects only," says Jim. She looks very tired. "Addward, you always were a handful. But I have to thank you — you actually did us a favor this time, if only by taking out my stupid brother."
"Unhand me!" struggles Addward. "I am vengeance! I am the night! I am United Front Acceptable Coin! I am…"
The red and black drains from him completely, leaving him a regular shade of brown.
"Oh," says Addward sadly. "We actually were on the same team. I see."
The marten ponders this for a few unhappy moments.
"Is it too late for me to tell you about my new financial venture? It's called United Front Unacceptable Coin. Because, well, the United Front is unacceptable. Coin."
???; Nursery
"Ah," says Lorem Ipsum. "You may have carved a gigantic swathe of pain through my main trunk, Jengbish, but deep down I always liked you. I shall now commence the catechism."
He opens his left hand. From inside the splayed palm appears a tiny Lorem Ipsum, dressed in a top hat and tails. Tiny Lorem Ipsum is very squeaky.
"Question," says Tiny Lorem Ipsum. "This place is called a Ship, but it does not move. Nor does it float in a sea, nor does it have sail, nor engine, nor rudder. How then can it be called a Ship?"
"Answer," says Lorem Ipsum. "It went adrift long ago."
Tiny Lorem Ipsum claps his hands.
"Question. This place is called a Ship, but a Ship must surely be crewed. Yet you, Lorem Ipsum, are an outsider, and so are these who stand before us, and so are those who lie all around us. Where then is the crew?"
"Answer. They were once, but now are no more. They were called the Last Watch."
Tiny Lorem Ipsum nods.
"Question. If indeed there was once a crew, called the Last Watch, they must surely have been here in number. Yet they have left no trace of their existence. How can we prove that they did indeed exist?"
"Why," says Lorem Ipsum, "the Last Watch left the scouts. And I ate the scouts, mostly, and the Last Watch, and so you're going to have to trust me."
"Very clever," says Tiny Lorem Ipsum. "Why should anyone trust you?"
"Answer," says Lorem Ipsum. "Because no-one else could give this catechism."
Tiny Lorem Ipsum gives himself a round of applause, bows, and then does a double backflip into Lorem Ipsum's waiting mouth.
"You have to understand," says Lorem Ipsum. "I'm not like your people back in the City. Your Diet, your United Front, even your green-eyed psychics. They only tell you half the truth. I tell you all the truth, but in riddles, because if I told you everything at once you would probably just try to kill me again. And besides, what reason have I to lie?"
He gestures at the bodies of the Bloom, strewn all around you, drying under the night sky.
"I am the Eater. I do as my nature dictates. Your oligarchy is noxious to me. Not morally, mind you. That's Weaver's take. He hates you because of the suffering you've caused. I hate you because you're too chicken to drop the facade and turn all your citizens into slaves already. That would be the true and honest way. Communal living."
He smiles, wide. His mouths smile all around him, from inside the Bloom.
"So, why should you ally with me, dearly beloved? Because there are greater dangers than you and me in Concordia. Darien Brand. An outsider, a great merchant lord from outside the Ship, wielding vast power. Or rather, he did wield vast power. If we were to face him in the multiverse at large, he could defeat us with a snap of his economic fingers. But he has not, because he cannot. He is a wet cat pretending to be a tiger. But even in his weakened state, he has knowledge. He knows. And knowledge turns to power, if you let it live."
"But you said dangers, with an 's,'" says Tiny Lorem Ipsum, from a place inexplicable.
"Yes," says Lorem Ipsum. "The second is your Diet. And they do have to die, by the way, because of that little piece of paper you call the Charter. They toy with powers they do not understand. They are children licking machetes. The very thought makes me want to institute some kind of socialist democracy. That piece of paper, when it does go to pieces, will tear this Ship apart. You have to destroy the Diet before they get their grubby paws on it, or everything will be ruined."
"So you are offering your help," says Tiny Lorem Ipsum.
"I am presenting the problem," says Lorem Ipsum. "The solution is something that I will attempt with or without your help. For some reason, I don't think the United Front will be around much longer."
Edited by troydenite on Mar 16th 2024 at 5:22:33 AM
'Being around you guys makes me go "wtf" instead of pondering the ever increasing dread of time' - EchoingSilence, 2023
An Ordinary Oddball
Kayné Ainsel & Moloch "Moko" Kothys—Zone 7, Flashmarket
"I don't want any of your limbs so long as you're still using them," Kayne joked, before realizing it could be taken as a rejection of friendship. Then she panicked almost comically, looking left and right before grabbing one of Blair's hands and awkwardly kissing it. "Nothing against them, though. They're very long and shapely, y'know?"
"All jokes aside, there is one last thing I just thought about," she added, more seriously, rubbing her chin with the same nervous energy as before. "I'm going to try and call for a general meeting between our allies. I don't trust what that thief had to say. I feel like he's trying to cause a rift between all potentially interested parties. If I keep his plans a secret now, I feel like it would betray my friends' trust. So, it's simply better to tell everyone about the Charter, and clean and air out a wound before it festers."
"I think one hand should know what the other does, in any case," Kayne concluded pensively. "The Charter should be kept out of the thief's and Brand's hands, who seem awfully confident they can bottle sunlight. Anything after that can be discussed honestly among our side. Besides, people like them believe that people will turn on each other for the smallest advantage. Maybe by not bowing to that expectation, we can blindside them in some small way—I hope."
Edited by JumpingFruit on Apr 21st 2024 at 4:49:06 AM
I wear the skin of the Elder Things, having come unto my own.
Local idiot who is a sucker for cute 2d boys
Zone 4,versus Petunia ~ Teto
Okay, I did not expect Vivy to hug him, but hey, it's not harming anyone and I'm on board with this. Sadly, it didn't last long and he tries to give me the reason I suck speech by calling me a monster, which I find amusing since one, I consent to the idea of being a chimera. Secondly, I only used that to defend myself if needed and this ain't it chief. Thirdly, I only did all of that to Petunia earlier cause he's the first person in Concordia to successfully piss me off. Maybe I should tell Jim about this and tell her about it just to see if Petunia cares or not.
Aside from that, I can tell that Petunia is feeling...a lot of negative feelings to be exact. Concordia is...well...not a great place if that's what I'm getting at and my boss did admit he didn't like the diet.
Conclusion; something needs to change and we need to get Petunia to take a chill pill.
Or...just have a random baka comes in with red and black to talk about some scam coin while beating the shit out of Petunia.
Huh.
I gave up understanding the place the moment Doctor Grey pulled his gun out when we first met, so this is probably normal here.
Thankfully, I guess, Jim and and Petunia's younger brother aperhanded the guy, or Addward as Jim calls him. ...And he is trying to promote the scam coin...AFTER HE- You know what? I'm not dealing with this, so I simply walk away from Addward while looking for the person who said Jop. Petunia did get a few points about everything correct, I also got my few points correct as well. This world may suck ass, yet it's wonderful. Wonderful enough for me to even exist.
I decided to take a peak at the fight from the other side of this warehouse and I saw an japanese man, a long ponytail blonde knight lady, a generic guy with a gun, Aruem if Jenny and Mikudayo's description of her is correct, Kiel-
...Wait, why is he here? Wasn't he a librarian? Did Weaver kidnap him?! Well, at least Aruem did Weaver a favor for me. I'll ask Kiel later about that, as I notice there is a slug on Weaver's dead body, mourning. Maybe the slug just wanted a friend in this messed-up world.
I close my eyes as I turned myself back into being human, take a deep breath as I sing This Messed Up Wonderful World Exist for Me
Zone 4, Weaver Showdown ~ Kiel
Thankfully, the big fire hits caramel cookies, stopping Weaver from killing off the black cloaks. And, that is pretty much what led to his death with Aruem taking the final kill. After that, there is the slug, mourning his death. Maybe the slug is misunderstood. Maybe it wants a friend. Maybe-
Hm? What is that sound? I, or well, Kiki, turned around and notice Teto. Wait, how did she get here?! Well, at least she hasn't figured out I'm a part of the peacekeepers and the whole other me situation.
She is singing...something. I can't even understand it. But, to my surprise, Kiki does. As Teto kept singing, Kiki starts to cry.
"...I-I'm not crying! I just got the caramel cookie dust in my eye!"
...Yeah, no I'm not falling for that. But, while I don't remember how Kiki existed, I want to understand him better and teach him that killing people isn't the answer. The only question is how...well to make sure differentiate from me and him, I need to get something from Donki. For now, I'll just comfort Kiki as we listen to Teto's song.
Edited by Xabbynip09 on Mar 15th 2024 at 4:07:43 AM
“You bowl with 3 middle fingers” Oh hey, a troper wall
Witch - Zone Six - Industrial Atelier
It came to your attention that your two wards had snuck off at some point very recently. This would be alarming if not for the presence of Satsuki's bodyguard, tailing them invisibly. Zima was no slouch, but much less of an assurance to Satsuki in regards to Asuka's continued well-being. As much as you would've much rather them stayed close, there were merits to a split investigation.
This was, of course, discounting that their presence would've no doubt complicated things, given recent developments. The most wanted man in all of Concordia had arrived, and in his wake one of his employees had left, rather unceremoniously. Zima would no doubt hate Brand, and had trouble holding her tongue at the best of times. Now was certainly not the best of times.
Macfield quickly vacated the premises and returned with another chair with which to make use of in questioning your illustrious host.
"Peacekeeper Guardian Witch," you said, in support of her eminently formal approach. You were already being recorded, there was no point in attempting to disguise what was happening here.
Brand spoke of his secrets, of his prized invention, The Oculus. How it had been stolen and returned, and how he was producing more.
His words were uninteresting to you, until suddenly they weren't.
You had obviously not been present to witness the foundation of Concordia, to personally observe the chaos and conflict that finally gave way to relative stability. But, upon arriving in this alien place and experiencing the total dismantlement of everything you thought you'd ever known, you took it upon yourself to learn as much as you could about what had happened, what was real, and what was known to be impossible.
What Brand spoke of was, by all recorded knowledge, not merely improbable, but impossible. Concordia existed but due to the arrogance of one.
Bad cop it was, then. Kim knew this playbook by heart by now.
"Am I to take it," you spoke up, "That we are in fact in the presence of Rassilon, the most feared man in Concordia's history? Scribe of the Charter, tamer of what we call the Incoherence? The very man who considered all others before him quaint, any ideas he had not made his own incomplete and flawed? What could a god possibly need anyone's permission for?"
But his words raised another interesting possibility. He was asking for a partnership. His reach, his understanding, must then by definition be more limited than he would like to let on. You would not be having this conversation were he aware that the Diet had declared him persona non grata. That was none of your concern; If he had not found out yet, he would find out soon enough.
"You may certainly apply for a partnership, but that is neither my purview nor my interest. I protect the people of this city, not their commerce. What I am interested in, sir, is how this factory came to be in your hands following Doctor Robotnik's arrest and conviction. We have good reason to believe this facility was utilized in Robotnik's dealings with Greed, who has as of yet remained unaccounted for despite the dissolution of his criminal empire. If you can provide further enlightenment relevant to our investigation, it would be most appreciated."
Edited by lynkzero13 on Mar 18th 2024 at 8:24:46 AM
Zone 7, Flashmarket
Blair is visibly taken by surprise when Kayne kisses her hand. Her mouth curls into a smirk.
"Bold, aren't we? Not that I mind."
Maggie tilted her head.
"They're uh... definitely getting along a lot better than I expected them to," she thought to herself.
She then shifts her focus back to the topic at hand.
"You're right," Maggie concurs. "The Charter cannot be entrusted to Xue Ya or Darien, that much I agree with. In fact, I think there's very few people that I'd be comfortable in possession of such an artifact to begin with. I'll admit, the Diet has done one hell of a job of obfuscating what the Charter even is by making sure there is very little publicly known information about it available to the public, so it's possible my conception of what it does is entirely wrong."
"But from what I can surmise, and from my mum's own general magical knowledge, the best hypothesis we've been able to come up with - putting aside whether it even exists or whether it's merely a fake Diet propaganda tool, which I can't hazard a guess about without some real evidence one way or the other - is that it essentially dictates the fundamental rules of reality within this ship. If it were to fall into the hands, someone with the capability to manipulate could potentially kill everyone in the ship. Change the way that certain forces of physics and nature and magic interact with each other in creative enough ways, and it's not hard to imagine what an incredibly dangerous weapon it could be in the wrong hands."
She scratches her chin, deep in thought.
"What's curious is that you'd think, if the Diet commands this Charter, they would've used it to make revolution against them impossible. The United Front may not have had any successes just yet, but why do our supposedly all-power oligarchs even have enemies that have managed the near-misses that they have? My theory at this point is that if it does actually exist, the Diet's control of it is incredibly limited at best. Should someone with more magical knowledge and the ability to more finely manipulate it get a hold of it, the entire city will potentially be in danger. Ah, but I digress, I'm getting off topic... We're going to have to clearly communicate with our allies to succeed, that's true. I'll support you fully in your efforts."
"I'll use whatever means I need to to keep the Charter out of the wrong hands," Blair said. "Even if it means directly 'dealing' with our problematic ally myself. If he is so certain this Charter exists, and if it is even a fraction as dangerous as it is believed to be, then he's potentially as much of a threat as Darien. And there is but one way to deal with a threat on the level of Brand."
There's an austere expression on her face for a moment, but it quickly dissipates.
"...Assuming things come to that, anyways. I'm getting far, far ahead of myself right now. In the meantime, if you need anything at all for your project with Mercer, be sure to let me know. I've got plenty of inventory, after all. In the meantime, I look forward to a fruitful partnership, Miss Ainsel."
"I'll see you around Kayne," Maggie said. "And one more thing..."
She kneels down and gives Kayne a hug. She tempers her strength so as to not harm the poor woman being engulfed in the giant's arms.
"You'll live to see a better tomorrow within Concordia, I promise you I'll do whatever I can to make that happen. So don't go thinking about whether you'll be here tomorrow just yet. You've still got a long life ahead of you, I just... feel it."
After a few moments, she lets go and stands back up. Blair, as resentful as she often was of this city and the changes it forced upon her life, was glad in the moment that it brought her daughter someone she cared about as much as she did. Much as she dismissed the possibility of her ever becoming bleeding-heart or truly motivated by kindness and altruism as the women before her, she couldn't help but wonder if she was becoming more human and willing to let people into her stony heart than she was in the past. Was that even a good thing? Caring about other people meant that she'd be easier to threaten and exploit. How exactly was that going to turn out for her? She didn't know, but at least in the moment, she didn't care that much.
Assuming there was no other business between them, the two would depart.
Transcender of Gender
Zone Four, Warehouse - Ichiban Kasuga
Ichiban had been joking about getting saved by a beautiful Korean, and yet here one was. He has to blink a few more times, long after the neon's imprint has fizzled from his vision, to confirm that Areum really is standing before him, and not a figment of his imagination. But the stench of Weaver's charred corpse is too authentic to be imagined — almost nauseatingly so — and so Ichiban's doubt is lost to a sea of swelling triumph as he pumps his fist in the air and exclaims, "Hell yeah! Nice save, Areum!"
He turns back to Kiel and Irvine, offering them a wide grin and a hearty thumbs-up. Things had moved too quickly for him to get a sense of who had done what (he's pretty sure Kiel is mad at him, actually, but he can deal with that later), but they'd all scraped by and that's what mattered. Some of them, however, were a little more battered than others: as his eyes pass by Violet again, prone and in pieces, Ichiban's smile fades and his eyebrows knit together as he pulls out his phone and navigates back through to the Poundmates menu.
"We need a patch up. Kiyoe Shirakawa, I SUMMON YOU!"
Once again lightning fires out of the phone, travelling skyward through the hole that Grey left in the roof. The blinding light fades, its thunderous follow-up trickling into silence, and then suddenly something drops down into the warehouse with a hearty clatter. It's a table, decorated with a host of vegetables, a bundle of plates, and a large pot. Seconds later, a woman comes shooting down after it, hitting the ground with enough force to shatter the kneecaps of any average person.
And an average person this seems to be. She wears a flower-patterned cooking apron over homely clothes, her messy hair is collected in an orange kerchief, and her features are almost endearingly plain. She holds a well-worn kitchen knife, and her smile is warm as she surveys the scene. "Oh dear," she says, with a motherly tone, "looks like you could use a pick-me-up!"
It happens almost too quickly for the human eye to follow. The row of carrots before her are reduced to finely-cut slices in an instant. A large radish is chopped up with the speed and precision of a bullet, the sound of the knife against the chopping board like machine-gun fire. In just a few seconds the pot is full with boiling veggies, Shirakawa stirring it with ferocious enthusiasm. The warehouse is filled with the thick, homely scent of stew.
"Please, help yourselves," Shirakawa says with a smile. She's already ladelled the stew into a handful of bowls, and there's only enough time to see her take one into hand before she zooms off, coming to a screeching halt next to the broken crate of snowberries. The stew is, somehow, undisturbed.
She leans over into the crate, pressing the bowl into Grey's bloody hands. "Careful, it's still hot!" she says, and then is back at the table, grabbing a second bowl and darting off again.
This time Shirakawa stops before a hooded man with a gash in his leg, gently urging him to sit before leaving him there with a bowl. She continues in this manner, passing out stew to anyone too injured to make the journey to the table, before she finally comes to a halt by Violet's side.
"You poor dear," she cooes. She gets down on her knees and gently lifts Violet's head to rest against her lap. Taking the stew into hand, Shirakawa fills a spoon, blows away the steam, and then carefully tries to urge it into Violet's bleeding mouth.
Anyone who partakes of the warm, mouth-watering meal will find their exhaustion melting away. What's more, as their bodies are filled with the taste of fresh vegetables and motherly care, of a nostalgia that few would be able to place, they would find their injuries abating — cuts mending, bruises fading, and even a few bones clicking back into place. The more seriously wounded would still need proper medical care, but for now, at least, they would be stabilised.
Despite taking a few licks himself, Ichiban doesn't head over to the table yet. His phone beeps, alerting him that the Poundmates service would now be unavailable until tomorrow, but his attention is solely on Weaver's corpse — or rather, what rests atop it. Ichiban briefly considers trying to smash the slug before it can make a move, but something halts his hand. Maybe it's years of always trying to see the best in others. Maybe it's the song echoing through the warehouse, which Ichiban is definitely sure he's imagining this time. Maybe he's just an idiot.
In any case, Ichiban rests the tip of his bat on the ground, and hesitantly crouches down next to the slug. "Arion, right?" he asks. He speaks gently but firmly, less to an animal and more to a fellow. "I dunno what kind of deal you two had, but you don't have to end up like him. Knock it off with the killing and you can still get outta here alive, alright?"
they/them || "Forgive me, regent of queer amphibians" - Lt.BGob
Anti-Gnosis Weapon
Zone Four, Warehouse
Petunia wrests himself from my grasp, and from that point, things move quite fast again. In the end, the psychic is defeated by the intervention of a talking marten(?) apparently named Addward, who mistakenly thought they were on opposite sides of the conflict. I am saddened that Petunia rejected my plea for peace and has now been rendered into what seems to be a vegetative state, but at the same time, I am glad the threat has been dealt with, and at this point, I mostly feel bewildered at the marten.
"Yes, thank you for your assistance, intentional or not, Addward," I intone, bowing slightly to the furry animal(?) in Begonia's grip.
"Goodness gracious, there's no end to the oddities you can find in this city, is there?" Matsumoto comments, hovering over at Addward and using one of his small arms to curiously rub the creature's head. "I don't know, Jim, he looks perfectly animate to me!"
All that aside, there is something important that I need to do, now that both Petunia the threat on the other side of the warehouse is dealt with, the latter thanks to the unexpected but timely intervention of someone who I needed to talk to sooner or later. Humming to Teto's singing, I walk past all the shattered and broken pallets of food, privately lamenting those who will go hungry for their being wasted, and approach the remaining cloaked individuals, along with Areum.
"Excuse me, everyone! If I could have your attention, please?" I request with raised voice after the man with the afro summons a cook who is swiftly distributing soup to and fro. "My name is Vivy. I am an idol singer and employee at Jenny's Talent Agency, and I am told my manager, Jenny, was at least a nominal ally of the United Front, though she by no means endorsed violence as a solution, and I only just learned of her involvement mere minutes ago, not having been involved with the Front myself. If those of you who remain are amenable, I would like to request your help with a project that I consider very important: I wish to rebuild the United Front, not as an organization that utilizes violence to achieve our shared political ends, but as a peaceful protest movement that opposes the Diet and aims to improve the welfare of our neighbors using people power. Perhaps we would use a different name for the organization, but the goal of overthrowing the Diet and establishing a new state that answers to and betters the people of Concordia would be the same, even if we would be using non-violent means."
"To that end, I would also like to extend my hand to you, Areum," I continue, literally extending my hand to her in an offer for a handshake. "I know that we have often been at odds, but I also know that being part of the Diet is not something that suits who you are. I can sense that, like me, you have only ever wanted to bring joy and catharsis to others with your music, not operate as an agent of state oppression and propaganda. Therefore, I implore you to leave the Diet behind, resign from it, and join us in this new, peaceful movement I hope to found. Whatever anyone thinks of your foray into politics, you still command the admiration and affection of much of Concordia's youth, and I do not know if we will be successful, but I know that with your celebrity and star power, our success will be much more likely than without you."
"As for me, unlike Jenny, I never bore any resentment toward you for being the more successful musician," I explain, cracking a warm smile as I look up at the giantess. "In fact, I was hoping that, protest movement aside, you might join me in working on albums of protest music together with Teto and Mikudayo. I am sure that such albums would be more of a success if we worked together than apart. What do you say, Areum?"
Edited by darksidevoid on Apr 10th 2024 at 8:18:34 AM
GM of AGOG S4: Frontiers RP; Sub-GM of TABA, SOTR, & UUA RPs
The stall merchant's dismissal and sudden decision to pack up earned a raised eyebrow, but not much more. You'd obviously missed something, but in light of present company it wasn't worth further attention.
"Yeah, something like that," you replied to the catgirl. You hadn't expected the red carpet, but this reception was a bit icier than anticipated. Kayné obviously wasn't expecting you, which must've meant she never got your letter. That was a problem for a later time. But you couldn't think of why Blair would've responded so strongly-
Oh. Right. You were a piece of shit. Whoops. How silly of you to forget at a time like this.
"Fuck me, hold up a sec, okay?" you said, scratching your head. This was going to be a fun fire to put out.
You glanced at Kayné. "First, I'm gonna go out on a limb and assume you didn't get my message. But no, I doubt anyone's suddenly decided to give a shit about the 'unclaimed' territory out here. I'm here on business. My business."
Your passenger resurfaced.
"Why are you spending your time making chit chat with four eyes over here? What a waste. You've got me sitting here in the backseat and for what? Negotiations?! I'll show you my negotiating technique!"
You felt a twitch run up your arm, easily suppressed for now. You ignored him.
"Screw you."
Quiet, again.
"It got brought to my attention that the outer Zones were more lacking in..." you shrugged and broadly gestured your arms outwards and then up towards the sky in annoyance, "'Basic medical supplies' than I was aware."
Okay, that was a lie. You were aware, you just hadn't cared before. You weren't sure why you cared now, but the cat was out of the bag and you weren't fond of half-measures.
"So I wanted to consult with you, on account of your greater experience with "making do", to see if you had any ideas to help shore things up. I'd settle for making healing potions out of a meth lab if we can make it work."
"Which..."
Which left the elephant in the room. You took a deep breath and drew yourself back up to your full height, and brought your arms back down to your side, then turned to face the Nightshades.
"Given the circumstances, is an offer I'd like to extend to the two witches present. But I take it that's not satisfying enough for you."
You weren't sure if this was going to work. Frankly, you didn't care if she liked you or even trusted you, but at this stage in the game you needed friends, and this wasn't a bridge you wanted to burn. If someone was worth directing malice at, they were worth killing. You weren't much of a fan of simply... hurting people. And ultimately, you'd hurt someone without meaningful intent, and more crucially they were still standing afterwards.
Plus, she really had that goth thing nailed down. That at least deserved respect.
Someone else seemed to agree, but for different reasons.
"Hey hey hey! Who's this tall glass of water? You didn't tell me this was gonna be that kind of negotiation. Alright, kid, we play our cards right, we're scoring tonight. Put your hand on her ass, chicks dig that."
"So, second," you continued, unabated, and gave Blair a modest bow. "Sorry for being an ass."
"No, no, no, kid, you put your HAND on her ASS. You fucking moron."
"I hate to break it to you, buddy, but I don't have a dick to fuck her with even if I wanted to."
You WHAT?!"
A sharp pain shot through your chest as you forced him back, visibly wincing slightly in the process. Still fully in control, you resumed.
"I guess I assumed this was just... part of the game for you. That trading knives in the back was typical for someone else who can get back up and carry on like it was nothing. I don't have a fucking clue why I tagged along with that guy, but he's no associate of mine, there was just something... magnetic about him I couldn't ignore. No hard feelings. Not gonna hold it against you if you tell me to fuck off and leave, but I'd greatly appreciate it if you'd be willing to pitch in. There's money to be made, people to be helped."
"But, third, there's something I need to clear up."
"Fucking finally!"
"I resigned from the Diet."
"No no no NO!"
"I'm sure the papers are going have a field day when they catch wind."
"Lemme get this straight, asshole! Not only are we not gonna fuck this sweet-ass lady over here, but we had a position of power and you RESIGNED? Why the hell should I let you be me, huh? You ain't got a single greedy bone on your body! Hell, you better give me one good reason why I shouldn't blow ourselves up right now, you piece of shit!"
The pain came back, stronger, and you felt your arm move upwards. You knew from your stolen memories it felt like a heart attack. You managed to regain total control, covering the outburst by stumbling slightly in place and bringing your hand to your head, clutching it.
"Alright asshole, will you shut the fuck up if I buy you a 12-pack later?"
"...and cocaine?"
You groaned internally. "...Sure. Why not."
"Hahaha! You're a fucking pushover kid! Just watch me - soon enough, I'm gonna be walking those legs, and you're gonna be watching it all from the backseat like a pussy."
There was a brief pause.
"...And make sure it's the good stuff. Uncut. I'll know."
"Anybody ever tell you to savor your food? Gobble down everything you can grab and you won't enjoy any of it."
"Sorry, don't mind me," you finally said out loud, regaining your composure. "I ate something that didn't agree with me."