It's Turbin' Time (Library of Ruina Modded/Arknights)

3.2 - Contract of Light

You really don't have that many options, do you? You're kind of lost here. The contract seems pretty okay. If there ends up being any sort of fine print involved, you can just fight your way out, especially with your new and improved condition. So, you sigh and sign your name on the bottom of the contract.

"You'll be holding a separate interview for each of us, then?"

The woman nods.

"Ah- I still don't know your name. Could you tell me?"

"Call me Orchid. Could you give us some information before we finish and start scheduling your evaluations?"

"Of course."

She takes a file from one side of her table and opens it. It has a photograph of you, and it's nearly empty.

"Gender?"

"Male."

"Place of birth?"

Time slows down to a crawl.

Fucking hell- you didn't think about this one. Where can you reliably claim you were born in? Some place big, where no one will bother looking and someone of your experience could feasibly have hidden in.

"Sargon."

Nailed it.

"Date of birth."

"February 8th."

"Age?"

"Thirty-nine years."

"Race? It wasn't given to me by the Medical Department"

…goddamn it.

"Liberi."

As long as no one looks down your hat and notices there ain't a single bird part or crest there, it's difficult to question, no? And no one will look down your hat, you can promise that. No one.

"Experience?"

"...uh?"

"Ah, how many years of combat experience do you have."

"Around 27 years."

She pauses for a second.

"You began fighting at 12 years old?"

"12 and a half. I had to become part of a criminal syndicate by that time. I ended up leaving- though I only joined as a properly certified mercenary when I was 20."

"...what kind of criminal syndicate?"

"Mostly weapon smuggling. Don't worry, I'm not wanted anywhere. We were too small-time to be considered important, and everyone but me ended up dead anyway."

She writes it down in the file. It's not a period of your life you like to think about, but it's long gone. You've moved on since that time, it paid the rent and got you some decent food, and kids make dumb decisions anyway. It wasn't anything really dangerous like what, smuggling Enkephalin? Enkephalin didn't even exist at the time, the City was still running on smoke.

"...okay." Orchid says. "There will be a combat examination later. I'll contact Sharp about it. But aside from that, we only have one last question- about your codename. It's standard procedure."

"Sarasa." you say. It's your codename, after all.

She writes it down.

"That will be all. Thank you. If you have clearance from Medical for the combat examinations, please meet up with Instructor Dobermann afterwards."

You nod, give her a thumbs-up and leave. You'll pass in the hospital to ask around for your books, and then go to Dobermann.

---

You dodge out of the way of a flying whip.

Your examiner- Dobermann- is pretty good with it, even if you think she'd perform much better if she had some extra strength. Even a low-grade strength augment would work very well here. Or a better whip. She has skill, she just needs something extra, something to make her blows hurt more.

You did see a very nasty acid-spewing metal wire whip when you last visited the Dilaceration Workshop back home in the City. Guaranteed to turn your foe's torso into a pile of melted gore, or your money back!

Instructor Dobermann's whip tries to coil around your arm. You let it happen, and then simply move your arm in order to yank her towards you. While she has some great footwork and manages to hold on for a second, you're just too physically enhanced.

She is pulled in your direction, and you follow with a low kick to her knee that sends her falling, and then a swing of your blunt training sword at her neck.

The dull edge stops a millimeter from her skin. You could simply slam her against the wall with the strength of your swing, but that's not why you're here. This is an examination, delivering a brutal beatdown to a Grade-3-maybe-2 would ruin the entire point of the exercise.

The second you retract your blade, the whip flies again- this time at an angle that you can't catch with your hands. You step back and let it soar above your head. Dobermann is already up and running, swinging at you again.

You go for a thrust at low speed, and she deflects it with her hilt. But you materialize a chain of light in your hand and catch her in the leg yet again. She's still a bit shaken by that kick, so the area is vulnerable.

The dance continues for a minute and a half after this moment. After you land your seventh blow- a clean strike aimed at her torso- the battle ends at last.
"At ease, recruit." she says. "Well done. Your training is over for now."

You nod and walk towards the weapon rack- placing your sword back in its rightful place. You really do need a good weapon, now.

Dobermann does the same, returning her whip. "Given that Medical seems to have no problems with it, I've cleared you for active combat operations. We'll schedule a training session with Sharp and me in order to test your group's teamwork, after the two remaining members finish their applications."

You smile. "I'll be looking forward to it, then. Good teamwork is what we've known for." Then, you pause. Your sword proved far too weak against the Sea-Fiends, and you might face stronger foes later on. It's just not holding up. "Do you know where I can get a new weapon around here?"

"We'll provide you with one. You prefer swords, I believe? Pass around the armory, we've already repaired that weapon of yours."

"I am trained with most implements of violence and I can work with whatever is at hand, but swords are indeed my favorite kind of weapon. Thank you for the help." you pause again. There is something you want to ask about. "How was Wympe's test, by the way?"

"While I could notice she was very nervous through it and that she has a tendency to second-guess her attacks, she was otherwise an outstanding applicant, making good use of both her halberd and explosive Originium Arts. Her issues are nothing I haven't seen in other candidates, and she deals with them rather well."

"Thank you for the information. We've been trying to help her out with her anxiety for a while now, and I think we're making progress."

"It was nothing. You're dismissed now, recruit."

Hm. The armory, hm?

You're remembering another place, now. Your old sword… you unfortunately don't think it'll ever be repaired. It might even be dangerous technology for this place.

It's a shame- you liked that sword.

---

This street is lined with various Workshops of all different kinds. You taste smoke in your tongue, you taste blood in the air, and you taste the acrid smell of human flesh being burned with electricity.

That last one is probably because of the demonstration for the weaponry of Thunderbird Workshop, to your left, where a number of corpses are being whacked with an electrically-charged macuahuitl. The flesh turns to dust at the passing of the blade, and the crowd around the Workshop turns to look at you- they recognize you instantly.

A younger Fixer wielding a spiked, bloody crowbar stares at your hat in amazement.

"The Steel Determination…" the crowd mutters amongst themselves. You walk through them without a care for their words or for their wonder.

You finally reach the place you were looking for.

Dilaceration Workshop sits in stark contrast to everything else in this place. Unlike the rest of the market, which is full of small businesses that might not even have a store and large businesses with enormous buildings, the DW branch office you're going to visit is middle-sized at best, and the green paint in the walls was recently re-applied. Two Fixers in military-styled clothing immediately salute you when you pass, and open the wooden door.

You've got an appointment with them, after all.

On the inside, there is a man waiting for you, wearing a green three-piece suit and a welding mask covering their face. Their hands are marked by burn scars- some from fire, some from acid, and some of them ice burns. He immediately takes off his mask when he sees you, to reveal a face that is utterly immaculate and kept free from any marks.

"Good afternoon, sir Color!" he says. "We, at the Dilaceration Workshop, salute you! I am Dilaceration Workshop Artisan Johannes Metzler! It's an honor to have you here."

"Good morning, Mr. Metzler. Where is Ferdinand? I haven't been here before without him to guide me through the underground complex."

"Ah, sir. Ferdinand is busy with your sword's finishing touches! I'm told he went on a personal expedition to the Ruins to gather materials for it. If you'd like to meet him, I can take you there!"

"I would, if it's not too much of an issue."

"It absolutely isn't, sir Color! You are one of our oldest clients, we would not have reached our level of popularity without your most esteemed patronage! Anything you might ask, I will provide!"

The bootlicking gets exhausting at times, but you'll let it pass. He seems young.

Metzler takes you through the subterranean complex. The rooms you pass through are filled with experiments, and with artisans crafting new weapons. You're pretty sure you saw some kind of flaming sphere being contained inside a vat of glass.

"We're here, sir! Do I have permission to return to my post?"

"You may."

"Thank you, sir Color! It was a great honor to finally meet you!"

As the kid leaves, you simply open the door of Ferdinand's room and walk in.

He is testing something, and it's likely horrifying, but you don't care. You trust him to not endanger you. If it was too dangerous for you to come in he would have given instructions to not let anyone in at all circumstances.

The tall, aged man with green-tinted glasses and a wild rainbow-dyed mane reaching his neck is sitting behind his desk, cleaning a purple sheath with a piece of cloth.

He looks at you, and his cybernetic eyes shine red.

"Ah, Sieghart. I see you've come."

"I see you haven't changed that absolutely fucking shit hairdo of yours."

"Why, rainbow hair is "in," as the youngsters say nowadays. It's more fashionable than that deplorable hat that you probably welded to your skull."

"Talking shit about my hat is strictly off-limits. Talk shit about my taste in clothes, I don't know."

"Ah, I don't know. For me to talk shit about your taste you would have to possess one."

"...well, now that the banter is out of the way, how's the sword going?"

"Rather well. I believe it's my third best work so far."

"Third?"

"My blood-rot chainsaw and my putrefaction sledgehammer are unsurpassable as of now. I don't think I'll be able to make anything better before my tools explode in my face and you have to mock me at my funeral instead of inside my office."

"I wouldn't mock you at your funeral, Ferdinand. I'd mock you on your deathbed, but not in your funeral. I wouldn't want to stretch the dreadful event out by saying anything."

"My funeral would be dreadful?"

"The longer your funeral takes, the more time we have to wait for the celebration party."

Ferdinand laughs wickedly, and tosses you the sheathe.

"You're a fun friend, Sieghart. I'd hate to see you go. The sword's on the table next to you."

You take a look at the shining metal. It's… it's beautiful. It's a beautiful sword. You take it in your hand and try to get a feel for it, and so far… It's utterly perfect for you. Made to your exact specifications. There is nothing even slightly misaligned, nothing wrong with the blade's balance or weight. It fits in your hand so perfectly…

"What properties did you add to it?" you ask.

"Crippling poison of no less than three varieties, extracted from numerous Ruins creatures. I myself took the toxin glands from some of them. A fluctuating heat emitter, and a learning metal that will form barbs by itself in order to maximize bleeding. Some compounds extracted from creature parts of my own collection, from my old Fixer days. And some of those bizarre never-melting ice crystals you brought me in your last expedition. It can cripple, it can wound, it can burn, it can melt and it can freeze, all at the same time."

"...How much do I owe you for this?"

---

…these were some good memories.

"Say, boss, you think someone got here before us? One of the Office members?" says Sleepy, overlooking the city. He's wearing a hood and a mask.

Apparently he's wanted here.

"...Linette, and Beats." you tell him. "Both of them are here. She's apparently working as the Mirrored Knight in those gladiator arenas."

"…Mirrored Knight? Uh, might have heard of that one." he says, taking a sip from a can of soda. "I didn't think you'd apply to work here, by the way."

"I had a recommendation, and it's good for the connections. I also have to get you in line, Sleepy. You still haven't stopped turning away potential clients with that attitude of yours. If I could dock your pay I would."

"Sorry."

"You gonna stay here, then?"

"Didn't I say I was wanted here, bossman? Can't get out of the landship until we all get out. If you call me I'll answer, but until then I don't think I'm allowed to get off."

'...okay, then. Go take your morning nap. Who did you kill, by the way?"

"I was trying to make it in the Armorless Union, but some rich girl found out about my gun, even hired some goons to beat me down for it. Ended up having to kill her when she invaded my apartment."

"...your gun? Isn't it actively decaying, by now?"

"She didn't know that. Besides, it still works, doesn't it?"

He leaves, and you're alone in the railings of the landship, staring at the landscape of the "Grand Knight Territory." It's an enormous city- reminds you of some of the busier Nests. Billboards and ads everywhere. It looks very vibrant, but there's some policy saying you can't get everywhere you want- only the Infected zone, and only accompanying a Rhodes Island operation.

It'll make searching for Linette difficult, but if she's a famed knight here and Beats is working as an announcer, it shouldn't be too complicated to contact them… but how?

Arabella and Capone are in their own interviews with the RI staff. Wympe finished hers, but she's still studying Terran legislation. Despite your best efforts to get her out of the library, all you were able to do is get her to leave during the afternoon and the night. She'll still be spending the morning there.

It's almost time- they called you up to follow one of their medical operators during a mission around the city. Hibiscus, was it?

Yes, Hibiscus. You're supposed to follow her and other two employees through the city to treat some Infected. You took one look at that woman- Shining- and realized that they needed absolutely no protection whatsoever.

This is probably just a test, isn't it?

You sigh, and walk back to the landship. You have a shuttle to catch.

---

>access Operator Record:Sarasa

Accessing information…

Basic Info
[Code Name] Sarasa
[Gender] Male
[Experience] >20 years
[Place of birth] Sargon
[Date of birth] February 8th
[Race] Liberi
[Height] 192 cm
[Infection status] Medical tests have confirmed that no infection is present. All files pertaining to Sarasa have been moved to the high clearance database. See the Lech dossier.

Physical Exam

[Physical Strength] Outstanding
[Mobility] Outstanding
[Physical Resilience] Flawed
[Tactical Acumen] Excellent
[Combat Skill] Outstanding
[Originium Arts Assimilation] Excellent

Sarasa's Badge
Operator Sarasa has demonstrated a remarkable aptitude for all forms of combat with a variety of weapons. The Field Operations Department has thus passed the following resolution: This operator shall be appointed a Guard Operator during field operations to exercise Dreadnought responsibilities. In witness whereof, This badge is hereby conferred upon the above named.

Profile
Operator Sarasa is a mercenary that leads the same organization that Operators Smokestack and Danmaku are a part of- Turbulence Office. While undergoing treatment for his Arts-induced injury, he decided to apply for a job at Rhodes Island with other members of his Office- namely, Operators Tendril, Lineage and Nio. The leader of Turbulence Office is completely different from the two other members we've seen so far- being friendly, easygoing and generally trying to push his former subordinates into social interaction.

Further information is classified by the personal order of Dr. Kal'tsit. See the Lech dossier for further information.

[Cell-Originium Assimilation] 0%
Operator Sarasa showed no symptoms of Oripathy. Further information is classified.

Casefile 311 - "Cityfolk" is protected by Level 7 access.

Verifying credentials…

Decrypting Casefile 311 data…

Data successfully decrypted. What file should be accessed?

[ ] T-Corp Temporal Flux Storage Prototype
[ ] "Book of the Dreaming Current"
[ ] HP-Based Emergency Resuscitation Protocol
[ ] Non-Originium Firearm Dossier
[ ] Lech's Testimony On "The Smoke War"