- Location
- Spain
I miss the days when people were only arguing which decision was more IC
God, yesterday sure was great, wasn't it?:/
Honestly, all choices here are reasonably IC. Zerban isn't one to give a unelegible choice.
Advance Australia Fair [Old World of Darkness]
Honestly, all choices here are reasonably IC. Zerban isn't one to give a unelegible choice.
TenfoldShields
Lounging on a Hoard of Words
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I agree with mmmmmoooooost of this but I don't necessarily agree with the whole "Meg's on track to become just another part of society" bit. He's a loner. He's never fit in as well as Lakshmi and where her life has been filled with friends and parties and being part of a healthy, thriving, social circle his...hasn't. Violence at school (dude was being a twunt but there you go). Nobody who kept in contact. His favorite hobby (archery) also coincides with him spending time by himself. His best friend (only friend) was his neighbor who was also a robot tasked with keeping an eye on him.
He's disaffected, that's the word heh. His whole life he hasn't fit in and he knows it. Lakshmi? Oh yeah definitely. But not Meghanada.
Too dark to be Lakshmi's brother. Too shy to be popular. Prone to lashing out. And oh sure that's stuff that the Union could capitalize on no disputing that, but at the same time I think there's too many bits that don't fit well.
But I don't think this choice is going to decide that one way or the other so mneheheh.
He's a bit of an odd-duck loner, sure, but that's not the specific sort of disaffection that tends to get someone to fall into orbit to the Traditions. Without Awakening I think he'd end up becoming one of those loners who nobody really notices except when someone tries to fuck with him and gets beat rather than the kind of guy who finds weird New Age or Alt-Right sites.
I mean sure he's certainly at risk but there's no signs of the ideological bent which tends to attract someone to guys who tell them "all of modernity and society is a lie." And the Technocracy is decent at making people feel like they fit in as long as they're wealthy, talented, and loyal.
- Location
- United States
- Pronouns
- He/They
In all fairness "disaffected Hindu living with discrimination in Australia" does seem like it could be a breeding ground for an Akashic (or less conventionally a Euthanatos), albeit a moderate one that isn't going to totally reject the entire concept of modernity because of it. It'd actually be a pretty interesting scenario, and a part of me does want to see a Traditions quest, but now does not seem like the time to start going down that rabbit hole.
So, just to be clear: you'd prefer going Nephandic to joining the TU?
Well yes, if we weren't you know, related to an important Technocrat, picked up by the Technocracy, and all that jazz and Meg was a lot more traditional and less materialist maaaaybe.
[X] Be reserved. You have no idea where you are or who you're talking with, not even a shred of context for what's going on. Refuse to talk until you have Dad in the room with you.
If dad's willing to talk with these guys about stuff? Then we can talk about that then.
Meanwhile though, as people have pointed out, it's weird that instead of asking about the attack he instead asks about our mother. Dad told us we were going to be debriefed about the incident; so if we were being asked about the attack that's one thing, and it'd even be relevant.
If dad's willing to talk with these guys about stuff? Then we can talk about that then.
Meanwhile though, as people have pointed out, it's weird that instead of asking about the attack he instead asks about our mother. Dad told us we were going to be debriefed about the incident; so if we were being asked about the attack that's one thing, and it'd even be relevant.
- Location
- in the trash
[X] Be reserved
- Location
- Spain
Vote tally:
[X] Be open. You don't have anything to hide, and if it helps them find Mum and keep her safe then you're more than happy.
No. of votes: 20
Timaeus, LaRed, TenfoldShields, Mutton, MJ12 Commando, LupineVolt, Da Boyz, Swarm, ChineseDrone, Tarock Star, Sucal, shenron, Olive, OneirosTheWriter, ScalesLikeCinder, Who?, sebsmith, cB557, Ridiculously Average Guy, Deadly Snark
[X] Be selective. There's some stuff you don't quite feel comfortable about sharing with this guy. Stuff you doubt is relevant, or don't trust him with. The situation feels off.
No. of votes: 8
Wander, ctulhuslp, Kyrina, Envariel, Ephemeral_Dreamer, hcvquizibo, veekie, Thor
[X] Be reserved. You have no idea where you are or who you're talking with, not even a shred of context for what's going on. Refuse to talk until you have Dad in the room with you.
No. of votes: 19
Revlid, toxinvictory, ManusDomine, djd, Yonatan, Candesce, WanderingEye, notanautomaton, ertniter, Gingganz, The3rdCorinthian, The Laurent, Nidhoggr, Garlak
Wade Garrett, Broken25,
Bludflag, will408914, Arcus2611
[X] Be open. You don't have anything to hide, and if it helps them find Mum and keep her safe then you're more than happy.
No. of votes: 20
Timaeus, LaRed, TenfoldShields, Mutton, MJ12 Commando, LupineVolt, Da Boyz, Swarm, ChineseDrone, Tarock Star, Sucal, shenron, Olive, OneirosTheWriter, ScalesLikeCinder, Who?, sebsmith, cB557, Ridiculously Average Guy, Deadly Snark
[X] Be selective. There's some stuff you don't quite feel comfortable about sharing with this guy. Stuff you doubt is relevant, or don't trust him with. The situation feels off.
No. of votes: 8
Wander, ctulhuslp, Kyrina, Envariel, Ephemeral_Dreamer, hcvquizibo, veekie, Thor
[X] Be reserved. You have no idea where you are or who you're talking with, not even a shred of context for what's going on. Refuse to talk until you have Dad in the room with you.
No. of votes: 19
Revlid, toxinvictory, ManusDomine, djd, Yonatan, Candesce, WanderingEye, notanautomaton, ertniter, Gingganz, The3rdCorinthian, The Laurent, Nidhoggr, Garlak
Wade Garrett, Broken25,
Bludflag, will408914, Arcus2611
- Pronouns
- They/Them
Compromise vote.
[k] Be Openly Reserved.
[k] Be Openly Reserved.
- Location
- in the trash
Our first meeting with the Technocracy and people are already voting for mental corkscrewiness like we're a member of the ~nwo~. Our parents must be so ashamed right now.
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[X] Be open. You don't have anything to hide, and if it helps them find Mum and keep her safe then you're more than happy.
Well at least we don't have any 2e versus Revised flamewars...
Otoh we might want to take another look at our bloodwork, because usually a traditonal mom is not something that shows up there and a blood based manadar seems unlike.
On that note our central assumptation is still that she is only awakend. For example she could also be either a wuffle or a Fera and we thus are Kinfolk . It is as likely as a explanation as us being aimed at being a reincarnation which seems strange.
And being Kinfolk might explain why our Father took the anti pentex stance there, and it is easier to detect then a number of other things that could lead to this reaction. After all detecting if someone is awakend is normally slightly harder then doing that.
Well at least we don't have any 2e versus Revised flamewars...
Otoh we might want to take another look at our bloodwork, because usually a traditonal mom is not something that shows up there and a blood based manadar seems unlike.
On that note our central assumptation is still that she is only awakend. For example she could also be either a wuffle or a Fera and we thus are Kinfolk . It is as likely as a explanation as us being aimed at being a reincarnation which seems strange.
And being Kinfolk might explain why our Father took the anti pentex stance there, and it is easier to detect then a number of other things that could lead to this reaction. After all detecting if someone is awakend is normally slightly harder then doing that.
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ZerbanDaGreat
Daemon Noble of D E M O G R A P H I C S
- Pronouns
- They/them
wew lad I'm just gonna call the vote there because I do not want another swing when things have been so closely tied for, like, ever. Presumably because you guys think this single conversation will make or break whether or not Meghanada joins the Technocracy or Traditions, which I find kind of hilarious.
Sucal
The Devil’s Cut
- Location
- Bottom of the barrel
But Zerban!
Inside Out taught me that all major life decisions were made with the voices in your head pressing a mental button!
ZerbanDaGreat
Daemon Noble of D E M O G R A P H I C S
- Pronouns
- They/them
Do not speak of that film. To assert that depression stems from the absence of Sadness in the control room fucking everything up - why, to my people it is no more than blackface! Do you hear me, Pixar? You made The Jazz Singer in 3D you bastards!
I just want to stack the odds in my desired direction as hard as possible
- Location
- Spain
I just want to stack the odds in my desired direction as hard as possible
Of course, openess is the choice with the highest chance to cause problems to our parents, and therefore with the highest chance of develping a grudge against the TU!
I couldn't give less of a damn about the whole metagame aspect, I just felt that the Open option seemed to be well, correct. It's either retreat further into our shell or explode out and get some catharsis and by god has Meg been moving towards the latter being his way of coping with stress with given the chance.
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Chapter Nine: Rakshama!
ZerbanDaGreat
Daemon Noble of D E M O G R A P H I C S
- Pronouns
- They/them
"God I... I don't know where to start," you say helplessly. "I-I mean my whole life up 'til now's been a lie! Ms. Jenkins was some- some kind of alien and Rob was a fucking robot and-"
"I understand," the man says, his tone measured and smooth. "I understand. You need some answers to contextualise what you know. What you need to understand is that your father leads a certain... lifestyle. As we all do. A lifestyle which is not necessarily conducive to raising a family. It was his choice to keep his work separate, and we respected that. But, as today quite... explicitly proved, he could not leave you two unprotected. So he invested his personal assets into two discrete Constructs. Ms. Jenkins, purchased from our Progenitor branch. Robert, or 'Rob' as you knew him, from Iteration X. An old pre-Anomaly HITmark model, I believe. Quite the investment."
You look at him blankly.
"Though they hid their true nature from you, they were not... strictly speaking, false in their intentions. They were hired help to the nth degree. Whatever interpersonal connections you believed you formed were more or less genuine."
"And... and you guys? Who are you?" you ask. "What did Dad do for you?"
The man purses his lips momentarily. "It would... be quite a long explanation. Suffice to say 'we' are a global conglomerate. We operate in five discrete branches, or Conventions, but in general we share the same goals. Your father worked for our Syndicate branch in an operational capacity for many years. He distinguished himself in the Bangladesh incident of '99 and was promoted to a prestigious post in the Re-Org branch here in Australia."
"I see," you say, not seeing at all.
"So, your mother? Pentex's reach is unfortunately quite long. We may have little time."
"We, um, we weren't really together much," you admit. "Mum was always away doing her own stuff. Living at the Gold Coast holiday house or- or I thought, at least. Lakshmi and I, we only ever visited her once a year or so. 'Second Birthday' we called it. We were born on the 14th of July, Bastille Day I mean, but we always went up to the Gold Coast in October or so before Term 4 started. And we'd spend a couple days there. Have dinner, go to the beach, catch up. If she had to run out Uncle Val'd look after us-"
"Pardon me." You fall silent. The man tilts his head ever so slightly. " 'Uncle Val'? He isn't on your father's list of known associates."
"Well... no, heh," you reply awkwardly. "We dunno if he's really our uncle exactly. Mum never directly said he was related or anything. But he's always hanging around helping Mum around the house and stuff so we just started calling him Uncle Valmiki. He's nice. Little bit weird around Dad sometimes but, I dunno, never got the sense he hated him or anything."
The man nods. He's not taking any notes. Your eyes flick down to the empty pad questioningly. He just stays silent until you start talking again.
"And, um... I dunno, not much more to say," you go on hesitantly. "I guess there's the religion thing but that's kind of minor."
"Oh?" The man seems curious now. "We've never had cause to pry into Mr. Dane's reasons for converting. Was it for your mother?"
"Yeah. They never really talked about it much, though. Dad tried to raise us non-religiously. Mum mostly kept quiet about it. Uncle Val talked about it if we asked, sometimes if we didn't. Apparently he was there at their wedding, helped them make sure it was authentically Hindu. Think... think Dad cared a lot about making Mum feel comfortable about it."
"And do you?" he asks.
"Huh? Oh. Uh... yeah?" You aren't quite sure how you're supposed to react. "Mean I'm, um, Hindu myself heh. Pray when I can, don't eat beef. That stuff."
"I see." He doesn't take notes again. Loudly. You scratch your cheek nervously.
"That's, um... that's all I can really think of, sorry..." you trail off.
"No need to worry. You've been very helpful." The man stands, pushing his chair out from the table. Straightening his tie until it's flawlessly equidistant from both edges of his blazer. "You should drink your hot chocolate. It's going to get cold."
You dutifully drink your hot chocolate. It's more 'warm chocolate' at this point, and goes down easy. Must be brewed with real chocolate or something. The man inclines his head to you and dons his sunglasses once more, stepping away from the table and tugging his sleeve up to check his watch. You don't know why he'd do that when there's a clock right behind his head, but what do you know about the world any more? As if on cue, he opens the door.
Dad and Lakshmi are waiting outside.
"Meg!"
You spring to your feet, your chair lurching away from you. Lakshmi rounds the table and you move to greet her. You collide in a tangle of warm bodies and squeezing arms. It hurts and you're probably hurting her too but honestly you don't give a shit. It occurs to you that it's probably the closest you've been to her in three years. When she finally pulls away she's furiously rubbing her eyes dry.
"S-so glad to see you, was starting to get worried." Lakshmi sniffles and composes herself. "They been talking to you too?"
"Yeah." You nod in the sunglasses-wearing man's direction. "You?"
"Yeah!" She's way more excited about being talked at by a strange man in a locked room than you are. "Yeah they've been telling me all about the stuff Dad's been working on! It's amazing, Meg! I yelled at him for not telling us sooner, heh, but it's fine! It's so great, they're going to evaluate us and find us jobs and shit!"
"W-wait, jobs?" you ask, bewildered. "Lakshmi we're not even done with high school."
"Fuck high school! We're gonna -well they said school's gonna be handled in-house which sucks but I can live with it I guess- but we're gonna be working with Dad! In, like, the biggest industry in all of Australia combined! Doesn't that sound awesome?"
"It- yeah?" You glance at Dad. He takes a second to realise you're looking at him. A second to wipe that melancholy look off his face and smile at you.
"Yeah," he replies, markedly less enthused than Lakshmi. "Well, I mean... you don't have to join the Syndicate, Lakshmi. Part of evaluation is working out which Convention best suits you. Or working so you suit it."
"Indeed," the man standing beside him interjects. "But I'm afraid before we get ahead of ourselves, Meghanada will need to be isolated for a period of time. Contamination concerns, you see. He didn't emerge from the brush with Pentex quite as intact as Miss Lakshmi here."
"... I see." Dad rests his hand on Lakshmi's shoulder, squeezing tight. He's not looking at you. Why isn't he looking at you? You want to say something, call out to him, ask him what's wrong and what's going to happen. No words come. You just look on, mute. Worry grips your stomach.
"See you, Meg!" Lakshmi calls back as Dad steers her out of the room.
"... see you," you reply.
***
It's a pretty nice room. Like a high-end hotel room, the kind Dad'd put you up in whenever you went overseas for holidays. A nice, big, fluffy bed that you can just sink into and fall asleep almost instantly. A TV with Netflix - and not the shitty Australian Netflix, but the real kind that Dad always got special for the house. They even managed to salvage your clothes and stuff from your room. You watch plenty of movies, play around on your PC and PS4, and whenever you're hungry you just go to the touchscreen by the door and enter what you want. And there's a minibar when you don't want to bother the kitchen, or wherever they're getting your meals from. Door's locked whenever the (admittedly pretty friendly) staff aren't coming in, which is kind of offputting, but hey, they said it was a quarantine thing right? Nothing to be worried about.
One morning you wake up and breakfast's already in the room, waiting for you. Some kind of steaming meat dish, like ground beef or pork mince or something. Weird. You don't normally have meat for breakfast, not unless it's like, sausages and bacon and shit. You creep over, almost hesitant. Sniff. It doesn't.. smell like beef. Which is a good sign. You scoop up your fork and have a taste. Salty, got a sort of tang to it. Definitely pork, or something like it. Some cut of pork you've never tasted before, or maybe seasoned in some new way. Whatever it is it tastes... good. Really really good! Before you know it you're wolfing it down, hungrier than you've ever been in your life. Scraping up every last little scrap of meat, practically licking the plate clean. The hot meat sits comfortably in the pit of your stomach, warming you from within. You feel satisfied in a way no meal's ever managed before. It puts you in a great mood.
When you wake up the next morning you're in a different room. You're still half-asleep when you realise it. You have to sit up, rub your eyes furiously to clear the sleep from them. Blink away the fog. You have to get out of bed, pad around the room, check every corner. It's still... nice enough you suppose. But it's definitely different. The bed's a bit smaller, a bit harder. The wood panelling and soft furnishings have given way to a more utilitarian sort of aesthetic, everything built to be sturdy and not much else. Your PS4 made the transition, connected to the new TV. Your PC's gone. You experimentally boot up the former. It won't connect to the Internet any more.
You take a nap in the middle of the day. Dad and Lakshmi are there to visit when you wake up. She's dressed in some kind of uniform, military-looking, like she joined Cadet Corps herself. Hair tied back in a ponytail. Dad looks much the same as he always has. She's just as excited as she was when you last saw her. Jabbering on and on about the new classes she's going to, the new people she's meeting, the new places she's been seeing. It all sounds great. Really, it does. You try to sound enthusiastic when you tell her so. Apparently you were moved because of some new complication. She isn't clear on the details, wasn't told much specifically. But it's something concerning so you have to stay here for at least a few days more while everything gets sorted out. Dad is... barely there. Distant like you've never seen him before. Letting Lakshmi do all the talking, putting forward the bare minimum of effort to be considered part of the conversation. You want to ask him what's wrong. But you don't want to, either. You're sure he'll just deflect it. And you're scared of what he'll say if he doesn't.
There's no 'custom order' touchscreen in your new room. Every day at eight, twelve and six it buzzes and you have to pick one of three choices. You try all nine dishes over the course of your stay. All nine of them have that weird, tangy pork in them in some capacity. Strange, but part of you doesn't mind the oddness. The seasoned pork tastes fantastic. It helps calm you down, helps you go to bed feeling less nervous.
When you wake up again, you're in another room. It's not really a 'room'. It's little more than a hollow concrete cube, furnished with the bare essentials. Your bed is a small single, hard, economical. The TV is sunk into the opposite wall, inaccessible. The last of your belongings are gone. All you have are your clothes. No matter where you look, you can't quite find where the door is supposed to be. Everything is smooth, flat, grey stone. Cold and unyielding to the touch, no matter where you push and how hard. Your bed is bolted to the floor. Four little black globes sit in the corners by the ceiling. Watching.
Your head hurts. Your arms hurt. You hurt all over. You find shaved patches in your hair, little pressure bandages pressed against your skull. You rip off your shirt, hands darting back and forth across your torso, down your back. You don't have a mirror, you can't be sure. But you feel scars. Small, precise surgical scars.
You're trapped. A rat in a box. A lab-rat. This time there's no choice at all. Every mealtime all that's given to you, pushed through a small horizontal slot on a steel tray, is that salty pork. You don't eat it. You can't eat it. You sit on your bed, shirtless, hugging yourself, rocking back and forth. You can't breathe. You can't think. This can't be happening. It shouldn't be happening. It's got to be some nightmare, right? They told you that you'd be with Lakshmi and Dad. You were supposed to get a clean bill of health and leave. You were supposed to... to get out. Things weren't supposed to go back to normal but they were supposed to be something. You were supposed to have something. You weren't supposed to be all alone. You sob, but there's no one to hear you. No one but your unseen jailers. No one to help you.
Your dreams are fevered things. You drift in and out of consciousness, soaked in sweat, the sheets clinging to your burning body. You beg for water but nothing comes. You feel blindly, searching your bedside table. A jug of something cool. Water? Did they bring in water while you were asleep? You fumble for it. It slips from your sweat-slick, trembling hand. Shatters on the cold, stone floor beside your bed. You curl up in a shivering ball, throwing the sheets off, pulling them back on, over and over in an endless cycle. You feel like you're dying. You are dying. Maybe that's the only escape you'll have. How long have you been here?
You're not eating. You can't eat. How can you eat? It feels like you're body's trying to kill itself out of sheer spite for its captors. Sometimes you wake up with an IV drip in. You always rip it out as soon as you can. You always taste that salty pork on your lips. What are you supposed to do? Fight back? How are you supposed to fight back at something you can't even see? What're you supposed to do? You just want to know why. You just want it to stop. You just want to go home and spend some time at Rob's house and and and
You sleep and you dream, you wake up but you keep dreaming. You keep dreaming of the moment you drew that bow further than you had the strength for. You keep dreaming of that snake that leaped onto your arrow, squirming and winding around it like a favoured perch. The joy you felt in your heart as you fired the arrow that killed Rob's killer. The joy you felt as it suffered. The crunch of its bones, music to your ears. You wish it was in front of you right now. You want it to burn, bleed, suffer, for what it's done to you. You want to go back to that day when everything fell apart and kill every last one of those 'Pentex' men yourself. Kill them yourself. Watch them fall in droves by your arrows. Feel them break and tear in your bare hands. You want the street to be wet with their blood for daring to take away the happiness you'd always wanted, that you were so close to having. You dream of that smug, smiling, fake cop that tried to trick you. That murderer with a smirk on his face, luring you and Lakshmi to death. You dream of lunging for him, bearing him to the ground. Sinking your teeth into his throat and tearing away a bloody chunk. It tastes so much like the salty, sweet pork they've been feeding you. You want more. You want to gorge yourself on it. You dream of killing them all. Every last person who's kept you from your family.
You scream so loud that you wake. You wake to find a crater in the concrete behind your headboard. Cracking, crumbling, dripping grey dust. Dust on your fists. Bloodied, torn skin over your knuckles. You reach up with shaking hands and feel the depressions. They match. Why do they match.
You dream again. Or were you always dreaming? It must be a dream. It has to be a dream. You're going to wake up and it's just going to be Ms. Jenkins calling you. Or Dad calling you. Or Mum. It'll just be Mum. You fell asleep at her place on Second Birthday and she's calling you down to cut the cake with Lakshmi. But it's weird. She's calling you the wrong name. You haven't been Meghanada for such a long time. Your name is-
"Meghanada!"
You sit bolt upright with a cry. Panting, gasping for air as if you were drowning. You were drowning. Still are. You have to desperately sip at the air, sweat-soaked chest heaving. Heart pounding so loudly that your pulse is deafening in your ears.
But Dad's there. Dad's standing in front of you. You swing your legs over the side of your bed and try to stand. Sway. Fall back down with a 'thump'. You can't think straight. Why's everything so sluggish? Thoughts... moving weird. Can't focus. Vision blurry.
"You're still sedated. You're meant to be asleep," Dad replies hurriedly. "I had a friend feed the cameras and biometric sensors a loop but I don't have much time."
"What... why...?" you murmur deliriously.
"Meghanada I... I didn't want this to happen." He's close to tears. His eyes are red-rimmed - he's already been crying. On the verge of starting up again. His own breathing isn't much more even than yours. "I swear this is the last thing I ever wanted to happen. Your mother and I we- we swore we'd do everything in our power to prevent exactly this and I- I let her down. Let you down."
"Why?" you force yourself to be more coherent, to speak louder. You clench your fist against the bed. Make the muscles flex, make them work. Make the blood flow. "Why's Lakshmi...?"
"Because she's human- half human," he replies. "Because she's a fucking demigod and the top brass are so pleased I brought her to them she's a fucking gold star on my fucking-" He cuts himself of, pressing his palm against his mouth. Choking back a sob.
"What..." The words come slow. The thoughts don't. They whirl crystal-clear inside your skull. "What do you mean... 'she's human'?"
He's quiet for a very long time. Such a long time you're afraid he won't respond. That he'll disappear like smoke. Become a dream. Like everything else you wanted.
"I-I love you, Megahanda. You know that, don't you?" he practically whispers. "Please, out of all the lies I've told you that wasn't one of them I-"
Your strength returns to you all at once. The fury burns away the drugs, whatever it is turning toxic inside you. You surge to your feet, lunge forward, fingers closing around his shoulders. Sinking in painfully. He nearly topples. You hold him upright. Shake him like a ragdoll, like if you shake him hard enough everything will make sense and you'll finally get to go home. "What am I!?"
He's quiet again. For such a long time. But when he speaks again, he speaks in the way he knows you'll understand. So that you know he's telling the truth.
"When... when the Satya Yuga ended, Brahma slept," he says. "And as he slept his breath took form. The creatures that grew in his shadow were beasts of longing, and their bloodthirst was so strong that they... they tried to eat him alive in their first moments. Brahma cried out for help. Vishnu cast them to Earth for their sins. And... and they were named after that cry."
'Protect me!' cried Brahma as his unwanted children tore at his flesh. A single word in Sanskrit, that became their name.
You know that name
Rakshasa.
[ ] Say nothing.
[ ] Force him to tell you where you came from.
[ ] Make him get you out of this cell. You don't care how, or what happens next.
[ ] Hit him. Hard.
"I understand," the man says, his tone measured and smooth. "I understand. You need some answers to contextualise what you know. What you need to understand is that your father leads a certain... lifestyle. As we all do. A lifestyle which is not necessarily conducive to raising a family. It was his choice to keep his work separate, and we respected that. But, as today quite... explicitly proved, he could not leave you two unprotected. So he invested his personal assets into two discrete Constructs. Ms. Jenkins, purchased from our Progenitor branch. Robert, or 'Rob' as you knew him, from Iteration X. An old pre-Anomaly HITmark model, I believe. Quite the investment."
You look at him blankly.
"Though they hid their true nature from you, they were not... strictly speaking, false in their intentions. They were hired help to the nth degree. Whatever interpersonal connections you believed you formed were more or less genuine."
"And... and you guys? Who are you?" you ask. "What did Dad do for you?"
The man purses his lips momentarily. "It would... be quite a long explanation. Suffice to say 'we' are a global conglomerate. We operate in five discrete branches, or Conventions, but in general we share the same goals. Your father worked for our Syndicate branch in an operational capacity for many years. He distinguished himself in the Bangladesh incident of '99 and was promoted to a prestigious post in the Re-Org branch here in Australia."
"I see," you say, not seeing at all.
"So, your mother? Pentex's reach is unfortunately quite long. We may have little time."
"We, um, we weren't really together much," you admit. "Mum was always away doing her own stuff. Living at the Gold Coast holiday house or- or I thought, at least. Lakshmi and I, we only ever visited her once a year or so. 'Second Birthday' we called it. We were born on the 14th of July, Bastille Day I mean, but we always went up to the Gold Coast in October or so before Term 4 started. And we'd spend a couple days there. Have dinner, go to the beach, catch up. If she had to run out Uncle Val'd look after us-"
"Pardon me." You fall silent. The man tilts his head ever so slightly. " 'Uncle Val'? He isn't on your father's list of known associates."
"Well... no, heh," you reply awkwardly. "We dunno if he's really our uncle exactly. Mum never directly said he was related or anything. But he's always hanging around helping Mum around the house and stuff so we just started calling him Uncle Valmiki. He's nice. Little bit weird around Dad sometimes but, I dunno, never got the sense he hated him or anything."
The man nods. He's not taking any notes. Your eyes flick down to the empty pad questioningly. He just stays silent until you start talking again.
"And, um... I dunno, not much more to say," you go on hesitantly. "I guess there's the religion thing but that's kind of minor."
"Oh?" The man seems curious now. "We've never had cause to pry into Mr. Dane's reasons for converting. Was it for your mother?"
"Yeah. They never really talked about it much, though. Dad tried to raise us non-religiously. Mum mostly kept quiet about it. Uncle Val talked about it if we asked, sometimes if we didn't. Apparently he was there at their wedding, helped them make sure it was authentically Hindu. Think... think Dad cared a lot about making Mum feel comfortable about it."
"And do you?" he asks.
"Huh? Oh. Uh... yeah?" You aren't quite sure how you're supposed to react. "Mean I'm, um, Hindu myself heh. Pray when I can, don't eat beef. That stuff."
"I see." He doesn't take notes again. Loudly. You scratch your cheek nervously.
"That's, um... that's all I can really think of, sorry..." you trail off.
"No need to worry. You've been very helpful." The man stands, pushing his chair out from the table. Straightening his tie until it's flawlessly equidistant from both edges of his blazer. "You should drink your hot chocolate. It's going to get cold."
You dutifully drink your hot chocolate. It's more 'warm chocolate' at this point, and goes down easy. Must be brewed with real chocolate or something. The man inclines his head to you and dons his sunglasses once more, stepping away from the table and tugging his sleeve up to check his watch. You don't know why he'd do that when there's a clock right behind his head, but what do you know about the world any more? As if on cue, he opens the door.
Dad and Lakshmi are waiting outside.
"Meg!"
You spring to your feet, your chair lurching away from you. Lakshmi rounds the table and you move to greet her. You collide in a tangle of warm bodies and squeezing arms. It hurts and you're probably hurting her too but honestly you don't give a shit. It occurs to you that it's probably the closest you've been to her in three years. When she finally pulls away she's furiously rubbing her eyes dry.
"S-so glad to see you, was starting to get worried." Lakshmi sniffles and composes herself. "They been talking to you too?"
"Yeah." You nod in the sunglasses-wearing man's direction. "You?"
"Yeah!" She's way more excited about being talked at by a strange man in a locked room than you are. "Yeah they've been telling me all about the stuff Dad's been working on! It's amazing, Meg! I yelled at him for not telling us sooner, heh, but it's fine! It's so great, they're going to evaluate us and find us jobs and shit!"
"W-wait, jobs?" you ask, bewildered. "Lakshmi we're not even done with high school."
"Fuck high school! We're gonna -well they said school's gonna be handled in-house which sucks but I can live with it I guess- but we're gonna be working with Dad! In, like, the biggest industry in all of Australia combined! Doesn't that sound awesome?"
"It- yeah?" You glance at Dad. He takes a second to realise you're looking at him. A second to wipe that melancholy look off his face and smile at you.
"Yeah," he replies, markedly less enthused than Lakshmi. "Well, I mean... you don't have to join the Syndicate, Lakshmi. Part of evaluation is working out which Convention best suits you. Or working so you suit it."
"Indeed," the man standing beside him interjects. "But I'm afraid before we get ahead of ourselves, Meghanada will need to be isolated for a period of time. Contamination concerns, you see. He didn't emerge from the brush with Pentex quite as intact as Miss Lakshmi here."
"... I see." Dad rests his hand on Lakshmi's shoulder, squeezing tight. He's not looking at you. Why isn't he looking at you? You want to say something, call out to him, ask him what's wrong and what's going to happen. No words come. You just look on, mute. Worry grips your stomach.
"See you, Meg!" Lakshmi calls back as Dad steers her out of the room.
"... see you," you reply.
***
It's a pretty nice room. Like a high-end hotel room, the kind Dad'd put you up in whenever you went overseas for holidays. A nice, big, fluffy bed that you can just sink into and fall asleep almost instantly. A TV with Netflix - and not the shitty Australian Netflix, but the real kind that Dad always got special for the house. They even managed to salvage your clothes and stuff from your room. You watch plenty of movies, play around on your PC and PS4, and whenever you're hungry you just go to the touchscreen by the door and enter what you want. And there's a minibar when you don't want to bother the kitchen, or wherever they're getting your meals from. Door's locked whenever the (admittedly pretty friendly) staff aren't coming in, which is kind of offputting, but hey, they said it was a quarantine thing right? Nothing to be worried about.
One morning you wake up and breakfast's already in the room, waiting for you. Some kind of steaming meat dish, like ground beef or pork mince or something. Weird. You don't normally have meat for breakfast, not unless it's like, sausages and bacon and shit. You creep over, almost hesitant. Sniff. It doesn't.. smell like beef. Which is a good sign. You scoop up your fork and have a taste. Salty, got a sort of tang to it. Definitely pork, or something like it. Some cut of pork you've never tasted before, or maybe seasoned in some new way. Whatever it is it tastes... good. Really really good! Before you know it you're wolfing it down, hungrier than you've ever been in your life. Scraping up every last little scrap of meat, practically licking the plate clean. The hot meat sits comfortably in the pit of your stomach, warming you from within. You feel satisfied in a way no meal's ever managed before. It puts you in a great mood.
When you wake up the next morning you're in a different room. You're still half-asleep when you realise it. You have to sit up, rub your eyes furiously to clear the sleep from them. Blink away the fog. You have to get out of bed, pad around the room, check every corner. It's still... nice enough you suppose. But it's definitely different. The bed's a bit smaller, a bit harder. The wood panelling and soft furnishings have given way to a more utilitarian sort of aesthetic, everything built to be sturdy and not much else. Your PS4 made the transition, connected to the new TV. Your PC's gone. You experimentally boot up the former. It won't connect to the Internet any more.
You take a nap in the middle of the day. Dad and Lakshmi are there to visit when you wake up. She's dressed in some kind of uniform, military-looking, like she joined Cadet Corps herself. Hair tied back in a ponytail. Dad looks much the same as he always has. She's just as excited as she was when you last saw her. Jabbering on and on about the new classes she's going to, the new people she's meeting, the new places she's been seeing. It all sounds great. Really, it does. You try to sound enthusiastic when you tell her so. Apparently you were moved because of some new complication. She isn't clear on the details, wasn't told much specifically. But it's something concerning so you have to stay here for at least a few days more while everything gets sorted out. Dad is... barely there. Distant like you've never seen him before. Letting Lakshmi do all the talking, putting forward the bare minimum of effort to be considered part of the conversation. You want to ask him what's wrong. But you don't want to, either. You're sure he'll just deflect it. And you're scared of what he'll say if he doesn't.
There's no 'custom order' touchscreen in your new room. Every day at eight, twelve and six it buzzes and you have to pick one of three choices. You try all nine dishes over the course of your stay. All nine of them have that weird, tangy pork in them in some capacity. Strange, but part of you doesn't mind the oddness. The seasoned pork tastes fantastic. It helps calm you down, helps you go to bed feeling less nervous.
When you wake up again, you're in another room. It's not really a 'room'. It's little more than a hollow concrete cube, furnished with the bare essentials. Your bed is a small single, hard, economical. The TV is sunk into the opposite wall, inaccessible. The last of your belongings are gone. All you have are your clothes. No matter where you look, you can't quite find where the door is supposed to be. Everything is smooth, flat, grey stone. Cold and unyielding to the touch, no matter where you push and how hard. Your bed is bolted to the floor. Four little black globes sit in the corners by the ceiling. Watching.
Your head hurts. Your arms hurt. You hurt all over. You find shaved patches in your hair, little pressure bandages pressed against your skull. You rip off your shirt, hands darting back and forth across your torso, down your back. You don't have a mirror, you can't be sure. But you feel scars. Small, precise surgical scars.
You're trapped. A rat in a box. A lab-rat. This time there's no choice at all. Every mealtime all that's given to you, pushed through a small horizontal slot on a steel tray, is that salty pork. You don't eat it. You can't eat it. You sit on your bed, shirtless, hugging yourself, rocking back and forth. You can't breathe. You can't think. This can't be happening. It shouldn't be happening. It's got to be some nightmare, right? They told you that you'd be with Lakshmi and Dad. You were supposed to get a clean bill of health and leave. You were supposed to... to get out. Things weren't supposed to go back to normal but they were supposed to be something. You were supposed to have something. You weren't supposed to be all alone. You sob, but there's no one to hear you. No one but your unseen jailers. No one to help you.
Your dreams are fevered things. You drift in and out of consciousness, soaked in sweat, the sheets clinging to your burning body. You beg for water but nothing comes. You feel blindly, searching your bedside table. A jug of something cool. Water? Did they bring in water while you were asleep? You fumble for it. It slips from your sweat-slick, trembling hand. Shatters on the cold, stone floor beside your bed. You curl up in a shivering ball, throwing the sheets off, pulling them back on, over and over in an endless cycle. You feel like you're dying. You are dying. Maybe that's the only escape you'll have. How long have you been here?
You're not eating. You can't eat. How can you eat? It feels like you're body's trying to kill itself out of sheer spite for its captors. Sometimes you wake up with an IV drip in. You always rip it out as soon as you can. You always taste that salty pork on your lips. What are you supposed to do? Fight back? How are you supposed to fight back at something you can't even see? What're you supposed to do? You just want to know why. You just want it to stop. You just want to go home and spend some time at Rob's house and and and
You sleep and you dream, you wake up but you keep dreaming. You keep dreaming of the moment you drew that bow further than you had the strength for. You keep dreaming of that snake that leaped onto your arrow, squirming and winding around it like a favoured perch. The joy you felt in your heart as you fired the arrow that killed Rob's killer. The joy you felt as it suffered. The crunch of its bones, music to your ears. You wish it was in front of you right now. You want it to burn, bleed, suffer, for what it's done to you. You want to go back to that day when everything fell apart and kill every last one of those 'Pentex' men yourself. Kill them yourself. Watch them fall in droves by your arrows. Feel them break and tear in your bare hands. You want the street to be wet with their blood for daring to take away the happiness you'd always wanted, that you were so close to having. You dream of that smug, smiling, fake cop that tried to trick you. That murderer with a smirk on his face, luring you and Lakshmi to death. You dream of lunging for him, bearing him to the ground. Sinking your teeth into his throat and tearing away a bloody chunk. It tastes so much like the salty, sweet pork they've been feeding you. You want more. You want to gorge yourself on it. You dream of killing them all. Every last person who's kept you from your family.
You scream so loud that you wake. You wake to find a crater in the concrete behind your headboard. Cracking, crumbling, dripping grey dust. Dust on your fists. Bloodied, torn skin over your knuckles. You reach up with shaking hands and feel the depressions. They match. Why do they match.
You dream again. Or were you always dreaming? It must be a dream. It has to be a dream. You're going to wake up and it's just going to be Ms. Jenkins calling you. Or Dad calling you. Or Mum. It'll just be Mum. You fell asleep at her place on Second Birthday and she's calling you down to cut the cake with Lakshmi. But it's weird. She's calling you the wrong name. You haven't been Meghanada for such a long time. Your name is-
"Meghanada!"
You sit bolt upright with a cry. Panting, gasping for air as if you were drowning. You were drowning. Still are. You have to desperately sip at the air, sweat-soaked chest heaving. Heart pounding so loudly that your pulse is deafening in your ears.
But Dad's there. Dad's standing in front of you. You swing your legs over the side of your bed and try to stand. Sway. Fall back down with a 'thump'. You can't think straight. Why's everything so sluggish? Thoughts... moving weird. Can't focus. Vision blurry.
"You're still sedated. You're meant to be asleep," Dad replies hurriedly. "I had a friend feed the cameras and biometric sensors a loop but I don't have much time."
"What... why...?" you murmur deliriously.
"Meghanada I... I didn't want this to happen." He's close to tears. His eyes are red-rimmed - he's already been crying. On the verge of starting up again. His own breathing isn't much more even than yours. "I swear this is the last thing I ever wanted to happen. Your mother and I we- we swore we'd do everything in our power to prevent exactly this and I- I let her down. Let you down."
"Why?" you force yourself to be more coherent, to speak louder. You clench your fist against the bed. Make the muscles flex, make them work. Make the blood flow. "Why's Lakshmi...?"
"Because she's human- half human," he replies. "Because she's a fucking demigod and the top brass are so pleased I brought her to them she's a fucking gold star on my fucking-" He cuts himself of, pressing his palm against his mouth. Choking back a sob.
"What..." The words come slow. The thoughts don't. They whirl crystal-clear inside your skull. "What do you mean... 'she's human'?"
He's quiet for a very long time. Such a long time you're afraid he won't respond. That he'll disappear like smoke. Become a dream. Like everything else you wanted.
"I-I love you, Megahanda. You know that, don't you?" he practically whispers. "Please, out of all the lies I've told you that wasn't one of them I-"
Your strength returns to you all at once. The fury burns away the drugs, whatever it is turning toxic inside you. You surge to your feet, lunge forward, fingers closing around his shoulders. Sinking in painfully. He nearly topples. You hold him upright. Shake him like a ragdoll, like if you shake him hard enough everything will make sense and you'll finally get to go home. "What am I!?"
He's quiet again. For such a long time. But when he speaks again, he speaks in the way he knows you'll understand. So that you know he's telling the truth.
"When... when the Satya Yuga ended, Brahma slept," he says. "And as he slept his breath took form. The creatures that grew in his shadow were beasts of longing, and their bloodthirst was so strong that they... they tried to eat him alive in their first moments. Brahma cried out for help. Vishnu cast them to Earth for their sins. And... and they were named after that cry."
'Protect me!' cried Brahma as his unwanted children tore at his flesh. A single word in Sanskrit, that became their name.
You know that name
Rakshasa.
[ ] Say nothing.
[ ] Force him to tell you where you came from.
[ ] Make him get you out of this cell. You don't care how, or what happens next.
[ ] Hit him. Hard.
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Deadly Snark
Tryhard As Fuck
Well shit.
Hmm... So Meg isn't a mage. Interesting.
Hmm... So Meg isn't a mage. Interesting.